Some Other Metal Than Earth

Part 1: Monday

Monday

A fly buzzed around the windows of the new Potions classroom, hurling itself futilely against the glass. Draco found himself wishing he could do the same. Salazar, he was bored. He sighed, propping his head on his hand, fighting to keep his eyelids from drooping. His attention wandered from the lecture again and he found himself watching dust motes dancing in the beams of golden late-afternoon light.

Thank Merlin this was his last class of the day. Staying awake through double Potions right before dinner was turning out to be nigh impossible. Especially on days like this when the sun had heated the room and turned it stifling.

Professor Slughorn's voice droned on, listing the properties of something-or-other in painfully exhaustive detail. Merlin. The man was worse than Binns. Nearly, anyway. At least Binns could be relied upon to turn a blind eye to the eighth-years' increasing absences. Draco had been ducking out of History of Magic for weeks now, joining most of his classmates out on the grounds.

Well, not joining, exactly. He usually joined Blaise and Pansy for a walk around the grounds, steadfastly ignoring the Gryffindors as they ran about in their usual madcap fashion or lounged in the sun. Sometimes Daphne tagged along, hauling Theo with her, but Draco was indifferent to their presence. He was only close with Blaise and Pansy, anymore. Greg had chosen to enter an apprenticeship in lieu of returning for eighth year, and Vince...

Draco tried not to think about Vince.; it hurt too much. There was an empty spot on his left, a bit like a missing tooth, and it was so hard to keep from prodding at it. Vince had brought it on himself, gotten in too far for Draco to pull him out again; but he still felt like he'd failed him.

He sat as far from the fire as possible now, leaving the cozy chairs for the irritatingly fearless Gryffindors. He felt his face pull into the familiar sneer, but he didn't have the energy to keep up the expression. He felt the smallest flicker of jealousy; he'd loved the crackle and hiss of a cheerful fire, once. But now all he could see in the dancing flames was the fear in Vince's eyes as he fell, burning, burning...

The other students ignored them, mostly, as they strolled around the lake. It rankled a bit. He could do with some brawling, but no one thought them worth fighting anymore. Not even Potter, who seemed content to run about with the others.

The fly buzzed past his head, avoiding his absent-minded swat and bashing into the other window. Draco tuned back into the lecture for a moment. Salazar. Slughorn was talking about Mugwort, now. He knew all this — they'd learned it years ago. Severus' slow drawl returned unbidden, overlaying Slughorn's higher, more nasal tones.

He could just walk out. Grab his things and— But, no. He'd have to cross in front of Slughorn to reach the door, and there was no way the man's sharp eyes would miss him.

The screech of dozens of chair legs scraping across flagstones jolted Draco from his daze and he jumped. His eyes flitted to the clock — there was still nearly an hour left of class. Was Slughorn letting them out early? Then he noticed that the others were queueing up at the supply cupboard and grinned. Labs had been few and far between under Slughorn's tutelage. Finally. The chance to have a bit of fun.

Draco absently gathered his supplies, wondering how best to relieve his boredom. He hesitated, hand hovering by the jar of powdered lacewing. Just a pinch would react with the mugwort and cause a decent explosion. He'd seen Finnegan do it a few times. The first by accident, the others... well. Finnegan was an enthusiastic pyromaniac. Draco tried to avoid him, as a rule. It had less to do with his infuriating Gryffindor-ness and more to do with safety.

He gazed at the small jar in his hand, wondering. How best to go about this? The sound of approaching footsteps startled him, and he hurriedly replaced the jar as another student entered the dim cupboard, blinking owlishly behind ridiculous lenses.