I'm Not You

Draco Malfoy meant nothing to me at first. He didn't exist in my world. I never harbored any of these foolish feelings. It was nonexistent to me. Everything was perfect before he came and ruined it. I had a wonderful life before he entered it.

We always passed each other in the halls. We knew each other but didn't at the same time. He was the reserved, cold loner; I was the popular, pretty girl. He never spoke voluntarily and when he did, it was full of hostility and venom. I never paid any attention to him. Our paths never crossed for 6 years, and it's a wonder why we met.

He became the king of sex later on. He made it well-known who he slept with. Most of the girls that had fallen under his manipulative spell had become crushed. He was one that cared for no one and ignorant to others' emotions.

I never liked him as a person for he was what I thought disgusting and crude. With no regards for others, he was self-centered and selfish. He only cared for himself and no one else. How could anyone like him? All those girls he fooled into thinking that they were special and that he would treat them different, I pitied them. They were taken advantage of and they all lost their virginity from him. He was a demon to me, untamed and brutish.

So then came the day of our meeting. I was Head Girl and he was a prefect. All prefects had the project of throwing a ball. The Head Boy and Girl were to be in charge. We decided to partner up to come up with ideas. I automatically thought that I would be partnered up with Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Head Boy. Who knew that chance would lead Malfoy and I to each other?

I had not looked forward to it, I assure you, for he was not very hard-working, and I knew that it would be up to me that would do all the work. Although it is better for me to do the work rather than have him do a horrible job. At least then, we'd look good with our appealing ideas. Besides, it's my status that mattered, for my parents, like all Asian parents, wanted me to be the best. They expected their only child to be successful.

Yet, somehow, he wanted to do some work, although I didn't know it at first. He was subtle and indirect. I had assumed that I would be left to do the whole project on my own and he helped me quietly, like a cat stalking a mouse. Initially, I had not noticed. But he began to make a bigger effort, like asking me if we were working at the library and getting the materials we needed. I thought it was a sweet attempt at working and had not taken him serious enough. When he finally asked me, straightforwardly, "Chang, is there anything else I can help with?" I finally realized he had wanted to earn his part as well.

This puzzled me greatly; for he had never given up an opportunity to have someone else do the work. He had always depended on others to provide the work and he would be the freeloader he was and use it, no matter what. At first, I thought he just wanted something from me like all the other girls he had imposed upon. I answered him in my calmest manner what he needed to do and tested him to see if he was genuine. He proved to make a very big effort and still, I did not trust him. Truly, I was afraid. I was scared of him. I was scared of what he might do to me.

My guards were always up during those weeks. Not once did I let my shield down. My mind was always alert and aware of what he did and said. I thought before I spoke and took great measures to keep myself at a safe distance. He either didn't notice or he didn't mind.

Once the ball was planned, I felt relieved. Not only did I not have to see him again, but I believed our efforts would be great. I felt some sort of gratitude towards Malfoy but not enough to want to work on another project with him.

However, after our assignment, he seemed to form a bond with me. He had some sort of an effect on how I felt and thought. I didn't admit it right away but I knew it. Deep inside, I knew that if he had asked me to do something, I would have sincerely wanted to do it.

He spent more time with me but didn't necessarily say anything. Whenever I ate outside on my own, he followed and sat with me. Not a word passed between us. If you had watched us, it would be a funny scene, indeed. We acted like we didn't know of each other's existence, yet I felt a good feeling whenever I was around him. Something that perked up my day.

Had I known what fate was restored for me, I would have put an end to this. But of course, I hadn't known what was about to happen, so I believed everything would be alright. My childish mind was still in its innocence mode. I believed everything was good and was unaware of the bad.

One particular day, he spoke, at last. It was nothing special, of course, but at least, he did say something.

"Why do you sit outside alone everyday when you have so many friends awaiting you inside?" he asked. His monotone voice had no emotion in it. It was not curious, nor accusing. It was just, somehow, there.

I shrugged. "I like being alone sometimes. It lets me think better."

"I'm always alone and let me tell you that it doesn't really let you think better."

"Well, we're not talking about you, are we?" I said, smoothly. I had gotten into a habit to think before I talk to him, that I made retorts to everything he said.

No one said anything and an awkward silence passed between us. If he never said anything at all, there would be no awkward silence. It'd just be silent.

I fumbled with my food. "So why do you eat out here?"

"I'm not you," he sneered. I was surprised he'd use my words against myself. "I don't have friends and I'm not popular like you."

I could have sworn he muttered, "Nor do I want to be" but I wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was my brain construing that.

"Everyone should have a friend," I said, matter-of-factly, "Even you should have a friend."

He laughed at that. It was not a laugh that expressed happiness, but a bitter one. "I don't want one, thank you."

I shook my head. "I wasn't offering you one, doofus. I'm just saying that everyone needs a friend."

"I guess I'm a contradiction to that statement. I neither want a friend nor need one," he said, gritting his teeth. Somehow, I didn't want to press the matter any more, in fear that he'd get angry.

So I tried a different approach. "What about your family?"

"What about them?"

I sucked in a deep breath. "Well, don't you suppose they are your friends?"

"Chang, do you know how stupid that just sounded?"

I burst out laughing, almost against my will. I hadn't meant to laugh with Malfoy, of all people. "Sorry, I'm just stupid."

Another awkward silence. I told myself to butt out and if he still wanted to talk, he could start the conversation.

And he did. "My dad is as well-known as a Death Eater. I could hardly call him a father, let alone a friend. My mother's weak and submits to my father's will. She doesn't want to report it because she's afraid something bad will happen. She still loves that sorry ass of a father. I can't call her a friend, either. None of them care what I do or what happens to me. So in turn, I don't care about them."

I let that information sink in. Why was he telling me this? "But they're your family."

"Yeah, I call them that. My father, at times, yells at me for disgracing the family but now, I've gotten smarter. I take his cursing and leave the house." He paused and turned to me with those deep blue eyes he has. "Do you call that a family?"

My heart reached out to him. I had pitied this misunderstood person. I hadn't known about his family and easily assumed that he was a cruel person for all the mean things he said to Harry.

"Malfoy…"

"I never had the fortune of a loving family. All that's in there is hate. I hardly even live there anymore. The only time I go back is for during summer, and even then, I spend my nights out. That's it."

At that very moment, I wanted to be the one who could cure his pain. To make it go away. That very second, I would have done anything in my power to stop his hurt. His bitterness had shown, and I wanted to help.

Tentatively, I reached my hand and touched his, as a sign of comfort. He hadn't pushed it away so I took it as a good sign. He turned to face me. His usual harsh blue eyes were now resentful and a bit clouded. It seemed as if he was tired. Tired of his life.

Finally, I whispered, nearly subconsciously, "I'll be your friend if you want me to."