Spellbind

18. The Triangle Method

A/N:

>>>>> = Time Skip

<<<<< = Flashback

*=*=*=*=* = Next Scene

Niyla POV:

George didn't respond. His eyes moved rapidly between Draco and me as if he were trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Or was suddenly struggling with the disbelief of a presumption he'd already conjured up. His gaze was unbreachable, looking unblinkingly at us. And then I realized the closeness between Draco and I, oddly something inside me told me I had to explain it wasn't what it looked like. Such a pathetic, old line, but it was the plainest way to phrase what my mind was shouting. The instant he was walking away from me, I felt slightly unhinged running after him.

"Please." Was all I could manage when we were eventually caught in the whisper of an outside gust.

I had left Draco and he didn't even try to stop me; I was glad he didn't. George's steps slowly faltered on the pale green grass of a courtyard, turning slowly and hesitating to look at me. I moved until I was right in front of him and I could finally look into those eyes that I love more than anyone could ever say they feel they do. My heart was hammering, it felt like I was on the verge of passing out but I was elated to be able to take in every second of being captured in his gaze.

"I'm—" I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what I was doing.

What was I doing? All I knew was I wanted him to know what he saw was nothing like he was probably imagining. For him to know I'm growing intensely mad every second I become more aware I won't ever want anyone else but him. While also being so angry at him that he let Johnson have a piece of him, when he should be only for me.— Completely, and entirely; mine.

"We were only talking," I promised, cotton-mouthed.

"Okay," he said blankly.

"Okay," I repeated, almost huskily.

"That's all you have to say?" Amazingly, a feeling of agitation was growing inside me.

"What else is there to say?" He questioned tonelessly.

I started to crumble. How could he be so indifferent when just a few hours ago, the look in his eyes was so; different? Or had I imagined it? My eyes fell from his, defensively.

"I've made you angry," I said in a low voice.

"No," he pursed his lips a bit.

"Now,—" He let out a sarcastic kind of sigh with notes of irritation and annoyance. "—Why would I get angry to see you with Malfoy? I mean, after you've been ignoring me these past days, it all sort of makes sense."

My brow crinkled. "What do you mean?"

"You have feelings for him; you're confused." The natural warmth that usually emitted from his eyes wasn't so welcoming at the moment. They seemed a few shades darker, looking into them thwarted everything I had planned to say.— What I knew I should tell him.

"What?" I scoffed with disbelief.

"What you saw was— nothing," I took a deep breath, growing irritated.

"Right," he breathed a quick huff and rolled his eyes.

"You are upset, I don't—"

"I'm not upset," he hissed.

"Somethings wrong," I retorted.

"Clearly what I feel doesn't really matter to you, or you wouldn't be the way you are with Malfoy." His voice was harsh; I could feel myself halfly cringing away from him.