Prove It

Draco Malfoy was minding his own business, as he usually tried to do. He was just out for a walk on a cooler autumn afternoon, having just finished his last class and wanting to get away from the constant judgment and prying eyes of the castle.

He'd only just walked down the hill to the lake, hoping to find the shores deserted so he could take his stroll in peace, when he saw her: the girl from the carriage.

He hadn't thought about her since that first week of Hogwarts, over a month ago. He hadn't seen her, hadn't heard her voice; it had been as though she'd vanished, both from Hogwarts and his mind.

Now, seeing her sitting by the lake, face tipped up to the sun with her eyes closed, a slight smile on her face, he was overtaken by the urge to stop and talk to her. If only to find out why she was so familiar; what her name was, how he knew her. He walked over to her.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

The girl jumped and jerked her head around at the sound of Draco's voice. She scrambled to her feet, her bag clutched to her chest, looking as though she were suddenly in a rush.

"What's the hurry?" he asked, amused rather than offended at her behavior. "Am I such terrible company?" He smirked.

The girl stared at him in confusion for a moment before letting her arms drop to her sides, her bag falling back to the ground.

"That's better," he said pleasantly.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked bluntly, taking him off guard. He blinked back at her.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not nice to anyone else. You treat everyone like they're invisible and spend all your time sulking around. But you're being nice to me. Why?"

"I- You can't just-" he was so surprised he couldn't even string together a proper sentence. "That's not true," he finally managed.

"It is," she said levelly. "Your Quidditch team-"

"My Quidditch team is a lazy lot of dunderheads," he snapped, cutting her off. "They couldn't win a match if it were between them and a handful of those wretched Pygmy Puffs."

"They're terrified of you."

"They're so useless they couldn't- Wait what?" He asked, suddenly comprehending what she'd said through the beginnings of his next rant.

"They're afraid of you."

Draco scoffed. "They're not afraid of me."

"They are. You're so mean and moody all the time. You treat everyone like they're not worthy of your time, and you always have a nasty scowl on your face. My sister has told me about the way you talk to your team; you don't even care if they win or lose, and you think that'll make them care?"

"You don't understa-"

"The world is against you," she interrupted. "Poor Draco Malfoy. Everyone hates you so you hate everyone and no one is deserving of your affections. You've been treated unfairly and now you need to take it out on everyone around you. You went through hell, so others must be punished," she said, her voice developing a cruel edge. Her face twisted into a sneer. He found her face was oddly suited to the expression; it gave her a sort of dangerous beauty.

But he was so bewildered by her outburst that all thoughts of attraction were driven from his mind before they were even fully formed.

"Am I wrong?" she asked softly, her eyes cold. Draco swallowed uncomfortably.

"No," he muttered, angry with her for seeing him so clearly. Indignant that she had the callousness to bring his self-pity into the open. Confused that someone he'd had two remarkably short interactions with could know him so thoroughly.

She doesn't know me! He was furious. Furious and befuddled and beginning to develop a headache.

"So I want to know. Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, bringing the conversation full circle. "What makes me so deserving of your decreased hostility?"

She was waiting, her sneer having melted away to be replaced by wide-eyed curiosity. Where a moment ago she had looked malicious, frightening even, now she was doe-eyed and innocent, full of passive interest. She was unsettling.

"I don't know," he answered at long last. "I hadn't thought about it."

One side of her mouth lifted slightly in amusement. "Right. See you later, Malfoy."

She picked up her bag and started to walk away. "Wait!" he called out, almost as a reflex. She paused and turned, eyebrows raised.

"Yes?"

"I still don't know your name," he said. She laughed as short, dry laugh that was devoid of any real amusement.

"That's not my problem, is it?"

"You won't tell me?"

She smirked. "Figure it out."

And she walked away, not looking back even once as she climbed the hill and disappeared through the front doors of the castle.

[]-[]-[]

Draco tried to make an effort. He took a better interest in his team, trying to encourage them rather than criticize them. This resulted in such extreme confusion that they spent several weeks having to learn some plays all over again. But it was progress.

It wasn't easy though, and before long he felt himself slipping back into his old mannerisms, feeling sorry for himself, sneering and scowling at others, avoiding public places. He hardly ate in the Great Hall anymore, instead venturing down the kitchens where the house elves grudgingly let him sit in the corner and eat. He knew they were afraid of him, knew they didn't want him there. He could hear them whispering as they went about their duties. He didn't care.

He didn't see the girl anymore either. Again, it was as if she'd managed to disappear into thin air. The few mornings he dragged himself to the Great Hall for breakfast, she wasn't there. He never went to the library if he could help it, so he didn't know if she was in there or in her common room. She didn't play Quidditch, and he never passed her in the halls. And he couldn't ask about her because he had no idea who she was.

Who are you? He wondered.

Ultimately though, as the weeks passed and he threw himself into his coursework and Quidditch team, he forgot about her. He started spending inordinate amounts of time in his dormitory, hunched over on his bed reading for class or writing essays. He never spent time in the common room. He only left the castle for Quidditch, which he didn't even enjoy. They lost their first match against Gryffindor as predicted, and that was that for the term.

His life returned to its previous bleakness, and he found himself almost okay with that. He carried on in an almost dreamlike state most of the time, not seeing anyone around him. He no longer scowled; he didn't' have any expression at all. Just blankness. Numbness. He liked it that way.

Until just a week before he was due to return home for the Christmas holiday.

He got it into his head to take a walk one night after hours; he didn't know why. He knew he could get in trouble for it, but he didn't really care. He needed to get out of his dormitory, get some fresher air than the dungeons provided.

So he ventured out of Slytherin and up out of the dungeons and quietly padded across the Entrance Hall to the doors of the Great Hall. They swung open silently when he tugged on the handle.

The twelve great Christmas trees were lit up with candles and fairy lights even this late at night. They were beautiful, trimmed to excess with silver and gold and green and red and every color in between, ribbons and garland and bells and stars and all manner of ridiculous and glowing ornaments adorning the sweeping branches. Draco wondered if his mother had bothered to put up a tree in the manor this year.

He pulled the door shut behind him softly and stood awhile, staring up at the nearest tree, not thinking of anything in particular, just looking, basking in the soft light.

"Enjoying yourself?" a voice asked softly.

He jumped – more than such a gentle interruption warranted probably, but that didn't occur to him just then.

He whirled around to see a girl – the girl – standing there watching him. He wanted to feel angry that she'd snuck up on him, but couldn't find the energy to do so.

"What're you doing here?" he demanded.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, pulling on her robes just slightly so the silver badge engraved with a 'P' caught the light. She was a prefect? Was that why she was so familiar? Had they attended prefect meetings together when he'd still cared about such things? He tried to remember, but he'd skipped most of those anyway, and she would have been too young to be a prefect when he was a fifth-year, wouldn't she? How old was she anyway?

"How old are you?" he asked. One eyebrow disappeared under her fringe.

"That's awfully sudden of you," she answered, looking amused.

"I'm trying to figure out why you look so familiar," he shot back.

"Is your memory that faulty? I mean, I know we don't know each other well, but I feel I should be insulted that you don't remember me."

"I'm not talking about the last two times we've spoken to each other," he said irritably. She gave that dry laugh of hers again.

"You haven't been around," she said instead of replying to his questions. "I don't see you anywhere." She wasn't looking at him, but rather past him, up at the Christmas tree, her head tilted slightly as though she were studying it in depth.

"Neither have you," he accused.

"I've been around plenty," she said pleasantly. "You just haven't been around to notice."

"This is absurd," Draco said, growing annoyed. "What does it matter? We aren't friends. We barely know each other."

She looked at him then. "That's true," she agreed, nodding. "It doesn't matter."

"Who are you?" he asked. Her answering smile was quick, mischievous almost, full of mirth. She enjoyed this little game, he realized.

"You aren't very resourceful are you? Then again, maybe I expect too much from a Slytherin. You think I would have learned after all these years of dealing with my sister," she said condescendingly.

"I've had better things to do than run around asking people about a random girl," he answered. "What do I care if I never learn your name? Why should you be important to me?" he asked angrily, his pride wounded.

Her expression flattened, all amusement and mirth disappearing as quickly as if he'd blown out a candle. "You're right," she agreed. "And I'll let you off the hook this time, Malfoy, since it's a new year and your first offense, but next time I catch you out of bed after hours I'm taking points," she said, abruptly dropping all manners of friendliness and adopting a very cold, professional tone.

"What?" he asked, perplexed at the sudden shift in her demeanor.

"I'm a prefect, Malfoy. And I'm on patrol, so I should get going. I've already wasted too much time here." She turned to go.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked, reading a double meaning in her words. She glanced at him.

"You haven't changed," she said simply. "Goodbye."

"You don't think I can change?" he asked, following her out into the dark Entrance Hall. She paused halfway up the marble staircase. He stared up at her, waiting for her answer, suddenly fearful of what it would be for a reason he couldn't understand.

"I didn't say that. Can has nothing to do with it. I don't think you have changed," she repeated without turning to look at him. She stared walking again.

"I can change," he called after her stubbornly. "I have changed!" he added.

She turned at the top of the staircase and stared down at him, no warmth left in her expression. "Prove it," she said.

And, like always, she spun around and walked away without looking back.

A/N: So I wasn't planning on continuing this, but then, I never plan any of my fanfiction writing. This exchange occurred to me yesterday and I've been trying to ignore it all day. Again, don't know if I'll continue this or not. No promises for updates. Of course, my brain is on Malfoy overdrive for some reason, so who knows what may happen in the next 24 hours? An entire plot line may reveal itself. Don't get your hopes up.

-Megan