Stop, don't touch me there. This is my private square.

The first week at Hogwarts had slipped by, just like that. If it was any indication for the rest of the term, Damien was certain that everything would be peaceful, quiet ... and boring. Perhaps the dust from the battle had yet to settle, and so the lingering dust made everything linger and stale. It was, nonetheless, an important year. The possibility of the opportunity to move on to NEWTs depended upon the OWLs this year. Damien knew that very clearly. He had every intention to see at least an E for every subject that he was taking. So far, he had managed to settle himself comfortably in classes and homework. That was really also because there was nothing much happening around him, that could possibly distract him from them.

Rather than homework, or even doodling around on his sketchbook, Damien had penned a letter. Being the mummy's boy that he was, although he had never desired for that fact to be know, he had penned a letter to the mother. And then, after slipping a pair of shoes on, he left the Slytherin Dormitory, and made for the Owlery. The weather outside Hogwarts Castle was warm, but Damien took no pleasure in that fact. The only time that he agrees with the sun is during the Summer Holidays, when he gets to swim at the pool of the D'Eath Residence. Besides that, he had no use for the sun.

The warm Saturday afternoon had prompted many students to laze around the ground of Hogwarts. Damien was guessing that most of them would end up at the Lake, toying with the idea of swimming in it. He, on the other hand, simply took a quiet walk, choosing again to be the mere spectator to their meaningless activities. As soon as Damien found himself enter the Owlery, he saw the back of another boy. Of course he had expected to encounter someone. After all, there were no classes and people were bound to decide to do the same thing that he was doing.

Despite the other person, Damien stood at the entrance of the Owlery, and observed in silence. It was something he always did, to stare silently. He was certainly a voyeur. That helped for his sketching, which he strictly liked to remind himself that it is a frivolous activity, one of the few he allowed himself the pleasure of having. The other boy, who Damien recognised since he was just a year older and in Slytherin too, had began talking to ... an owl? Damien felt an eyebrow cock up, before he began to judge the action. Masoch and him had never shared much of a conversation. Damien had assumed the owl like one assumes the presence of a house-elf, with authoritative complacency. He now continued to observe Michi even after the owl had took off with the boy's letter.

"School must really be boring you," he began suddenly, loud enough to send his voice towards the other boy. Damien was always for silent watching, and sudden interruption, if he even desired to interrupt. It was the reaction of the other person that he was always watching out for if he interrupted. And then Damien continued the rest of the sentence in his head, if you must resort to speaking to an owl like this. He could have just voiced his opinion, but the other boy was an older Slytherin, and Damien wanted to suss out the boy's personality before going further. Still, it was clear that the boy was no Darius Flint. The apology that Michi had offered to the random owl replayed itself in Damien's head, and he shuddered at how sweet it had sounded. This was one strange Slytherin. Then again, Damien realised, so was Georgia Wheelbarrow, and she was his best friend. If he could love Georgia, he could possibly delay his judgement of this boy.

Damien raised both of his eyebrows in reaction to Michi's reply. And then, the eyebrows fell back in to place again, almost after just a few seconds of displacement. This was a clever one, this Slytherin. Being scheming and being smart are two different things, the two do not always coincide. The Slytherin House was known for its scheming ways, but not many in the House could prove to be clever. Sure, they were ambitious, but it was hard work that no one liked to admit, since to do so would be to jeaopardize one's reputation; almost everyone ensured that they achieve their goal without looking like they lifted much for it. That certainly did not make an easy life, but it was a necessity. Damien, for one, was all up for this pretence. He pretended he did not care for classes, but the attention paid during classes were almost always at its full bar for the boy, despite the look of nonchalance he likes to wear. Additionally, he spent a lot of time searching for lonely corners in school, only to be doing some further reading. It helped, too, that he made selective friendships with Ravenclaw girls, ensuring that he had undisclosed help for homework all the time. Basically, he worked hard.

Michi's reply, therefore, surprised Damien. Not that it was a bad reply, but that Damien thought he saw an opportunity presented to him. After all, alliances with intelligent or powerful people always helped. As such, he decided not to put forth the blunt honesty of his opinion, to answer the other boy. "Just a guess," he started, and shrugged. "It's boring me too, so I thought I'll assume school was having the same effect on you." Damien looked at the hand that was offered to him, offered a polite slight smile, and took it for a handshake. "D'Eath. Damien D'Eath." It was very important, family names, in Slytherin. Despite the fact that Damien's family was not some long-standing pureblood family, the family name was sufficient for him to be proud of. At least they were purebloods, and had some kind of fame thanks to his father's occupation. Still, it was not as if Lorcan D'Eath commanded much respect among established families. He merely took the effort to befriend a lot of them, ensuring that they thought of him in, at least, amicable terms. That certainly helped his son.

Damien resumed a withdrawn position as soon as introductions were briefly done. Michi's question, however, made him smirk a little. If the older Slytherin boy was intelligent with his work, it was probably because he had less wit, what with that obvious question. Still, Damien thought, perhaps it was just the only possible way at small talk. He could overlook it. He was certainly much kinder to people from his House. "Well, I have a letter ..." He did not know how to continue the apparent sentence. Shrugging, Damien walked to where Masoch was left at. The owl was fast asleep, given the comfortable warmth of the weather. Without concern, Damien jabbed the letter towards his owl, who awoke in a shocked hoot. The boy smirked in amusement. "Sleep is for the weak, Masoch." The owl attempted to glare at its owner. Sighing, Damien patted it in an awkward manner. "Fine, I'm sorry. Give this to Mother, go."

With that, Damien turned away, and directed attention once again to Michi. He wished he knew more about this boy, so that he can propose something to do to make the Saturday less mundane. The problem was, despite seeing Michi around in the Common Room, there was little talk about him. It would seem, then, that Michi had managed to stay out of the limelight. That could be good, what with all the gossips and scandals going around that often embarrassed the persons involved. With the lack of knowledge about Michi, Damien could only seek to test the waters. Sliding both hands in his pants pockets, he eyed the other boy. "So, Michi. Tell me. What's your idea of fun?" It sounded very much as if it came out as an interview question, but it was the only way Damien could get information faster, rather than to beat around the bush.

Five years, and Damien still could not name at least five people his age, who shared a substantial kind of friendship with him. There was only Georgia that he could trust, almost wholeheartedly, odd for a boy who was all for being as stereotypical Slytherin as he could ever be, to find confidence in one from his House with the least of those traits. Even if people knew him, though, it was probably only because he had rather substantial acquaintances with the older and more popular Slytherins. Damien had always found it a little harder to be around people his age or even younger. The draw towards the older ones had always been there, ever since he was that lonesome child in his mother's quiet apartment in London. As much as he no longer really talk to Pricilla, she was admittedly the one that started the ball rolling. But besides the purposeful time spent with the older ones, Damien was content to just be alone, with the addition of Kane and Augustine, from his year, fooling around near him during and in between classes.

Damien looked at Michi now, after the handshake, as if trying to make out what he could gather about the other boy, whether from presence or from memory. He certainly saw the other Slytherin around, but undoubtedly, Michi was not one who belonged with the crowds. He was almost always alone. Damien could not make out how he was like by judging his company, then. He listened to Michi's reply instead, almost bored at the beginning, until a more interesting topic rang in his ears. Damien smirked and nodded at Michi. "No, I don't believe I've made a Gryffindor lose his footing before. That would indeed be a sight." Damien thought about Byron as he said this. "And not petty at all. Fun, rather." He nodded approvingly, as if that was needed. "The only form of entertainment around here, even. And I don't think anyone can replace the Dorks in terms of entertainment value, really."

Damien dusted some specks off his shirt and walked towards the entrance of the Owlery, sticking his head to look at the sky, before taking two steps forward to find himself out from the shade of the place.