Chapter Six
Draco sat with his back pressed against the warm bricks of the library fireplace. The heat sinking into his skin as he flipped page after page. The words in front of him kept mixing together, more than once he found himself reading the same sentence twice. His mind wandering back to Dumbledore's words.
A Potter.
The name rang in his ears like a school bell. An entitled, low-class, self absorbed school bell.
A Potter
Is that really what he said? It can't be. The old fool couldn't possibly be serious. How could Lillianna, sweet Lillianna with her snowflake hair and gentle demeanor, share even a scrap of blood with that no good, teacher's pet, muggle loving, blood traitor.
Draco slammed the book against his thigh, a sting spreading through his muscles. He could barely feel it however, his mind was closing now. The emotions consuming everything. His brain, his stomach, every fiber of his being.
Anger flooded through his body. Confusion. Hunger. No, not hunger. Hatred. Pure, unbridled hatred. Not for Lillianna, no never for her. But for Potter, that bloody good for nothing Potter, for somehow sweeping the rug out from under him yet again. Leaving him sore upon the ground, once again alone. For taking one more portion of his life and corrupting it with his very existence.
His fists curled around the book, threatening to break it apart. Rip is from its binding and leave it too, broken on the floor. A perfect symbol of himself.
The library door opened, Draco didn't have to look up to know whose footsteps were approaching him, but he still did. Just to be sure. Just to see her walk through those doors, rebelling against the orders to exit this wing of the manor.
Rebelling. A Potter.
"Draco..?" Her voice was small. Smaller than he'd heard it in years. "Are you mad at me.?"
Mad? At her? Merlin, how could he ever be mad at that stupid girl, and how stupid of her to ask him such a question.
"Why would I be angry with you Lills? Did you know?" He watched as she lowered herself to the ground, one small hand tangled in her apron. Still tied backwards.
"No, Sir." Her head fell, a tell tale sign of her welling tears. He watched her, how often he'd found himself doing just that over this summer. Her hair, now that he truly thought about it, never did quite lay down flat...
"Lillianna, what have I told you about calling me that?" His fists uncurled from the book, as he laid it beside the fireplace the sting in his thigh became noticeable. He laid one hand on the hem of her apron.
"To never call you that, because you're not Lucius." Lillianna's head rose to meet his gaze, tears on the verge of falling off the edges of her eyes.
"Exactly. Now, we're in a library after all aren't we? I believe we have some studying to do if we're really going to Kings Cross in a month and getting you on that train."
"Draco?" Her voice quivered, on the edge of breaking.
Draco feared words would fail him, so instead his head nodded in her direction, a sign for her to continue.
Lillianna took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not a Potter."
A smile spread across Draco's face. His chipped tooth coming back into view.
Lillianna was not a Potter, she was still Draco's. Potter could have everything, and be every bit the bloody mudblood lover he was, but he couldn't have her. No matter what blood ran through her veins. Draco swore, her heart was still his.
Even if you never know...
