Draco

.

.

"So, what do you smell?" asked Theo in an overexcited whisper.

"I dunno... Strawberry... Like a strawberry potion... Books from the Library... And cinnamon tea."

There was a small silence.

"Pansy doesn't smell any of that." said Theo, slightly disappointed.

"No."

"Do you have any idea who it might be?"

Draco took another breath of the intoxicating scent, but recognised no one.

"No, no idea..."

"The books in the Library..." repeated Theo in a whisper, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Maybe I'm in love with you, after all." said Draco with a grin.

"Ha-ha-ha. Very funny. Well, one thing's for sure, it's not Pansy."

"No..."

If he'd smelled anything remotely resembling Pansy, he would have recognised her, but none of the three scents in Amortentia reminded him of her. He would probably have smelt cold tobacco, or the chemical scent of her lipsticks.

"Or maybe your thing isn't working." Draco said.

Tho raised his eyebrows so high they were lost in the chestnut curls on his forehead:

"Don't insult the most powerful love potion in the world, please."

He was about to recap the vial when Draco exclaimed in a whisper:

"Wait! What do you smell?"

"Me? But I'm not in love, there's no point."

"So what? I'm not in love either, and yet I can still smell stuff. That must mean that the woman in my life smells like strawberries, according to you. Go on, what do you smell?"

Theo frowned and bent over the vial. Draco found it incredible that Theo didn't smell of strawberries and cinnamon, because they had completely embalmed the room around him, it was almost suffocating. Theo, on the other hand, had to bend over the potion, as if his smells were attenuated.

"I smell... A wood fire... The smell of ink, and treacle tart."

"The smell of ink?" repeated Draco, suppressing a laugh. "You really are a fucking nerd, Nott."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not the one struggling to decide whether I like a girl or not. At least I know I don't."

He closed the little vial again and put it carefully away in the cabinet, then whispered "Nox". The beam of his wand went out and the room was almost plunged into darkness, except for the light Draco was still producing, which barely illuminated Theo's face in front of him:

"Turn off your wand, or we'll really be spotted. Come on." Theo said.

And they snuck out of the classroom and went back to their beds.

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Hermione

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.

"Are you sure about this, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at the little golden hourglass on the desk. This magical object that she adored and hated at the same time, that stimulated her as much as it exhausted her.

"Yes, I'm sure." she finally said.

Professor McGonagall nodded gravely and took the golden chain, which she put away in a purple velvet envelope.

"Then the Time Turner will be sent back to the Ministry tomorrow."

Hermione nodded. She wasn't particularly relieved to return it, but it already felt like less of a weight on her shoulders.

"So you want to stop Muggle Studies, is that it?"

She remembered Malfoy's words, "Promises, in the Malfoy household, are sacred. I want your word." She'd never thought she'd share a promise with Malfoy, but now that she'd committed to it, she had to keep it.

"Yes, I do."

"Very well." said McGonagall, pulling the same form out of her drawer as she had in April. "Then, without these two options, your timetable will be considerably lighter next year."

"Understood."

"Miss Granger..." said McGonagall, whose stern features lightened ever so slightly. "Professor Lupin told me about your Defence Against the Dark Arts exam."

This time Hermione clenched her hands against the wood of her chair. She felt her heart rate quicken:

"Yes?"

She had failed. Lupin had got the marks wrong, and she'd failed. That was certain.

"He told me about your Boggart, specifically."

"I failed, didn't I?" she asked in a small voice.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by the question:

"No, Miss Granger. Far from it."

Hermione's fists unclenched.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm extremely proud of you." the teacher said. "Whether you have a Time Turner or not, you are still the best student in this school, and probably the brightest witch in your year. Don't think that by lightening your timetable you're losing that status."

Hermione said nothing, but felt her cheeks flush a little.

"And the fact that your parents are Muggles in no way detracts from your abilities, on the contrary, it gives you a richness. You perfectly belong here, just like any other student at this school."

McGonagall contemplated Hermione attentively, but the latter did not know what to say. McGonagall had pressed all the sore points, her complexes since she had first entered Hogwarts. Hearing her say that made her feel both reassured and embarrassed. Fortunately, she didn't insist:

"In any case, congratulations on your results at the end of the year, they're all excellent. I wish you a very good summer holiday, may it be restful after this difficult year."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

And she jumped out of her chair to leave the office. She opened the door, stepped out into the corridor, wondered if she should join Harry and Ron who had not yet finished packing when a voice behind her startled her:

"You kept your promise, then?"

She turned, wide-eyed:

"Malfoy, you scared me!"

He was leaning against the wall, next to McGonagall's office door, in his usual nonchalant position. He laughed mockingly at her high-pitched voice.

"Are you following me?" she asked, suspicious.

He rolled his eyes:

"No, I was heading for the Library. Don't think you're the centre of the Universe, Granger."

She was reassured, because she had been afraid Malfoy had heard what McGonagall had just told her. She relaxed a little, but still remained on her guard against Malfoy, because he was too unpredictable. He continued in his drawl:

"So, you've given up Muggle Studies?"

"Yes. Which is silly, really, because I'm convinced you cheated."

He looked falsely outraged:

"Cheated?"

"Yes. You enlisted Snape to get a better mark. That's why you made the deal, you were already sure you'd win when you offered it to me."

Malfoy waved a finger in front of her to say 'no', cutting her off:

"No, no. I knew I was going to win, Granger, but it wasn't because I cheated. Would it kill you to say I was better than you on that one? Admit it, I got a better grade than you. You lost the deal. Don't bring Snape into this, I played fair."

Hermione wasn't really buying it, and he must have seen it because he insisted, moving a little closer to her:

"I told you. I keep my promises. You lost."

"I get it!" she cried. "And I kept the deal, I gave up the option. Satisfied?"

He smiled, and it was the first time she'd seen him smile like that. It wasn't his smirk, or his mocking smile, or his fake smile. This was a genuine, sincere smile that lit up his face.

"Merlin, Granger. You're a worse sore loser than I am." he murmured.

"I'm not a sore loser!" she exclaimed, irritated.

"Of course you're not."

And he stormed off. She watched him go, and when he was far enough away from her that she couldn't quite make out what he was saying, he said:

"Have fun with your Muggles this summer."

She turned that phrase over in her head several times as she walked into the Common Room, not quite sure if it was an insult or a "goodbye".

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Draco

.

.

Pansy didn't come with them in the compartment of the Hogwarts Express. It was the first time they had not travelled together.

Draco spent the whole journey staring at the empty seat next to him. She usually lay there, sleeping on his lap or on the windowsill, or watching the landscape. At lunchtime she'd buy a peanut butter sandwich and eat it slowly while reading a magazine or chatting to Blaise and Theo. And ten minutes before arriving, she would put her headband back on, smooth her hair with her hand and apply red or black lipstick to her lips before meeting her father. Draco had always found it strange that her father ordered her to wear a headband, but made no comment about her lipstick.

He saw none of that now. He was alone. Actually, Theo and Blaise were with him, but Draco couldn't enjoy them as much as he used to. He had the impression that something physical was missing that was preventing him from living properly. Yet Pansy was right next door, in the compartment with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. She had never seemed so far away.

His friends didn't ask him any questions and left him to mope in his corner. There was nothing they could have done anyway. Draco was trapped in a prison of feelings, and Pansy had the key.

It's amazing how much you miss someone when they're gone all of a sudden. He felt like he hadn't talked to her enough this year, that he'd wasted opportunities to see her, or spend time with her, and now that she was gone, her absence was even more painful. He should have insisted that she sleep in his bed, that she tell him what was bothering her long before, so that they could realise it together. She must have suffered so much on her own...

"Anything from the trolley?"

Draco turned his head. He hadn't even noticed that the food trolley was there. The lady serving gave them a big smile.

"Dray, do you want anything?" asked Blaise.

Draco shook his head. He wanted to ruminate in his corner and feel guilty all by himself. Blaise insisted:

"Come on, have something. You haven't eaten anything all day."

"No, thank you." he said in a harsh voice.

Blaise sighed, and Draco heard him ask for two sandwiches. If they were peanut butter, he wouldn't even touch them. Theo, on the other hand, asked for some sweets, and as soon as the lady had left, he put them in plain view on the little table next to the window:

"Here, Draco."

Draco looked at the sweets but he wasn't hungry enough to find them appetising.

"No, thanks."

"At least drink some pumpkin juice." urged Blaise, who handed him a bottle.

"What's the matter with you two?" snapped Draco, folding his jacket over him as a blanket.

"We're worried about you, that's all."

"No need, I'm fine." he said with a grunt.

Theo and Blaise whispered something between them that Draco didn't hear. He didn't really like it. He felt like an animal they were studying. He rolled over on the bench and tried to sleep, but even with the rocking jolts of the train, he couldn't plunge into sleep.

"Dray? Dray, we've arrived."

Draco had long since sensed that the train was slowing down, but he didn't feel like getting up. He was forced to when Blaise shook his shoulder more vigorously:

"Okay, Blaise! I'm getting up!"

He got rid of his jacket and picked up his suitcase, which was in the luggage net above the seat. The train corridor was already crowded with students who wanted to get off on the platform first. Draco was sure that Granger was one of those people who got up twenty minutes early to be in front of everyone. Without knowing why, the thought made him smile a little.

Blaise slid open the compartment door and the three of them entered the queue of students who were moving slowly forward. Crabbe and Goyle were at the front. Draco didn't reply when they wished him a happy summer holiday.

Out of habit, he turned to look for Pansy in the crowd. It didn't take him long to find her, even though she was the smallest. She was right behind him, next to Daphne Greengrass who was looking out of the window for her parents. Pansy, on the other hand, wasn't looking for her father: her eyes were fixed on Draco. Her eyelids were swollen, as if she'd been crying for a long time, and her dark pupils were shining. She looked so sad. His heart sank at the sight.

They exchanged a long look, which seemed like an eternity to Draco, but must have only lasted about ten seconds.

"Move, Draco!"

Marcus Flint urged and Draco realised that Theo and Blaise had already jumped onto the platform. Draco followed them, and when he turned around, Pansy was no longer behind him. He tried to make out her father, but the crowd of students reuniting with their loved ones prevented him from seeing. His mother's hand, with its long black nails, grabbed his arm:

"There you are!"

She smiled at him, and he tried as hard as he could to respond genuinely. She didn't hug him, but kept her hand wrapped around his arm in the most maternal gesture she could muster. Blaise and Theo arrived at that moment:

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good evening you two! Did you have a good journey?"

"Very well." said Blaise.

Draco looked around the crowd for Pansy, but couldn't find her. He cursed himself for not following her, he would have liked to talk to her before going home.

"Do you want to have tea at home? Theo, is your dad picking you up here?"

"No, my dad's not coming. In fact, I'm going to live with Blaise for the summer."

Draco didn't hear the rest of Theo's sentence, because as he searched for Pansy in the mass of students, he found Granger. He saw her approaching a group of people with red hair, whom he immediately identified as the Weasley family. The mother, a small, plump woman with flaming hair, pulled her into a long embrace. Draco was surprised that they were so close with Granger, he didn't think they knew each other that well. Was it this woman who had sent him the jumper with the 'H' on it, the same one the Weasleys wore? Why was she even more demonstrative of affection than Narcissa when she wasn't even his daughter?

"Well, get home safely, boys! Come on, Draco, we're going to try and make our way out of the platform." Narcissa announced.

Draco tore himself away from Granger's contemplation to follow his mother and said a quick goodbye to his two friends, who were on their way back to Blaise's. In any case, he would probably be going to Blaise's house the next day, too.

Just before crossing the 9 ¾ barrier and leaving for two months, he looked back one last time to catch a glimpse of Granger's curls and her smile, before she disappeared back into the crowd.

.

Hermione

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.

Hermione had positioned herself at the very front, so that she was right in front of the train doors. When the train stopped, she jumped onto the platform crowded with impatient parents. She knew that her own parents were waiting for her behind the barrier, as they were every year.

Ron, Harry, Ginny, Fred, George and Percy arrived in turn, and the little group rushed to meet Molly and Arthur. As soon as they saw their children, they shouted for joy:

"Oh, there you are! We've missed you so much! Did you have a good trip? Are you hungry? Oh, I've missed you!"

Molly hugged everyone in turn, including Hermione. She smelt just like Ron, a slightly sweet smell that was instantly recognisable. Harry was also swept away by Arthur and Molly's hugs, and then, they all walked through the 9 ¾ barrier together.

"Hermione, you have to come to the Quidditch World Cup too, it's exciting!" chuckled Arthur Weasley happily. "I'm sure I could apply for extra seats for your parents too, if they'd like to come."

"Oh, don't worry Mr. Weasley... Quidditch isn't really my thing."

"But Hermione!" protested Ron as he pulled out their two suitcases. "This isn't just any match, it's the World Cup! I swear you'd love it!"

Hermione was actually very keen to go and see Harry and Ron outside Hogwarts, but she didn't want to abuse Ron's parents' hospitality.

"We'll keep in touch over the summer, but we'd be delighted to welcome you to the Burrow, Hermione." Molly said kindly.

"Thank you very much Mrs. Weasley."

They went through the gate one by one. On the other side, Hermione didn't immediately see her parents, who were probably waiting in the entrance hall. Harry greeted them and walked over to his Uncle Vernon, who looked even more closed than the last time Hermione had seen him. He didn't crack a smile when Harry came to meet him.

"See you soon, Hermione!" Ron said affectionately.

"Have a good summer!" said George.

"See you in August!" said Fred with a wink.

"Send us some letters!" exclaimed Ginny as she walked with her parents.

She waved goodbye until they emerged from the station. Then Hermione picked up her trolley and wheeled it up to the entrance hall to fetch her parents. As she walked up the train platforms, she heard a woman walking beside her, and the name she spoke caught her attention:

"Draco, didn't you leave the train with Pansy? Where's she, then? Perhaps we could invite her to dinner in the next few days."

Hermione noticed Draco Malfoy, who was walking just behind the woman. Hermione detailed her discreetly, and realised straight away that it had to be his mother. She was tall, slender and very well groomed. Her hair was the same pale blonde colour as her son's, except that the other half of her head was almost black. Her facial features were very much like Malfoy's, quite pronounced, and her face was pale. Hermione had rarely seen such a beautiful woman in her life.

Her question made Malfoy wince, although his mother did not notice. He took a while to answer, his eyes fixed on the cart he was pushing at arm's length and in a mumble she didn't quite understand:

"No, she's with her father."

"Oh. Well, you can tell her she's invited to dinner at the Manor whenever she likes. Oh, this station is full of Muggles! Come on, Draco, I don't want to hang around this place and get home quickly."

The boy did not quicken the pace set by his mother, who had suddenly wrinkled her nose in a grimace of disgust as she watched the people walking beside her. Hermione slowed down a little, so as not to be noticed by Malfoy or Mother Malfoy. She let them go ahead and followed them with her eyes as they took the nearest exit door, presumably to get away from prying eyes.

Suddenly, her attention was drawn to something far more cheerful than the sad Malfoy family. She saw her father in the distance, waving to her. Her mother was beside him, holding a large white sign that read, "Welcome home, Hermione."

Hermione smiled with all her teeth when she saw them, and her smile widened even more when she saw the person accompanying them...

"DANNY!"

She rushed over to them to give them a hug. Her mother dropped the sign on the floor so that she could free her arms and hug her daughter.

Hermione kissed her parents, then hugged Danny, and inhaled that oh-so-familiar smell he had, the one that reminded her of home.

"Oh, I've missed you so much! You made a sign!" she cried, breaking away from them.

"Of course we did! We didn't want you to miss us."

"Did you have a good trip?" asked Danny.

She'd almost not recognised him when she'd seen him from a distance. He had grown considerably, and definitely didn't look like the Danny she had left, the year before. He was taller than she was, and his once round jaw was now marked and his hair more unkempt than before. He no longer had braces, and his teeth were now perfectly aligned. In fact, he looked more and more like his brother Thomas.

"Great, but I'm starving. I've only eaten a small peanut butter sandwich." Hermione replied.

"Then come on, let's go home! I've prepared a roast chicken, just waiting for you to devour it." said her father, taking the cart from her hands.

She accompanied her two parents and Danny to the car park. It had been so long that she had trouble finding their car, suddenly forgetting the brand. As she opened the boot, her father exclaimed:

"Oh my! Is that Crookshanks?"

Hermione looked at her cat's basket attached to her suitcase. She had mentioned Crookshanks many times in her letters, but she realised at that moment that they had never seen him in real life.

"Yes, that's him."

"He's..."

Her mum and dad looked at the cat through the mesh of the basket with two puzzled looks on their faces, obviously hesitating between the word 'cute' and 'horrible'. Danny opted for "original!", and Rachel and John approved.

Hermione's father put his things in the boot, as did Crookshanks, and Hermione and Danny sat in the back. It was almost dark outside, but she could still see the London skyline through the car window. They passed the British Library, where Hermione had been on a few school trips with her class, Regent's Park, the pretty, colourful street of Primrose Hill, and then the more familiar places in her neighbourhood. As they passed Hampstead Heath, Danny asked the fateful question:

"So, how was your year at boarding school?"

Hermione was well aware that the question was going to come up at some point, but she obviously couldn't talk about Hogwarts in Danny's presence, so she was careful not to mention magic:

"Great! I came first in the rankings."

"No wonder! But congratulations." Danny said with a smile.

"We're very proud of you, Mimi." said her father from the driver's seat.

"And you're bilingual in French now?"

"Er... Yes, I think so."

"Go on, say a sentence!" exclaimed Danny.

Hermione repeated the only French phrase she knew, praying that Danny wouldn't ask her for more details:

"Je meurs de faim."

"So cool. What does that mean?"

"It means we'll be home soon." Hermione lied.

Probably not wanting Danny to ask any more tricky questions, Hermione's mum hurriedly turned on the radio.

"What have you got in your pocket?" asked Hermione.

Danny pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a beautiful pencil drawing of Superman flying.

"It's a drawing I did on the way to the station." the boy explained.

"What! You've really improved, that's wonderful Danny!"

"Oh, thanks. I'm pleased because I've managed to convince my parents to take an art option at my school next year."

"That's great!"

"Yes, I hope it'll bring up my average. Do you want to see the other drawings I've done this year?"

"Yes!"

Danny pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and showed her some of the drawings he'd done. They were all beautiful. Danny had always had a knack for drawing, but Hermione never thought he'd improved so much since the last time they'd seen each other, and in his letters he'd never sent anything more than little illustrations in the corners of the paper. As the two of them bent over Danny's notebook, the robotic voice on the radio then announced:

"We remind you that we are still looking for a man on the run, by the name of Sirius Black. He's a frail man in his thirties with long black hair. He is armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him or have any information about this individual, please call us on the freephone number..."

"Are they still looking for that psychopath?" commented Danny. "They've been looking for him for what, a year? He's probably dead by now."

Hermione nodded softly but didn't react. It was extremely strange to be talking about Sirius in this way.

Then she met her mother's gaze in the rear-view mirror of the car. They stared at each other for a long time, but as they couldn't talk about it, neither of them made any comment, and instead looked at the park that stretched as far as the eye could see to the left of the road.

.

Draco

.

.

The Manor seemed even more hostile than before. He felt as if he hadn't been there for years, as if he didn't recognise the place he called home. Everything was grey, cold and neat. And above all, there was a constant silence. Draco could walk for minutes without hearing a sound. The rooms were huge, but empty. Or perhaps he was too used to the chattering corridors of Hogwarts, which were constantly buzzing.

It must have been an hour since Draco got home and he was already feeling lonely. After going round his room, unpacking the last of his Christmas presents which he'd thrown into a corner, washing up and walking up and down the floor, he'd already run out of ideas of what to do to occupy his mind. What did he do before Hogwarts? How did he spend his days before that? He was bored, that's for sure. He had spent his time at Blaise's, and when he hadn't been there, he'd been lonely in his big manor house.

In fact, he hadn't been lonely. He had classes at home, and he shared them. With Pansy. He hadn't been lonely, because she'd always been there.

Thinking about Pansy was the best way to get depressed at the moment, and summer hadn't even started yet. So Draco decided to push her into the back of his mind and keep himself busy by going to the Manor library. He climbed the stairs and entered the huge room, which he didn't visit very often. There were shelves on every wall of the room, filled with old books sorted by category. Draco wandered aimlessly around the shelves, reading a few book titles or running his finger over the dusty bindings. Some of the books were in Latin, Greek, French and even Italian.

He thought to himself that Granger would have worshipped in this room. She would probably have voted it the best room in the Manor, without even looking at the others. She would have raved about the impressive collection of books her family owned. She would have chosen a huge stack of them and sat down in that green armchair with a steaming cup of tea that she forgot to drink while she read...

No. Draco shouldn't be thinking about that, not here. He couldn't imagine Granger wandering around his Manor, it was dangerous. He was supposed to hate her. Merlin, he hated her! She was a Mudblood, and Malfoy's should never hang out with that sort of vile being.

Scratching out his first two thoughts that kept popping into his mind, Pansy and Granger, Draco ran out of things to think about and so picked up the first Potions book he came across. It was an old, battered book, with yellowed leaves torn out in places. He sat down in the green armchair and began reading. At first, he forced himself to read without interest, but as time went by, he was carried away. Potions had always been his favourite subject, but he had never really delved any deeper. Yet it was truly fascinating. He was learning new things and was even looking forward to trying out the new techniques for his preparations the following year.

He was so focused on the text he was reading that he didn't immediately see the house elf approaching the armchair. When he coughed to show his presence, Draco nearly sent the book flying as he gasped:

"Fuck! Knock on the door!"

"Excuse me, Master Malfoy. I just wanted to let you know that dinner was served."

"Is my father here?"

The elf nodded slowly. Clearly, he didn't like it when his father was in the Manor either. He had probably chastised him a few minutes earlier, judging by the burnt spots on his ears.

"All right." replied Draco as he closed the book.

"Would you like some tea, master? For your reading?"

Draco gauged Chubby. He preferred Dobby, who knew him much better, but he was still helpful. He shrugged:

"Yeah, why not."

He left the room and walked quickly down the many steps to the dining room. The table was set as if it were a formal dinner, even though there were only three of them. Lucius was at the end of the table, looking troubled, and Narcissa was reading the newspaper. When Draco came into the room, she closed the Daily Prophet and watched him sit down with a smile.

"Good evening Father."

"Good evening Draco. How was your term?"

"Fine, I came fifth in the overall rankings..."

The meal appeared in front of them and Draco grabbed both spoons for some salad. When he put some on his plate, he heard his mother squeal and Lucius drop his fork. He looked at both his parents, who were both scandalised.

"Draco!" cried his mother.

"What? What have I done?"

He looked down at his plate full of salad. And he remembered, a minute too late, the Malfoy traditions. Always let the father of the family help himself and eat first. He turned to Lucius, who had not started eating. His face had suddenly changed into a grimace of anger.

"Where are your manners, Draco?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, I'm not used to it anymore... At Hogwarts..." began Draco.

"At Hogwarts, they obviously teach you to behave like a boor." cut in Lucius dryly.

"Calm down, Lucius..." intervened Narcissa.

"What?" vociferated Lucius, helping himself a little too brusquely. "You're going to defend him again, aren't you? How can you explain this? Do you realise that our only son, the only one in the Malfoy line, is shattering our family values that have been established for years..."

"Please, he's just forgotten. He's tired, he's been travelling all day. He knows all about our family values..."

Draco remained silent, not wanting to intervene to aggravate his case. In any case, once Lucius had changed his face, it was impossible for him to go back to the way he was, at least not for several hours. So Draco made himself very small, a little ashamed to have forgotten such a strict rule, and waited wisely until his father had already devoured half his steak before daring to eat. His parents argued for the rest of the meal and neither of them asked him any more questions.

Draco skipped dessert and asked permission to leave the table. Once out of the dining room, he let out a sigh. Two months like this...

Out of habit, he went out into the courtyard. He crossed the garden and headed for the fountain. He looked for the figure of Pansy somewhere, lying on the grass, but when he reached their rendezvous point, he realised he was alone. This painful realisation was a blow to his heart. She wasn't there, she hadn't come. Usually, they met by the fountain every evening, even on nights when they hadn't arranged to meet.

Draco stood as if petrified. He and Pansy had had many fights in the past, little quarrels that never made any sense. And Pansy was just as stubborn as he was, so they could sulk for days before one of them put aside his grudge to sort things out. But they always did in the end. And above all, he had only ever felt ignorance on one side. Now he was powerless, forced to stay in his solitude because she didn't want him to come.

He lay down on the grass and contemplated the stars in the sky. Without Pansy to show him each constellation, he couldn't recognise any of them, not even his own. He thought about their promise to be friends forever and clung to the hope that Pansy would never break it. It was just a passing moment, a tiff that was bound to end one day.

Draco lay there for a long time without moving. Sometimes he mistook the sound of lapping water in the fountain for footsteps and looked up suddenly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Pansy's silhouette approaching him. But each time, the excitement of seeing her turned to disappointment, and he lay back down.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to let go, but he remembered what his father used to say to him when he was little: "Malfoy's don't cry. It's the weak who cry."

He cursed his father, because he was the reason he couldn't express his fucking emotions, or feel his fits of rage, or cry. He waited for many hours, and when the summer breeze changed to a cooler breeze, he got up and went back to the Manor.

Everything was pitch black and there was not a sound to indicate the presence of anyone other than himself. Draco climbed the stairs slowly, trembling, then stopped in the library to pick up the book he had already started. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, so he might as well find something to do. He went over to the armchair and found the old book on top.

There was also a mint tea on the arm of the armchair, but it had gone cold. Draco looked longingly at the cup. Then, he swung it across the room with a wave of his hand, causing it to shatter on a shelf and splatter on the floor.