The days that followed were just Time passing us by, mercilessly so. One morning, I woke up to find that there was only one more week before the first NEWT. As I went by my usual morning routine, I became increasingly aware of this urgency inside of me, telling me I was running out of time.

Time to do what, exactly, I couldn't put my finger on it. To study for the exam? Every one of us were already giving it our all to revise, the mounting pressure was nearing eruption. The library was always full, and Madam Pince had had it open for longer into the night than usual. Discipline within and between the four Houses – at least among the returning seventh years – was better than it had been in all the years I've spent as a Hogwarts student, what with everyone so determined to prepare for this first real threat in their lives since the Second Wizarding War to bother with petty House rivalries. Even Hermione, Ron and I now spoke less to each other for fear of either of us exploding in the others' faces.

Maybe my subconscious was urging me to try again and tell Malfoy about Abigail's harvesting business? This annoyed me immensely because there was no way I could do it now that Abigail had my tongue tied up from spilling her secrets to her once best friend whom she's about to betray. What exactly did she do to me that day at the Lake? She must've done something to me because the one time I managed to talk to Malfoy, I couldn't bring myself to actually tell him. And it wasn't any of my business to begin with!

Perhaps the prospect of graduating and going separate ways from my friends was the reason I felt like I was running out of time. Time to enjoy the company of my first and best friends growing up, time to relish in the (comparatively) carefree life of a student, time to fully immerse myself in the magic that was Hogwarts, my own haven, the only place where I ever felt wanted, my home.

Something started bubbling in my chest and pricking at my eyes as this last thought blasted its way into my overworked brain at breakfast. I cursed under my breath and suppressed the urge to turn in my seat and squeeze my best friend Ron.

Fucking NEWT and its tolls. Surely graduating wasn't going to be the end of our friendship! There was no need to be so melodramatic about it. It won't be the same, I reckoned, but we would go on to do other things together. Hopefully nothing like racing against Voldemort-Quirrel to the Philosopher's Stone, or going into the deep bowels of Hogwarts to rescue a possessed younger sister, or travelling back in time to save my very soul, or breaking into the Ministry of Magic only to fall into a trap, or like Horcrux-hunting of the last year, or fighting in a war… Well, I've had enough adventures to last me a lifetime.

So the urgency was not in spending time with my friends. We'll always be the best of friends. Graduating Hogwarts together was only going to attest to that.

"Harry, mate, are you okay? You kind of zoned out there for a bit," Ron was saying now, his cheeks full of food. Some things never change.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

Ron put a hand over my shoulder and squeezed slightly and I wished he hadn't, because NEWT was seriously feeding my emotional drive. I turned my head to get it to think about something else, and I caught sight of Malfoy.

He was sitting with his back to the Gryffindor table, his blond hair only a little mussed. I couldn't see his face, but in my mind's eye it was pinched in concentration over the piece of parchment he appeared to be writing on. At times, he looked up from it, turning slightly and with a slender hand touching his chin and lower lip, he contemplated his next sentence. Once or twice he tilted his head a little to the side and held the hand against his forehead before he slowly ran his pale fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. As imperative as it was for us to study for the upcoming exam, I couldn't help but worry over how bony those fingers looked and how he was pouring over that roll of parchment instead of having breakfast. Couldn't he have put that away for later?

As if in answer to my thoughts, a small girl with dark hair walked over to him. I watched with narrowed eyes as she tapped him on the shoulder. Malfoy turned and appeared surprised to see Abigail acknowledging his existence again. She reached over and took up his quill and parchment before pulling a plate of omelette towards him. Then she went back to her seat …at the Gryffindor table?

I watched her settle into the seat next to the short-haired girl Abigail had introduced to my friends and me once, Samara Rutledge. Or Sam, as she had told us to call her. I brought my attention back to Malfoy.

I turned just in time to see him scowl at her before he proceeded to butcher a plate of omelette.

I took a moment to ponder what emotion NEWT was currently feeding into my drive. Slytherins must be a bunch of pretentious gits. At least Abigail has to be one, because there it was right in front me, a blatant show of concern for a friend whom she had sworn to leave and take away with her his memories of their friendship. Sure, Malfoy will be free of the Mark and whatever it entailed, but when I think about what would become of me if I had lost Ron or Hermione in that way… I mean, I didn't see his other friends looking after his well-being. Why wasn't that Theodore Nott around to make sure Malfoy eats his breakfast if he cared for him at all?

As I ignored Hermione's complaints about Neville being nowhere to be found when he had promised revising Herbology with her, I slowly realised that after Malfoy was rid of the Mark, along with any reason to be talking to me – the last two occasions in which we did had been because of Abigail – after this week and the next, after we graduate, then I would never see him like this again, or just never see him again, period.

The sense of urgency swelled up inside me then, and I almost had a panic attack that morning at breakfast.

I was running out of time to tell him that… Fuck. I need Draco Malfoy in my life, always.

[Author's Notes]

I am currently facing exams, probably why I'm finally typing this up. This is probably the last update until I'm done exam-ing and holiday-ing. While I'm only typing up this story as I go, I actually have the entirety of it quite thought out, except for the telling of it. And now I'm getting reeeaallly bored with it, and just want to type it out and end it as soon as possible.

Damn exams.

(Yes, that there is a hint of Nott/Neville, kill me.)