Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the late reply. School makes me so busy these days, so there are times that I won't be able to update on time. Anyways, hopefully, you guys would like this! And I would really like for you guys to share your thoughts.

Confession Number 9: Anyone Needs Friends

"Draco?"

Grey eyes hardened immediately when he looked up. Brown curls covered his vision, and he clenched his fists. What the hell was the mudblood doing now? "What do you want, Granger?" He demanded. The Astronomy Tower was supposed to be deserted... after what had happened back in Hogsmeade, he inhaled, twitching once again in pain. Damn the Cruciatus Curse. She recoiled at the tone of his voice, but he didn't seem to care. His plan had failed. Bloody failed. What other options did he have left than to kill Dumbledore with his own wand?

"Uhrm... I was wondering if you're okay," she said, and without another question she propped herself on the concrete and glanced at the bright clouds out the window. "Are you?"

"I don't understand why you have to know."

"You're the most difficult person I ever got the chance of knowing."

"Ever got the pleasure of knowing, that is."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, "Well, I don't mind an easy shag now, if that's what you came here for, Granger." He leaned in closer, and she backed away, her face as red as the Weasel's hair. She spluttered for a few minutes, and with her eyes still wide and her cheeks flushed, she glared at him, which only emitted a snicker.

"You're impossible," she snapped, her face still red. "I came here to let you know that I read about the Witch Trials."

"And?"

"...Nobody really told me you thought that way," she amended with a curious stare.

He sighed, "What do you think we could've hated you for, Granger? You stealing our magic? As much as the Weasels say that, they weren't exactly educated with the Trials. I doubt they could afford the books or the brains to read," he scoffed, but he was quickly interrupted by her searing glare. She crossed her arms at him. "What? It's not like you saw him pick up a book that isn't about Quidditch."

At last, the bushy haired Gryffindor cracked a smile, "You're changing the subject."

"What subject are you speaking of?"

"The subject of your okay-ness."

The Slytherin raised his eyebrows, "I never knew that we're suddenly best of friends, Granger. Just because I don't call you mudblood anymore doesn't mean that it's an invite to ask me dumb questions."

"What's your dream?" Hermione asked abruptly, and his eyebrows went higher. When the hell did he gave an impression that he wanted to be close with the fucking mudblood? He went here to have some peace and quiet! He didn't went here to be bombarded by questions that had no relation to everything! He glared at her.

"If I answered your question, would you finally get the bloody hell out of my way?"

The Gryffindor gave a reluctant nod.

"My dream is ," he hesitated. "to become a healer." Ah, the irony. For a job that could change and heal so many lives, he sure loved to torture and kill them all before that. His arm throbbed. Granger seemed to be thinking the same as he did because her mouth was slightly open and her eyes widened. Composing herself, she frowned.

"I wanted to become a healer before too... Now, I want to be a writer."

"Figure. Only one would memorize a book back to back and want to write a book of her own," he gave a small smile to which she chuckled. She was about to respond when a high ear-piercing squeal interrupted them. Draco tried to look calm when a thundering Slytherin went forward and touched his shoulder in affectionately.

She squealed once again, and he winced, "Drakey, I've been looking for you everywhere!" she glanced at the Gryffindor Princess in front of them and sneered. "Why're you talking to a mudblood? C'mon Drakey," It was Hermione's turn to wince at the frequent use of his 'nickname'. "Let's go somewhere private where no filth would litter the area."

"Actually," she said stiffly. "I'll be leaving now."

And with that, the bushy haired sixth year walked out of the room leaving the two Slytherins behind. Pansy, of course, didn't waste any time as she casted a soft 'muffliato' (Snape had taught them that back when they were third years) and a disillusionment charm on them, and turned back at him with a livid expression on her face. She crossed her arms on her chest and glared at him. "What were you doing with the mudblood?" Her voice was soft yet deadly at the same time. If voices could kill, he would've already had blood running down his ears.

Draco glared back, "You're not my keeper, Pansy. Leave it."

"You have just been crucio'd by the Dark Lord, Malfoy, and here I found you communicating with a mudblood. A mudblood who happened to be a best friend of the boy he's targeting," she snapped. "Have you gone mad?"

"I was asking her to leave. She wasn't listening."

"Have you suddenly thrown your brain when Bell started to fly? YOU COULD'VE LEFT, YOU STUPID PRAT."

"I know what I'm doing, Parkinson."

Pansy scoffed, "Keep telling yourself that because the next time you screw up, it wouldn't be a simple cruciatus curse that would hit you," her face hardened when she saw him wince. "Look, the Dark Lord isn't pleased with you, Draco. Blaise and I are doing everything we can to help you, but are you actually doing everything you can to help yourself?"

"I am."

She nodded, but then she glanced back at the door behind her and she narrowed her eyes. "She's hiding something."

"Granger?" The blond said, rolling his eyes. "She's an open book."

"Sometimes the most obvious things are the ones left ignored," Pansy shrugged.

Draco scowled, "I know what I'm doing, Pansy. You're not my mum."

"Well once someone other than Blaise and I catch you playing chummy chummy with Granger, I'd be the only mother figure you'll have in your life," Pansy spat, not even bothering to notice that his face had darkened. "I'm only looking out for you, Draco. I hope you understand that."

"The mudblood is nothing," Draco snapped. "I don't need to understand anything." Without giving her another chance to answer, he swiftly stalked out of the room leaving the Slytherin female alone in the Astronomy Tower. Stupid mudblood, his face darkened even more. He obviously felt nothing for her, but there was a reason on why she was trying to play close with him. He clenched his fists and headed to the cabinet.

"Draco!" That damned voice interrupted his chat with Blaise. He glanced at the right to see the familiar bushy haired Gryffindor making his way towards him with a friendly smile on her face. That smile made him sick. He frowned, and so did Blaise. He shot him a questioning glance to which he had ignored. He wasn't in the mood for questions. "Make it to the library later. We're going to finalize our papers. It's due tomorrow!"

He glowered in response, "I don't take orders from mudbloods."

Hermione looked taken aback from his snap. She frowned, and glanced at the Italian beside him who gave her an emotionless face in return. "I'll tell Professor Snape," she warned, but her voice lined with surprise and disappointment (why? he didn't know). "And don't call me mudblood."

"As much as I'd like to spend my time with dirt," he spat the last one. "I got more important things to do. C'mon Blaise."

They walked out of the way, and when they were nearing the dungeons, the Italian raised an eyebrow at him. He crossed his arms and shook his head at him, "Moody, aren't you?" he questioned, looking him up and down. "What's gotten into you?"

"Cabinet. I'm going there again."

As if immediately, Blaise walked to the direction he was going in. "Well, I'm going with you."

"You wouldn't have time to work on your essay for History of Magic."

Blaise shrugged, "Who the hell cares? I'm studying more history just by looking at the cabinet than some old ghost."

A smile curved into his face, "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime."