CHAPTER FOURTEEN

.  .  .

THE slow, repetitive clicking of Enoch's infernal muggle pen fills in the silence hanging between the two boys. The Hufflepuff has stuck to not acknowledging Draco's existence, blatantly ignoring him every chance he's gotten, but he certainly hasn't held back on making his own noticeable.  For almost the entirety of the class, Enoch has been clicking his pen; Draco can't tell if it's unconsciously, like some kind of habit, or a purposeful attempt to annoy him. If it's the latter, he's certainly succeeding. Each click of the pen seems to echo through the blond's head, causes him to clench his jaw tight to the point where it starts to ache.

"Can you stop?" But instantly regrets the sharpness in his tone when that is what got them to this point, and sighs. When he repeats himself, he's only a little softer, "Can you please stop?"

He gets no response but the pen only clicks once more, and then it's silent. It's not a comfortable one, heavy with tension. Even with the younger boy refusing to explain anything, Draco is fairly sure he knows the cause of it—himself. But, it would still be nice to get a proper explanation, to know why the usual cheerful boy has transformed so suddenly into a dark storm cloud of frowns and silence.

So much silence.

In the corner of his eye, Draco sees Enoch run his fingers through his long locks, gripping them tightly as he frowns down at his paper. He's several questions behind the blond boy and has been for the past five minutes. It's clear he's stuck, too proud to break his apparent vow of silence to ask for help. Draco isn't going to keep pushing it by offering help; if the boy wants to be so stubborn, then so be it. It's not his classwork that will suffer... much. Though he does have to take more notes now.

Draco, on the other hand, finishes the class questions with ease. Which would be good, except for the fact that it give him more free time in the class, sitting idly as he waits for it to end. This means even more of his focus gets placed on the silent treatment he has been receiving from the new kid. As he glances at the brunet, they make eye contact for a split second but Enoch is quick to break it. A frown settles over the Slytherin's face.

This is really too much.

Enoch had been planning a speedy getaway out of class. Not only because it means less time spent with Draco and the moody feelings rolling around inside of him, but because he'd like to get to the library before his favoured spot is taken. He has a spare next, and would like to spend it well. But his plans to escape are brought to a swift halt as a cool hand grips his wrist as he walks through the door. Said hand pulls him to the side, against the wall. The burst of bitter lemons tells him who it is without even having to look, but he does anyway.

Draco is standing close to him, trying to keep out of the way of other students leaving the class, as he frowns down at the younger male. His frown, for once, doesn't seem to be one of disgust or displeasure; it seems to be filled more with confusion. His hand doesn't leave his wrist, causing the lemons to continue to wash over the brunet in waves. The emotions of the Slytherin boy overpowers any others around them, until it's all Enoch can sense. He can feel it flooding through him, running up his arm to the rest of his body, resting in his core.

"Stop doing that." The blond hisses, though Enoch isn't sure what he's done. He pulls his hand away sharply, the frown deepening. "My emotions are mine, stop taking them from me."

"Sorry, I don't even realise—honestly." Draco softens again as he sighs. Enoch then remembers he's supposed to annoyed at him and drops the older boy's gaze, staring blankly at a space on the floor. A faint hint of brine rolls over him and he glances back up; Draco is frowning again.

"I know you're supposed to be ignoring me, but could you come with me? Please." A small, hesitant nod from the brunet has the pair then travelling through the halls, pushing through the students heading towards their classes. Enoch blindly follows the older boy, at points struggling to keep up as he gets caught within other groups of students. As the blond powers through, it's hard to tell if he's even aware that his follower is straggling—but then he glances behind, pacing dropping a few steps to make sure Enoch isn't lost.

Eventually, after multiple turns and frequent glances over the shoulder from Draco, they appear to reach the destination. The blond boy glances around again, before pacing backwards and forth with a look of concentration on his face. Enoch watches in mild confusion, holding back his questions in case he disrupts... whatever this is. He waits, leaning against the wall. After a few more paces, the Slytherin comes to a halt in the centre, looking towards the wall. This draws Enoch's attention to it, where he discovers there is now a door there. He'd almost be surprised, if he didn't know magic existed and seemed to be the explanation for everything odd at Hogwarts.

As Draco pulls the door open, he gestures quickly at Enoch and then steps inside. The brunet isn't far behind.

Inside, the room spans further than Enoch can even see; it's cluttered with objects, some piling so high they nearly touch the ceiling. A few objects, enchanted with magic, float around in the air above them. A path through the clutter is clear, which Draco immediately begins walking down. After a moment's hesitation, so overwhelmed by the appearance of the room, Enoch follows again. They don't walk far—only a few turns through the piles—but the Hufflepuff is certain he wouldn't be able to find his way back to the door. He's already lost all sense of direction.

Draco stops at a desk containing piles of books and paper. He leans against it as he turns towards Enoch, affecting a rather casual stance.

"Why are you ignoring me?" The blond wastes no time getting to the point. His expression remains blank.

"What is this place?" Enoch doesn't mean to avoid the question—okay, maybe he does—but his own questions are burning inside of him. It hardly seems fair that he's been dragged to some strange, magical room and then offered no explanation. Besides, he won't be able to think properly if he doesn't know; it'll be all he thinks about until he does. He also just wants a chance to gather his thoughts and feelings, before he tries to explain them to the boy standing across from him.

"Room of requirement." Draco responds without even a beat of hesitation or second thought. "Why have you been ignoring?"

"What's the room do?" A hint of spiciness reaches Enoch's tongue, but it disappears as soon as it arrives. None of this shows on Draco's expression.

"Becomes any room you need, good for meetings like this. Why have you been ignoring me?"

"I– You've upset me." Enoch answers honestly but immediately feels bad. A small rush of brine hits him, radiating from the other male. But still, his expression is empty.

"I gathered. But why?"

"You– You're inconsistent." This causes a change in the blond's expression: the frown returns, along with the mild confusion. His hand, resting on the messy desk, begins to pick at grain running along the edge. "One second, usually when there's no one really around, you're fairly nice—at the very least civil; but the second you seem to think someone might see, you grow cold and rude. It's– I can't follow what's sincere and what's not, even with my... empathy. Do you like me, hate me?"

"I–"

Enoch shakes his head, "Regardless of the answer, even if you like me and it's all an act, it's just not fair. I don't want to suffer through all those insults, just for a few moments where you help me with my work or give me some nice gloves. I-I can't—it messes with my head."

The brine just grows stronger until Enoch feels like he might be drowning in it. Draco's blank expression finally cracks as he slumps forward, Enoch thinks he sees a sad glimmer in those grey eyes.

"And last time, after we spend at least an hour where you didn't seem to be hating my company, you still go and shove me off like I'm nothing." The brunet sighs softly. He will admit, it feels lighter to be speaking this. He hasn't felt like he'd been able to properly open up to someone in a while. "It's just not fair."

There's a heavy pause, as Draco continues to pick at the grain. The silence between is only broken when a piece of the wood does, snapping against the blond's finger.

"I'm sorry." Remorse rolls from Draco, overwhelming the brine. Enoch unfolds his arms, leaning lightly against one of the piles beside him. A few papers fall loose, dropping to the ground before he can grab them. He leaves them on the ground, raising his gaze back to the Slytherin.

"I know. It doesn't change anything though." Draco nods solemnly. His own eyes don't meet Enoch's, instead staring holes into the floor in front of him. There's a few more seconds of silence, as the older boy seems to be thinking. The brunet breaks the silence, "Why... Why do you do it? What made you so cold?"

"It's a long, complicated story," says the older boy, brushing it off. He doesn't seem to make any effort to elaborate, leaning on that lack of an explanation as his reasoning.

"I have time. Plenty of time—I don't have any class next."

"We should find a seat."

The pair begin wandering again, moving further into the seemingly never ending room. Enoch follows Draco closely, not wanting to get lost and never seen again. They wander for about five minutes, before the blond spots a couch hidden between two large piles. He sits down, patting the space beside him that Enoch gladly takes. The couch is rather comfortable, even if it does look old and well-loved.

"You must know a bit of how blood is valued amongst wizards, right? I mean, your family—on your mother's side—is considered a strong and powerful bloodline. With the exception of your mother of course." Enoch frowns. "I'm sorry, I don't want to disrespect your mother again, but it's true. Amongst families like my own, your mother is considered a blood traitor. And your blood, well, it's been dirtied by your muggle father."

"Had your mother married a wizard, making you a pureblood," Draco continues, "It might have been a different story. But my family, our... situation, all values blood highly. Incredibly highly. I couldn't associate myself with you, not without facing possible repercussions."

Draco has begun wringing his hands together, vinegar starting to emanate from him. A lot of his blank composure has been dropped, the mask cracking, as a confused, nervous boy begins to shine through.

"I-I wasn't singling you out. I treat everyone that wouldn't be approved of by my family that way. You probably got it worse, though, being my Alchemy partner."

"That's stupid. How much magic is in someone's blood shouldn't– Look at me, only half the blood and I still got stuck with some abnormal magic mutation or something." Draco nods slowly, glancing up at Enoch. At his description of the empathy, the corner of his lips curl up into a smile that doesn't quite reach the eyes.

"It is. But, it's been that way for years... It's not going to change–"

"Of course not, not with that attitude."

Surprisingly, Draco laughs. "You really are your mother's son." Enoch isn't sure how to respond, especially after being told his mother is basically a disgrace if the wizarding world—or at least the wizarding snobs. "But sure, if more people were so open-minded, things would be different. Though, with the way things are headed..."

"What does that mean?"

Draco shakes his head, "Nothing."

"No, don't pull that one on me. What do you mean—where are things headed?"

"The Dark Lord, when– if he wins, the wizarding world will be a lot more like my family."

"Are you really like that?" asks the brunette, his voice quiet. Draco, after a second of hesitation, nods.

"I am my parent's son, just like you are yours."

"I don't believe it." The Slytherin raises an eyebrow. "I don't believe someone as horrible as you're describing... is you. They couldn't fake being as nice as you do."

"I'm not that nice."

"You are still nice, sometimes... When you want to be. I could be friends with that Draco." The honey burst up, rolling in with the lemon to sweeten its usually bitter tang. Enoch notices that the blond is gazing at his shoes again. "Besides, there's the honey. Unless you just naturally smell of honey, or something."

Draco laughs again, a loud one this time as the honey increases, "I don't smell of honey, Enoch. I can assure you." There's a slight warmth to the blond's face that is usually absent; in this moment, he looks considerably less stressed. It does him wonders. "What was you sensed from me again?"

"Lemon, mostly. Brine and vinegar roll around too. Very occasionally, honey." Draco nods, like he understands everything the boy is saying. (He doesn't). "Oh, and petrichor. I don't know what that is. I've never met anyone who smells of petrichor—is it a perfume?"

Draco shakes his head, "No petrichor perfume either." Enoch reaches into his pocket, pulling the small tray of lemon candy from them.

"This is kind of what the lemon is like." He explains as he offers one to the blond. Taking one, Draco pops it into his mouth. His expression instantly contorts as he rolls the candy in his mouth.

"Merlin, that's sour. I put you through this all the time?" Enoch nods, but there's a grin on his lips. "No wonder you want nothing to do with me. Your mouth must be burnt."

"It's alright. I like it." The younger says quietly, before adding, "The candy—the sour lemon."

"If you say so." The honey reduces again as Draco's expression turns sober. "I really am sorry. I wish I could promise I wouldn't do it, but... my family, my upbringing. My opinions haven't changed."

"It's okay."

With a shake of his head, Draco says, "It's not. You were right, it's not fair on you. So... I will try, to be less inconsistent." Every one of the blond's words seem halted, as though each one is a struggle to get out. "Unless you've given up–"

"I haven't." Enoch quickly says, quicker than he even expected. "It might be poor judgement, but I haven't. Not yet." A soft smile, that looks foreign on his lips, curls across Draco's face.

"Thank you, Enoch."

( AUTHOR'S NOTE )
Here weeeeee gooooooooooooo!!