Draco Malfoy Short Stories

Let's Be Honest (3/5)

[Draco's POV]

The words feel like battery acid as they crawled up my throat. And as I tore her down with them, I forced myself to watch. To look into y/n's eyes and take in all of the pain I've caused. That's something I won't shy away from.

She turns to leave and a part of me aches to reach out. In my mind I'm grabbing y/n's arm and telling her it wasn't true, but in reality I'm watching her go. As the door slams I slump into my chair.

"This was for the best," I say, speaking to an empty classroom.

What I wanted to say was yes. This means something to me. You mean something to me, but I couldn't.

I couldn't form those words so in turn I spewed venom. Burning her and myself in the process. The desk vibrates as my fist slams against it.

As evening turns to night I go to my bedchamber. Over and over again I try to convince myself that this is what's best for the both of us. All the while the pit in my stomach only grows. I wonder what y/n is doing and how she's coping. Wanting desperately to be what she cries into instead of her pillow.

That same fear from this morning when she was missing creeps up my throat. It's suffocating me as I lie awake; staring up at a dark ceiling. Now y/n really is gone and it's all my fault.

When I wake the following morning my first thought is of what she said to me.

"I want more. I need more from you," she had said.

More isn't something I can give her.

I had been risking enough just sleeping with her. The issue is once I started I just couldn't stop. My job, reputation and heart is on the line with this girl.

"Which is exactly why this is for the best," I say to myself repeatedly in an attempt to force myself to believe it.

My body goes through my routine while my mind is somewhere else. By the time I'm walking out the door I hardly remember tying my tie.

I'm in a particularly awful mood as I sit down at my desk. One wrong word today from a student and I feel like I might snap. The thought of seeing her sends a sense of dread over me. Every time the door opens my eyes dart toward it waiting for it to be her. Further proof of why I should've never started this in the first place.

~ Flashback: Four Months Ago ~

The sound of my shoes against the stone floor is almost deafening as I walk around my silent classroom. Each student stands anxiously near their cauldron as they wait for my grading.

As I stir her potion the way she studies me doesn't go unnoticed. The truth is y/n has always impressed me, but I keep a look of disinterest as the water-like liquid swirls. Truly I find her brilliant and it irks me. Though, I do enjoy how those cheeks turn pink every time I tell her she's done something wrong. Most of the time I'm nitpicking just to see that look on y/n's face.

I watch her closely for a moment as I concoct some way to deduct points from the final grade.

"Tell me, y/n. How long did you have to brew this potion?" I ask.

"Twenty-eight days," she says, eyes beginning to narrow.

"Twenty-eight days and yet it's still lacking. Did you forget and start late, perhaps?"