Perhaps healing Malfoy's cut was a step too far, Harry thought whilst lying in bed that night. He couldn't help himself, though. He had to. He'd looked up at Malfoy, about to ask him a question, when his eyes settled on the cut marring his pale skin. It contrasted with his otherwise completely flawless skin and the longer he looked at him, the more he wanted to get rid of it. Healing it would also build up Malfoy's trust in him and that was never a bad thing. It only sunk in how little he was trusted when Malfoy flinched away when he cast the spell. He saw how the fear in his eyes was replaced by surprise. He was taken aback by how surprised he looked. It was if he always expected to be hexed or hurt. Harry softened towards him slightly.
Harry had arranged with Malfoy to meet in the library for their next free lesson. He was, to say the least, a little apprehensive. It was the first time they would be working together outside of their usual empty classroom and although they walked together through the corridors once or twice that was when there were lots of people around. The library was a far more open and intimate space and it often held some of the most gossipy people in the whole school. Harry was worried, not at the prospect of being seen with Malfoy, but of Malfoy himself. He knew that the Slytherin didn't want it to come across as being friends with Harry and he knew he'd be snappy and reluctant. Still, the work had to be done and the library had all of the books they needed.
At lunch that afternoon he sat with the Gryffindors.
"Why don't you come to Hogsmeade with us, Harry? You and Ginny could come. We all have free lessons and McGonagall is letting us go again."
"Sorry Ron, I can't. I've got to go to the library with Malfoy," he replied, a little unhappy that he wasn't able to go but also thankful to be staying inside as the weather outside was bitter. He looked across at Ginny. She looked a little put out. He slid an arm around her,
"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he told her, kissing her lightly. Ron pulled a face.
"Some of us are trying to eat!" he joked.
"Oh yeah?" Harry retorted, "Where, may I ask, is your left hand then?" He laughed at Ron as a slight flush crept up his neck. Hermione giggled lightly.
The bell for the end of lunch rang around the castle. Harry collected his things and left his friends reluctantly. He hugged Ginny quickly and hurried off towards the library before he changed his mind. When he reached the library, he wound his way through it, scouring the tables for Malfoy. He soon found him in the corner, his blond head bent over a piece of parchment and a pile of books. Harry cleared his throat and greeted him quietly, so he didn't startle him. Malfoy simply looked up at him and, after pulling out a chair and motioning Harry to sit next to him, he carried on writing quickly in neat, loopy letters. Harry watched him for a moment. He'd never seen Malfoy put any effort into anything and here he was, writing away and not even breaking away to talk to Harry. He sighed and got to work.
Forty-five minutes later found the two boys deep into their work. Both heads were bowed, black almost touching blond. The sat close together, pouring over the same book, their elbows almost touching as they scribbled notes. Occasionally, the Slytherin flinched and looked up at the Gryffindor as their knees touched but otherwise they were both oblivious to the world around them. And oblivious to Lavender Brown who watched them from behind a bookcase.
Draco ambled tiredly into his room and flung himself onto his bed. His day had been tiring and people had been staring at him and whispering when he went past them. He was confused and their actions put an anxious niggle in his stomach. He was used to this and it brought horrible memories back into his mind. He sat up to get changed and got under his duvet. It provided warmth but it didn't manage to thaw his cold mood. Draco sighed. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. He never remembered falling asleep but he must have done as a familiar dream set in.
He was back in Malfoy manor and all of the people around him wore hard and cold expressions, including himself. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be there in the slightest. He didn't want to hear the latest plots and plans and he didn't want to hear a constant update of the war. He just wanted to escape it all. He wanted to escape the name 'Potter' that rung around his head in the voices of his father, Lord Voldemort and the other Death-Eaters. He wanted to escape the spider web he was trapped in but he knew he couldn't. He never wanted this. He had no choice.
The tense air of his home was punctured by a group of Muggle Snatchers. In the scuffle, Draco heard Potter's name being repeated. His mother called him.
"They say they've got Potter," she said coldly, "Draco, come here." Draco unwillingly stood up. Draco approached a figure who had massive swollen features and dark hair. The figure avoided eye contact with him and Draco was pleased, his eyes were a portal to the raw fear he felt at that point. His father pushed him for an answer and he stuttered back.
"I can't – I can't be sure." His father pushed him to go closer. Draco felt the pressure on his shoulders. He went closer to the person and his father stood over him excitedly.
"I don't know," he said blandly, trying to hide the shake in his voice.
Draco walked away, back to his mother. He was called upon again to identify Granger and Weasley. He answered carefully, not saying yes or no, just hinting that it could be them. He was petrified of the consequences if his answer was wrong. Suddenly time lurched forward and he was in the middle of it all. Spells plummeted through the air around him and screams of terror and triumph echoed around his ears as clear as they were that horrible day.
Draco awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat like he had done every time his past had come back to haunt him. Draco rarely slept a whole night and the dreams were so vivid it sometimes took ten minutes before Draco remembered where he was. Draco shook uncontrollably and his hands were clammy and his hair was stuck to his forehead. His body did the routine it was so used to doing without Draco telling it to. He fumbled around on his bedside table and his fingers soon touched what they were searching. His hand closed around the smooth wood of his wand, which he was very pleased to get back, and he lit it. The tip bathed the area around him in a slightly eerie but reasonably reassuring bluish light.
"Draco?" a familiar, sleepy voice whispered out to him in the dark as it always did. "Bad dream?" the voice asked, although its owner already knew the answer. Draco sighed to himself.
"Yeah," he whispered back.
"It's okay, it's all over, you're safe now," Blaise whispered back, their whole conversation basically scripted since it happened so often.
He was grateful of Blaise breaking him out of his dreams every time he had them. It was calming to hear his voice but it didn't help much. He still felt very alone. Once his heart rate had calmed down he whispered 'nox' and the darkness fell around him again. Thankfully, he fell asleep quite quickly.
The effects of yet another broken night followed Draco right into the day. By the time his free period came around he wanted to do nothing more than abandon Potter and go to the comfort of his bed. But he couldn't. Instead, he pulled his things together and went to the classroom they always met in. He walked in through the door and heavily dumped his stuff onto the floor. He sank into a chair and dropped his head into his arms. He heard Potter clear his throat and raised his head slightly. The black haired boy grinned back at him. Draco scowled.
"One of your Gryffindor idiots has been spreading rumours about us," he stated bluntly, remembering the conversation he had with Blaise and Pansy at breakfast.
"Lavender, I know. I'm sorry," Potter said simply. "Don't worry, we've sorted her out." He smiled a sly smile and threw a wink at Draco.
"Stop it, Potter!" he snapped. "Stop doing that. No wonder people are assuming things." Draco hated rumours being spread about him and loathed the attention he got because of it. It didn't matter to him what they were about particularly, but being another one of Potter's mindless starry-eyed followers wasn't exactly Draco's favourite thing to be accused of. Potter's grin sank and the once friendly atmosphere in the room turned cold. Draco almost regretted saying that as the hour dragged on awkwardly but he didn't let that bother him. At least Potter wasn't being so annoyingly friendly.
I know Blaise is supposed to be arrogant and quiet but I've read entirely too much fanfiction and I love the supportive, caring, playful character he is often made into. I hope no-one minds that he's very OOC too much.