One day at lunch, I was discussing a group assignment with Luna when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to find that it was Malfoy. I probably imagined it, but all sounds from the people in our immediate area seemed to have died down. I reflected the uncertainty in his face as we regarded each other.

"I want to ask you about Smith. Can we talk?" Malfoy eventually managed what he had come into Gryffindor territory to say.

I took a moment to collect myself before replying, "er, okay," and stood up to follow him out of the Great Hall, pretending not to notice the looks some of the other students were giving me …us? I shook minutely and belatedly remembered to excuse myself from Luna.

Once outside, Malfoy whirled around, uncharacteristically blurting out his next words, "she's avoiding me, purposefully. I can't get anything out of her, and I didn't get anything out of her, well, Slytherin friends. Potter, tell me what's going on with Smith."

I was not surprised by this, erm, outburst of sorts because I had pretty much spent the last couple of days watching the dot marked "Abigail Silversmith" dodging the one marked "Draco Malfoy" at every possible encounter on the Marauder's Map. When I shared this observation with Ron and Hermione, the latter had foreseen that Malfoy would soon approach us for answers, and rightly so, what with the fact that we actually had those answers. It was just that it wasn't any of our business to begin with.

I had also realised some other things in the last few days: 1. I had actually meant that silent promise I had made to 'be there for my former enemy, Draco Malfoy'; 2. it was blatantly obvious that Abigail refused to go through with the task of killing her once best friend 3. I would have done a better job of 'winning her over' and keeping my promise if I had been more perceptive of the aforementioned fact; and 4. My trying to pull the two apart had not helped with the plan to 'win Abigail over' because it had been for another reason entirely, one that I dare not admit outside of my head just yet.

Of course, I was not going to tell him any of these things. Instead, having already considered the possibility of Malfoy coming to my friends and me for answers, we had prepared for him what we thought would be the most appropriate answer for us to give him.

"Well," I began, and took a deep intake of breath, "she kept talking about making and keeping promises and got somewhat upset whenever she did. Hermione reckons she had made, for what seemed to be the first time in her life, a promise that she could not keep and this upsets her."

Even though that was almost the entire truth, I had expected Malfoy to wave it off as more lies or silly notions, and, initially, he had looked like he was about to do so. But as I concluded, I saw Malfoy knit his thin eyebrows together in reflection. Abigail must have behaved similarly in front him, too, before she finally decided to simply avoid him.

"But then why is she avoiding me?" he asked, confused and hurt and miserable. Again I wanted to pat his back for the look on his face. I couldn't believe how open he was with his feelings even as I stood there. Especially because I was there. I guessed their friendship was a good thing for him because now he was more human than I ever saw him.

"We never exchanged those promises," he said quietly to himself.

Once again, I knew what Malfoy was referring to, having been in the room with them when they were talking about exchanging promises. I remembered that Abigail was going to promise him a proper goodbye, and now I wondered if it could have meant anything else than what I had thought it did.

One would think I had grown out of jumping to my own conclusions.

I observed Malfoy, and perhaps it was my imagination again, but there was a pleading look in his face, and I was suddenly ashamed of myself.

There was nothing for it, I simply found myself saying, "I'll talk to her for you," and added belatedly, "if you want."

That was weird. Was it not weird? I was simply offering my help to talk to Draco Malfoy's once best friend for him. It wasn't weird at all, because that person happened to be a mutual friend. Sort of.

Indeed, maybe if I started regarding Abigail as an actual friend, I might have done a better job of talking her out of keeping that ridiculous promise.

I decided then that it didn't matter whether or not Malfoy was going to appreciate the gesture; I was going to talk to Abigail, properly, and throw all presumptions off of the Astronomy Tower before I do.

Presently, Malfoy was looking at me with a question mark on his face. Metaphorically speaking.

"Oh. Thanks, Potter," he finally said. "And, urm, I'm sorry about the other night. You know, when Nott," he merely raised a hand to indicate the now-healed bruise on my cheekbone, where Nott had punched me. Oh, shit, he was so close, I might just lean in and let his hand touch my face.

I stopped myself and nodded instead, and, not wanting it to turn awkward, hastily made my way back into the Great Hall.

I was met with expectant looks from my friends before I even sat down.

"Well, you were right. He wanted to know what's up with Abigail," I told Hermione, shrugging.

"You did remember not to tell him more than we agreed to tell him, didn't you?" she asked in reply.

"Of course," I hesitated before continuing, "and I said I'll talk to her for him."

Hermione put on an indignant look. Ron almost choked on a sandwich and had to punch his chest before saying, "we can't confront her a second time! I think she wants to talk to us much less than she wants to face Malfoy these days!"

"I'm saying we go talk to her properly, not confront her a second time!" I declared desperately. "She's clearly upset, and it looks like we're the only ones she can talk about this thing to…" and suddenly, finally, the sadness that Abigail had carried around and out of everyone's notice reached me. If the looks on their faces was any indication, Ron and Hermione also shared this realisation. I looked down at my plate, ashamed yet again.

The opportunity to talk to Abigail came the very next day, as Professor Binns concluded his lesson. I rarely kept the Marauder's Map hidden in my trunk nowadays, having taken it upon myself to observe Malfoy's movements at every chance I get. At the moment, I was watching Abigail's dot on the Map leaving the castle. It was headed for the Black Lake. I looked over to Ron and Hermione, nodding. They nodded back in comprehension.

We filed out of the classroom and broke away from the rest of our classmates, heading in the opposite direction towards the entrance hall. My friends and I were determined to do it right this time.

[Author's Notes]

There you go, another raw, un-beta-ed chapter. I'm sorry it's so short this time. I'm currently writing up the next chapter though. As I'm not bothering to edit any part of this story, it should be up soon.

I had expected questions on the apparent inconsistencies in this story, like why Smith is a sixth-year when Hermione had earlier said that she was two years below them. But I guess none of us could be bothered with those things :P (But still, leave a review at your leisure).