A Heavenly Betrayal (Draco Malfoy Love Story)

One Big Mess

First thing next morning, Maria headed to the hospital wing; she simply had to know if Malfoy was fine. She had tossed and turned restlessly in her bed the previous night, unable to get his pale, unmoving figure out of her mind. She was relieved to see the door to the ward wide open, yet her heart started beating faster. ‘What should I say? Is he still mad? I should really apologize... What will he think? Will he even want to talk? That is, if he’s in a state to talk…’ All these useless question kept shuffling in her head, only amplifying her apprehension. She walked solemnly to his bed, her hands slightly shaking. 

His head, shoulder and knee were wrapped in thick white bandages. His blond hair fell dully in front of his grey eyes as he slouched above a thick book, in a way that Maria found strangely disturbing: even though he was all battered up, he still managed to pull off a certain elegance. He turned his head towards her as her footsteps echoed in the almost vacant infirmary.

"Are you alright?" Maria rushed, "I’m so sorry!" 

"I’ll be fine," Malfoy replied and he couldn’t help but smirk slightly at her show of concern.

Maria closed her eyes and took a deep breath; it was now or never. 

"Listen, about our last talk, I didn’t mean it like that. I acutally do care. What I meant was that at first, I wanted to find out to help Harry – and I still do," she pressed, making herself clear. "But now that you’ve jumped into the equation, the least I can do is offer my help.. So, I’m terribly sorry if I’m annoying you, but I won’t stop until I know what this thing with the Dark Lord is all about." 

She had started her monologue with a sympathetic tone but had ended it with a defiant one. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath again; Malfoy’s close proximity wasn’t helping. He just stared at her, taking it all in, his expression distant.

"Thanks," he simply said. 

"And about the bludger-" 

"It’s fine." 

Maria was a bit thrown off by Malfoy’s disconcertingly short and blunt answers, but still smiled. It was comforting to finally get it all out; to get things straight. She was considering sitting down on the bed next to his when Madam Pomfrey materialized just outside of her office’s door:

"Visits mustn’t exceed five minutes!" her motherly voice called.

"Right… I guess I’ll go now," Maria said, caught off guard. "I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise." 

She was smiling as she left the hospital wing. He was okay… he was going to be just fine! She felt more alive and giddy than ever - he wasn’t even mad at her! 

That day, Maria was particularly happy; but everyone thought it was normal behaviour, since they had won the game on the previous day. She was planning on returning to the infirmary in the evening, and, honestly, she just couldn’t wait to. 

It’s funny how time flies by when you’re in a good mood; next thing she knew, it was Friday and she had spend half her week in the hospital wing talking to Malfoy. The only reason Madam Pomfrey let her stay was because Maria told her she was giving him his homework and helping him catch up... which was half true: she was giving him his homework, but they weren’t actually talking about it. They talked and laughed about other things and whenever Maria brought up her usual unpleasant subject, Malfoy swiftly evaded it and they went back to their conversation. At first, she simply ignored his dodging tactics, pleased to continue with whatever they had been saying. However this wouldn’t last very long, and he knew it. Maria was bright; he wouldn’t be able to do that forever. One day, he would have to choose between telling her the truth or losing her. She had said she cared about him, but he still wasn’t sure if she would be just as interested in him if he told her there was no way he was letting anyone know about it. The consequences of telling her everything could be terrible; if Voldemort found out, she would be as good as dead, and so would he. On the other hand, she was after all very intelligent; maybe she would be able to figure a way to get him out of it. But he would not risk it, and that’s without mentioning the fact that it was highly improbable. He doubted a seventeen year old witch could out-think the greatest dark wizard of all times.