Little Memories

Charlotte almost regret letting Jackson Harper walk her from classes. The boy had a nearly insatiable curiosity and he spouted questions continuously. He had asked Charlotte about everything from her stay in Azkaban, what the Dark Lord was like, how long she had been a Death Eater, and if she had really killed as many people as they said she had. It was a bit painful to have to talk about all of it, and a bit tactless with all the students around, but to appease him in an attempt to shut him up, she answered every question fully.

Halfway through the day, Charlotte had a throbbing headache and felt completely fatigued. Not only did she have a minimal amount of sleep the night before, but she wasn’t quite accustomed to walking so much to get from class to class. Jackson Harper seemed to have a surplus amount of energy and liked to walk as if the seat of his trousers were on fire, so that wasn’t much help either.

Draco and Charlotte hadn’t said much during lunch, other than asking how the other’s day was going so far. Draco realized that it wasn’t only Charlotte that was getting looks from the other students, he was attracting a bit of attention himself. However, he most certainly didn’t tell Charlotte this because it’d just be one more thing the poor girl would have to worry about. If it were even possible, Charlotte had gotten used to their whispering and pointing, though it was still a bit disheartening.

He made it clear that he wasn’t necessarily mad that Charlotte allowed Jackson Harper follow her around like a lost puppy, since he was at least she had someone to protect her lest someone get over zealous for fame in the desperate times and decide to try and take her out. Not that she really needed the protection, since she was a more skilled witch than any other he knew. It comforted Draco at least a little to know that someone besides him and her brother were willing to watch after her. Soon enough, they parted ways again; Draco had double History of Magic and Charlotte had Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Double History of Magic was torture, as far as Draco was concerned. The room was much too warm and Professor Binns was far too monotone for anyone to pay attention. In fact, not ten minutes into the class, Draco had the hardest time keeping his eyes open. He fought off the urge to sleep for another ten minutes, since it was rather hard to ignore Millicent and Pansy in the seats of front of him. They were murmuring amongst one another, occasionally glancing to him, and the faking like they were interested in the class when Draco would bring himself to look at them. Finally, he gave into the irresistible temptation to fall asleep.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a pitch black room. The darkness around him was so thick he wouldn’t be able to see his hand if he waved it in front of his face. It was a bit frightening to be surrounded by the unknown, but Draco didn’t feel very threatened. At least, not yet he didn’t. He had a very strong feeling that it was about to change.

A freezing cold breeze brushed past him and the hair rose on the back of his neck, electricity crackling in the air as it passed. He drew in a sharp breath of air, a feeling of absolute dread and fear coming over him.

“What are you doing?” A voice whispered to him and it took him a while to recognize the owner as it echoed at least eight times around him. It was a sweet, yet raspy voice that had whispered to him many times. It didn’t help him get over his fears very much. “You need to turn and leave,” the voice continued, sounding as though it was coming from the opposite side of whatever space Draco found himself in. Her voice echoed again before it died out. Draco shook his head slowly in the darkness as he stared, wide-eyed, into the inky blackness before him.

“You need to go,” the voice whispered beside him and he could feel warm breath on the shell of his ear. It didn’t echo this time and he spun around wildly, his arms flailing and his hands grasping at the cool air around him for the source of the voice. “Stop fooling around,” the voice whispered in the opposite ear and he spun around yet again. “It isn’t safe anymore,” hissed the voice. This time it was further away and it began echoing around him in the room, so he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

He was suddenly made aware of a loud rumbling and crackling noise coming from all around him and with every echo in only grew louder as the echoes of echoes amplified gradually. The floor beneath him began to tremble as he turned around slowly, searching for anything in the pitch black room. Then, like a red-orange flower gently swaying in a summer breeze, a flame started up far away from Draco. A spark of adrenaline jolted through his veins and he began sprinting toward it, moving on pure instinct.

As Draco grew closer he realized a face was looking directly at him, just barely highlighted by the light from the flame, which she cupped in her hands. Her expression was harsh, though it could have just been the way that the light reflected off of her face and cheekbones. He slowed to a stop in front of her and realized that the gargantuan rumbling noise was coming from the small, flower-like flame in front of her. Draco stopped in front of her, panting slightly from how far he had to run to get to her. She stared up at him wordless and he realized that she really was glaring up at him.

“I told you to leave,” she growled through clenched teeth, over the roar of the miniscule flame in her hands. Draco merely stared down at her, at a complete loss for words. “Why can’t you ever listen?” She asked, shooting a particularly venomous look up at him. The tiny, flowery flame in her hands twisted and morphed like molten metal into a small, coiled snake that twisted and turned, hovering just over her slender, cupped hands. The girl’s eyes, which appeared orange in the glow provided from the little snake, darted from him to the animal made of flames in her grasp. Her lips slowly parted and her eyes widened in fear.

“Charlotte?” Draco breathed, judging from her expression that something bad was about to happen. She slowly turned her eyes up to his and he noticed tears balancing on the brims of them.

“It’s too late,” she said in a broken voice. Before Draco got the opportunity to ask her what she meant, the tiny snake levitating above her palms leapt out of whatever control Charlotte had on it and slithered around the girl, who was sitting crossed-legged on the floor. It grew in size so that it towered over to the two of them and the heat coming off of it grew unbearable. Draco stared up at it in horror as it gave a deafening hiss before lunging at the two of them before either of them had a chance to get away.

Draco woke with a start just as the bell rang; a signal to him that the double History of Magic he had to endure was over and that he had free time until dinner. He figured that Charlotte did as well, so he decided he would go and wait for her whenever she decided to show up in the Prefect’s bathroom. As he stepped out of the classroom, he noticed the broad Professor Slughorn making his way toward him, looking very nervous.

“Draco, m’boy, if I could have a quick word,” he said, stopping just shy of Draco, who gave him slight half-nod. “Good…good,” Slughorn said with a short nod, “Gregory Goyle has just informed me that he does not wish to be Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, like he had agreed to, and I’m…well…I’m scrambling a bit to try and find a replacement for him. It was said, that you could have much promise as a Captain, and I was wondering if you’d take up the offer.” Draco stared at him for a moment, a bit apprehensive. Last year, he didn’t take up the offer to become Captain because he had to worry about fixing that damned cabinet. There would be nothing in his way this year and he did like to play. “Of course, you’d be given nearly all the privileges of a prefect…since you seemed to have forsaken that route…”

“I’ll do it,” he told the walrus-like professor with a nod. Professor Slughorn beamed.

“Good, that’s great. Fantastic,” he said and looked as though he was about to clasp Draco on the shoulder but decided against it and merely let his arms swing limply at his sides. “Just let me know when you decide to hold tryouts and I’ll post the notice on the Slytherin Common Room notice board then. Good day, Draco,” he said briskly, with a nod toward him before beginning to walk in the direction he came. Draco followed him with his eyes for a moment before turning and making his way toward the staircases, continuing on toward the fifth floor and the prefect’s bathroom.

His teachers, surprisingly enough for a N.E.W.T year, hadn’t given him very much homework and it wasn’t anything he couldn’t get done after dinner. As the bell rang, letting any students know they would be late for class, he suddenly got very nervous. He hadn’t flown a broomstick since he was at Charlotte’s cottage. Even then, they were just playing around, they hadn’t been really trying. If he were to be team Captain, and seeker, he didn’t want to let Slytherin down. It was time they got the Quidditch Cup back from Gryffindor. He made a mental note to ask Charlotte if she’d practice with him out on the pitch sometime before tryouts.

He then remembered that Charlotte had played as seeker the year before. Draco hoped she wouldn’t get mad at him for taking that spot on the team, since it was the position he played best. Then again, she was a chaser before last year and from her experiences, she probably would be a bit relieved to be rid of such a stressful position. Before Draco realized, he was passing by the statue of Boris the Bewildered and headed toward the Prefect’s bathroom door. He had rightful access to the room now, since he had accepted the position as Slytherin Captain, but Professor Slughorn, in his hurry to get away from Draco, failed to tell him the password. Thankfully, Charlotte had already let him know it.

“Nitwit,” he murmured to the door and it gave a loud click and popped open. Draco heaved a sigh, knowing that Charlotte was not in the room yet, as he hoped she would have been. Readjusting the strap of his book bag on his shoulder, he stepped into the room and closed it quietly behind him, wondering how long it would be before Charlotte joined him.