D.M. Hate.

Ch.7

My mind was a muddle of nerves lying in bed that night, this strange new epiphany coursing through me, making everything I knew somehow blackened from my mind. I was focused entirely on this thought.
My words from earlier came back to me, I hoped that Malfoy hadn't caught on or was too upset to notice the meaning of what I said to him.

"..god help every person who's ever given a damn about you because you make it impossible..."

Did I care for Draco? Did my feelings of anger and absolute furry toward his father simmer down to something palatable at last? But the very thought of forgiving him or turning a blind eye to the things Malfoy had said was repulsive to me. Did he truly wish to kill me? I felt a raging hatred for him but never so potent that I'd wish to never see his face again. Did he hate me so much? He must. He wanted me as gone as my own dead parents.
I had a restless sleep, scared of waking to these horrible thoughts, but also scared to sleep trapped in a world of my own disturbing fears.
When I woke, the surroundings of my room were infused with the terrifying shadows that enveloped my dreams, causing my blood to run cold for a moment before I sank into reality at last. I knew that I hated Malfoy for certain, but I couldn't figure out whether his feeling had gone far past hatred into something more sinister.

Breakfast in the great hall was more spirited.
Bells came down a little later than I, and sat next to me with a soft tired smile.
"Morning," I say, bumping shoulders and making her chuckle, "how did you sleep?"
"Fine, I guess, I've just had so much to catch up on with this curriculum you all use, so I was sort of stressing about it."
"Really?" I question her, "you seemed to be catching on so well when Im with you in class, you answer more questions correctly than me, and you hardly raise your hand."
She smiles, looking more relaxed but still slightly troubled, "Thanks, Mae, it just feels like Im barely hanging on, y'know? Like one slip up or lost day of studying would be totally catastrophic."
I give her arm a reassuring squeeze, "Bells, you're afraid of being less than perfect, that isn't catastrophic. I think the worst thing that could happen to you, if you did half as much studying, would be a failed assignment, but even then, it would only happen once."
"I don't want to fail any of my assignments!" She says in fear, "you think I might fail one of them?"
I shake my head vigorously, "No! No way, I just meant that if you do slightly worse than usual, you have more chance than anyone here to pass every class with high marks. If you did half as well, you'd probably be doing just as well as the average student attending Hogwarts."
She gives me a quizzical look, "I think I get what you're saying but are you sure you're that confident in me?"
"More than anyone else here," I say.
We continued our conversation talking about a muggle book she'd read, called Macbeth. She said it is meant to be a theatre production of some kind. I believe my father must have had a few copies by the author since his name sounded familiar. I read a lot of muggle books, but most of them were by women authors like Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters. My favorite had always been Wuthering Heights and I remember spending countless summers sprawled out on the floor of my room, reading and rereading it for hours whenever I had spare time. Dracula was one of the very few books I had read that was by a man and I had it placed just below my favorite. Not many wizarding books had that simple element of normality that I craved. Muggles made magic out of ordinary things, and I somewhat envied that ability. The gothic genre was something I had enjoyed most and I felt as though muggles had a supreme way of diving into those dark and spooky places of the unknown that no witch or wizard had ever successfully captured. There was an element of mystery of creatures and shadows and whispers in the air, that they had been able to describe with such beauty without knowing exactly what they were. The difference, I found, was that a wizard could say they encountered a vampire, but muggles found an entrancing way to build up the readers senses only to give the vaguest but most provocative unveiling of the mysterious creature because they simply had to rely on their imagination or the secret whispers and recounts of strangers and old maids.
We finish breakfast and head to our first class of the day, potions. I had been dreading it all night, since the fight with Malfoy. Despite the imminent dread, I was overall pretty calm. I was just happy Bells would be there with me.
We entered the classroom, seeing half the class almost full and the Slytherin side sparse. Slytherin were rarely early, I knew because of James.
Bells and I picked seats beside each other and began preparing for the lesson.
A few minutes, and several small rushes of students later, the class started.
Professor Slughorn was hardly what I would consider an intelligent teacher, but he was definitely knowledgeable about the subject he taught. He wasn't like other teachers who seemed completely invested in every word they spoke in their subject, he never trailed off like Professor Lupin or Trelawney, but he knew our textbooks word for word.
"Now!" Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together, "I want you all to branch out and get into pairs! No one from the same house as your own, and preferably someone you don't know very well. I want this class to feel like family to you all by the end of this semester."
Then he raised his wand and with a swift movement of his wand, he'd managed to move each student's chair back enough for us all to stand up. Some fell off at the sudden movement but Id been able to catch myself before I tripped on my arse.
I turned to look for anyone who might be in need for a partner as much as I and saw a boy I knew as Blaise Zabini. We both made eye contact and walked toward one another.
"Wanna partner?" He asks, sort of awkwardly, as if he were unsure at all of what he meant to say.
"Yeah," I chuckle, and he gestures to his desk for us to sit at.
After several minutes of students looking for seats and partners, the class had settled down at last.
"Alright!" Slughorn has a wide grin on his face, "today we will be brewing a potion that some of you may have already mastered," he winks then clears his throat uncomfortably, "anyway, I want you all to brew a potion known as Amortenia! I showed it to you all last lesson so now I would like to see how well you remember what I said about it then, and with the help of your textbooks, brew a successful potion!" He always had an air of triumph in his voice, like every sentence that came from his mouth was meant to change the lives of each listener. Maybe they did, I was still waiting for the moment it changed mine.
I look to my left and see Malfoy glaring at me. I ignore it and return to focus on the ingredient list and instructions on the table infront of Blaise and I.
"Do you want to make it or collect the ingredients?" Blaise asks. He's much more polite than I'd guessed.
"Oh, I suppose I'll collect the ingredients and then I can still assist you with adding ingredients when it gets to that point. Sound good?"
He nods, giving me a quick smile.
Once Id gathered each of the elements needed, we both began reading off the steps to get a quick idea of how it was meant to go.
We completed each step easily and let it rest once we'd finished.
Blaise holds his fist up for me to bump and I do.
"Nice work," he says, "you're a great partner."
I shuffle my feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable, "thanks, same to you."
He looks at me for a second too long and I begin feeling uneasy under his gaze.
"You busy tonight?" He asks.
"Um— not really, just gonna be studying really."
He smirks, "studying? Really? You're so boring."
It stung my ego for sure, but it hadn't been the first time that someone has said so to me.
"I get that a lot," I shrug.
"I don't think it's true though," he says boring deep into my eyes, "I think underneath all that goody two shoes act is someone very exciting."
His tone was sensual, like he was insinuating something that could only exist in his weird fantasies. I didn't like boys. Most boys. They were either rude and mean or overly insistent on leading you into an empty room.
I squint my eyes suspiciously, speaking my next words very slowly, "uhh... yeah... okay..?."
"What?" He says, his nose turned up, "why are you acting all weird?"
I make an awkwardly amused face at him, "I'm not, I don't know what you mean."
He rolls his eyes, "Maybe you really are just as much a nuisance as Malfoy says."
Malfoy said that? Why does it surprise me? Why does it upset me?
I am quiet for a second, slightly stunned, "Uh— I don't know what you want but I am pretty sure I'm not the nuisance between the two of us."
Before he can reply, Slughorn ends the lesson, taking a quick look over each of our potions and giving little regard for Blaise and I's. Pretty good, not great. I pack my things up and exit the room.
The rest of the day went by faster than usual and I was in a better mood than before. Dinner was served accordingly, and Bells and I sat together.
Bells was very smart for her age, compared to me. She held a delicately bold air about her that I strived to accomplish in my future. Many of the things she would say to me reminded me of the conversations I had with James sometimes. She had a witty humor and a very serene way of handling business that I found admirable at the least. I never envied her qualities, or those that others might have, I'd come to accept my plainness. I wasn't strikingly beautiful like Lily, or speculatively generous and studious like Lia, and I had not an ounce of Bells insightfulness and mysterious allure. I knew it by fact and not envy, yet I still cared. There were moments when I wished that my looks might be more inviting or my actions more genuine, but my lacking forced me to accept what I had. It wasn't something I could forcibly change so there was no use resenting those who were blessed with what I could only dream of having.
Bells and I were in comfortable silence, focusing on just eating our meals. I appreciated those moments. I looked up and thats when my eyes met a strange sight at the Slytherin table.
Malfoy sitting beside a girl that wasn't Pansy Parkinson. It was Tracey Davis.
He was whispering a joke in her ear, making her giggle with a cute scrunch of her nose.
For some odd reason, I felt a twinge in my chest. I couldn't help staring at the girl a few seconds. Seeing how she spoke and laughed. I noticed after some seconds that I'd begun to mimic her mannerisms, like the tilt of her head. I snapped myself out of it and continued eating, trying to distract myself. But something in me wouldn't allow the sight out of my thoughts for the remainder of the meal.
When we had all finished and headed to leave, I instinctively stole a glance in Malfoy's direction. He pulled the seat out for Tracey, kissing her as she stood up. Had he been dating her all this time and I just hadn't noticed? The twinge in my chest turned into a twisting sharpness. I sped up, then slowed again to remain at Bells' pace.
My mind spun and everything from the past months circulated through me. Most of all, I felt a wrenching guilt for what my heart might be feeling. How could I have any affection for a boy whose father murdered my own, as well as taunts it in my face regularly? I felt sick to my stomach, dizziness overwhelming me as if I had somehow gained motion sickness from the simple task of walking. What is wrong with me? Nothing. Nothing because I did not have any feeling at all toward him. I said before and I can reinstate it now that the effect he has on me is purely physical and nothing more. Hormones can mess with a persons mind and I have no reason to feel at fault here.
I took a deep breath and continued walking with steadiness.
"You alright?" Bells voice says to my right.
"Yeah," I chuckle, "I think Im just really tired."
We went to bed that night after talking for a few minutes about our day and sharing with each other what we wanted to do when the weekend came. She still counted on me to have a date by the end of the week.
Thats when I thought of asking Blaise. He seemed to have been a little interested in spending time with me. He asked about my plans, so maybe he wanted to hangout? He was a huge prick about how I reacted but it's not like I'm going to have to see him after Hogsmeade. I just need to ask him once and I'll be good.
The next day, in the afternoon, I decided to take a stroll outdoors. It was slightly chilly, but the snow hadn't fallen for the past few days so the ground was pretty dry with only some small puddles. I went alone because nobody else wanted to come with. My reason for going outside was to potentially bump into Blaise since I knew he and some other Slytherins spent a lot of time there during out of class hours. I was especially certain because I knew that they also had their quidditch practice around this time.
I walked a few minutes, the light going down in the sky, leaving a warm orange hew. A group in cloaks with brooms were heading toward the field and I begin making my way to them before I realize a harsh fact.
Peter plays quidditch. The second I realize this, I begin walking back to the path I had been on.
Why did he have to get in the way of everything in my life? My brother, the direction I walk, the relationships I have with every boy, and every other relationship at that. Im so sick of forcing every good thing from my life for the sake of keeping a safe distance from the idea of Peter. Im so sick of Peter and Im so fucking tired of this relentless guilt and shame that he forced me to carry that night he chose to destroy my childhood. Why me? Why anyone at all?
Then my eyes catch another figure trailing after the group. Gretchen. Oh no, please, Gretchen.
I don't hesitate before I jog to catch up with her. Luckily she wasn't right next to him, but I could still clearly see Peter from where I stood.
"Hey!" I say casually.
She rolls her eyes, scoffing, "what, Benton?"
"Um— what are you doing out here?"
"Going to watch my boyfriend's practice."
I suck in a breath, trying to hide my dread, "oh, do—does that mean—?"
"Yeah, Peter and I are a couple now. He asked me out," she looks proud and I can feel the guilt seeping through me.
My fake casualness drops, "Gretch, you have to believe me, I wouldn't lie about this."
"Oh Merlin! You're still on about that? Just get over yourself and move on because he doesn't like you and he never has!"
She stomps off and I see her running up to Peter and latch their arms. He smiles down at her and she says something to him that makes him turn his head to look at me. A chill goes down my spine as we lock eyes and he winks at me. It disgusts me but most of all it humiliates me. He's so casual about it. Of course he moved on of course he doesn't care, he wasn't the one who woke up in a lifeless body.