For Carla Jean

[ferretface_git]

It was becoming increasingly clear that he'd lost all direction in his life.

While he'd managed to survive on Darrow's meager stipend, but it was a bare sort of existence, and while he'd had years on the island to become accustomed to such a life, he felt oddly dissatisfied and directionless in his leisure.

That afternoon, he found himself standing in front of a coffee shop bulletin board, perusing fliers and advertisements, lost pets and calls for roommates. On the board, he found an announcement of art classes at the community college; in particularly, glass blowing. He'd been self taught, largely, but it was a reminder of a life he'd left behind on the island, and skills he'd assumed he'd never need again. With a frown, he tore from the flier one of the little information tabs, a time and address and required fees.

He didn't particularly plan to use it, but he found himself unable to ignore it, all together, and distracted by his nostalgia, he turned blindly, unmindful of whomever might've been standing behind him.

Comments

[refusedtocall]

"This island," Carla Jean says, shrugging, not about to make too much of it. She isn't sure what the source of his curiosity is, but she also doesn't have any reason not to answer. It's true either way, and she's not the sort to talk around it. "Why?"

[ferretface_git]

"I don't remember you," he admitted, though that didn't mean much. He'd never been particularly friendly with strangers, or very good at remembering names or faces unless it benefited him in some way.

[refusedtocall]

"So you were there too," Carla Jean says, not sounding especially surprised by that. She would have been, a little, the odds of it being pretty slim, but the way he'd asked made her suspect that might have been the case. "I don't remember you, either. I'm Carla Jean."

[ferretface_git]

"Draco," he said, "Draco Malfoy."

He'd long sense given up the urge to present his family name first, as if it held some sort of special meaning.

"Perhaps we were trapped there at different times."

[refusedtocall]

"Could be," Carla Jean says with a shrug. It still doesn't make sense to her, the way time is all out of alignment, but then, it's no stranger than the three decades she somehow skipped over. Weirder things have happened. "How long you been here?"