Take my Hand You Bloody Idiot - Drarry

Chapter 9

Harry's POV.

At about 7:20 pm, I start to make my way towards the charms classroom where Professor McGonagall will be waiting to give me and Malfoy our detention sentences.

I can't imagine they'll be particularly heavy, seeing as winter break is fast approaching.

When I arrive at my destination, Malfoy and Professor McGonagall are already there waiting.

"Took you long enough," Malfoy mutters jokingly.

I only shrug at him and wait for directions.

After telling us that we are to clean the room to the best of our abilities, and remembering to note that she'll be inspecting our work, Professor McGonagall makes her way out of the classroom, most likely going to her office.

I sigh and look over at Malfoy who is tiredly dusting a few trinkets lying on a desk.

He shifts his gaze to me and raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Merlin. Why do his eyes have such an effect on me?

I walk over to a stack of books and begin organizing and cleaning them, along with the shelf they reside in.

After about 25 minutes of this, and organizing the books countless times by things like color, author, title, and amount of pages, I finally decide to find something else to do.

The only problem is, when I turn around, Malfoy is standing just a few inches from me, which makes it very hard to focus.

"Uh, Potter," he sighs, "Why are you looking at me so strangely? It's like you're terrified,"

"No- uh.. no reason. Why are you.. why're you standing so close?" I stutter.

"The feather duster," he hints.

"What?"

"You're standing in front of the bookshelf with the feather duster on it, Potter.

And since we aren't allowed to use magic during our detention, I can't accio it," he elaborates.

Right. Of course.

He gives me a weird look and reaches above my head to grab the duster.

I'm hit by a wave smelling of pine trees. And apples. And also something I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe a flower. It's incredible, the things his scent does to me.

He lowers his hand, having grabbed the feather duster, but he doesn't step away.

His eyes look so different this close. They aren't pure grey like I thought, it turns out, but more of a silver with a muted grey under-tone.

His eyes shift from mine to look at my lips. Then the look back and he blinks quickly, almost as if getting out of some sort of trance.

He takes a step back, running his fingers through his pale hair.

I realize I'm staring and I quickly look away, walking to the back room where the supplies lay to do some more work.

Malfoy doesn't move from his spot for a moment, but then he quickly recovers his thought process and follows after me.

"Potter?" He questions.

"Yes," I ask, hoping my voice doesn't reveal how strange it is to be in a condensed space with him.

"What's going on? What's been going on?"

I take a deep breath. What should I do? Lie, obviously, but to what extent.

"I've just had a rough few weeks is all," I reply. The statement isn't really that much of a lie, I have been having a bad time recently, but it's because of all the stuff going on with Malfoy.

How am I supposed to tell him that? There's no other real way to explain why the article in the paper riled me up so much.

Before he can make a retort, Professor McGonagall comes back to tell us detention is over.

That sure rushed by quickly.

Malfoy only nods and, seeing that I'm done saying all the usual pleasantries with McGonagall, gestures with his head for me to follow him out.

We walk slowly down the hall, Malfoy not speaking, me afraid to break the silence, uncomfortable as it is.

I haven't been paying attention, and when we stop at a dead ended hallway, I look at Malfoy in confusion.

"Stop avoiding me, Harry,"

Harry. Again.

"And don't try to say you haven't been avoiding me... I've seen you turn the other way when I'm walking down the hall,"

I scoff, but realize that avoiding him may not be the right solution to the fact that I can't get him out of my head.

"Potter," he nags, "Are we not friends?"

I stop.

Friends? What a weird way to describe us. Is that what he wants? Is that what I want?

I know the answer is that I want more. But if what I get is his friendship, then that's better than nothing.

"Yeah, we're friends," I confirm, a bit melancholy.

"Lovely," he drawls.

I turn to leave and I hear him call after me,

"By the way, Harry," he laughs, I'm assuming it's because he's called me by my first name, "Usually my friends call me Draco."

I smirk at him,
"Thanks for the offer, Malfoy, but I don't believe we're on a first name basis just yet," I reply smugly.

"You're a git, Harry!" He snickers.

"I could say the same to you, Draco," I yell back, watching a small smile form on his face.

I could look at that smile forever.