REBEL

20. SILVER GREY - SOFT GREY

20. SILVER GREY - SOFT GREY

I knew that this day would come. That at some point he would ask me why I was so nasty to him at the beginning. Why I lost it every time it came to him. Why I behaved so irrationally.

I also suspected that he would be clever enough to draw comparisons between himself and the defectors who came after him. Parkinson, the Greengrass sisters, Theodore. I have a more or less tension-filled history with each of them. In fact, it's fair to say that none of them have ever been the least bit friendly to me. And yet, although I would have had plenty of reasons to treat them in the same way as Malfoy, I was never overly hostile towards them.

So yes, I fully expected the topic to come up at one time or another. But does it have to be today of all days?

I almost regret that I allowed him to keep me company during today's day watch at the entrance to Hogsmeade. Because now there is no way around it: I will have to reveal my biggest secret. A secret that I've guarded like gold until fairly recently; that I haven't confided in a soul, not even my closest friends, for years. And if things get awkward, I won't even be able to bolt, because my shift doesn't end for another four hours or so.

A resigned laugh puffs from my lips.

"I knew that one day we would have to talk about it," I say, shaking my head.

"And?" Malfoy asks mischievously. "Is that day today?"

I cast a scrutinizing glance at his face, registering the tug at the corners of his mouth and the playful glint in his grey eyes that has been responsible for the warmth in my chest for weeks. Suddenly, I'm that sixteen-year-old girl again, looking at him through the colorful sparks of a magical firework and wistfully noting how handsome he is.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, which is why I turn away and stare into the forest.

Yep, that's better. I take a deep breath.

"Fine," I mutter, opting for quick and easy. "Let's just say that back at Hogwarts, I had a... soft spot for you."

For a breath, there is absolute silence.

"No way," Malfoy then snorts fervently. "You didn't."

A mirthless chuckle wants to bubble up my throat, but I swallow it down. If only he knew. Well, he'll know in a minute, I guess. The thought makes me shudder.

"Oh, I did," I affirm, but decide to perform a bit of damage control before elaborating, because what I definitely don't want from him is pity. "No need to panic, though. It's not a touching story about an unrequited first great love, if that's what you're worried about. For something like that, you were far too rude. It was just a stupid, little infatuation. Trivial, really. Without rhyme or reason. Not continuously either, just from time to time. Under other circumstances, it would not even be worth mentioning."

Admittedly, it's half a lie. To describe what I felt for Malfoy at Hogwarts as a 'first great love' would definitely be an exaggeration, but it wasn't as 'trivial' and inconsequential as I'm now making it out to be.

At the time, there were a lot of feelings involved. In addition to a certain attraction that was sometimes more and sometimes less intense, there was first and foremost hope. But also understanding, concern and, given our strained relationship, a pretty distinctive protective instinct on my part. You don't have to be a genius to understand what a lasting impression such strong emotions can have on a teenager's brain.

I peer over at Malfoy, trying to interpret his expression. He looks quite overwhelmed.

"A little infatuation," he echoes, flabbergasted.