dear draco,

eight

When the next term starts and I return to Hogwarts, I start working straight away. The O.W.L.s are drawing increasingly near, and the amount of work I have to do is distressing. I feel like I am falling behind, what with the D.A., and I only hope I can catch up by the time exams come around.

One dreary day, I'm sitting in the library with Ginny, who's only here to do her homework; something more than just enviable at this stage in the year. I'm working on a potions essay, but it's nearing impossible. Potions is by far my worst subject, and - to my horror - Snape has even called me out on it. I am doing all I can to be less terrible at it. After a while, Ginny nudges me. "Iz," she whispers. "Why is Malfoy staring at you?" She leans in closer. "Again?"

I feel my face heat up. "What?" I gaze across the library until my eyes find Malfoy, who is lounging back in his chair – his eyes fixed shamelessly on mine. I look away immediately, my heart speeding up with frustration.

"I think this is the third time I've seen him looking at you this week." Ginny looks at me earnestly, red hair falling across her face. "If he's bothering you, I'm happy to help out with a hex or two."

I shake my head and pick up my quill. "It's probably just a coincidence, Gin," I say. "Don't worry about it."

When Ginny leaves a while later, I stand up to search for more books for my essay. I'm getting virtually nowhere with it and if I want an acceptable mark, I'm going to need inspiration.

I have just picked out my third book when Draco pops up beside me. "Good afternoon," he says cheerfully. I respond with something between a grunt and a groan, which he ignores. "How was the rest of your Christmas?"

"Fine, and yours?"

He leans closer, his arm propped casually on the nearest desk. "What did you get up to?"

I glance at him. "That's none of your business."

"So cold, aren't you?" says Draco, poking my arm. I stare at him. "Why do you put on such a hard front?"

"You're one to talk."

Draco hums. "You were much more talkative at that party, you know."

"I guess I was just in a good mood."

"Are you in a bad mood now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"None of your business."

"You know, Belly," says Draco, and I glare at him. "I can't keep being nice to you if it's only a one-way thing. I'm going to need some co-operation here, or else" – he sighs – "I suppose I'll have to be mean to you again."

"Fine," I say, giving him my dirtiest look, which he returns with a mere smirk. "How was your Christmas, Malfoy?"

"Very nice, thank you," he says, cocking his chin as if thinking back on it. I suppress a smile. "Lots of quiet time, lots of presents" – he leans forward – "and what presents did you get, Belly?" My hand stops in mid-air, where it was ready to select a book from the shelf. Draco pulls softly at my shoulder as if turning me towards him, but I jerk away. He raises his hands. "I was just trying to get a look at-" He leans back, grinning, his eyes on my neck. "That. Nice bling."

I stare at him. I'd almost forgotten that the necklace was almost certainly from him, and feel embarrassed to have him catch me in it. "Uh, yeah," I stutter. "Why-"

"You told me to be nice," he replies simply.

I shake my head. "Unbelievable. You really are too rich for your own good, you know; if you think nice just means extravagant displays of money, then you can have the stupid thing back-" I toss back my hair, trying to unclasp the star pendant from my neck.

He shakes his head confusedly. "I wasn't trying to show off Young, I – hey!" he knocks my hand gently away from the necklace, and once again, my hand jerks away. He smirks.

Goosebumps shoot up on my skin and my hand tingles tremendously where he touched it. I clench my jaw, looking away from him and back at the books in front of me, desperately trying to convince myself that I am acting like this because his touch was unfamiliar.

"So, I hear you've been having some trouble with potions."

I groan. "Great. Great, I'm so glad you know that."

"You know, I'm very good at potions."

"I'm so happy for you."

"I could always help you."

"I'd rather fail."

Draco doesn't reply. Instead, he leans against the desk for a little longer, watching me collect more books. But what he probably doesn't realize is that I simply cannot go on with him watching – it's too distracting. After several awkward fumbles, I turn to him exasperatedly.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He feigns a look of being very taken aback. "I'm just standing here."

I slam the books down on the desk. "Will you stop? I don't know what I've done to you, but you've clearly got it in for me, and - and you're trying to do something. I don't know what it is, but buying me gifts, this entire act is just really immature and..." I trail off. Draco's head is cocked and he is gazing at me with a smile so innocent it looks unfitting on his roguish face. I take a deep breath. "I feel like you're taunting me and I'd like you to stop it."

"I'm not taunting you." Draco replies, his smile growing. "I just think you're interesting."

Once I've fully comprehended that he has really just said what he just said, I scoff loudly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." But Draco's smile doesn't fade, causing me to take a step back, feeling most frightened. And because I am confused and frightened and in a state of shock at what is happening in the moment, I say, before I can stop myself, "I don't think my boyfriend would be very happy to hear you say that."

Just like that, the smile drops from his face. "Who?"

"My boyfriend. Ron," I lie through my teeth. "But what do you care?"

"Of course I don't," he says sourly. He laughs nastily. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have feelings for you, if that's what you thought, Young. In case you haven't noticed, I'm far above the standard of your cute little blood traitors."

He is entirely unpredictable. One moment he is kind; overly kind, and the next horrid and spiteful, spitting out words that I'm not sure he ever really means. But as he walks away, leaving me in the library, breathless; standing alone and clutching bulky, tattered books to my chest, I know one thing for sure: I'm fascinated by him, whether I want to be or not.