better off | d.m.

5.promise

Sage sits in the library. She has been here for hours, studying with Theo. When they were done, he went off to the supposed future girlfriend.

Sage stayed to research on something, but not even two minutes alone and she gets approached by someone.

"You've been avoiding me," Draco acknowledges. "For nine days."

Sage keeps her eyes on the book, reading over the paragraph again, because his talking distracted her.

He sighs loudly. "And you're doing it right now. That is not very nice of you."

The light, joking tone at the end there makes Sage believe, that he is either not too upset about it or already knew she would do that.

Her eyes remain on the book, desperately trying to make out, what is written there. "Yet it is exactly what I do—what we do. Dont tell me you're butthurt now."

Avoidance; it is an agreement they have made, without actually having spoken about it. It just happened, reasons unclear why the other does, but when both do it, it definitely makes it easier.

Sure, they had their fair share of moments together, weak moments, but those were years ago.

However, Draco seems to have changed his mind, which is more than weird. And inconvinient.

She can't avoid him when he pops up any time and when she can't avoid him, dangerous things can happen.

"Heartbroken even," he jokes, trying to sound lighthearted, but she can hear the strain in his voice.

Ater some quiet moments of Sage still ignoring him she can hear the legs of the stool opposite her scrape on the floor—and he is sitting down.

Great.

He doesnt make the whole avoidance thing as easy as it once was.

"If that is because of the things you said on the astronomy tower, then I want you to know, I dont care."

She cant help but scoff. Now she has no desire at all to look at him. "Of course you dont. A heartless prick afterall."

"No, Blossom," he shakes his head. "–I mean I dont think differently of you."

Her walls came down that night and while he is grateful for it, she couldnt hate herself more for it.

She sighs, her head still down, but she is long not reading anymore. "Yes, well, I dont need a pity party."

"I wont give you one," he plays with his rings, hands on the table, but only looking at Sage. He is unphased by her coldness. "I reckoned you would think that as soon as you decided to not talk to me anymore. Some of the things you said—some confused me and some, most, I could relate to."

Now she looks at him, curiously.

It seems like he sunk in his chair. Their feet are almost touching under the table. His eyes are focused on her, his slender fingers twisting and pulling the rings. A tic, she noticed.

His nails are clean, which surprisingly is something not many guys take care of. But Draco Malfoy takes care of himself. His mother taught him well. He is always fresh and clean. Pristine.

She wonders what it would feel like to hold his hands. Simply hold. Fingers lacing and all. Palms touching. She knows for a fact his hands are always cold, but she prefers that. Hers are always cold as well.

She cannot remember ever having held someones hand. It is an intimate act, if one thinks about it. The simplest intimate touch. She wouldnt let anyone hold her hand, yet she imagines holding his.