Draco Malfoy couldn't wait for anything. Not when he was child. Not when he was teenager. And now, staring at his hands, big and strong and shaking, he wished he had learned a thing or two about patience.
He sat on the bed in his fiancée's apartment, sneaking glances at the phone placed haphazardly on the floor by the TV. He had tossed it.
Although he didn't know who he was begging to, he begged anyway; that his love would take a detour after work. That she'd be just late enough for him to lose all this anger. He meant to sigh, but it came out as a frustrated growl.
Why did this happen to him? Always him. His mind reprimanded him: Selfish thinking. That was another thing wrong with him. Whenever a situation brought itself about, the first thing Draco thought of was himself. After that passed, maybe of Astoria, or his mother, or….He struggled to find something else he cared about. It was like grasping for air.
Unhappy with himself, his thoughts turned to Astoria. His lovely, dependent Astoria. How could he be there for her when he was so instinctually selfish? His mind didn't look for an answer. He was also fond of giving up.
He heard the lock click.
Damn it, she's early. Of course. How could he ever expect karma to be on his side?
I blew my bangs out of my face tiredly, watching the key jiggle itself around the doorknob while balancing a grocery bag. It opened with a click and the key flung itself into my back pocket.
When walked in, dropping the bag on the table with a thud, I was surprised to find Draco sitting stiffly on the bed. His expression was painful.
"Hey, babe." I said, walking over. I cupped his face in my hands, pressing his forehead to my cheek gently. "Are you sick? You look flushed."
He shook his head and pulled away just as softly, standing and moving slowly to be opposite of me by a few feet. We stared at each other.
Suspicion replaced concern. "What's wrong?"
"Your mother called."
"What's wrong?"
He flinched at the repetition. "She…." He hesitated for a second, and it annoyed me. He noticed. "Your sister died. I'm really sorry, honey," He added quickly, eyes sincere.
I felt stupid. The words were wrong. "Daphne?"
He nodded, still looking as confused as I probably did. Draco hated things like this. I felt sorry for him, for the way he was so nervous his hands were shaking. My mouth was open, eyes tight. I didn't understand.
"Wait, but…?"
"She was, um, killed." Now he was crying, but he swiped the tears away just as quickly, and I saw now that anger was creeping up throughout him.
I mirrored him instantly, the tears coming before I had a chance to understand. "But…who?"
"I don't know who. I'm sorry."
Daphne, killed.
Comprehension eased into my mind and poisoned it with so many images I felt like I was going to be sick. I felt myself plop into the rocking chair, my head sinking into my hands. Draco's hand was on my back suddenly, and I flinched away from it.
His eyes scanned me softly. "Astoria, I…."
"Don't." I hated how thick my voice sounded, and realized I was sobbing. My chest heaved, and I made a sound that was something like a cry.
Draco watched me, sad and nervous and desperately uncomfortable.
My mind was overcome quickly by memories of my sister, trying to fill the gap were she was now labeled under missing in my heart.
The window across the room creaked open, and I jerked up, rubbing my eyes.
"Shhh. It's nothing. Go to sleep."
Daphne was by my bed, inching my shoulders back down, and her hair fell into my face. I swiped it away, annoyed.
"Daph! Is that a boy?" I arched my neck up as the window gave another creaky jerk open, and Daphne grinned.
"Listen, I know what you're thi—"
"You snuck out last night! And the night before that, and—"
"Alright, okay. I don't need a lecture, Saint Astoria." She smiled again, pulling on her socks.
A handsome boy peeked through the window, obviously balancing himself on a ladder. He looked at Daphne's figure, bent over looking for her shoes, then noticed I was awake, and nervously gave a little wave. I rolled my eyes.
"Shhh. We're just going to the park to talk. Promise," She added, seeing my skeptical expression. She turned and glanced at the boy, waving him away.
"Be down in a minute, Cam."
He nodded, looking warily at me, but climbed down obediently.
"Daphne…" I whined, and she held a finger to my lips.
"Listen, 'Storie, I really like this guy. He's like…my prince," She said, sighing happily, "You know I'm an adventurous gal. And someday, you'll love a boy too. And you'll do crazy things like sneaking out through the window to see him."
I stuck my tongue out in disgust. Boys had cooties. She laughed.
"Someday soon, little sister."
She stood and lifted herself gracefully out the window, blowing me a kiss before sliding down to run away with her prince.
Draco Malfoy had many flaws. He wasn't patient, he wasn't giving, and as he held his heartbroken fiancée in bed that night, he knew he could never be labeled as kind.
Lying there, he remembered how his father spoke of the muggles as foolish creatures. But their beliefs had always interested Draco. Some of the spoke of a sort of afterlife, two different places; and where you went was decided by how you lived your life.
He flinched. Astoria would surely go to Heaven. And he would surely go to Hell.
You see, there was one skill he brandished as frequently and as skillfully as he needed to, and the more he used it, he found, the more horrible a person he was.
Draco Malfoy was an excellent liar.