Letters To A Friend (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

IV.

The Hufflepuff common room feels uncomfortably bright today, filled with chatter I can hardly bear. I slump in my usual corner by the window, notebook in hand, but the words refuse to come. Cho's voice echoes in my mind, the sting of her accusation—that Cedric left her because of me.

I can't bring myself to face her, not after that revelation.

Every time I pass her in the corridors, I feel her gaze trailing after me, as if she's waiting for an apology, or at least an explanation. I keep my head down and hurry past. It's easier that way—easier to pretend I can vanish into the crowd like I'm invisible.

But there's no real escape. The weight of it all is impossible to shake. My grief feels like a lead weight in my chest, growing heavier each day. The school itself feels suffocating, as if Cedric's absence, Cho's anger, and the whispers of You-Know-Who's return have made everything close in on me. Even now, the halls seem too narrow, the air too thick.

Mum's letters don't help either. She's always asking how I'm doing, if I'm eating enough, if I'm talking to anyone. "You can always talk to your brothers," she writes, but I can't bring myself to burden Fred, George, or Ginny, let alone Ron... Ron's wrapped up in his world with Harry and Hermione. What would I even say? That I'm falling apart?

I can practically hear Mum's voice fretting in my mind, and it only makes the guilt worse.

My siblings aren't much better. I can see it in their eyes—they're worried too, but none of us knows what to say. We Weasleys aren't the best when it comes to talking about emotions. So we stay silent, pretending it's all fine. But it's not.

And just when I think the day couldn't get any worse, the universe proves me wrong.

As I step into the hallway, the familiar sound of Slytherin voices prickles at the back of my neck.

"Weasley, still lost in the wrong house, have you?"

Pansy Parkinson's sharp voice cuts through the air. I can hear her smirk even without turning around. I quicken my pace, hoping she'll lose interest, but her laughter rings out behind me. "Surprised they let your lot into Hufflepuff at all."

I don't stop, don't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But I catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, standing just behind her. He's not laughing or joining in. His expression is unreadable—watching, but silent.

His grey eyes meet mine for a brief moment before I turn away.

I can't deal with that right now. Not Draco, not Pansy's taunts, not any of it. I push through the library doors, seeking the only place left that offers any peace.

The library is quiet, save for the occasional flick of a page or the scratch of a quill. I've buried myself in the farthest corner, away from anyone who might try to talk to me. The common room feels too crowded these days, and being alone here feels safer.

I open my notebook, running my fingers along the familiar edges. A blank page stares back at me, waiting for more words that will vanish the moment I shut it. But today, the words aren't coming.

I'm about to close it when a shadow crosses the table. My heart skips a beat, and I look up to find Draco Malfoy standing there, his expression unreadable.

"Weasley."

"Malfoy," I reply flatly. "What do you want?"

He crosses his arms, leaning against the bookshelf casually, like he owns the place. His gaze flickers to the notebook in my lap before landing back on me, that smirk already forming.

"You look pathetic, you know that?"

I bristle at his words, feeling my face flush. "Sod off, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood."