Inferno | Draco Malfoy

074 | Hypocrite

As I enter the Three Broomsticks, I remove my opulent winter trenchcoat, exposing my black turtleneck and tailored trousers. Rubbing my hands to generate gentle friction to emanate a comforting warmth throughout my being, I take a look around the room. There are plenty of students here, minding their business while drinking some beverages. After all, this is the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

Blaise, as usual, picks the rounded table in the corner to sit at since he claims that no cold wind reaches the spot. Though of course, we all know that it's bullocks; Theo even dismisses the notion, insisting that Blaise simply favours the table due to it having the best lighting.

As we settle down and order drinks, I request a delectable caramel latte, primarily just wanting it for the toffee bits and chocolate sprinkles. Waiting, I allow my gaze to wander around a bit more, but because the cobwebs in the corner of the ceilings put me off, I resort to observing the tables. Some tables are brimming with laughter, radiating a sense of liveliness, and some, on the other hand, exude a different ambience. Amidst the vibrancy is a sombre atmosphere, where some hushed conversations are held. Nonetheless, the overall mood isn't unfavourable.

My eyes dart around for a little longer until finally resting on the blond seated beside me. He appears to be lost in his own world, for he holds no smile, no smirk, and no indication of any emotions at all. He only holds a pair of distant dull eyes, making it seem as though the wisest choice is to face the winter air, rather than his cold complexion. It's unnerving. He drops his eyes down to his lap, fixated on his ringed hands, seemingly finding interest in the intricate patterns etched onto the metal bands more than anything else, including the conversation between our friends.

The hot topic between them is Quidditch. With the first match just around the corner, excitement fills the air, as this will be the first-ever match since Umbridge's torment in the previous academic year. I have also been asked to be the commentator for the game (seeing as Jordan has graduated), and I gladly accepted.

Blaise asks if Malfoy will play on the team and instead of replying confidently or arrogantly, the blond's silence speaks volumes. It becomes evident that he won't be playing, as he has been burdened with a duty from the Dark Lord. Of course, the weight of this duty has affected him in all aspects, so leaving the Quidditch team is only a minor change for him.

Draco starts to fidget with the rings on his fingers and I can see the overwhelming turmoil in his eyes, yet, I hesitate to ask him what's wrong. I don't, knowing that sometimes, words are not enough to ease someone's pain. Sometimes, they just need a comforting touch to soothe them. So, I gently place my hand on top of his, instantly feeling a sense of connection that words cannot describe.

I want to let him know that everything is okay and that it will all blow over like a leaf in the wind. But, none of that is true, it's only a mere fictional delusion, and there is no comfort in lies. I know that Draco must be thinking about the Dark Lord, the task or the cabinet, the things have kept him feeling perturbated.

Draco meets my eyes again, his face remains cold and unwelcoming as he turns his gaze elsewhere. My hand tightens, trying to comfort him. But, he slips his hand away from mine. His unexpected gesture leaves me in a slight shock; it's as if my heart has been pierced by a merciless blade covered in layers of frost. Entirely too embarrassed to even interrogate his motives, I withdraw my hand and sit back in my seat.

Throughout these past weeks, I've been the one initiating contact, perhaps that's due to the fact that I genuinely care. And no matter how hard I try to deny it at first, I can't, I really do care about him. Besides, my father has always taught me to offer comfort in places where the sun does not reach, and in this case, it's Draco Malfoy's heart.