Chapter 4
How quickly the tables have turned. Just days ago, it was I that was avoiding him; now it seems the opposite is true. In the week that has passed since our last rendezvous, I've seen almost nothing of him. He skips meals to avoid me, and when he sees me approaching him in the corridors, he turns the other way. When we have class together, he doesn't speak to me, save out of necessity, and even then it is as if nothing has happened between us.
He says he doesn't love me. If this is so, then why is he making such an effort to be away from me? I chuckle to myself. It can't be true. I refuse to believe it. His kiss, last night, was too sweet, his moans, too…genuine, to be an act. There's something else, something he's not telling me, that is making him deny me.
"You forget, Potter, that I am a Malfoy."
That is where he his wrong. I know very well that he is a Malfoy, and it is because of that that I love him. His Malfoy charm, his Malfoy arrogance…his Malfoy sex appeal. It's all of these things and more that make me go half crazy when I'm not around him and completely insane when I am. I hope he doesn't make the mistake of thinking I've given up because I've chosen to indulge in his little game for a while. I'll find out what it is that he is keeping from me, and I'll make him see that he isn't fooling me with his "Malfoy" façade.
Without warning, someone nudges me, wrenching me from my thoughts. I look up, to find Dumbledore standing in front of the mass of students, with his arms raised, signaling silence. The Great Hall quickly quiets down, as everyone is eager to hear what he has to say.
"Just a reminder," the old wizard says. "As many of you may know, Hogwarts will be having its annual feast, in honor of the graduating seventh years in just a few days time. Seventh years will have that day off, spend time with their families. Parents will be invited to spend the evening before the feast at the castle. The feast is for seventh years, only, but, all lower years with sibling sin the seventh year are also invited. Now, having said that, please continue with your dinner." And he sits down and immediately immerses himself in a conversation with Professor McGonagall.
The noise level in the Great Hall crescendos past its usual volume, and instead of last night's homework, words of the feast are on everyone's lips. From what I can tell, some are anxious and others are excited, but it isn't them that have captured my interest. My attention is on Draco, who is sitting at his table, surrounded by all of his usual band of Slytherin cronies. They, like everyone else, are talking animatedly about the upcoming feast. None of them seem to notice that he isn't taking part in the spirited chatter. Instead, he is staring, dismally, down at his half eaten roast beef. The little color in his face has completely vanished. For a long time, he is motionless. Then, very abruptly, he slams his fork down onto the table and rushes out of the Great Hall, attracting several bewildered stares.
-o-o-o-
My hands begin to shake uncontrollably as I storm down the empty stone corridor. I grab each one with the other and hold them tightly until the shaking stops. When I reach the stone wall leading to the Slytherin common room, I mutter the password and hurry inside, crossing the long, dimly lit room, to the flight of stone steps that lead to the dormitories. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and throw myself into my dormitory, slamming the door shut behind me. "Goddamit!" I shout through clenched teeth as tears begin to well up in my eyes. I send a swift kick to my trunk, but the action succeeds in doing nothing but sending throbbing pain through my foot. I groan loudly as I grab my foot in pain, falling on my bed. "God damn you, Dumbledore," I muter as I rub my foot through my shoe. "You and your stupid fucking feast." I had completely forgotten about it until this evening.
Unable to sit still, I get up and begin to pace the length of the room. Why, I think to myself, why is it that everything in my life has to turn into absolute shit? First I have to deal with fucking Potter on my ass, and now my father's been added to the mix! I let out another frustrated groan as my hand falls upon something solid and heavy, sitting on my bureau. Before I can think, my body reacts, and I hurl the think at the wall behind my bed. There is a loud clunk as it makes contact with the stone wall.
All kinds of emotions are bubbling up inside of me. Anger. Hate. Fear.
No, I think quickly, not fear. I am a Malfoy. We fear nothing. I try hard to make myself believe these words but, somewhere in the back of my head, a small voice is screaming, Bullshit! My hands begin to shake again. I know what I want, but I refuse to let myself have it. I lean back against the stone wall and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor. My arms fall forward and land on top of my knees in front of me.
"Nonsense," he had said, when he had seen my scars, "acts of weakness. Only a weak man inflicts pain on himself, rather than on those who deserve it."
I am no weakling, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of being able to name me as such.
But you are weak, the same small voice says, now sound annoyingly like my father, you know that. Look at what's happened with Potter.
Oh, God. Potter. I hadn't even thought of you, which is something of a surprise to me because, for the past week, you've been the only thing on my mind. Ever since that night, in the Room of Requirement, I can't stop thinking about you. About what you did…what you said. It's been a full week since then. You haven't said a word to me about it, on any of the few occasions that we speak to each other. Part of me wants to believe that you've finally gotten the message but, the rest of me knows better. The rest of me knows to expect that you're probably just biding your time, planning your next move. After all, you do still have my sweater. Well, you better not pull anything while my father is around, or I'll be sure to make you pay. I run my fingers through my hair and sigh heavily, resting the back of my head against the cold stone.
"I…love…you."
What on earth could you have been thinking? Love me? And you expected me to say it back? I could laugh at how preposterous the thought is. Me loving you. Me loving, even. I am a Malfoy. We do not love. My father's taught me that.
Feech's Note: Okay, so I'm not sure what's going on in this chapter. To be completely honest, it feels like incoherent rambling in some places, to me. Let me know what you think. And, I made two errors back in chapter three. If you can spot them, you get to make a guest appearance in one of my fics! Peaches! Oh and in case you haven't noticed , chapter five (the real chapter five) of Kiss is up! does happy dance