"Draco?" a meek voice called rather quietly.
The silver haired boy was sitting up in his bed, with bandages wrapped around every limb to cover every scar. His hands were folded in his lap and he had been staring at them until the small voice spoke his name from behind the pale green curtain.
A delicate hand reached out to pull it back, just a bit, to allow a face to appear and look at him. The face was that of a girl, with almost transparent freckles scattered across her cheeks. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with few strands falling in the way of her face. Her eyes were the thing he found most enticing; even the most awkwardest of companions wouldn't have been able to turn away from the emerald greens that reminded him too much of his enemy.
The moment her emeralds met his gray, her pink lips spread into a wide, white grin. For someone he had been torturing for six years, he didn't understand how she could smile like that at the sight of him.
Maybe she was feeling guilty, he thought. Guilty that her brother had attacked him with an unusual spell—a spell that had given him so much pain and had put him where he was at the moment.
"Hey. How are you feeling?" she asked, stepping around the one curtain, keeping her voice low, so as not to disturb any of the other occupants. She set her bag down on the ground next to the bed and walked around to sit in a chair on his left, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
He didn't answer. He didn't feel like answering.
Her smile fell at the sight of him and she pressed her lips together.
"Probably not much better. Sorry." She apologized.
His eyes immediately went from his lap to her eyes in slight shock, the most he could manage. She had apologized for the umpteenth time that year. Not something he would expect her to do.
"Has Madame Pomfrey been treating you well? Do you feel any kind of…improvement?" she asked awkwardly, rubbing her hands together nervously.
A moment of staring separated the conversation, but he looked away in time to say, "I feel fine."
Her eyes closed and she let out a snort as her lips sprang into another smile, her hand lifted up to her heart. She threw her hands playfully into the air and opened her eyes.
"Thank the Wizard God, he speaks!" she teased.
He rolled his eyes and glared at her, sneering, "listen, Potter," he spat her name, "I don't need any of your sympathies. So you can just leave. Besides, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise are coming to visit me. I don't need your company."
The chair squeaked as she jumped in it, surprised at his tone. Her brows furrowed and merged together and she seemed to be turning slightly pink.
"Oh—I'm sooo sorry, Malfoy, that I just happened to be concerned with your well being! After seeing my own brother attack you and all—almost killing you! I have no reason to care about the fact that you could've died, besides the fact that you're a human being!" she hissed, keeping her voice down as she stood up and clenched her fists.
With his hands now placed on either side of his pillow, he pushed himself up a little bit so he was sitting only a tad higher than before, his eyes becoming increasingly wide. He reached out and grabbed her hand with his left hand, making sure to keep his wrist covered, whispering, "Olivia—no."
Her head whipped around and she looked down at their hands, connected, releasing a spark up her arm at the feeling of his touch. Her eyes trailed up his arm to his glorious pale face, her eyes no longer full of any type of anger, matching his. Neither of them seemed bitter anymore at the sight of each other.
Gently, his hand seemed to pull her back to her chair, gliding like a plane on the soles of her shoes. She slipped her hand from his and sat down on the chair carefully, darting her eyes from the floor to his gaze.
"I'm sorry…for snapping. I've been on edge since—" he began, but she put her hand and shook her head.
"Don't worry, I understand." She muttered, smiling carefully, so as not to catch him any further off guard.
But he knew she didn't understand. He had been on edge this whole year, and it wasn't because of Potter and how much he wanted to murder him for the imprisonment of his beloved father. And the attack in the bathroom was only another book upon the pile he was already carrying around the school; lessons he needed to learn, people he needed to avoid, plans he needed to accomplish. The plans were the utmost important, and all of his attempts had failed so far.
Olivia was even there to witness one of the events, with the cursed necklace.
He had been on edge the moment the Dark Lord approached his mother and had threatened them with the task of killing Dumbledore. He knew he must do it for his father, to protect his family honor, to protect his mother, and to possibly protect himself from any other kind of fatality he would endure if the Dark Lord had asked anything more of him.
But she, Olivia Potter, must never know of his plans.
The six years he had known her, tortured her with insults, attacked her brother, threatened her, he would never want her to think lower of him then she probably already does. The scum that hurt her feelings and had had moments to hurt her physically would be no lower then that. Not on his time.
After the moment on the train, where he had broken Harry's nose, and she knew it was him, he thought he had taken a new step down the stairs of disrespect she must of felt for him. And yet, when his bags were being checked, she gave him a smile and gave him a wave, despite the glare she knew her brother was giving him.
Over the year she had even begun to call him by his first name. No more would they hiss at each other, speaking one another's names like they were acid on ones tongue; instead she said his name with grace and an ease, like she was proud to say it so smoothly and not in a rough, angry manner. And he felt the same. Uttering her name, allowing the last letter in her name to fall from his lips like a drop of water, making sure never to say it in front of her brother.
Always getting in the way of them speaking, was how it would play out. Olivia would wave but never say his name because Harry would be there to turn and glare and pull her away just in case. He was no bad guy in the situation, Draco figured, knowing he was protecting his long lost sister from a boy he had hated since first year and protecting her from the monster he was becoming.
In fact, when Olivia wasn't speaking to him, or waving, or staring, or smiling, Harry was there to watch him, to keep an eye on him. As if he had been hired to do the same as what Draco always made sure to do. Keep tabs on him.
But he couldn't keep tabs on Harry Potter this year, not with his schedule. And especially not with Olivia slipping her way into his planning. Finding her way to follow him to the Room of Requirement. He had discovered her only a matter of minutes after she had hid, and after almost cursing her and just barely pulling her arm out of the socket he allowed her to stand there and cheer him on—oblivious as to why he was really using the vanishing cabinet. He had told her it was just good practice and that his father had told him about the cabinets in the first place. Like a fairytale.
"Draco." She muttered, allowing him to suck in a breath through his nostrils and bring him back from his recalling thoughts. Her voice slithered through his ear like a snake and swirled in his mind for a moment, keeping him from acknowledging her. He only looked to her, staring at her expectantly.
"Do you still want me to leave? Before the others get here?" she asked, looking towards the curtain as if she could see through it to the door.
He blinked and looked down at his hand that had originally held hers, staring for a split second at his wrist, still covered up. He looked back up at her and blinked again.
"Only if that makes you feel comfortable, I could care less." He said quietly, almost inaudible.
He wasn't feeling very talkative, nor was he feeling rather positive or excited or in general good health. She pressed her lips together and nodded.
"I shouldn't be long then. Professor Dumbledore called me up to the astrology tower for a talk. I don't know what about but…it must be important if it's Dumbledore asking." She chuckled with a slight shrug and a smirk.
Dumbledore. That's why he wasn't talkative. Tonight was his chance. Snape had told him that tonight was the night he had a good chance to fulfill his job.
"But," she started, pausing to look down at her hands, "I came to apologize…for Harry."
Draco stayed silent, listening as she sucked in a breath after giving up on a reaction from him, "Because—well—I know that he won't do it… I'm sorry he attacked you, and I'm sorry I didn't do anything about it." She sighed, beginning to rub her hands together.
He furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, staring at her oddly, "didn't do anything?" he asked.
She looked at him, her eyes full of regret and remorse. Things she shouldn't have to feel. "I didn't…defend you. He came at you and I just…ducked… I should've defended you, you know? Been there to stop him instead of allowing him to…slaughter you." She explained, motioning to all of his bandages as she thought back on the situation in the bathroom.
Her eyes fell to her hands again, staring at them as she continued, "I yelled at him. And he apologized…but I haven't forgiven him…not after all of the things he's said about you this year." She said, unknowingly letting her guard down.
Draco could only scoff and roll his eyes, looking away from her in disgust at the thing he always expected, "Of course. And I'm guessing weasel-be and the mudblood have their own things to say as well?" he grumbled, glaring at his side table at the thought of either of them talking smack. He should've been ordered to murder them, not Dumbledore.
Olivia pressed her lips together and began to wring her hands, "Please don't call them that." She said quietly, not wanting to upset him.
His head spun around to look at her; her eyes fell to her lap, her knuckles turned white and he scanned her from head to toe. She showed signs of being overly nervous, causing him to tense up. She had seemed so comfortable all year when she was around him. He still managed to sneer as he spoke.
"What's wrong with you, Potter? Getting nervous are we?" he asked, finishing it off with his signature smirk before turning away quickly right as she looked up to make eye contact.
"Well—" she began sitting up straight and looking a little caught off guard. "—I'm trying to apologize for my brother, and it seems as though you just aren't—accepting it…or anything for that matter." She grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair.
He blinked a few times, staring at the edge of the bed, thinking about the apology. He shook his head and glared at his feet, "What has he been calling me this time? Has he been saying anything about my father?" he said menacingly, trying not to direct that comment at her.
Unconsciously, she bit her lip and let her eyes drift in his general direction, reading the face that she had seen all year, still pale and as depressed as ever.
Gray bags had formed over the summer between fifth and sixth year, right under his matching gray eyes. His skin had paled, no matter how hot the weather had gotten where he had lived, like he had been living in his mansion, doing nothing but shower, eat and sleep and keep his shades shut. He seems to move in slow-motion, no matter how pointed he walked; his walk didn't have as much life in it as before. He would still saunter, but his confidence and determination seemed more of a plaster over something else.
Something was eating at him and Olivia knew it. She guessed it was about his father, being in Azkaban and all, and she knew all he needed was someone nice to be there for him.
Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't suffice, not when they could barely take care of themselves, following Draco around like flies; Pansy was practically useless unless Draco wanted to look like he was being followed by a homeless pug all the time; and, as far as Olivia could tell from Professor Slughorn's get-togethers, and from general socializing, Blaise Zabini is the only competent friend he has. She knew the least she could do was treat him respectfully after all that had happened in their fifth year.
When she followed him to the Room of Requirement and he didn't curse her or spit in her face or something when he discovered her, she knew she had gotten at least far enough to be in close proximity to him without a glare. She also found it interesting that he had found that vanishing cabinet there and was using it to practice transferring items from place to place. He had explained to her about the twin, and she was polite enough not to mention that she had seen him in Borgin & Burkes examining it.
After spending so much time with him, and having defended him for his odd behavior, she couldn't help but feel a little perplexed by the idea that Draco could be a death eater. Ron had mentioned him only being 16 made him a little too young to be a death eater, but she thought the idea of him being in anyway connected to the death eaters, other then his father, was absolutely absurd.
Why shouldn't she think so? They had become good acquaintances, and no one ever noticed that he no longer spat her name or insulted her or looked at her funny. Or, luckily, that her love potion smelled exactly as he did: vanilla and aged pine wood.
She even turned her shoulder at that.
And whether they were good acquaintances or great friends, she was going to tell him what her brother was saying. She had felt weak from fifth year anyway, so giving in to the temptation of gossip didn't seem too inappropriate.
She sucked in a breath and she began to chuckle, "He…hahah, it seems silly now, but, he thinks you're…" she paused and looked around, leaning closer, cupping her mouth with her hand, "a death eater." She whispered, hoping no one heard her.
His head shot up and he looked at her in slight worry, almost horrified. She could only laugh.
"I know! That's what I looked like when he told me!" she said, pointing at his expression.
He blinked wildly and then looked away from her again. Her smile fell and her laugh turned to a giggle, which slowly melted away.
"I don't know why he thinks that…I mean…you aren't like your father." She mentioned, rubbing her elbow nervously. He peered at her for a second at the reference to his father, and she quickly caught on. Her eyes widened and she lifted her hands up and shook them around.
"Oh no, no! I didn't mean it like that! I meant—your father was a death eater—that doesn't mean you are and—it was an accident-" she rambled, blinking furiously and pushing strands of hair behind her ears.
Draco just smirked and shook his head slightly, somewhat drowning her out for the moment. The only thing false about her statement was that he was, per say, like his father. He was weak and easily gave in to peer pressure. Especially when his life and reputation was on the line, as selfish as that sounded.
Suddenly a warm sensation went up his spine, catching him off guard. It had the same effects as a chill, but the sensation was more inviting and invigorating. He looked down at the source and it came from his left hand, which Olivia had latched on to. She held it cupped in both of her own hands and was holding it tightly.
"I am so sorry—it wasn't meant to sound like an insult, I would never do that to you! I didn't believe Harry when he said that and—well, it's just, I can't believe that! You're too good of a person to be a death eater—OH that doesn't mean your father is a bad person and—oh no." she moaned, setting her forehead on his finger tips in exasperation, looking close to tears.
He squinted at her, noticing how weak she seemed compared to her usual tough as nails persona. She had seemed so vulnerable now that her weaknesses were so evident ever since the Dark Lord had found his way into her mind, realizing she was weaker than Harry. He used her as a puppet, draining her energy.
He himself was weak, and knew exactly how she felt.
"Olivia…you've been so good to me this year…" he muttered, staring at their hands. She lifted her head up and looked at him, her eyes slightly glazed, and her eyebrows cascading down in despair from her rant.
"I don't think you're a death eater, Draco. You can't be." She muttered, her voice quiet. For a moment, he watched his left wrist, making sure his sleeve wasn't threatening to fall.
Her eyes fell to their hands and she just slipped hers away from his, allowing it to float their on his own accord. She rubbed her hands on her legs and smiled at him weakly. He did his best to smirk and let his hand fall back to the bed.
"I hope that amounts to something." She shrugged with a chuckle and he allowed his smirk to pull into a real smile. He nodded and looked her in the eyes.
"It does." He replied.
Her eyes found his and she smiled as well, taking his hand again with her own.
Soft footsteps approached them and Madame Pomfrey peered around the corner before smiling at the two and stepping out to reveal her entire person.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini, along with Miss Parkinson are here to visit." She said quietly, looking between the two of them with slight suspicion. Despite her look, Olivia never took her hand from his.
Draco broke eye contact and looked at Madame Pomfrey, losing his smile at the sound of his friends' names. He shook his head, "Please tell them to wait a moment."
Olivia looked between the two of them, lifting her free hand to protest, "No, no, that's all right. I have to leave now anyway. Professor Dumbledore is probably wondering where I am." She smirked, looking at him sullenly.
Madame Pomfrey smirked to herself and began to turn away to leave, "I'll tell them to wait another moment." She announced, scurrying away.
Olivia tried to hold back a laugh and gave in to giggling, looking at Draco a little embarrassed. He smiled and shook his head.
"Hear that? I'm holding up time with your friends. So sorry." She said jokingly, and he let out a hearty chuckle, feeling things picking up.
She kept her smile but looked down at their hand, darting between his lovely gray pools and their two hands, which she hoped would melt together and keep her there. She began to stand, holding tightly onto his hand. His smile faded and his face was blank and emotionless again.
"So…yeah…I came here to apologize I guess." She finished, summing their whole conversation up.
He just nodded, "And I accept it." He muttered. Her smile grew wider and she looked down at their hands.
"Have a good nights sleep, Draco."
"Thank you for visiting…Olivia." He said quietly, pausing only for a moment to look her in the eye. Staring at green eyes that seemed to smile at him all on their own.
Those eyes began to soften and her smile drooped until her lips were barely closed. She knelt down slightly, beginning to slowly ease her face towards his, scanning his face to see if he would turn away or not. But so far, he didn't. Instead his hand let go of hers and reached up to grab her upper arm. Her hand immediately flew up and grabbed his exposed wrist in surprise.
Never had tears come to her eyes faster then ever before. No pain had brought on tears such as those. The kind that would fall down someone's cheeks, all while burning them, feeling hot enough to leave scorch marks, and staining them like coffee on white linens.
Her lips paused just before they met his. He had parted his own just to capture hers, and found it odd when she didn't continue, allowing to crash their lips together like waves. Instead he felt her breathing against his lips and he could feel them growing shallow. Her grip on his wrist tightened and he grew tense, understanding why she was hesitating.
He felt his own body go numb at the thought, at the notion, that she now knew. She had gone to enough trouble all year to defend him only to have her thought crushed right before her.
She knew he was a death eater.
Moving slowly, she moved her head to one side and kissed his cheek as if it were his lips, pressing hard against it. He shut his eyes, feeling like a fool.
One, because he was close to kissing the Potter girl.
And two, because he was close to kissing the Potter girl and it was ruined by his living nightmare.
Her forehead pressed against his temple when she pulled her lips away from his cheek.
"Good night…Draco…" she whispered, barely audible, making sure her voice didn't break.
But it didn't work. Her voice broke and her thoughts choked on themselves. She let go of his wrist, prompting him to let go of her upper arm. Once his finger tips slid away from her arm she stepped away and grabbed her bag. She did her best to move as fast as possible so he wouldn't see her tears. He didn't want to.
He could hear her retreating footsteps, moving fast, just as a crowd of footsteps approached. The sounds mashed together as they passed one another and he could hear the familiar sound of Pansy giggling. There was a smack and Pansy gasped.
"Watch it Potter!" she whined, followed by Crabbe and Goyle laughing. Olivia's footsteps scurried away until they were gone and Draco shut his eyes tiredly, no longer wanting to think.
"Oh look! I bumped into her so hard, she's crying!" Pansy laughed as they turned around the curtain, getting a good look at her ugly pug face grinning like an idiot. Zabini immediately rolled his eyes and sat in the same seat that Olivia had originally been sitting in.
"Well then, maybe, you should watch where you're going Pansy." He sneered.
She huffed and sat on the bed, taking Draco's left hand, "Hi Drakie-poo! We stopped in to say good night!"
Immediately, he pulled his hand away and set it down on his lap.
Draco looked away from all of them as Pansy began to whine again. He could feel Zabini staring at him knowingly, having noticed that the chair was still warm, and having put two and two together.
"Drakie-poo, what's wrong?" Pansy moaned. Zabini glared at her.
"He wants to sleep, can't you tell? He's had a long day after all the stuff with Potter." He said, taking a glance at Draco, not talking about the same Potter the others were thinking about.
Zabini stood and patted his shoulder. Just before they left, he called, "Sleep it off, Malfoy. We'll see you tomorrow."
And by the end of the night, they knew they wouldn't.