Thank you again for reviewing. Did it really seem unrealistic? Last chappies ending? Maybe this one would be better.
---
How can you do this;
How?
Let me go, let me free;
Now.
But you can't; you know it
Can you?
Lock me away; Unintentionally
Is all you do.
---
"So..." Harry begins, flashing me a smile as he sits down beside me, "What are we going to do about the project?"
"Help us Herms!" Ron wails, imitating a drowning rat.
"It's an independent project." I remind them icily.
Harry chuckles;
"That hasn't stopped us before." He reminds me,
I sigh; it's true. I always help them with their projects. And homework. And answering questions. It was my role in their lives. To complete their projects, homework, any academic matter and answering their questions.
What a life.
I nod my head absently, turning around to face the Slytherin table. I hear Ron and Harry, on either side of me, sigh as they see me do this.
There he was.
Crowded by a thick noxious layer of vile Slytherins. There he was. Their Prince.
---
He stands up, chin tilted in habit, and sweeps away from his crowd. He makes for an exit, his longs strides – though serene and slow – take him there as if he was desperate to flee.
I want to follow him. I spare a glance to his clique, they want the same thing. I see it in their eyes. I need to think of a reason to meet him again. Realising I am somewhat obsessed, still endeavour to search for any excuse – any at all – to meet with him again.
I can help him. I know I can.
---
"What?" Malfoy asks, as he glances up from his parchment.
Seeing the shadow on the desk, he looks up expecting a Slytherin to approach him. Not a Mudblood. Not me.
"Mudblood." He greets and grimaces, continuing with his project. I'm not even worth noticing to him.
"Malfoy." I demand his attention again.
"Mudblood." He repeats for the sake of getting rid of me.
I've heard the same insult escape his lips for years. Too long that you can even say I've gotten used to it. But no matter how it was uttered before, the passion or delight in calling me this has evaporated. Now, the name is just a sound; not only to me, but to him as well. It is our greeting; one he says devoid of any emotion unless it's bitterness.
I remember last week. We were getting somewhere; finally. But it is so hard to find him, even harder to capture his attention.
"I need the book." I state dimly pointing at the book that opens in front of him and I. He grimaces, and I watch his face intently; searching for any emotion. Even hate.
I find none.
I don't know if this is good or bad. I realise he's holding the book out to me, his arm stretches as the book moves closer to me. I stare at it for a long time, before he gently wiggles the book, prompting me.
I gently grasp the book, making sure I absolutely do not brush my hands over his. Turning away, I curse myself inside. It took me literally a week to think of a reason to even be near him. And then I blow it.
I walk away from him. He wasn't worth it. Why was I even bothering? Everyone was right. How did I even get into my head that I could change – even affect the git? Why did I even think of helping the bastard? I have made up my mind; I will go with what everyone says. I am sure they are right.
Filling myself with bitterness, I curse the one who's making me leave my sanctuary. The library was my haven. I shouldn't be the one leaving. I almost have the will to go back and demand he leave. Almost.
Walking through the door I hear him call out,
"And thanks for letting me borrow it!"
I turn around as he closes his book and heads off to the shelf. I couldn't even make eye contact. Malfoy seems to be spending quite a bit of time in the library lately. I curse the fact. Strange boy.
And with that, he unthinkingly changes my mind. I won't go with what everyone says. I am sure they are wrong.
---
Tell me what you think! Is this a little too much? Moving too slowly? Not realistic?
...
- anything? -