"Marty?" Justin asks. "Do you mind moving to the back corner? We're playing Hangman and I don't want to bother you."

I offer him a smile, picking up the Sagum off the desk and juggling it in my hands. I duck around a few first years who are giggling. Technically, none of this is allowed. Like most other extracurriculars, muggle music and muggle art were on the chopping block. None of us are supposed to be here. Professor Burbage hasn't stopped people from coming.

It's not an ideal study spot. Maybe it isn't even as good as the library. There is so much going on in the room always, mostly with the first years, that I think I'm making progress on clearing my mind. Occlumency isn't easy to learn without a partner. While Professor Burbage personally invited me to her room, I don't think she'd be keen on helping me.

There aren't many older students who spend time here who could help me. The Creevey brothers sometimes do; I've discovered there are two of them. One upper year is here nearly every day.

"Okay, I'm thinking of a word," Justin says.

I spread my winter cloak over the desk and lower my head so I'm staring into blackness. It's an ether. I've gotten good enough at imagining myself somewhere else, but it isn't true occlumency. At the very least, it just diverts my thoughts. My ears tune away from Justin's voice.

I'm getting better. I started journaling my emotions a few weeks ago. It's been helping, writing down what I'm feeling, even if I'm forced to use an illusory script so no one else can read it. Finding patterns, rhythms in myself, and the way I think. I can compartmentalize.

That's what I do with Justin's voice. I pack it away, like I'm folding it into my trunk and taking it home for the summer. I don't need it now and I will deal with it later. I fold all the first years shouting out letters, laughing with each other, groaning loudly. Each one, at a time, I pack it away. Then, I pack away every thought I have with them. All the annoyance, and the loneliness, and the want to be in the runes room. Then, I let my hand touch the metal circular base of the Sagum. With all of everything else out of the way, there is only me left.

The ball shoots off the pole. It whizzes through the air, only stopping when it cracks into the granite walls of the room. My heart is racing. My magic, without my wand in my way. Only once I stand up do I hear everyone else has hushed. It isn't just my mind.

Laughter starts to bubble in the classroom. The ball clacks to the ground, no longer having my magic attached to it. I move over. Justin is faster. He grabs it and holds it up when one of the first-years tries to grab it out of his hand.

"Here you go," he smiles.

"Thanks," I manage.

With the ball back in my hand, I dip back to my desk. The game continues. It takes a great deal of effort to reattach the Sagum to the small ball. I have to pull out a muggle magnifying glass and work on it with an instrument I haven't used since I was engraving it.

I wonder if that's how Rememberalls would work. I should test them against legilimency. Rememberalls are able to sift through thoughts and find what's been pushed back, and that itself helps strengthen its connection to the user. It sees witches and wizards for what they are without thoughts and feelings. Before studying it, I wouldn't think I was much without thoughts and feelings. I'm something though.

The thread pulls.

Then, we are told to go since it will be time for bed in half an hour. I check a clock on the wall. I'm an hour late to meet with Draco. Fuck.

I rush through the halls and head down to the water. I barely make it into the boat house, the Sagum still in my hands, my lungs huffing. He's there, his legs hanging out of a boat, his hand over his eyes, like he's sleeping.

"Draco," I manage.

He peeks at me, looking from the Sagum to me, a dimple on one cheek as he smiles.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I tell him. "You won't believe how the Rememberall is helping me now. I've... I've done it. I think."

"You think?"

"Where were you about two hours ago?" I ask.

He shrugs, looking around, "I was in the Slytherin Common Room."

"Where is that?" I ask.

He stands up, then makes his way over to me, "I can't tell you."

I reach him first, my fingers lacing into his. He steps back and I pull him toward me. I crane my head up to look at him, widening my eyes and pouting my lip, "please?"

"You have such audacity," he chuckles. "An hour late and you're asking me favours?"

I lean up to him, my lips hovering over his. He rolls his eyes but starts to close them. I lean away just as he pulls my chin in toward him. Draco grabs me roughly around the waist and I squeal, involuntarily. He tries to wrestle my face up toward him as I push him away.

"Why are you being stubborn?" he asks.

"I need to know where the Slytherin Common Room is!" I insist.

I spin away when he tries to snatch a kiss. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me toward him so my back is against him. A stray strand of hair falls in my face. I blow it away, only for it to fall down again.

"Let's make a deal," he murmurs, his face buried in my hair.

"My first-born child to you and you will teach me to weave gold?" I ask.

His grip loosens just enough that I turn around to look at him. Draco's pale face is flushed, his brows narrowing in on his eyes, his mouth ajar.

"You want to have a baby?"

I cover my face with my hands. My mouth is open so wide, and I hiccup a single breath trying to maintain my shock.

"Oh Merlin, are you-"

"No!" I cut off, almost yelling, a hand on his chest. "No, Merlin's beard no. It's a muggle children's story. Rumplestilskin. I just... he teaches a miller's daughter to spin gold so she can marry the king, as long as she gives him her firstborn, but she guesses his name and foils him, and that's not even important."

Draco is smiling. I push at his chest, my nose crinkling, "it's not funny."

"It's not every day I fluster you," he shakes his head.

I cross my arms over my chest. He leans in for another kiss, and I move a finger up to his lips. His smile drops.

"The deal?" I ask.

"Fine," he agrees. "You can't laugh at me, and I'll tell you how far you were away from the Slytherin common room."

"Laugh?"

"Just answer," he insists.

I offer him a hand. He shakes it.

"I was in the muggle studies room," I tell him. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You'd like that," he smirks.

Draco moves back across the small space. He sits back down in the rowboat. I take a spot across from him, as he sighs.

"How far?"

"About three hundred metres if I had to guess."

Other people could've been thinking about me. From where the ball smacked into the wall, I know it wasn't toward Ravenclaw Tower or the library, and so I am certain it wasn't Terry or Mandy, or maybe even Hermione. Unless there was some other weird coincidence, I've managed to do it. Just, now I need to stop the Sagum from flying through the air with the strength of a bludger.

"You did it, then?" he asks.

"The sphere flew off the Sagum and smashed into the stone wall. Burbage fixed it so it isn't too bad, but I'm sure she wasn't expecting my experiments to cause problems."

Draco nods.

"What shouldn't I laugh at?"

He taps on the wood side of the bench, the same way he always taps his wand. Bare knuckles flexed and bruised. I close my mouth. He told me not to laugh. He's gotten into a fight with someone, clearly, a muggle one if I'm right.

"Should I see the other guy?" I reach for his hand.

He lets me take it. I trace the bruises. He winces, a bit dramatically. I've seen him get papercuts though, and pain gets to him more than other people. I swallow the memory of his panic at the hippogriff "attack" he experienced and won't let anyone forget about.

"I punched the bedpost in my dorm room," Draco explains. "Pansy dumped me."

I swallow, "is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

"No," Draco says, shaking his head. "I was making a show of it to really sell it. Pansy doesn't think her Mum will transfer her after her O.W.L.s. since Snape says grade-wise she's close to edging Weasley out of the top ten-"

"There's a list?"

Draco rolls his eyes. I'm suddenly aware of his black clothes, and how close they feel to an abyss. I cannot let myself get distracted. I pack away the thought of the list as quickly as I can so that I can focus on him, and the ether he wears around. How he is able to carry nothing and all of nothing at once, and how this is also everything. A state of non-being.

"I served Pansy's purpose, so she broke up with me. Rather publicly too, which was rude, given everything. I tried to sell it by seeming angry. I thought I broke a finger."

I bite my lip, focusing on the ache rather than the way I picture the story. Very occasionally, I still read the muggle fiction books my mother sends me. Imagery has never been easy. I imagine the Slytherin common room. In my head, it is entirely green and a social theatre rather than the cozy home we Ravenclaws love. I imagine Pansy dumping Draco, and the only sound in the room is the crackling fire. The dull thunk of wood as Draco punches it hard, and the most painful part of the breakup being a finger that only he would think is broken.

"I didn't realize the price of our deal would be this high," I tell him. "You would make a good Rumplestilskin."

He frowns, his grumpiness as much of a performance as the punch. I lean forward, letting him kiss me. Despite his pain, I don't think he could have brought me better news.

~~~~~

Next one I think is a bit funky. Especially for people who read Banality. Enjoy!