Hermione wasn't joking. Throughout the last weeks of October and the beginning of November, we study together. Mostly we spend time at tables in the library, but if the weather isn't too bad sometimes we will study on the lawn. The pair of us aren't friends by any means; I couldn't tell you if she's an only child or what her favourite subject is, or any fact. Certainly, I bet she could tell you what my full first name is, but not much else.

Mostly, we do flashcards. She's good at theory, great even, but I realize it comes from a work ethic even more diligent than mine. Hermione is skilled at thinking. Unlike me, her mind isn't exactly suited to innovation. Whenever we give examples of the application of certain spells or potions, she always lists the ones in the textbook. I suppose that she's never had to find clever ways to work around her magical abilities like I have.

It gives me a bit of confidence at least. Grades are everything to people like Hermione and me. All the same, there is some satisfaction I get when I suggest that a practical use of the Dancing Feet spell could be used to detangle a knot in a headphone cord.

"It only works on things with legs," Hermione points to the line in our charms textbook.

I shrug, "there is not really any reason that it wouldn't work on a tangled cord. It works on inanimate objects, right, so long as they have legs? A chair doesn't really have biological legs – it's just what we call them. Besides, it can't be that it only works on things that hold an object up from the ground because it works on birds in flight. I don't see why an adept spellcaster couldn't use it on a tangled cord, or at least modify the spell for that use."

Hermione hums but moves on. I smile. She struggles with anything that isn't explicitly laid out in a textbook. If it weren't for her passion for freeing House Elves from enslavement, I might imagine her brain isn't capable of critical thought.

It's for that reason I don't ask her for help with the Sagum. I'm unsure how my occlumency is going, but one day, the Sagum stops spinning. The ball drops from the air, only held up by the thin metal chain. I flick the ball around the metal base of the Sagum. The chain makes it wrap around.

I don't know what I've done, but I worry I might have dropped all magic from it. This was my last ditch effort to get it to work, and the magic was experimental. At least, I think the tie it has to my mind must be stronger, in whatever way I can get it to improve. Professor Babbling lets me borrow her equipment on Friday since she doesn't want me alone in her office over the whole weekend. The whole experience is exhausting.

Though I am not gifted in the arts of Divination, I have a feeling that today is going to be the last weekend I can tolerate sitting outside without having on a cloak for the winter weather. So, I camp out. I go down into the small building where they store the boats next to the Great Lake. The glass walls make me feel outside. With me, I've brought a lunch and enough activities to keep me pleased for the entire day.

In the morning, I try to do oil pastels of the water, but I'm just as shit as ever. At least it helps me start to be creative. I'd rather read one of the muggle books my Mum sent me in advance of my birthday. She always thinks the owl will take longer to get here than it does. After an hour, I try to sketch out what I want my actual symbol to me. It's time I decide one, since I've been putting it off for the better part of a year. My initials aren't a powerful symbol, since I imagine so many people are named Marty Turner.

Creating a symbol is not all too complicated. Professor Babbling even gave me the paperwork I need so that I can send it into the ministry once it's done so no other wizard or witch accidentally takes it.

A shadow falls over my page. I only glance up to see the shoes. Shined, expensive looking. I try not to smile.

"Perhaps I should send you a letter every morning with my whereabouts," I smile, looking up at Draco Malfoy. "How long have you been looking for me today?"

"Not as long as you'd like," Draco smirks.

He glances down at the paper. I realize the Sagum is out. He's seen it before, surely, at some point in the library. I only hide it from people because of the incident in Ravenclaw tower. And Flitwick's office. I have a reputation, even if it's blown over, for screwing up the time of people near me. In some ways, it is like Finnegan's reputation for blowing up things.

Draco moves away. He sits down in one of the boats, his legs propped up as he stares at me.

"You're trying to make your own rune?" Draco looks over. "And you always say I have an overinflated ego."

I ignore him, holding up the Sagum. The metal ball clinks against the pole.

"Requires attunement," I say.

What about me is visual unique? The strong the tie to the symbol, the easier the attunement process is. If I can think of something no one else would ever pick, then I will need to go through fewer measures to let it settle in. In those cases, symbols in the flesh work best. Tattoos won't do. I'd need to practice scarification, and I am absolutely not confident in my skills.

"It doesn't seem to work," Draco grabs the Sagum off the ground. I hear the metal clinking.

I sigh, looking up, "I did say it requires attunement. You know, perhaps if I was nice to Nott, he'd carve a symbol into my skin. It would make the process much easier."

Draco looks at me. He isn't smiling like I am. The joke must not be as funny for him as it is me. I recognize the look. Whenever I call myself a mudblood, he looks at me in the same way. He recognizes something in the thing I'm saying that I don't. It's stupid, actually. All of this is more real for me than him. If a war happens, nothing bad is going to happen to someone like him. It's my life on the line.

My life.

I look down at the hand. Something already carved into the flesh. I draw out my lifeline, and how there are not two but not exactly one. Maybe it is a time thing. I wonder if I will end up trapped somewhere for so long that this blip will happen. Confiscating the omniocculars might be in my best interest.

I raise a hand above my head and wait. Draco passes me back the omniocculars silently. I start to clean the ball and work to carve the symbol in it. It's very simple, at least.

"What is it?"

"The rune or the Sagum?" I ask.

He leans closer. I worry he's going to topple out of the rowboat and then ruin my carving. He hovers as I etch in the symbol.

"That's a Sagum?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Where did you get one?"

I press down just a bit on the last line, before pushing the Sagum away. The ball turns through the air, pointing up toward the castle.

"Professor Dumbledore gave me his," I explain.

Malfoy looks at me, eyes stern, "why would he give you this?"

"Maybe my ego isn't that inflated," I lean back, resting my hands on the ground. With my legs outstretched, I look up at him. "Dumbledore recognized my talent."

"There aren't many," Draco looks down at it, ignoring my suggestion about my own capabilities. "My parents collect things. Well, my mother does. My father collects people, but – do you know what that's worth?"

I look down at the Sagum. Perhaps because it is made of simple metal and not Goblin-made, I hadn't thought much about the price. I know there are only a dozen or so in Britain, so I guess I wouldn't be surprised.

"I don't know," I shrug, "more than a firebolt?"

"Try moving the decimal place," he says.

This is worth thousands of galleons? I truly hope I didn't break it.

"I'm surprised you're able to calculate that without magic," I smirk.

Draco leans in even closer. Any second now he's going to fall out of his boat. They aren't held down in a very steady way.

He moves away and picks something up off the ground. I turn my head. He's flicking through the notebook I use for my oil pastel drawings. I try to snatch it from him but he leans back further. The boat rocks beneath him.

I climb in, trying to wrestle it from his grip, "give that back."

"For someone who wants me to notice them so desperately, you hide things a lot," his back presses up against the back of the boat. His legs sprawled out between us, he leans back and flicks through the pages.

I stand in the boat and it rocks. I grab the sides but he barely moves, smirking.

"You are so clearly an only child," I say, struggling to climb overtop of him, even though his legs block my path and the boat keeps tipping. "Your entitlement is typical of people who didn't have to share as children."

"Are you stuck in a time loop?" Malfoy asks. I lean forward for the book and he tilts back just enough that I can't grab it without falling on top of him. He laughs. "You have such a habit of repeating yourself. Time-turning Turner all over the place."

That does it. Time isn't the only thing I can turn. I grab the side of the boat and swing to the side. Malfoy gasps, sucking in a deep breath of air. He hits the floor just before I do. My book skids out of his hands, sliding between two boats out of the way. The Sagum, thankful, is unharmed.

Before Draco can stand, I pull myself up and run after the book. My hand wraps around it just as I feel a hand on my ankle. I shriek as I feel myself tugged against the floor. Draco is below me. He drags me toward him. I laugh, pulling the book tightly against my chest. He straddles my legs, pinning me at the knees. I can't kick him off.

"You're bloody mental," Draco tries to grab the book but struggles to get a grip. "What's so special about that book that you'd slam your own head into the ground?"

I stare up at him, pressing it tighter and tighter into my chest. The notebook, however flimsy, is going to break my ribs. Surely, all the drawings are rubbed together in an incomprehensible mess.

"They just aren't very good," I shake my head.

My heart is thundering. Draco looks down at me, puzzled. I feel my cheeks redden.

It occurs to me. It must occur to Draco at the same second too. Why would I care what he thinks? At least, I never do care. Everyone I keep at arm's length. No one really has the right to know me, not even him. It's easy enough to be honest with him. Part of the reason I never mind telling Draco things is that there is no way I will ever come to like him, or he will ever come to like me. There is no reason to deceive, no reason to try to impress. Besides, we hate each other. We, as people, are not the kind who can ever get along. The smile on my face certainly starts to fade. A cloak of invisibility couldn't even properly hide that it was ever there. The lines will still be on my face all the same.

I didn't want to show him the drawings because it would embarrass me if he saw them. To some degree, what he thinks of me is something that matters to me, whether I like it are or not.

"They certainly aren't bad," he points out. "I saw a bit of the one you did in the rain."

He's doing a Slytherin thing. Complimenting me, to get what he wants.

I begin to sit up, and he gets off my legs. I hear something clink behind him. Both of our heads turn and the Sagum is pointed at us. It seems my attunement has fixed the issue. If my skin didn't burn, if it didn't tingle and itch, if it wasn't buzzing the way a bee does and if it didn't sting the way I might if I was stung, I might feel something like relief.

Then, I stand up.

"Seems it's working again," I point out.

He nods. When I walk over and sit back down. He gets up as well. He leaves, but then doesn't. At least, I think he's leaving. Instead, he rights the boat and sits back down inside it. Draco pulls out a book from his bag, one on alchemy and begins to read.

"Don't distract me."

He smiles, "I'm not planning on it. Watching you struggle on your own is entertaining."

Draco goes back to his book, and I scrunch my nose to stop myself from smiling.

~~~~~

The next chapter is a personal favourite of mine. URGH! Enjoy!