PESTILENCE THAT WALKETH IN DARKNESS
PART I: SCHISM
CHAPTER X: CLOSER TO THE HEART
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Draco was surprised to find that, the next time he opened his eyes, it was mid-afternoon. He could hardly believe that he had actually been able to fall asleep the night before, after his mother had visited his room.
With that thought, his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. Hesitantly, he rolled over to face the alcove. Yes, the rings were still there, right where he had left them. It had not been a dream, as he had hoped it had been. At this, Draco realized why he had not woken in the night: his sleep had been plagued by enough strange dreams to keep his troubled mind satisfied for the time being.
He kept dreaming that it was his wedding day, and that he was standing at the altar, waiting for the bride to come. The Dark Lord was standing there next to him, and was ready to officiate the wedding. Draco could remember that he wore a ridiculously small top hat, and it was at that point that Draco had realized he was dreaming. The Dark Lord would surely never wear such a silly thing.
There were a few different variations of the dream. In the first, Chris was a bridesmaid, and Draco knew that he was to marry Pansy. However, when Pansy's father walked her down the aisle, the dream deteriorated and started all over again. This time, Pansy was the bridesmaid, and Chris was nowhere to be seen. When the arrival of the bride was announced, Draco saw that Eric Murray was walking her towards him. Because of that, he assumed that the bride was Chris, but when he looked through the veil, he found that he was wrong. It was Pansy again. Draco glanced over her shoulder to where he was certain he had seen Pansy standing before, but Chris had taken her position once again as the bridesmaid.
The last variation of the dream that he experienced was quite different from the first two. In this one, he was standing at the altar and waiting for the bride again, but there was snickering amongst the wedding guests. Someone then tapped him on the shoulder from behind, and he came face to face with Harry Potter, who was chuckling as well.
"Excuse me, but you're standing in my place," he had told Draco with a false smile. "You're supposed to be standing over here."
Draco was then forced to move away from the altar and take up his position as the Best Man, which was also ridiculous. He knew that he would never be Potter's Best Man at a wedding. He was then forced to watch as Chris was walked down the aisle and wed to Potter by the Dark Lord, which was another thing that he was pretty sure would never actually happen in real life.
Draco had then decided that he'd seen enough, and forced himself into consciousness. As he lay in his bed, he thought about his dreams, and about how absurd they had been. But, then again, there was some underlying truth to them, which only caused him to worry further.
He knew that he would either end up marrying Chris or Pansy, depending on how he broke the idea of marriage to Chris. If he did it wrong, then she would call off the wedding, and he would be stuck with Pansy. Who would Chris end up marrying, though? Cynthia and Eric surely had a back-up plan for her too, didn't they? It was too bad that he had forgotten to ask his mother about it last night.
Draco furrowed his brows as he considered the last dream of the three. Potter. Where did he stand in all this? Would Chris maybe reject the entire idea of an arranged marriage, forsake her parents, and pursue a life with Potter? Unfortunately, it was very probable.
However, the last words she had spoken about Potter came to mind. She had called him a nasty name behind his back, and then told Draco that she found him quite annoying at times. By the sounds of it, she and Potter only got along when he got his way and when he had his way with her.
Feeling in a better mood already, he decided that he would go wash up, and then hunt down Chris to see where they stood today. Perhaps their situation would be better than it had been in the previous little while.
As he showered, an idea struck him. He thought about the technique that he was executing when approaching Chris about their past, and knew why she found it bothersome. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He was asking her to forget the past, and by doing so, he was only reminding her of the past. Perhaps he should attempt a different approach.
He decided that he would not mention anything unsavory that she did not wish to acknowledge happened. To help his plight even further, he would go back to treating her the way that he had before the entire affair happened, so as to restore their friendship.
He got out of the shower, and dressed as fast as he could. Distracted by his grumbling stomach, he decided that he would make a quick trip to the dining room and eat something first, having not done so since the day before last. Besides, if he was hungry, he might not be able to fully concentrate on the task he had set for himself.
As he stepped out into the hallway, however, he was once again distracted. This time, it was not by a recurrent bodily demand, but by a sound he had not heard within his home in quite some time, if at all before.
He stood as still as he could outside his bedroom door, and listened with a rapt ear. He furrowed his brows as he thought of what he was hearing. He knew that it was a piano, but where was it coming from?
The sound seemed to be coming from the direction away from the stairs - further towards Chris' bedroom. However, as he passed her bedroom, he could see through the open door that it was unoccupied. The sound was still coming from further up the hallway, and he continued on in his search for its origin.
He went around a bend in the corner, and saw that one of the rooms near the end of this hallway was also open. Concluding that this was to be his destination, he carried on up the hallway. As he moved closer, he discovered that the music was, indeed, coming from this very room. He approached the doorway with a light foot, and chanced a glance in around the frame.
As he had suspected, it was Chris that sat in front of the piano, her hands moving leisurely over the ebony and ivory keys. He wondered why she had never before told him that she played, for there was no reason against her to do so. She played fairly well, and was able to carry a tune.
Draco moved through the door and leaned against the bit of empty wall closest to it. The song she played echoed through the room, and Draco found it very easy to just stand back and watch her as she went about her way with the composition.
The song picked up in tempo, and an avalanche of notes cascaded through Draco's mind. He closed his eyes, savoring the sound, as Chris' fingers began to soar over the keys. As suddenly as the song's culmination had begun, it came to a near halt as the song entered its final refrain, and then slowly came to an end. There was silence for a moment, and then Chris began to randomly hit the keys, as though waiting for her fingers to find a familiar melody or song to instigate.
Before they had a chance to, though, Draco announced his presence. "That was brilliant."
As he suspected she would, she leapt slightly where she sat and glanced over her shoulder in alarm. When she saw that it was only him, she clasped a hand over her heart and breathed a sigh of relief. "Draco, you startled me."
"Sorry," he took the fact that she had not given him the cold shoulder or snapped at him as a sign that he could approach her. "I mean it, though. You play beautifully. What was that?"
"The song?" Chris asked, to which Draco nodded. "Rachmaninov's Prelude."
"It sounds ... sinister," Draco smiled, leaning on the side of the piano. "I like it. Who taught you to play the piano, anyway? Surely, your parents didn't."
Chris shook her head, beginning to hit random keys again. "No, my grandfather taught me when I was little, before he died."
"He taught you to play this well when you were young?" Draco asked, incredulous. "How old were you, exactly?"
"Eight," she answered. "He didn't teach me everything, though. I had only learned the basics when he fell ill with Schizophrenia."
Draco didn't know what the illness was, but he could see by her disturbed expression that it was not pleasant. "So, after he passed, you taught yourself to play?"
She shook her head. "No, Prelude is the only song that I can remember. My mother had pushed me to continue playing after my grandfather died. She said that when I played, it was like he was still around, and it made it easier for her to grieve his death. It helped me, too. I felt as though I was keeping him alive. I kind of regret not continuing to play after I started at Hogwarts."
Draco allowed for a short silence between them, and then chuckled as he thought of an embarrassing old fact about himself. "Can you keep a secret?"
Chris considered him, and then smiled and nodded.
"When I was younger, my mother tried to push me into the arts," Draco began, smiling in remembrance. "My father hated it. He said that it was not very masculine, and that it was going to affect me in the long run."
He paused as Chris burst into laughter, and then allowed her enough time to gather herself before continuing. "I didn't play an instrument, though. My mom pushed me into the choir."
Chris gaped at him. "You used to sing?"
"Yeah," his cheeks flushed as he admitted it. "I hated it, but I was pretty all right, I guess. That was a long time ago, though. I had to stop when I went to Hogwarts, too."
"Why didn't you join the Hogwarts choir?"
"That's a joke," Draco laughed. "I couldn't. I had to stop it altogether. I had hit puberty, and my voice changed. I didn't sound as good as I used to, according to my mother. Besides, can you actually imagine me, in the Hogwarts choir? I would've been the laughing stock of the school."
Chris chuckled, hitting a few more keys. "Which part did you sing? Baritone? Tenor?"
"No," He then mumbled something incoherent, his cheeks deepening in color. He realized that Chris had not heard him, and so he repeated himself. "Soprano."
Chris registered what he had said, and then erupted into laughter again, gasping for air as she spoke. "Soprano, Draco? Soprano?"
"Hey, shut up," Draco frowned deeply, speaking over her laughter. "Like I said, I hated it. My mom forced me to do it."
"Oh, but that's so cute!" Chris squealed, beaming at him. "Little Drakie Malfoy singing like an angel! I would have never thought it, now, since your voice is so deep! Aw!"
Draco smiled slightly out of embarrassment. He should have made her promise not to laugh, too, along with keeping that piece of information to herself. "Well, whenever you're done..."
Her laughter winded down, and she wiped her eyes clean of a few tears that had managed to form. "Sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to laugh that hard at you. I just find that so ... not you."
"And you'll keep it a secret?"
"Of course I will," she held her pinky finger out to him, ready to make her promise concrete.
Draco wrapped his pinky around hers, and then smiled again. "Thanks. I appreciate that."
"No problem," Chris replied, looking back at the piano. "Besides, if I told everyone that kind of stuff, I wouldn't get to learn more of it from you."
Draco laughed, indicating towards the piano. "True. So you're going to play more, then?"
Chris thought about it, but then stood up from the piano bench. "Maybe later. I'm hungry. I forgot about lunch once I found this piano."
"I forgot about it, too, when I heard you playing," Draco added as they left the room together. "The sound sure carries well through the hallway."
"Does it?"
"Yeah - oh! Hey, listen," Draco cut himself off as he remembered one of the things that had been on his mind lately. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Chris. What had you done a few night's ago, when the Dark Lord requested your company?"
Chris had pursed her lips, thinking that he was going to bring up something else, but sighed inwardly in relief when he didn't. "I don't know if I should tell you or not. You'll just think I'm an idiot."
"I won't think you're an idiot," Draco shook his head. "Come on. Tell me."
She sighed, and then chuckled shortly as they descended the stairs. "I did what you told me not to do, Draco. I went to check out what was going on in the drawing room."
Draco clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Chris..."
"I know, I know," she cut him off. "You don't need to give me the whole spiel. I know better, now."
They entered the dining room, and paused their conversation as they each found a seat.
"So, what made you decide to do that?" Draco asked after taking a meal from a house elf. "And especially after I specifically told you not to?"
"Well, it's quite strange, really," Chris spoke through a mouthful of food, pointing her fork at him. "When I was leaving the dining room, I heard someone being tortured."
"Yeah, I heard that too," Draco shuddered, playing with his food.
"Yes, maybe, but you didn't hear what I heard," Chris told him. "I recognized the man's voice, and I had to go look."
Draco's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "You knew him?"
"Yeah, it's the weirdest thing," Chris nodded, plunging more food into her already full mouth. "I recognized the voice from that nightmare I used to have."
"Nightmare?" Draco repeated, but then gaped at her as he remembered her telling him about it near the end of their fourth year at Hogwarts. "The man that they were torturing was the man on the other side of the wall?"
She nodded in confirmation, and then swallowed. "Yeah, it was! So, and I'm sure you understand now, I had to go have a look. I had to know who this man was."
"I have to admit, I would have probably done the same thing," Draco agreed with her reasoning. "Do you still have the dream, now? You hadn't mentioned it again since that first time you told me about it."
Chris thought about it, and then hummed in thought. "I had it up until a few nights ago. It hasn't come back, ever since I talked to the Dark Lord. Sometimes I get a few nights of peace, but this feels different. I don't think that the nightmares are coming back at all."
Draco furrowed his brows, for he did not understand how the Dark Lord could have possibly helped her get rid of her unpleasant dreams. "Why? Was it something that the Dark Lord said to you?"
Chris shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He didn't really say anything to me; just asked me a few questions, is all, about how I knew the man. I think it's because I know that he's dead."
Draco stared at her. He didn't understand how she could not be more curious about the entire situation, knowing that the man in her nightmares was real, and had been killed by the Death Eaters for something that he had done. "You know that for sure?"
"Yes," she answered right away. "The Dark Lord granted my mother permission to do whatever she pleased to the man once they were done questioning him. I could tell that she hated him, and I mean hated him. She was the one who was doing most of the torturing. The Dark Lord was doing the questioning."
"Hm," Draco nodded thoughtfully. "What were they questioning him about?"
Chris shrugged apathetically, and commenced to push her food around her plate. "They were looking for someone. Typical Death Eater stuff."
"I see," Draco stated with a definite nod, but something did not seem to add up. Why did Cynthia hate him so much? What had the man done to her that warranted such spite? Draco came to the conclusion that Chris was playing this off for much less than it truly was. He made to voice his opinion on the manner, but was interrupted as Chris began speaking again.
"Well, I can see that you're done, too," she indicated towards his plate. "Come on, I want to go and see if I can remember anymore songs. And, maybe if you're lucky, I'll teach you how to play one."
Draco abandoned his plate, and made to follow Chris from the dining room. "We probably have a book full of sheet music somewhere around here. I could summon a house elf, and tell them to find it for you."Chris smiled at him, but then shook her head. "Oh no, that's quite all right. I'm happy with just knowing the Prelude and anything else that might come back to me. I might remember Nocturne. It was the song that I played the most, after the Prelude, of course-"
She cut herself off and slowly came to a stop when she saw that Lucius moved steadily towards them down the hallway. Slightly embarrassed because of the circumstances under which they had last met, Chris moved a little closer to Draco in order to easily allow Mr. Malfoy's passing.
However, this was not necessary. Lucius stopped before them, and cleared his throat in a dignified manner. "Good afternoon. I see that you are both well."
Chris and Draco both nodded, waiting for him to speak further.
"I was just upstairs looking for you, Draco," he addressed his son. "I need to speak with you-" his eyes traveled towards Chris. "-alone."
Chris looked at Draco quickly before hurriedly smiling and moving on towards the staircase. "I'll meet you up there when you're done."
He nodded, and then made to follow Lucius. As soon as Chris was out of earshot, Draco glared at his father. "Do you have to be so rude to her?"
"She had absolutely no right to listen in on us," Lucius snapped back, silencing his son. "I am quite surprised that she was not punished, though I did not expect that it would happen-"
"Did the Dark Lord even tell you why Chris had done it?" Draco cut him off, trying his best to keep his voice down. "She knew that man, and she was naturally curious as to what he was doing here. She doesn't seem to think that him being here and being tortured by you, mother, the Murrays, and the Dark Lord is a big deal, but I think otherwise. Who was he?"
Lucius sneered, and uttered his response through clenched teeth. "That, Draco, is absolutely none of your business."
Draco stared after his father as he entered the drawing room. Why was it such a big deal? As Chris had put it, they were only looking for someone else. Why did it have to remain a mystery?
'Oh, well, it was worth a shot,' Draco shrugged in defeat as he followed in his father's wake. He knew that he would not be getting any information out of him. Once his father had decided that something was to remain a secret, a secret it would remain.
After he shut the door behind him, Draco took a look around and found that only he and his father occupied it. He reasoned that the Dark Lord had returned to the Lestrange residence in Norway.
"Now, as I understand," Lucius changed the subject, illuminating the darkened room with a flick of his wand. "Your mother has told you of the wedding arrangements?"
Draco felt a strange wave come over him as he was reminded of his latest worry. "Yes, she did last night."
"Good," Lucius commented as he took a seat on one of the assorted chairs that littered the room's floor. "However, when I met you in the hallway, I noticed that she was not wearing her ring. You gave it to her, didn't you? Or did your mother forget to give them to you?"
Draco swallowed hard. "No, she gave them to me. I just, er ... haven't told Chris about all this, yet."
Lucius cocked an eyebrow at him. "No? And why not?"
Draco shrugged in what he hoped appeared to be an apathetic way. "I'm just waiting for the right time to do it. I don't want to spring all this on her."
"But you will do it soon?"
Once again, Draco shrugged. "I don't know. If I can, I will."
Lucius stared at him. Draco knew that he was not entirely satisfied with his answer. "All right, then. I'll let you go."
Draco nodded in his father's direction, and then made for the double doors. When he reached them, however, he was halted as Lucius spoke his name once again.
"Draco."
"Yes?"
"Do try to curb her curiosity," Lucius requested, standing from his seat. "I have the feeling that the next time Christina does something like what she did, he will not be so lenient."
Draco nodded again, and then left. He did not wish to speak a word further about Chris with his father. He knew that his father had not yet considered the fact that Chris had recognized the man they were torturing, and Draco had his doubts that he ever would. He was aware of the fact that his father would rather dismiss Chris as meddlesome than actually think about her motives for doing what she had done.
"I'm sorry about that," Draco spoke as he entered the room he and Chris had discovered earlier that day. "I know that he came off as a pleasant person when you first met him, but that's what he's really like."
"Don't worry about it," Chris told him, patting the bench as she slid further down it. "I don't mind. I'll just stay out of his way."
Draco took a seat next to her. "That's probably a good idea. Give him some time, and he'll warm up to you. This is a little snug, isn't it?"
Even with half of his left buttock off the seat, their hips still pressed against one another.
"Yeah, maybe," she agreed, and then shifted over a little further. "Here. Is that better?"
Draco nodded. He did not wish to voice the fact that he had enjoyed the physical contact they just shared.
"Now, I'm going to teach you how to play the Prelude," Chris told him, and then put her hands on the keys. "Put your hands right where mine are."
Chris moved hers so that he could do so, but he quickly forgot where they had been. "Er..."
"Here," she sighed in mock irritation as she told a hold of his hands and put them where they belonged on the piano. "Now, when you hit this first note, hit it hard."
"All right," Draco agreed as she took her hands away. He wished that his hadn't started to sweat right at her touch. He tried to ignore his beating heart, and the thoughts inside his head that rapidly repeated the fact that they had made further physical contact. "Here goes nothing."
He gave it a try. He thought that he had done fairly well with it, but Chris shook her head. "No, not hard enough. Like this."
Draco moved his hands so that she could show him. She hit the note, and then gestured for Draco to try again. He moved to do so, but paused as a thought came to him. Feigning to have forgotten where his hands should be, he waited for Chris to assist him again.
She did, but not without clucking her tongue and giving him a look of playful annoyance. "Now, just do what I did."
Draco nodded, and tried once again. He looked at Chris expectantly, waiting for her approval. He suspected that, just like the last time, he had not done it hard enough.
She bit her bottom lip in thought, and then looked back at him when she grew aware of his gaze. A small smile, though closer to a grimace, came over her as she shook her head.
Draco hung his head dramatically with a sigh, and smiled in amusement. "Am I a lost cause?"
"No," Chris answered right away. "You're doing better than Harry was, when I tried to teach this song to him-"
She suddenly stopped speaking, and her gaze left Draco. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't mention him while I'm here."
"Yeah, maybe not," Draco told her, putting his fingers back onto the keys. "You don't want them to find out that you're dating him, do you?"
"Of course not," she shook her head. "I can't even imagine the trouble that I would be in, or what I might be forced to do. But, you know, I knew about those dangers when I started to date him. I guess I've chosen to live with them."
Draco nodded, wondering if he should ask her what was on his mind. It did not seem to be an appropriate question, now that there was a possibility she might know his mind when it came to her.
He never could conceal himself from her, though, and she soon realized that his bout of silence indicated that he wished to ask her something. "What is it?"
"Hm?" he looked down at his fingers. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."
"No, come on, Draco," she prodded him. "Out with it."
"It's just a dumb question," Draco mumbled under his breath, hitting a few of the keys nervously as she moved in a little closer to hear him.
"Draco, so long as it isn't about - that one time - I want to hear it."
"It isn't about that," Draco shook his head.
"Then I want to hear it," she repeated herself.
Draco looked over at her. She now leaned forward onto the piano, waiting for him to ask his question. With a small grumble, he jerked his head in a way that almost resembled a nod. "Fine. As you know, Chris, the Dark Lord wants us to join his ranks as soon as we are out of Hogwarts."
Chris looked down at the piano, and bit her bottom lip as she nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I know that."
"I was just wondering what you're going to do about that," Draco continued after glancing over his shoulder towards the door to make sure that no one was listening in on them. "I mean, with Potter. Are you going to get out of the Death Eaters, and go with him instead?"
Chris furrowed her brows as she thought. "That's difficult to say. Right now, I'm not leaning towards joining the Death Eaters, but whether I go with Harry or not is still up for debate."
Draco felt his heart skip a beat, but he managed to keep his exterior calm. "What do you mean?"
Chris glanced up at him. "Well, you saw what we're like, back on the train. We don't even talk anymore. It's always, well, he only seems to be after one thing, anymore."
"Well, it must suck being him, right now," Draco reminded her. "I can't even fathom what it would be like to have the Dark Lord after you, and thinking about you all the time ... thinking about how he's going to kill you, and how he's going to make you and those around you suffer-"
"Draco, stop," Chris whispered with a shudder. "Don't say that. I would be one of those people that he would make suffer. I don't even think that he'd give a moment's hesitation, after I was caught eavesdropping on him and our parents."
Draco pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be," she told him with a small smile. "It's the sad truth, and it's my truth. Like I said, I considered it before I began to date Harry. But, even that is starting to feel like a mistake."
Draco frowned at her. He didn't know if he had heard her right. "What?"
She sighed, and then turned to fully face him on the small bench they shared. "Sometimes I just think that we should have stayed friends, Harry and I. I mean, I feel for him, obviously, but I think that we picked a really bad time to grow close. Sirius had just passed on, and Harry had just found out about the prophecy. He knew that it had to be him that killed the Dark Lord, and - and I think that it was just too much for him. He changed a lot during that summer. A lot.
"But, me being the fool that I am, I thought that he would be all right-" Chris paused, allowing for those initial words to ring through her mind. "I'm a fool for getting myself into this situation, aren't I, Draco?"
She exhaled heavily, and ran her hands down her cheeks in stress. Draco felt an overpowering compulsion pushing him to hold and comfort her. It was only with colossal effort that he managed to restrain himself. "You're not a fool. Don't talk such nonsense-"
"No, but, Draco, think about it," Chris closed her eyes, trying to think harder. "If I join the Death Eaters, I lose my friends. If I don't, I have to forsake my parents, and I will most likely aid in their destruction. Not to mention..."
She paused awkwardly, and Draco waited for her to go on.
She did so, but he could barely hear her. "If I renounce the Death Eaters, I'll lose you."
This statement made Draco's heart contract in a way that was almost painful. "Now, Chris-"
He wanted to tell her that she would never lose him, but he did not know if that was true. If she decided to fight against the Death Eaters, then there was no way that he could follow her, as much as he wanted to.
Chris pinched the bridge of her nose and clenched her eyes shut. "See, you know it, too. I can't lose you, Draco. You're probably the best friend that I've ever had."
This seemed to be all that she could take. She averted her gaze and bit her bottom lip again. This time, however, she was not deep in thought. She was trying to fight back tears.
When it seemed as though she could no longer hold herself back, Draco wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her. She clutched him back, to Draco's relief, and he could feel her worries beginning to weigh down on him as he alleviated some of the burden.
"I just don't know what to do, Draco," she spoke into his ear. "It seems that becoming a Death Eater would most benefit me, since I have less to lose if I align myself with the Dark Lord. But, I just can't bring myself to actually go through and do it. What do you think I should do?"
He wished that she hadn't asked him. He did not want to admit the truth. "I can't help you, Chris. My answer is biased. Well, everyone's is biased. No one can tell you. You have to figure it all out on your own; without help."
With this statement, Chris moved away and looked up at him. "You can't?"
"I told you," Draco shook his head. "Everyone's answers will be biased. Your parents and I will tell you to stay here. Your friends will tell you to help them as they struggle against the Death Eaters alongside the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix."
Chris thought about what he'd said, and then nodded. "But you - you want me to stay here?"
Draco hesitated before nodding. The thought of telling her about the arranged marriage bubbled to the surface of his mind, but he quickly squashed it. She had enough to think about at the moment. "I just don't want to go it alone."
The image of Draco working alongside masked man upon ruthless man as only a naive boy struck Chris. The thoughts of the loneliness that he would feel and the gradual degradation of the remainder of his youthful innocence were enough to leave a lead weight in her abdomen.
She reached out to hold him again and, to his surprise, he felt her plant a small kiss on his cheek. "I don't know how I'm going to do it, Draco, but I'm not going to let you go by yourself. If I have to drag you out of here, or join the Death Eaters myself, then I'll do it."
They both knew that her promise would most likely turn out to be an empty and unfulfilled one. "I just can't imagine living my life without you constantly by my side, Draco. One year was long enough without you. You're the only one that laughs at my jokes, and who keeps all my secrets. Hell, you even go out of your way to be nice to me, though, I do suppose that it took a few years for me to drill some manners into you. But, that's beside the point. You don't treat anyone else like this, Draco, and I really appreciate it. I honestly, truly do."
Draco glanced down at her as she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder and her arms around him. He wanted to say those exact words back to her, but he knew that when he said them, they took on an entire new meaning.
Of course, no matter which way he looked at it - whether she said them, or he did - they could still be summed up into those three, small, forbidden words. Those words nearly burnt the tip of his tongue; he wished to speak them so strongly. However, though he had practiced it time and time again inside his head and in front of a mirror, now that he was in the midst of the situation, he could not work up the courage to say them to her for the life of him.