She knew she shouldn't follow him in there. It was the boys bathroom after all. And who was he to her? Nobody. But she did it anyway. At the sound of the door clicking behind her, the boy hunching over the sink turned off the faucet, and, with a reaction like lightning, pulled down his sleeve. It happened so fast that it almost went unnoticed by her. "Get out." He ordered in a voice rigid and harsh. She'd never heard his voice so cold, chilled like ice. He'd been mean before, just a plain jerk, but his voice had never carried that sting of winter that it had now.
"I just…um, wanted to make sure you were ok…you're uh, you're not yourself lately." She mumbled awkwardly. But it was true. Even Hermione Granger herself had said so.
The boy scoffed and turned to face her, his platinum locks falling all over his sculpted face.
"What do you care?" he demanded, his eyes daggers.
She stared straight into those grey eyes that had matured all too quickly in the last few months. Why was that? She didn't know why; and she found herself feeling bad for the blonde haired boy.
"I don't." she said softly.
"Then get out." He sneered.
But it was too late. At that moment she saw his left arm. The sleeves of his shirt were wet and clinging to his pale skin. So Harry had been right. The thought made her want to run away. But instead she stepped closer to the boy, her eyes never leaving his.
"I'm sorry." She said. Because she was. But she hadn't meant to actually say it. The words just slipped, escaped and tumbled awkwardly out of her mouth. She did feel bad for him; there was no denying that, but maybe she shouldn't. If the mark on his arm meant all it did, then she shouldn't feel any sympathy whatsoever. But she did. Maybe because she could feel that he never really wanted this. Maybe there was some good left in him.
The softness of her voice had startled him. It had been a long time since someone had actually spoken nicely to him. "I'm sorry." She had said. Sorry?
"W-what for?" he spat. Although he hadn't counted on the stuttering. Can you imagine? Him. Draco Malfoy. Stuttering. If only his father could see him now. It was so wrong. Of all the time and places to lose his composure it had to be now. In the boys bathroom. In front of this strange girl.
He was no longer the arrogant Slytherin swaggering across the halls in a haughty gait. Right now, he was just a frightened and humbled boy. And who could blame him?
"I'm not sure," the girl answered his question, scrunching her features, "I wish I knew though…" she added gently.
Draco shuffled uncomfortably in front of her. Her name escaped him. He searched all through his mind. He had to know her name. He must know her name. They'd been in the same classes for the past six years for gods sake. He knew she was a half blood. Perhaps that answered why he had erased her from his memory. Deeming her as unimportant. But with all the thinking and with everything happening at once he was becoming dizzy. He thought he might topple over so he leaned on the wall for support, but, finding his knees unable to hold him up any longer, slid down the wall, landing on the floor with a solid thud.
The girl approached him and sat down next to him, the backs of her shoes clicking on the bathroom tile. "I'm Clare." She said, staring directly in front of her, not looking at him.
Of course, he thought, Clare de Leon. He knew he would remember.
"Why are you here?" he began.
"I told you I don't know." She insisted but paused to look at him. "I guess you looked like you needed a friend." Though she didn't mean it in a sympathetic tone.
This was almost enough to break down his secure walls, the ones he'd taken years to build, holding up the dam of tears that hid behind his eyes. Almost.
"I don't scare you?" he spat out bitterly, purposely rolling up his sleeve, as if to show her what a monster he truly was. She thought for a moment, taking in the tattoo. She stared at it so long it sent Draco's heart into a panic. What if she decided to leave? What would he do then? Perhaps she was trying to memorize the design, he thought.
"No." she said finally, breaking the silence and easing Draco's mind. His sharp, grey eyes softened.
Maybe he did need a friend.
