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January 20th, 1996
On Monday the prefect's rounds schedule is changed for the next three months. I frown at the posting by the bathroom, finding Draco's name swapped for Terry's. I couldn't manage to track him down all weekend. He's gotten rather good at avoiding me through all these years.
I feel constantly anxious, less worried about my confession than I am about his cryptic language, worried he's in some sort of trouble. I pity myself for being worried about it, but I find I can't help it.
Hogwarts has been cold. Everyone is worried, not just me. Last week, ten Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban, including Draco's aunt. I'm sure that's enough on its own to make him tense– but I fear it's something deeper than that. I can't keep spending my free time psychoanalyzing Draco Malfoy, I tell myself. That doesn't make it stop.
We're all isolated, as well, which doesn't help. Away from our families, the professors are usually our solace, our guides through life in the Wizarding World. Educational Decree #26, posted outside the Great Hall last Wednesday, changed that. "Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach." I huff as I pass under it, being of sound enough mind to not stick my tongue out at it.
I drop down at the table for lunch, feeling even worse when roast chicken appears on my plate. I don't want roast chicken. I feel like a child, ready to throw a fit at any moment. To make a sour situation all that more tart, this is the moment Theo decides to sit beside me, pulling out yesterday's Prophet.
"I told you, Nott," I say before he can start with me, "I don't want to read it."
"It paints you in a rather flattering light–!" He says innocently.
"I don't. Want. To read it." I say shortly, pushing the paper away. I cut into my chicken, stuffing a piece into my mouth. It's dry.
"Stop bothering her, Theo," Pansy frowns, sitting down across the table, pulling the paper from his hand. I see her eyes widen. "Oh wow, you two really–"
"Can we please talk about anything else–?" I groan, stabbing my fork into a pile of green beans.
"You look like you're in love," Pansy says softly, her eyes light up as she begins to smile at the page. Beneath my brow, I glare at her. She mutters a sorry, clearing her throat and putting the paper face down on the bench beside her. Theo must mouth something to her, because she shrugs with a pout of her lip. 'Just give her time,' I believe I can make out her whisper.
I don't acknowledge either of them– just force down this shit excuse for a lunch and leave for class without another word.
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January 21st, 1996
Divination is being supervised by Umbridge now. I sit with Blaise, because I know he won't bother me about Draco. It's a small reprieve in my day, an escape from the worried glances Theo, Pansy, and Daphne give me, and the even worse cold shoulder I'm getting from him. We've started on dream interpretation, which at least is interesting.
"I've been having this one about a donkey in a top hat recently, odd isn't it?" Blaise tries, laughing under his breath.
"Hilarious," I say, monotone, scribbling a doodle on the edge of my paper.
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January 24th, 1996
I stare at the back of Draco's head in Transfiguration. He's at the front of the room with Theo. He never sits in the front of the room anymore, not for the last year or so. I must be glaring, because Daphne elbows me and gives me a funny look.
YOU ARE READING
For Better, For Worse
Fanfiction"I take you, Draco Malfoy, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part." Since the time we were children, being betrothed to the Malf...
