Being His Daughter CONTINUED

Not Right

  Draco and I hadn't spoken for the past week. It was a bit difficult to continue to ignore him as he always made attempts to get me into his arms. Whether it was by asking Crabbe and Goyle to shove me to him, or by tripping me and then attempting to catch me himself. Theodore and Blaise had also taken to trying to convince me to make up with Draco, Theodore more nicely and Blaise more 'it's just a bloody Hippogriff'y. None of them had worked. My entire life, I had forgiven Draco almost instantly. This time, I was too bitter to even look at him without my cold eyes narrowing. Even though I still had brief moments of anger when I thought back to him getting slapped, the reason Hermione had done it always calmed me down.

I had also been spending more time with the trio in an attempt to come up with a good appeal for Buckbeak, which had evidently added to Draco's acidity. Though I was only spending my hours with the trio in the library, hunched over books we could gather information from, Draco still felt to urge to complain to Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise that I was beginning to leave him for them. Theodore, the only one who bothered to listen to me besides Airam and Jalen, had tried to explain I was only doing this for Buckbeak, but it had went right through my prickish best friends ear and out the other in a nanosecond.

On top of all of this with Draco, I also had to now worry about certain revengeful Gryffindors seeking out to pelt me with hexes and curses on count of the upcoming Quidditch match between them and Slytherin! I didn't even play Quidditch! The only reason they were doing it to me was to get revenge on Draco for attempting to injure one of their Quidditch players. Even though the Weasley twins did try to hex Draco, they didn't oppose to Daniels and I blowing a fourth year Gryffindor across the corridor when he had tried to curse me, they even scolded him after it and gave me a basket of Chocolate Frogs. The basket was honestly to highlight of my dreadful week.

___________

"Have you found anything good yet?" I grumbled sleepily as I looked up at Ron, where he sat across from me reading a book just as thick as mine was. Our table in the library was scattered with loose parchment that had random things scribbled onto it, and every now and then, doodles from when our minds would wander off track.

"No," Ron replied gloomily as he glanced up at me. "Wait," he said suddenly, making my ears perk up. "This Hippogriff got off--oh, never mind, it's only because he was mad."

"Maybe Buckbeak can me 'mad'," I thought dully and Ron chuckled.

"Maybe," he muttered. Then he looked up at me and stared, causing me to slowly raise my head from my book. He was looking at me with a serious face.

"What?" I asked, touching my face consciously.

"Do you really think they'll kill Buckbeak," he asked.

My hand dropped onto the table softly and I averted my gaze from his sad eyes. Even though I desperately didn't want them too, I knew how Lucius was, and it made me really doubt we even stood a chance. But I wasn't going to give up.

"Not if we can help it," I said finally, looking back at him as he gave me a sad smile. I sighed, slamming the book shut with a thud as my stomach growled. "Dinner should be starting soon. We should get going."

"Yeah," Ron huffed as he heaved his book closed. "I reckon--" he glanced at the clock ahead of us, "three hours should be enough for tonight. Harry and Hermione are going to be a bit discouraged we didn't find anything new."

"Yeah," I breathed as we gathered our papers and then left the hushed library. "But they've got other things to worry about, or else they would've came today. You know, Hermione has all those classes and the Quidditch Match is tomorrow for Harry."