Bad Blood | Draco Malfoy

t h i r t e e n

March comes extremely quickly, meaning that weeks of homework and more drama have surpassed. Malfoy and I continue to do the map ourselves after I requested so. I don't know why, but he seems really ticked off and he now won't speak to me or even look at me. He gets Pansy to hand me the map and sends messages. Malfoy also seems to get more and more of the constellations wrong. I know it's purposely. I spend nights with Blaise and Tracey doing the homework - nights that are well spent and help me get lots done.

Speaking of drama, I've also noticed the changes of friendship between Tia and her friends. My sisters becoming closer to Seamus and is drifting away from Lavender. Every time I talk to her she's staring at a point in the distance (probably Finnigan) and likes to talk about the good looking boys in her house (hinting Finnigan). She makes me a little sick, but it's entertaining.

There's a match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw today, but I don't bother going. During that time I catch up on a Potions essay as well as some Transfiguration worksheets and Ancient Runes translations. By the time everyone floods back into the common room, I'm finished, listening to the conversations being carried to and away from where I am.

"I can't believe Flint..."

"Did you see Potter's face, priceless!"

"Draco is serious in shit right now..."

          My head snapped to the side at the mentioning of Malfoy's name.  I didn't seem to catch who said his name (not that I would recognise the person) or anything else about what had happened during this Quidditch match.  Slytherin weren't even playing!

          He must be really fucked up to do something to interfere with things that don't associate with him.

          Later on, during dinner, Tracey explains that Flint (the Slytherin team Quidditch captain), Goyle and Malfoy dressed as Dementors to scare Potter when they played Ravenclaw.  "Not to mention we had one hundred and fifty points taken away from our house," Tracey glances at the four hourglasses representing the house points.  The emerald Slytherin jar is the second fullest, behind the scarlet Gryffindor rubies.

          "And where are they right now?"  I ask.

          "Detention with McGonagall," Blaise chips in (identifiable by his voice).  "I heard that have to scrub the bedpans in the Hospital Wing - the Muggle way."  I snort, spooning some of my tomato soup into my mouth.

          "That's what you get for being an arsehole," I say after sipping some of my water.

"Draco isn't that bad," Blaise tells me. "He just happens to act differently to people he likes."

"What?" I splutter. "Are you saying he -"

"He won't admit it, but we both think he does," Tracey looks to Blaise and smirks.

"He doesn't, you don't know the things he's said to me. When you like someone you aren't a dickhead to them. And how long have we known each other for? A few months?" Everything I say comes out quickly and desperately. Malfoy liking me? It's as absurd. Shocking. Very unlikely.

"I dunno," Tracey shrugs. "It's just a thought. You're getting pretty defensive though... are you sure you don't have a thing for Draco?" The pair begin to howl wildly with laughter. Stumped, I place my chin on my hand and stare at the table.

"Mira, we're only joking," Blaise says, nudging me. Tracey smiles at me from across the table, giggling a little. "But if you do like him... tell us."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes.

***

For an hour I sit in the common room completing a Potions essay when the common room door opens and three boys walk in. One of them is extremely tall with dark hair and crooked front teeth; one of them is rather burly with a thick nose and large face; the last one has white blonde hair and is coming right towards me, looking annoyed.

"You didn't come to the match today, did you?" Malfoy says, sitting beside me. He quickly looks to me and shuffles to the edge of the sofa. I scoff, shaking my head and continuing to write my essay.

"No, but I heard what you did," I tell him. "Dickhead."

"Shut up," he raises his foot and nudges my leg. "Potter deserved it."

"Why?" I put my quill down and look at Draco sternly. "Why did he deserve it?"

"You haven't been here long enough to know," Malfoy mutters.

"But I do have a sister who's been here long enough to tell me about you and your group," I reply. "And from what I've heard, you're awful."

"Like you're any better," he snorts. "You were expelled from Beauxbatons. If I was that awful, I would've been expelled by now."

"That's because you have a rich, wealthy family with your lovely mummy and daddy that think the sun shines out of your arse and love you so so so much -"

"Shut up." Malfoy says, his eyes darkening.  His hands shake and his face reddens.  Shit.  I've really hurt him now. But what I've said... why does it hurt him so much?

          "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"

          "I don't know why I thought I could talk to you," he interrupts, standing up.  "You can do the rest of that fucking project yourself." 

          "Please, Malfoy, I'm sorry!"  I stand up and shout after him. It's too late. He's already up the stairs of the boys dormitory. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

You think with boys like Draco Malfoy you could never break them. But guess what? I just did. And I feel really bad.