Summary: Can you buy forgiveness?
Disclaimer: Still don't own it :)
"Ridikulus!"
The boggart disappears and my third years gather around, chattering excitedly. I wrestle the thing back into it's case as the bell goes, and the class mill out, jubilant after their first successful tries at the spell.
"Thanks, Professor Potter!" One of the Hufflepuffs trills and I grin, waving until they leave, letting the door swing shut behind them. I let the smile slip, raising a hand to rub my temples as my head throbs.
Then comes a tentative knock on the door, and you enter without waiting for an answer, looking exactly the same as this morning. It almost looks like your eyes are red and I wonder if I see that because it's true or because I want this to have hurt you as well. "It's not your office," you say, almost shyly, "It's your classroom." I glare at you blankly, my eyes stinging, but you start to talk nonetheless, twisting your fingers nervously. "Harry, I know I hurt you. I can't really make it up to you, but please, just give me a chance to prove myself." I laugh emptily, past humour right now. "What have you got to prove, Malfoy?"
You wince at the name, staring at the floor. Then you glance up at me, smiling shyly and say, "Wait and see. I don't suppose... That you'd let me touch you?" I glare at you, knowing that you can probably tell I've been crying and loath to say anything else as my throat tightens, yet the look I give you seems to be answer enough. You nod as though you expected that, golden hair catching the afternoon sunlight as your head moves, and continue; "Alright. Then, the first thing I'll give you is relief." You stretch out your hand and drop a thin gold band onto my desk, turning to go but pausing at the door. "Until tomorrow." You smile, closing the door quietly behind you.
I stare blankly at the band for a moment before I realise, slipping it around my wrist. Instantly, it sparkles like dew and my head stops pounding for the first time since you appeared this morning. I sigh deeply, feeling a heady rush of gratitude confused with sickening anger. I don't know whether I can trust you, Draco, but I suppose I owe you this chance. I shudder at the used, cheap tang that feeling leaves, and stand to open the door for my next class, trying to dismiss the feeling of your arms around me from my mind.
As I begin to teach, trying so hard to keep my mind off you, I wonder if you really think you can earn my forgiveness. I wonder if you think I can be bought. I wonder if I can.
-o-o-o-
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