tick-tock | a drarry tale

V.

Potter had crawled back into his shell. Once talkative and happy, now quiet and depressed. Draco noticed this the first day after the Quidditch match. He never thought Harry would retaliate after what Draco said; he wasn't a violent person. Draco doesn't think what he said was cool, unlike his group, who were now laughing at something Pansy had said.

His stomach still ached, and had to admit that Potter had a pretty good arm. He had insulted Harry's mother and the Weasel just to get Crabbe off his back after he accused Draco of defending Potter.

But Draco's heart faltered as he saw Harry crash into the sand. Draco tried to wipe his mind from the foreign feeling, but ever since that moment, he worried about the Gryffindor.

But after he insulted the Weasel and Potter's mother, he doesn't think Potter will be talking to him anytime soon.

I got both him and I banned from Quidditch...

Draco felt guilty, and that scared him. Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, his attention was caught by Goyle.

"That essay in D.A. isn't due tomorrow, is it?" he asked while rummaging through his bag.

Right now they were sitting in the Slytherin common room: Draco in his regular chair, Pansy in hers, and Crabbe and Goyle on the couch.

"Yes it is... God, Goyle. Why do you procrastinate so much?" Pansy asked while finishing up her Divination assignment.

"Sorry," he muttered, now looking through his pack rapidly to find his quills.

Neither Crabbe nor Draco have said anything to each other since yesterday. Crabbe, still thinking his friend was defending Potter, and Draco, who thought Crabbe was stupid and didn't like how he hit Potter after the match was finished.

Okay, maybe I am defending him. But no one needs to know that.

It was Sunday evening, and Draco had nothing to do. He never waited till the last minute to finish his homework. He always did it right when they got to the common room every day after classes.

He had to get out of here. Away from Crabbe, at least. He took a slow breath and stood up. Ignoring Pansy's questions, he walked out of the room

I need a walk, a breather.

He ran up the stairs, away from the dungeons, and set forward for a long stroll along the corridors. Not many students were out, all probably stressing about homework and papers they still had to complete.

It was peaceful, just him and his mind.

He thought about a lot of things. His parents, how his mother was handling the coming-of-age of her son, and how he was going to become a Death Eater.

He also thought about Lord Voldemort; he was back. He might not be strong now, but he will be in no time. This terrified Draco, and a small voice in his head was screaming at him to run. To run away from his father and the Dark Lord.

There was a sniff, and Draco stopped walking. He looked around, trying to find the person who made the noise. He spotted a particular raven-haired boy staring out of one of the windows just ahead of him. How did he not see him? He contemplated what he should do next, leave or confront him... maybe apologize?

Wait, Malfoys don't say sorry. Especially to people like Potter.

He turned on his heels, and started to walk the way he came.

"Malfoy?" he heard Potter's faint voice. It was more like a whisper.

Draco turned and saw Potter staring at him, both anger and pain were filling his emerald-green eyes.