I can feel him watching me again.
Not just watching. Tracking. Like he's trying to solve some kind of puzzle and he hates that I'm part of it.
Draco Malfoy hasn't said a single word to me since the hospital wing, but it's not like he needs to.
The way he looks at me? It's loud enough.
I keep my head down, pretending I'm totally focused as I sketch the wand movement for our transfiguration assignment.
Professor McGonagall's explaining how to turn parchment into birds, her voice doing that calm-professor-hum thing in the background. But my brain's barely holding on.
"Your flick's too tight," I whisper to Harry without looking up. "Try loosening your wrist."
"Right, thanks," he mumbles. "Should I breathe differently too?"
I grin a little. It feels... weirdly nice. Just normal. Like everything isn't completely messed up. Just school and spells and pretending none of the stuff in my head exists.
But of course, I glance over my shoulder.
Two rows back, Malfoy's not even pretending to take notes. His quill's dangling between his fingers, like he forgot it was there. He's just staring.
At me.
Like he's remembering something. The something.
The kiss.
God.
No.
I didn't mean to. It wasn't real. It wasn't me. That stupid potion. I barely even remember it. Just flashes, his robes in my fists, his face right there, the way he kind of froze, and then everything went black.
I didn't choose it. I didn't mean to.
But now he thinks I did.
I look away fast. My face is hot. My hand's sweaty on my quill.
He probably thinks I wanted it. That I wanted him.
And maybe the worst part is that, under all that haze, some tiny part of me did.
That he should've been mine. Not Astoria Greengrass's.
Professor McGonagall's voice slices through my thoughts like a blade.
"Mr. Malfoy. Since you seem so interested in Miss Granger's head, perhaps you'd like to show us the spell?"
The whole class bursts out laughing. That sharp, awful kind that stings.
I don't turn. But I hear his chair scrape back, and footsteps, stiff and careful.
He doesn't even glance my way.
His wand hovers. He says the incantation.
Nothing happens.
Professor McGonagall frowns. "Again, please."
He tries. Still nothing.
Professor McGonagall doesn't flinch. "Five points from Slytherin. Sit down, Mr. Malfoy."
He doesn't argue. Doesn't glare. Doesn't even blink.
Just walks back, pale and quiet. Weirdly quiet.
Ron leans in, snorting. "What's his problem? You hex his ego or something?"
I force a smile. "Maybe he didn't study."
But I'm shaking. Just a little. Because I know what this is.
He's not confused.
He's angry.
And I don't blame him.
He probably thinks I did it on purpose. That I played him. That it was some kind of joke.
But it wasn't.
"Something happen?" Harry asks, low.
I keep my eyes on my parchment. "No," I lie. "Nothing happened."
He doesn't say anything. Just watches me. Like he knows there's more.
It's not exactly a lie. It's just something no one else can ever know.
Ron groans as he looks at the partner list. "Ugh. Not Lavender. Anyone but Lavender."
I blink. "What's wrong with Lavender?"
"She never shuts up," he mutters. "And last time she braided Seamus's hair with a daisy chain mid-spell."
I laugh. Too loud. Too relieved.
Anything to not think about him.
Still, even while Ron's grumbling, I feel it, that moment. The one where Malfoy looked at me and asked why. Not out loud. But I felt it.
Like it mattered to him.
Like he didn't want it to be meaningless.
But it was.
It has to be.
Because if it wasn't... then what does that make me?
His enemy? Still?
Do enemies do that?
After class, the halls are loud and messy, students heading off to lunch. I drag my steps, just hoping the noise in my chest dies down.
It doesn't.
I hear him before I see him. Footsteps behind mine. A little too close. A little too timed.
I stop by the stairwell, pretending to organize my books. My heart's doing this awful thudding thing in my ears.
"Granger."
I freeze.
His voice isn't mean. Just… careful. Like he's holding something in.
I turn.
He's leaning on the wall like he's bored or something, but his arms are crossed and his eyes are locked on mine like he's definitely not bored.
Neither of us talks.
Then he says it.
"Why'd you do it?"
His voice is quieter than I expected. Not angry. Just tired.
I swallow. "It wasn't... I didn't mean to."
"Sure."
He's not teasing me. That's the weird part. He's just… saying it.
"You kissed me like you meant it," he says.
I flinch. "I didn't!"
My voice comes out too fast. Too high.
He doesn't say anything to that. Just watches me.
Then, after a second, he says, "You were watching me before."
"What?" I blink.
He shrugs one shoulder. "You kept doing it. Like in class. Or the library. Like you were trying to catch me doing something."
I open my mouth. Close it.
He doesn't sound accusing. Just... confused.
"I wasn't watching you," I say. Total lie.
He gives me this look. Not smug. Just… honest.
"You were," he says. "You don't have to lie."
And I hate it. I hate that he's right. That I was watching. That even without the potion, I noticed him. Noticed stupid things, like how he cracks his knuckles when he's nervous or how he doodles in the margins of his notes when he's bored.
He watches me not-answer like he already knew I wouldn't.
Then he walks past me.
His shoulder brushes mine as he goes.
And he's gone.
No smirk. No tease.
Just this horrible feeling in my chest like I've lost something I never even had.