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THE carpeted floor of the library is uncomfortable underneath Draco but Enoch still insists here is better than any of the available desks. And there's plenty of desks available—Draco walked past all of them on his search for the brunet, hidden away in the secluded corner. The Slytherin boy wonders if Enoch chooses this spot for his benefit, hiding their meetings away from any potential passersby, so that Draco has to worry less. The sentiment is nice but, as he sits here, backside aching, he can't help but wish they just sat at a desk instead.
The blond is drawn out of his thoughts as the white ferret moves from Enoch's lap, climbing onto Draco's own before he settles down and rolls over to bare his stomach. Draco pauses for a moment, staring at the animal in surprise, before he hesitantly begins patting it. The resentment towards Moody—well, Barty Crouch Junior—still sits there, quietly bubbling away as he's reminded of his brief transformation.
"Why are you so grumpy?" Enoch asks, a faint grimace beginning to form on his face as he looks at Draco. Long, curly strands fall over his face as he does so, quickly pushed out of his eyesight with a sharp flick of his head. His hair is starting to get quite long. Not that it was ever particularly short. Draco doesn't really mind.
"I'm not grumpy." Draco responds quickly, maybe too quickly. This only gets a soft chuckle from the younger male, a shake of the head that sends those strands rolling across his face again. Draco's fingers itch to just push them out of the way, tame the untameable just a little. He's worse than Potter, and that's saying something. Draco had thought no one could possibly be worse than Potter's presentation, and then he met Enoch with his shaggy hair, muggle clothes.
"Did you forget I can sense your emotions? Is alchemy making you that miserable?"
A soft snort leaves Draco and he shakes his head, "I was just thinking about when I was a ferret."
"Oh, yeah, I've heard about that." Of course he has; even the oblivious transfer knows about his time as a ferret. If it's a moment of Draco's misery, of course the whole school knows. "What was that like?"
"Terrifying. One second, Potter and I are having a discussion about his chances in the tournament and he goes and insults my father; the next second, Moody has his wand out and I'm a tiny ferret." He pats the ferret absentmindedly, briefly wondering what it's like to be pat. The ferret seems to enjoy it. "He didn't even stop there—he was throwing me about like a rag. The world was spinning around and all I could hear was him and Potter laughing at me. It was like flying on an out of control broom. Honestly, it's a miracle I didn't throw up."
"Was it painful?"
"Was it painful?" Draco repeats incredulously. "Of course it was, he was throwing me around in the air while I was as small as this little guy. I think I even hit the ground at one point. I almost could have died again. All because of Potter." The blond shakes his head, letting out a soft sigh. "Be glad you missed that year, he was a terrible teacher."
