ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴛᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪʟᴀ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱ || ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ x ᴏᴄ || ʏᴇᴀʀ 4

you mystify me

On Wednesday morning, tragedy struck.

It was a series of unfortunate events, really. I'd had a nightmare and hardly slept, but I still wanted to make it to breakfast before Transfiguration. I rushed through my routine shoved myself into my clothes, running down the stairs as I was still shoving my shoes on. I  only slowed down when I spotted a familiar white head of hair in the entrance hall, frowning at today's copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What's wrong?" I asked, approaching. Draco looked up at me, ready to reply, but no words came out. Instead he stared at me as if I'd just asked him something particularly baffling.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked in return. "You look like you've been hit by the Knight Bus. Your tie isn't even on right."

"Isn't it?" I looked down at the offending article self-consciously. I startled when his hands came into view, as he started fixing my tie for me. There he went again — touching me like it was a totally normal thing to do. Maybe it was, and I was just making a big deal out of it.

"You're lucky I was here, you know," he said. He must take good care of his hands, because they looked quite soft. Didn't have scratch on them. "Imagine you showed up to McGonagall's class like this — you'd have been done for."

I stopped focusing on Draco's fingers for a minute to actually look at his face. Terrible mistake, I must say, because his eyes were twice as enrapturing. From an objective view, of course. I'd never seen quite a shade of silver before I met him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, eyes betraying concern. I realized I'd stopped breathing.

"Fine," I answered, though it came out like a squeak.

"What a lovely couple!" Smith's voice felt like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. "I thought you two were supposed to hate each other, no?"

"Go away, Smith." I snapped at him, far too tired to deal with his bullshit.

"Oh, and what's this?" Ignoring me, he snatched the Daily Prophet from Draco's hand, skimming through the page he'd been looking at. His eyes lit up with mirth. "What terrible things Skeeter's printed about the Weasleys! Bet you loved to see that. Going to start a scene, were you? Typical Malfoy."

"Is it a crime to read the paper?" I was quick to argue, as people gathered around had stopped to watch the altercation. I saw the trio too, just now coming down the staircase, whispering to themselves.

"Standing up for your boyfriend now, are you?" Smith cocked his head. "What an interesting development. What have your friends got to say about that, Holmes? And Malfoy! Have you told your parents? Wouldn't that cause such a scandal? You and Lila Holmes, the Muggle-born who talks to snakes?"

Now the entire hall had broken out into murmurs. I stood riveted at the spot, filled with rage but refusing to let him know it.

"Are you being paid by the word?" Draco snarled. "Is your life so dull that minding your business so hard for you? Because I've heard a few things about you, Smith. Should I make an announcement to the rest of the entrance hall, like you've been so kind to do for us?"

"There's no need for that," Smith sneered, though I could see the panic in his eyes.

"Draco," I tried, but he was practically sparking with anger.

"Your mum was so disappointed in the way you turned out that she went off and had another, is that right?" Draco said coolly. "So distraught that her only heir was practically a Squib that she remarried in hopes of a better legacy."