I'd love to say that after that night our relationship was different, but nothing changed. He was still a jerk and I was still laughing to keep him from noticing that I knew he was just mad at something else-the world, maybe-not me. And trying to keep him eating something—ANTHING—to try to get some color back into his face. At this rate I would never not be obsessed with him.
I was working on my Transfiguration homework with Margo and Charlie in the Library when they approached me with their plan.
"We have a plan!" Charlie said, triumphantly.
"A plan for what?"
"To get you laid, of course!" giggled Margo. "And to keep the Death Eaters off of our backs!"
"Those go together?" I stared at them as they laughed as silently as possible.
"Why yes, miss unbeliever," Charlie began. "If we get you laid—with one very scary-sexy Slytherin, of course—all of the mini-Death Eaters will be too afraid of him to do anything."
"You know he has this 'I'm-more-important' vibe, and none of them take him down a peg, so he must actually be more important. And what's more important to the bad guys than a Death Eater?" Margo added.
"So how are you two gonna get me laid?" I asked, sure this was gonna be good.
"Well, for one you're gonna have to kiss him again. So be grateful for that," Margo started.
"And don't look at us like that. You know you want the opportunity," Charlie chided.
"So next time it rains we're gonna go outside, get wet, then come in, and run into him."
"He'll be so turned on that he won't be able to do anything but kiss you!"
I put my head in my hands. "Please say you guys are joking."
They looked at me disapprovingly and shook their heads. "Not even one bit," Charlie deadpanned. Then they burst into laughter and we laughed until Madam Pince shushed us.
"Why do we have to talk about him anyways? We always talk about him. I really do have homework to do this time, guys!"
"We always talk about him because it's not every year this beautiful American comes to Hogwarts and gets closer to him than anyone ever!" Margo crowed.
Charlie nodded. "But, just for you, we'll change the subject. Are you going to Hogsmeade with us this weekend?"
"Of course! I need some time out of this castle before it snows!"
Of course it snowed that week. Part of me was glad I got out of Margo and Charlie trying their plan just for kicks, but the other part wished for just a little bit longer without the snow. My parents had debated staying in the UK for Christmas Break, but had decided against it: I was staying at Hogwarts. Margo and Charlie would have offered one or both of their houses, but Charlie's family was going on vacation to Italy, and Margo had a single muggle mother and three younger siblings and couldn't afford a guest.
I learned all of this the morning it started snowing. I was sure that even my faint misery would bring Draco out of the woodwork, but I went the whole day without even a glimpse of him. I didn't see him until Saturday night, after poor Katie Bell was cursed with a necklace. It was big news all over the castle: it even managed to get Charlie to be something other than snarky for a few minutes.
I was in bed, re-reading the letter I'd gotten that morning, telling me my parents were leaving for the US tomorrow, when he swept onto my bed, casting the usual spells and collapsing in a pile facedown next to me.
"Are you okay?"
"Shmrrpherhrmph."
"Oh I see. You hate my pillow. Sad fate indeed."
He turned his head, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes at me. My eyes widened at the sight of his drained face, the contrast of his red eyes making his skin look whiter than usual. Resisting the urge to run my fingers through his hair, I lay down so that I was curled up facing him, my hands underneath my head to force them away from his. I watched his eyes, wishing for them to have any glimmer of life in them, anything but the dead flatness that covered them.
My hand moved of its own volition, resting itself on his silky head, my fingers automatically tangling in his hair, causing his eyes to close, his body to relax.
I moved slightly, ruining the moment when my letter crinkled beneath me. His eyes shot open and he grabbed for the letter, moving onto his back to read it.
"Hey, what is this? You're too tired to do anything until there's some of my business to stick your head into?" I sat up, reclining against my headboard and watching his face change with what he read.
He finished the letter and looked at me. "They're letting you stay and they're not visiting you for Christmas Break."
I raised my eyebrows, not deigning to answer his statement.
"Why would they leave like that? Family shouldn't ever abandon family." He said it like it was the rule of his being, the one thing that he held on to, and I was ruining it.
"They're not abandoning me. I told them to go and be safe. I'm growing up, making my own decisions. Someday I'll start my own family."
"Which will still be their family. They should be here for you, for that."
"I don't see where you're getting with this. If it gets that far I'll visit, they'll visit, we'll stay in touch."
"Families should do more than 'stay in touch.' That's not right."
"Well, your family serves the Dark Lord. How is that right?" I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth, as his face closed off again. I waited for him to jump off the bed, but he just stared at the ceiling.
"We're still sticking together. That is what is right." His voice startled me, rising in intensity without changing volume. I looked down at him in confusion, wishing I could help him understand that my family was different than his, wishing he didn't have to be stuck to a family that was stuck in the thrall of evil, wishing they weren't the only people he had to fall back on, wishing I could do more for him than wish.
I looked down on him for a moment longer, not willing to let go this time, not interested in delaying this conversation for the millionth time, but tired of getting into arguments on my bed, tired of this being the only place we could talk.
He looked mad that I was not understanding, achingly beautiful features pinched together and straining. He looked tired of no longer being understood, of having to hold it together and of anger and hatred being the only thing holding him up. I felt rather than knew that he needed to feel wanted, by someone other than the dark, twisted souls that pretended he was important to them, felt that he could not handle this much darkness, it would twist his beautiful self farther than they had already been and eventually he would break under the strain and no longer be beautiful. He would be a slave. So I let it go.
The kiss was awkward at first, all knees knocking and teeth clashing and hands pulling. As he rolled us over it became smoother, as he leaned over me it became heated and desperate, like this was something we needed more than we'd ever needed anything.
When we broke apart there was a bit of panting (oh yeah, air is a thing you need), and a lot of staring, slight anger in his eyes. He held himself above me, anger and bewilderment warring for dominance in his eyes. I moved one hand to his neck and the other to his cheek, trying to communicate the warm fuzzy feeling I would not name, trying to get him to relax, to not hate me.
He broke eye contact and rolled off of me, silently starting to get ready for bed. I copied his actions, following him underneath the blankets.
"Why are you staying?" he asked quietly after I'd put out the light.
"I—I feel like I need to be here," I whispered, trying but utterly failing to keep my statement from becoming a question.
"You're lying," he deadpanned, waiting for me to explain myself.
"I don't know why. I just know I am." I looked down at the sheets, refusing to meet his gaze, knowing that my answer was so far from the truth that he would be sure to hear the lie from space. "I'm sorry."
He stared at me, annoyance written all over the face I could barely see, but he drew me to him, my head pillowed on his chest, his arms around me like a vice, as if he needed to control just one thing in his life. I let him have that easily and with no assumptions that the next morning would be any different than the others, more wishes than I could count swirling around my head.