six
CHAPTER SIX
. . .
IT'S FAR TOO early to be speedily attempting to make his bed. But that's what Enoch is doing as he pulls the sheets over his bed. Overestimating the gap between his bed and the wall, there's a quiet thud as his head makes impact with the wall, followed by a small, involuntary groan that leaves his lips. It's also far too early for Enoch to be causing damage to himself. Far, far too early, he thinks as he doesn't bother moving—doesn't have the energy to move. For a brief moments, his mind falls asleep, eyes closed and forehead leaning against the wall.
That is, until something is pulled from underneath him and he slips forward. How he manages to avoid more pain is beyond the brunet—a miracle—but he lands comfortably on his bed. Looking up, Enoch spots the culprit: the exact person he was racing against to make his bed.
"Did you know some muggles can pull a table cloth out from underneath the tableware, without magic, and not disturb anything on it? Without magic." Enoch's neighbour, who introduced himself as Elijah not long after their first meeting (and seemed almost as excited about the fact the brunet's name started with 'E' as Gee did), tells the younger with a wide smile across his lips. He shakes his head in disbelief, looking at the blanket he's causing to float idly in the air. "I can barely manage with magic."
"They probably practice," mutters the empath as he climbs off his bed in defeat. He's been beat, again, by the pureblood Hufflepuff. Since their first interaction, Elijah has caught the brunet doing menial tasks by hand and disapproved very loudly. Every single time he's caught the boy, he's interrupted and finished the job with magic—because Enoch refuses to use his own. He will not use magic on tasks like making his bed, not when he's been able to do for the past seventeen years without.
"You're probably right." It takes a few seconds for Elijah to make the bed, with all the bedding working together—rather than against, which it seems to do for Enoch. Once completed, absolutely perfect, the older wizard looks at it with a smile on his lips. The pleased smile, along with the burst of sugar, tells the transfer that he means well, and it's the only reason he's put up with it so far. He's concerned for the boy, itching as he watches him, worried that he might lose his magic one day and it'll be all because of the fact he used it up on making a bed. It's part of the reason he rushes so much, even if it's way too early.
"We should go down to breakfast before all the good food is taken." Elijah states, not giving the younger a chance to respond. He grabs the Enoch's hand, popping candy crackling away in his mouth, and drags him out of the dormitory. Immediately, guilt fills the brunet because he hasn't waited for Gee and that's their thing, right? She waits for him, usually, because the boy wakes up later than her on most days, but today he hasn't even been given the option to wait for her. Will she be offended when she leaves, only to discover that Enoch has run ahead? Will she be upset with him?
He can only wait and find out, hoping she responds more positively than he expects. Elijah continues to chatter on, about magician muggles and their funny magic. ("Did you know one of their magic words is 'Abracadabra'? Imagine that... It's essentially the killing curse and they're out there shouting it like it's nothing!"). And, sometimes, what he says sounds a little wrong to the transfer, but he still sounds incredibly passionate. His arms, as he talks, wave all over the place and almost hit a fellow student as they make their way to some free seats at the Hufflepuff table. Fortunately, they notice the incoming hand and dodge it; they seem to be used to it.
"Pancakes!" Elijah yells once he notices the breakfast laid out for them. Eager, he grabs a seat and reaches out to grab some of the pancakes that have got him so excited. Then, he seems to catch himself, realising just how excited he seems, and coughs awkwardly. He settles back down, a little quieter. The smile still rests on his lips as he pats the free spot beside him, however. "I love pancakes. My nanny used to make amazing pancakes, but my parents decided I didn't need one anymore and she was a waste of money, so I don't get them anymore." The boy shrugs. "These ones aren't so bad though."
Encouraged by Elijah's enthusiasm, Enoch takes one of the pancakes. After the sandy blond has finished drowning his in maple syrup, he passes it to the empath. Putting slightly less, he pours some of the sweet sauce on his own breakfast. With his mouth full, Elijah is quietened slightly; this allows Enoch some more time to think, mostly about how terrible he feels about running off on Gee. It almost makes him afraid to see her later, once she's woken up.
But the pancakes are good. They, once again, aren't as good as his parents', but they'll do.
"You're French, aren't you? Desrosiers is a French family—or do they have some sort of English branch?" Elijah asks, pushing a mouthful of pancake down as he struggles to speak. Enoch shakes his head, explaining that he is from the French branch—as far as he knows, he's also the start of the English branch. "I went to France once with my family. We went to this party with a bunch of old wizarding families—Mother said it would be good to meet them all, make friends with them—but the Desrosiers weren't there."
"Grand-papa and grand-maman aren't big on parties. They own a farm, like to stick to that instead."
"Can you speak French?" The brunet nods, much to the delight of the older male. "What's pancake in french?"
Enoch just shrugs, "Pancake. It's not really a French food."
"Oh, that's boring... What about... fork?"
"La fourchette."
Elijah repeats, pronunciation off and accent thick. The transfer almost cringes as the pureblood boy continues, "Fourchette; I use a fourchette to eat my pancakes."
"Eli's finally lost the plot, talking nonsense." A familiar voice speaks, announcing the anticipated entrance of Gee. She laughs at the now embarrassed boy, whose ears were growing a light shade of pink. He shovelled more pancake into his mouth. As Enoch looked at the girl, he feels his stomach lurch; the nerves return as he thinks of all the judgement she could have towards him. But she just flashes him a bright smile, all sunshine and oranges, and says, "Sorry I took so long, I slept in. It's a good thing you didn't wait up, or you might've missed out on all the good stuff."
Enoch's relief feels like jelly and exhales slowly, placing his knife and fork down in the worry he might drop them.
"I'm not losing the plot." Elijah mumbles through crumbly pancakes. "I'm just learning."
"I know, Elijah; I'm just teasing." Enoch's pancakes take on an additional sweetness, crackling like candy in his mouth as the sandy blond boy smiles widely again. Unable to handle the extra flavours, the empath stops eating and takes a large drink of water. Within a few seconds he's downed the tall glass. Even that tastes like candy and oranges and a heavy sleepiness.
"Are you going to eat that?" Elijah asks, waiting a few moments before gesturing at the brunet's plate. Half a pancake still rests there; with little plans on eating it, Enoch shakes his head. "May I? Please?"
"Sure," says Enoch as he pushes the plate over to his neighbour. The smile grows wider—there's something about Hufflepuffs and smiles that seem to go together. Maybe other houses are just as smiley and he hasn't noticed, but he swears all the Hufflepuffs he's met are constant smiles. Must be tiring, he thinks.
Despite not eating any more, Enoch stays at the table with his two friends. They chatter away in between mouthfuls, with the brunet listening more than speaking, though he's sometimes dragged into it.
. . .
Enoch refuses to wear wizarding clothes on a weekend. Refuses. The robes are so long and uncomfortable, and it's a perfect Autumn day for shorts and a shirt. He thinks, as he lies on the grass near the lake, that he saw some students wearing clothes like his but he isn't sure. He's definitely seen some wearing what he assumes are wizard clothes. But he won't—he swears he won't. He'll put up a fight if he has to.
Gee and Philip left earlier, wanting to go spy on another student—but they didn't call it that... They were getting updates, important updates, on something they were monitoring. Both wanted to know what a girl was up to. It had sounded suspicious when they described it, so Enoch decided he wouldn't come along. He wanted to go outside anyway, catch some rays before winter came and it was impossible to. Elijah had said he'd come later, after he was done studying—he got told off for saying that, accused of spending too much time studying. His ears had turned pink again.
A dark shadow passes over Enoch and his book, blotting out the warmth of the sun from the top half of his body. The brunet would have ignored it, as there are a few clouds up in the sky right now, but the shadow's shape looks suspiciously like a human. So, unwillingly, he looks up. It's probably a good thing he did too, because there stands none other than Draco Malfoy, interrupting the pleasant day with his sour lemons. And just when Enoch was starting to remember what it was like to have alone time—quiet time—where he can't sense much.
The blond boy is clearly one of the students that prefer to stick to robes, still looking all dressed up despite it being a weekend and having no reason to be. With his clothes all black, he looks like he'd be growing warm, sun being absorbed into his clothes. But, if he is, he doesn't show it. All he shows is mild displeasure, a bitterness matching the lemons—he looks slightly put out.
"Here," the Slytherin eventually says as he drops a flash of white. It's landed on the younger's book before he can properly register what it is, gaze dropping with it. When it stops, it gains more definition and becomes less of a blur—a pair of white gloves. "I have no use for them and I can't be expected to save you every time you have a moment, so take them."
"I can't–"
"They're expensive," interrupts Malfoy. He looks uncomfortable, gaze still cold but expression looking as though he wants to be anywhere but here, "Anyway, for a Desrosiers, you dress so poor—this is practically an act of charity. Just take the gloves and then there'll be no need for us to interact more than necessary."
Enoch doesn't want to take the gloves, but he feels like this moment of kindness (is it kindness?) shouldn't be taken for granted. So he smiles lightly, picking the gloves up from the book, and thanks the cold Malfoy heir. An almost pleasant honey lemon coats the empath's tongue, but he's still shrugged off, with a small, "It's nothing. Don't get the wrong idea, Desrosiers."
The pair are interrupted by cries of 'Malfoy!' as the two cronies that seem to shadow the blond make their way over. The expression on Malfoy's face sharpens, growing cold, as the bitterness of the lemons increases. Before they can reach him, he starts walking towards them to meet in the middle. They're still within earshot when the cronies start asking where he's been, and what he's doing with that guy—who is that guy, we haven't seen him before.
"Must you two follow me everywhere?" Malfoy hisses, not even covering his annoyance. "That's the transfer—the Desrosiers boy. And, if you must know everything I do, I was giving him some wardrobe tips—like burning all those muggle clothes and buying some proper clothes with some of the money his family has." The other two boys seem to think this is hilarious, as they laugh loudly as the trio move off. Enoch continues to watch them go, hand still gripping the soft gloves within. Malfoy doesn't look back once.
As Enoch gets comfortable again, still clutching the gloves, he frowns to himself. He's torn between wanting to dislike Malfoy, which seems to be the general feeling towards him, and see the best in him even if that can be quite difficult. This, he concludes after reaching no solution, is a dilemma he will have to write home about.
( AUTHOR'S NOTE )
Long note ahead
So first up, uhh I had a blank but we're good now. I think. Secondly, I don't fully accept that dilemma is spelt like that & not dilemna. Also, the cast has been updated (it's liable to change—but only Philip, I'm not 100% settled)
Also also, writing this & leaving the comfort of BTS feels a bit like learning to ride a bike without training wheels again. I ride a few metres & I'm successful and then I lose balance & crash, which requires either myself or someone else to motivate me to get back up & keep on going. And I just need to acknowledge the help I've gotten because we're six chapters in & I've already fell off my bike numerous times and thought I should probably just go back to training wheels, but these people have all helped me get back up in some way (sometimes without even realising)
MaryShea , tashbumblebee , papisongo , silkjins
All of them except Mary have a bunch of really good stories on their accounts that I 100% recommend checking out when you've got the chance
Oh, actually I have one more: @ you. Thank you for reading & supporting this, because that also means a lot to me
(Sorry this is so long; I'm not a succinct person)
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