on putting up pretenses
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He was tired of holding his head high. He was much too tired of all the press, the gossip at Hogwarts (Why did he even have to come back for an eighth year? It would have been so much easier if he could have just stayed at home, taking over the family head's duties – alright, maybe not, but…), the impressions that everyone was making of himself and his family…
What his family was going through was his family's business alone. He did not show it, being a Malfoy after all, but all the not-so-subtle stares, the glares from the other Slytherins for betraying the dark side, the teachers trying to be tactful (or in Slughorn's case, not) were slowly bearing on his patience.
Glaring at the surrounding students, who quickly turned away, Draco Malfoy irately pulled out a seat at one of the library's tables and, lacking some of his normal grace, pushed himself into it. He ignored Madam Pince, who had screeched at him for making "such a racket, young man, unsuitable for the library!" Running a hand through his platinum blond hair, he rummaged in his bag for his parchment and quill (summoning was quite forgotten).
And then he realized he had come to borrow a book that he needed for his research, not write. Sighing through his nose, he stood up and walked over to the section containing Transfiguration reference books. He perused the titles and chose one, and then was about to return to his seat when he caught a glimpse of messy black hair that he would recognize anywhere.
His exhaustion disappeared for a moment, replaced by a twisted sense of happiness that he gained only from making fun of the girl that the world praised.
"Well well, if it isn't Our Heroine," he mocked, waiting for her to whirl around angrily.
As expected, Potter whipped around her jet-black hair, her captivating – what?! No, he had meant to say irritating – emerald (Slytherin color, his mind whispered despite his efforts) eyes sparkling with fury, staring straight at him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she hissed, apparently not wanting to draw the librarian's attention.
"Hmm, alone today, Potter? I thought you couldn't do anything without the Weasel and the Mud-"
"Don't you dare," Potter cut him off. "And besides, I could say the same thing to you – the gorillas aren't here to protect you anymore, huh?"
Draco laughed condescendingly, saying, "Those two were useless. The fiendfyre was too reckless – anyone would have known that. And what Goyle does is nothing worth my attention."
"That's a horrible thing to say!" she exclaimed. Such a champion of "justice." Then seeing Madam Pince turning toward their direction, she continued quietly, "I mean, yeah, the fiendfyre was somewhat careless, but they were with you for…what, seven years? Their companionship must have been something."
Ten, really, but that didn't matter.
His uncooperative mind murmured again, "The only companionship I ever wanted was yours…"
What?
No, that just wasn't possible. She was Potter. His sworn enemy. The Heroine.
And yet, he still couldn't deny that the only person he had ever truly looked at – or ever truly wanted to be looked at, was her.
Everyone else didn't matter.
End
First genderbend story. Yush! I have leveled up from "reader" to "writer"~
For the Dream Challenge, "sunglasses – 'perhaps you don't want to see or be seen.'"
A bit cliché, I agree, but I was tired…
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