"I can't do this anymore!"
"That's right, mate, just let it all out."
Draco glared at his best friend. "Shut it."
Blaise glanced at him from across the table. "What did I do?" He widened his eyes innocently.
Draco growled.
Blaise looked back down at the book he was uninterestedly paging through, unperturbed. "That's what they say on all those Muggle shows my mum watches—granted, I also think she might be going crazy, so maybe I shouldn't tell people that." He closed the book and settled it in front of him.
Draco raised a blonde eyebrow. "Your mother watches Muggle shows?"
"I also said she was possibly insane." Blaise said unconcernedly, raising a hand to inspect his nails. "Now what seems to be your problem?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." Blaise didn't look up.
"Honestly, it's noth—"
"It's that Weasley girl, isn't it?"
Draco looked at his friend, undisguised astonishment clouding his features for a moment. "How did you—" He regained his composure. "She is merely an insignificant, slightly trifling detail in my life at this given moment."
"Denial."
"You are extremely irritating."
"Why, thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Really? I had no idea."
"Was that sarcasm? Because you can never tell with someone as dense as you."
"Prat."
"Git."
Silence.
"You know, if you truly loved her, you wouldn't be sitting here right now."
"I know."
"Then why are you?"
"I don't know."
"Go." The single word was so simple, falling from the dark-haired boy's mouth, dropping onto the table, and laying itself down in front of Draco. So exposed, vulnerable. And he made his decision.
"Fine."
"Fine what?"
"I'll go!"
"Oh, we're still talking about that?"
"You are the most insufferable, incompetent—"
"Just go, Draco." Blaise grinned. "We both know if you don't, you'll be whiny and miserable the rest of the weekend. Just go."
"I do not whine—"
Blaise gave a bark of laughter. "Oh really?"
"Really."
"Draco."
"What?"
"Just. Go."
"I'm going." Despite his words, Draco stood slowly from the table, his mind telling him the logical thing to do would be to heed his friend's words and find her, talk to her, but his heart protested every movement that led him towards her, not wanting to be rejected, fearing her possible response. Somehow, he made it out of that wretched common room, down that impossibly long hall, and Draco began climbing the steps to the Gryffindor tower.
Why? Why was he doing this?
Because for her, he would. He would climb to the top of the tallest tower—well, the Gryffindor one, that is—and he would search it until he held her, vanquishing anyone who stood in his way.
With a grimace, Draco shuddered at how cliché he had become. But for her? He would. Because, whether Blaise believed it or not, he loved her. Draco just hoped that would be good enough for her.