The Malfoy Project

𝟐𝟎 - 𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

     The office of the Hogwarts Digest is stuffier than usual. The reinforced glass windows trap every ounce of heat in; it is so unbearable some of us removed our vests in desperation. We lean over the desks we had pushed together, heads almost touching as we inspect the wireframe drawing Ernie had created for the next issue.

     It's Monday, but there's no new issue - on Hermione's orders. In her words: We have to prepare to report on this Friday's match. A full, three-page spread! "That's three-quarters of the entire thing," Susan had pointed out. "Yes," said Hermione. "And?"

     "Where would my column go?" said Susan.

     "And mine?" said Sue Li.

     And so Ernie was made to design a special layout for next week, one that would fit both a three-page play-by-play of the match as well as Susan and Sue Li's columns, which they insist are just as important.

     "Alright, Ains, look," commands Hermione. "The first half of the match has to fit here. Ernie, the hero image at the top will be of the entire pitch. I want you to capture both Gryffindor and Slytherin players in the air - Ernie! Are you listening? - here. A photograph of each team here and here. Preferably Gryffindor on the right and Slytherin can go on the left of the-"

     The iron door handles clatter, drowning out her next words. "Oh, Ella!" a sing-song voice tumbles across the classroom. Rita strolls in, swaying hips and clacking nails. "Ella, are you in here? There you are! Sorry, darlings, I'm just going to borrow dear Ella for a tick. I'll give her back, promise!" She throws a laugh into the air, shoots them a wink, and nudges me out.

     "How have you been, Ella?" she asks when we've seated ourselves at the professor's desk in another empty office. She charges on before I can respond. "I hope you haven't been having too awful a time with the Malfoys. Speaking of, where are the tapes? The scripts?"

     I pull them out from my satchel. Rita inspects them and frowns. "There are three scripts here, but only two tapes. Where's the other?" She strains over the desk, as if I have them hidden between my thighs.

     "I'm so sorry, Ms. Skeeter," I say. "I didn't bring enough last week, so I could only tape Mrs. Malfoy. I've written Draco's one down, though."

     She fans out the papers and picks up the one for Draco. Her carmine nails push her jeweled spectacles up her hook of a nose as she squints at it, pupils darting back and forth. I hold my breath.

     Her eyes find mine over the top of the page. "What you've got here is truly remarkable, Ella. And using that Muggle recorder is an ingenious idea. It would be terribly upsetting if you were to forget again."

     "I won't," I say. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

     She grins at me, and I wonder if I should tell her she's got lipstick on her teeth.

༻❁༺

     I find Draco in the empty library again during lunch. His willowy figure slants against the shelf labelled 'P', robeless; white shirt stretching over his shoulders, crown of gold tilted over a book.

     "Poe again?" I say to his back. He twitches at the sound of my voice and spins around. It's the second time I've caught him red-handed. Remember, a wild animal. I approach slowly.  "Which one are you reading?"

     He lowers the book to show me. "The Haunted Place¹," I read out loud. "Not his happiest poem."

     "You- you know Poe?"