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fifth, conversation

Malfoy: "Really..?" Hermione ask warily. Pansy shoots her a condeming look and kicks her softly in the shin. "There's no reason to mistrust him." The Griffendore nods hesitantly.

"We don't know what it is they're doing. We need to find out. Don't we?" It's Potta.

He believes me.

"Right" She seems to mean it. "What do you remember? Details or ingredients?" Questioning Hermione turns to me.

"Most of it. Venomous Tentacula leaves, black cat hair, honey, lavender..." She starts writing into a small journal she had stored in her pocket. "black cat hair?...How do you know what  they were? Were the ingredients labeled?"

"No, I recognized them." She nods again. "Go on."

Potter: I watch Malfoy as he keeps listing everything he recalls. His eyes are pinned on Hermione's pencil - concentrating. I admire his side profil - the sharp jaw bones & line, the cute pointy nose & the majestic eyelashes. The blond runs his fingers through his hair causing it to fall back in slow motion. Driven by fascination my jaw drops. My knees fell like jelly.

I'm so gay.

"Okay, that's a lot. It seems to be a complicated, rare potion...since I don't recognize it. I will go to the library & read about it." Hermione concludes.

"Great. I'll ask some off my contacts in the ministry. Maybe someone heard something." That's Pansy.

She knows people in the ministry?

Directing my attention back to the sweet boy I say. "Okay. Then let's meet here tomorrow evening again." They "mmh" agreeingly & we go our ways - Hermione to the library, Pansy to the owl-tower & I follow Malfoy into the Great Hall.  We let ourselves fall to the ground onto our sleeping places which are next to each other. 

"What do you think they're doing up there?" He seems troubled.

„Idk. Nothing good - otherwise the ministry wouldn't hide it. I just can't figure out why they would do it here." I avoid eye contact - I'm afraid of what he would be able to see. "After Voldemord's death, there are no threats to their power. I think..." His presence tense me - I need to hold myself back from him.

„I thought so, too." He's smirking & I can't help myself but look up. My cheeks flush. The smile that tangles around the corner of his mouth fills my stomach with butterflies. My eyes hang on his lips. They're moving but my mind can't catch the words leaving them.

„Hello?!?" A quiet voice paces it's way into my consciousness. „Potta. POTTA!" I flinch lifting my gaze to his eyes. They're soaked with worry.

„I'm fine." He scrutinizes me. My head reddens under his stare & I pin mine to the ground.

„Don't worry. I don't think they'll go after you. You're the Chosen One, the world you'd go crazy if their hero was hurt."

their hero

I reply impulsily. „I'm not your hero?"

Ofc not he hates me. He doesn't want anything to do with me.

„I'm mean...I'm not a hero—" I add embarrassed by how arrogant I sounded.

Everyone but one seems to love Harry Potter. Yet he's the one I'm crazy about.

„Nonono. That's not what...I just..- you didn't kill Voldemord for me. You did it to save loved ones & innocent people. Not for people like me."

„for people like you...?" The answer hangs between us - weighting us down.

„former Death Eater" He whispers looking around fearful someone could hear him.

He's ashamed.

„Well, firstly I don't like the word hero. Secondly, I did what I had to do for everyone who's willing to change." His expression is wiped blank by surprise. Then a soft grin extends over his face.

„You think I'm willing to change?" It's provocative.

„I didn't say that." I laugh glancing at Malfoy.

Do I? Would I be drawn to him if he isn't?

"Have you?" Now it's me who's whispering. Without noticing I have lean towords him. His cheeks are flushed.

"I...I don't k-..."

Malfoy: I don't kow how to anwser.

I want to tell him that I never belived the ideology in the first place & rather motivated by my craving for affection & approval from my parents. But would he belive me? Does it even matter? I did what I did which is a lot of damage.

I inhale.

"Yes, I like to belive that. The whole ähm..." I search for a respectful word. "division-narrative was not really my thing. Doesn't matter..." I'm wisphering again while I avoid his eyes. Straighting my shoulders my voice raises with a firm tone.

"I hurt a lot of people, ruined lifes & did damge - or helped doing that. I wish I could take it back." Flashbacks fill my mind just mentioning it that vaguely. Nerously I scratch my arm.