Draco was pretty sure he'd be able to get through it. He just had to know that Bones was okay, and then everything else would be fine. He didn't need her; didn't even know what he'd do with someone like her in his life. It was safer – easier – if he didn't have her. He just needed to know she was okay.
She didn't come out of her room for two days. Those days nearly broke Draco. Parkinson couldn't check on Bones without making it obvious that she had befriended at least some of the Slytherins. So for the full two days, Draco imagined the worst.
"It will be fine, Malfoy," Parkinson told him, scowling at him over her school work. "I don't know how weak you think she is that she won't recover from a stupid Amortentia prank. No one's even talking about it anymore."
Draco shrugged and went back to chewing the end of his quill in miserable silence. He didn't doubt Bones' ability to recover from that sort of prank; he doubted her ability to recover from his supposed betrayal. Believing in people was such an innate part of her nature. She had trusted him whole-heartedly; trusted him with things that could destroy her and her family. He knew far more about her than Pansy did. And he had no idea how she would cope with having her trust broken.
Pansy lowered her parchment, brows still furrowed, but her mouth softening. "It's okay, Malfoy. You're not going to be in love with her forever. That stuff goes away when you stop spending time with someone."
Draco started to laugh because that was the last thing he was thinking of – then he choked the laugh off, because it should have been something he had thought of. He didn't want anything to change the way he felt about Bones. It was a feeling that anchored him more than his family, his House – anything. Bones expected so damn much from him. She expected him to be brave, she expected him to be kind, she expected him to be trustworthy. And because of that, he was – for her at least.
But Parkinson was right. Those emotions were going to dilute and seep out of him; and he'd be just as lost as he'd always been. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, more to convince himself that everything would be fine than to assure Pansy.
Parkinson sighed. "Then stop stressing out about it. She'll be fine. You'll be fine."
Draco straightened his shoulders. He should be happy – for Bones at least. She'd had a lucky escape. No matter her expectations, eventually he would have reverted.
"Besides," said Pansy. "I might be able to talk to her."
Draco didn't think it would do any good. He doubted that Bones would ever want to speak to him again.
So he was stunned when he found her sitting in one of the alcoves near the entrance to the dungeons. She must have been waiting to talk to Pansy. Draco would have retreated, if she hadn't already seen him.
He looked down his nose at her instead. "Thought that this would be the last place you'd want to be."
She chewed on her lower lip, watching him with eyes darkened by lack of sleep. Until this moment, he had not appreciated how desperately he had missed her. Still missed her – because she was here, but things weren't the same between them; and would never be again.
"You're still talking to me," she said finally, voice breaking on the words. She did blame him for the prank. It was all there in that comment; she expected him to hate her.
And he did, a little. It stung that she could judge him so harshly without cause. Venom seeped into the next words he uttered; he couldn't keep it out. "If you've come for revenge let me suggest you take it up with Zabini. It has nothing to do with me."
Her eyes widened as though he'd hexed her. It churned his stomach; that raw, pained look on her face. "I haven't given you a reason to think so badly of me," she said, voice shaking. "I shouldn't have been spending time with you when I wouldn't acknowledge you in public – I screwed up, I get it, but…"
Draco scowled, leaning back against the wall behind himself. He'd known that she wouldn't believe him. Under the circumstances he wouldn't have believed himself. Some stupid glimmer of desperation made him protest even when he knew it was hopeless. "I had nothing to do with that prank," he said flatly.
"Of course you didn't!" she flung back, glaring at him.
If the wall hadn't been propping him up, he would have fallen.
"As though I'd ever be friends with someone like that." Bones wrapped her arms around her knees, looking half-furious and half-miserable. "I'm a terrible friend, okay? But I'm not so bad that I'd blame you for something you would never do."
Even after everything she was too damn trusting. "What makes you think that I'd never do that?" Draco snapped. It was absurd. He didn't want her to think that he was the type of person who would try to hurt her. But apparently her thinking that she knew him – like she'd had the privilege of seeing him for himself – was even worse. "You've given me every reason to want to hurt you. Zabini has nothing against you."
"I know you," said Bones, voice barely a whisper. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her knees, bracing herself against the wall of the alcove she was sitting in. "And you're not a terrible friend. You're…sort of amazing actually."
Draco bit down on the inside of his cheek. She churned him up so much that he didn't know whether he wanted to kiss her or wanted to hex her – and, even if he decided, neither option was open to him. She didn't – she hadn't changed her mind. He'd be no more welcome now than he had been when he'd first asked her out. "I'm not your friend though, am I?" His voice came out all hard, sharp angles; there was not the slightest bit of warmth in it.
She didn't lift her face from her knees, but a shudder went through her. Draco braced himself back against the wall, spine straight and hands clenched into fists. He didn't let himself take one step toward her, because that would lead to two – and three – and four. If he reached her he would touch her; and she would shatter any defences he had.
She shouldn't have come. Things had been unbearable without her; but they were impossible with her. At a distance Draco could think of Bones as colder than she was, more calculating; the kind of person that worried about their reputation first. He could think of her as the girl who had sacrificed him for her place in society.
With her right here, he could see her. And she was none of those things. She was just Bones; the girl who believed that he was better than he was.
"Why are you here?" Draco asked, keeping his tone cool. She had to go. Not forever; but until he could figure out how to build more barriers against her. Until he could learn not to want her as desperately as he did; and until he could learn not to hate her.
She started as though the question hadn't occurred to her until Draco had asked it, lifting her head from her knees and staring at him. She recovered quickly. "I wanted to…to apologise," she said, twisting her fingers into the hemline of her robes. "I shouldn't have kept spending time with you once I knew that you had a crush on me."
It came out so formal; like it was a political speech that she'd practised. Completely unlike the casual, spontaneous Bones that he knew. It was easier not to want this version of Bones. It reminded him of his father; shrewdly cautious with his words, always worried about who might be listening.
That didn't quite work in this situation. Draco was the only one here, so this cautiousness was for him, as though she was afraid that there was still something left to break between the two of them. He had no idea how to interpret that – but he felt the same way. As furious as he might be with Bones, they weren't done.
"Explain this to me," Draco demanded, folding his arms across his chest. They didn't have time. Draco was usually the first to wake and leave the Common Room, but Theo wouldn't be much further behind.
Bones shrugged, hands twisting tighter into her robes until her fingers were salt-white.
It didn't work. No matter what angle Draco looked at this from, it didn't add up. Bones was a Hufflepuff; loyal and generally honest. He had never seen her waver from doing the right thing, even if it was the unpopular thing.
Draco pushed himself off the wall. "Why are you here?" he asked. "If you wanted to apologise you could have told Pansy to say sorry for you. You could have sent a letter. What the hell is this about, Hufflepuff?"
Fingers still curled into her robes, she chewed the inside of her cheek as though she was afraid that she'd say something that couldn't be taken back if she stopped.
"You know you're in the wrong," said Draco. She flinched and then pretended that she hadn't; straightening her spine and nodding stiffly. Her hands were shaking even with her robes to anchor them. "So tell me what this is about."
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. "It's self-explanatory, isn't it?"
Draco had thought that it was. He was so used to witches and wizards prejudging him on the strength of his family name that it hadn't seemed so strange for Bones to turn out to be the same at her core. He had no proof that she wasn't, but everything in him rejected the notion. "Assume that I don't understand human mentality," he said, pushing her when it might have been better to accept that she was like the others than to have her confirm it. "Why won't you be seen with me in public?"
She glanced across at him, looking as trapped as she had when he'd been grilling her about her relationship with Macmillan. She still wasn't going to lie to him, he realised with some surprise. "I can't," she said.
Draco didn't know whether she meant that she couldn't be seen with him in public or couldn't explain the situation. It didn't matter what else it meant, though, because it also meant that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. If Bones was worried about her reputation she'd have no problem admitting it; she knew that that was what he thought of her. Before he could ask, Nott walked into the corridor.
He stopped when he saw Draco and Bones, looking from one to the other, shoulders straightening. "Cosy." Even in that one word he managed to inject a wealth of disapproval.
Bones pushed herself off the window seat. "I should go." She nodded a greeting to Nott as she edged past him.
"Don't let me interrupt," he drawled, fixing a cool gaze on her.
"You're not," she said. "We're done."
Draco's muscles seized at the wording and she shot him a glance, flinching, as though his reaction physically hurt her.
"Not..." she said, eyes dark with worry. "I don't mean…" and then she broke off, because she was still being truthful and she really did mean that they were done.
Nott snorted, studying her. "Did you ever wonder why you were sorted into Hufflepuff? You're not loyal, honest or just."
She didn't turn away from Draco. "Hufflepuff takes the left-overs, so I guess I'm not cunning, brave or intelligent either." Her voice was soft, as though she was only speaking to Draco, and as though it was an apology. "I have to go."
She turned and started up the corridor.
Draco found his voice. "Bones." She stopped but didn't turn, pulling her arms more closely around herself as though to guard against the coldness in his tone. "We're not done. I'll see you later."
She let out a soft breath and nodded; before walking away without once looking back.
Nott shook the tension from his shoulders and waited until she was out of sight. "She's worthless, you know." His tone was non-committal; the one he used when he knew that Draco would disagree.
Draco scratched his jaw. The situation wasn't as simple as that. Bones might have wanted him to believe that she was too weak to risk the disapproval of her peers; but she couldn't truthfully tell him that she was. So it was something else. "You've got terrible timing, Nott."
"And you have terrible taste," said Nott.
Draco grinned at him. "I must have if I chose you as a friend."
Nott looked startled, eyes widening before his brows drew together and he nodded once, as though to himself. "You are…happier around her."
Draco drew a deep breath, and thought about how strong his Patronus was when Bones was around. How it always faded faster if he practiced without her there. And yes, it had been obvious to everyone else for ages; he should have known.