Hateful Love

Chapter Eleven

NOTE: I do not own any of the ideas or characters expressed in this story (except Cassie Jackson). All of these belong to J.K. Rowling.

~*~

Cassie P.O.V.

          The hallways are cold at four in the morning. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders and shiver. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…

          Malfoy owled me about twenty minutes ago, waking me up from a nice, warm sleep. The note had simply said, We need to talk. Seeing Malfoy is the last thing I want to do, but after the owl I couldn’t fall back asleep and, well, I have nothing better to do. Besides, I won’t mind yelling at him some more.

          I walk back and forth three times in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement, thinking over and over that I want to see Malfoy. The door materializes out of the stone wall, and I wrench it open.

          Malfoy’s pacing in front of the center table, and I don’t miss the lines of worry on his face that seem to have formed over night. I step cautiously forward, wondering if he’s angry with me.

          He must hear me come in, because he looks up and rushes toward me. He stops a few feet away and says hurriedly, “Cassie, look, I—“

          “Malfoy,” I interrupt, blinking as he uses my first name. “Why do you keep calling me Cassie?”

          This stops him, and he looks at me in confusion. “No I don’t…I just called you Jackson, didn’t I?”

          I shake my head, not being able to stop a small smile. I finally allow myself to laugh as I say, “Are we on a first name basis now?”

          “What? No! I mean…I dunno,” he stammers, completely thrown off track. “Anyway, I wanted to…ugh…apologize.”

          I had been so ready to flip out on Malfoy, ready to yell for asking about Matt and waking me up so early on a Sunday. But now, I just can’t. He actually looks genuinely sorry, and he called me Cassie instead of Jackson again. I bite my lip and say quietly, “It’s okay. It was actually nice, saying it out loud, if that makes sense…”

          “No, I get it,” he responds, starting to look slightly less guilty and awkward. “Okay, I guess we’re good.”

          I step in front of him as he starts to make for the door, a cheeky grin on my face. “Nope, you found out something personal about me, now I get to learn something personal about you, too.”

          “Uh, Jackson—“

          I raise my eyebrows and say, “Am I Jackson again? Make up your mind, god.”

          He’s starting to look uncomfortable again, and keeps shuffling his feet. I barely contain a laugh as I look up at him, seeing how badly he wants to get out of here, and continue, “And I get to ask the question, since you asked me before.”

          “I don’t think—“ He stops, seeing my defiant expression. Malfoy rolls his eyes and sighs exaggeratedly. “Fine.”

          I smile, proud of myself, then quickly turn serious. “What have you been doing so much in the Room of Requirement?”

          I see Malfoy visibly tense up, and he stammers out too quickly, “Tutoring you, of course.”

          Narrowing my eyes, I snap, “You know what I mean. You’re up to something else, so what is it?”

          For a second, he looks torn, and I actually think he’s going to tell me when he forces out, “You only get one question, Jackson.” And then he dashes past me and sprints out the door, leaving me frustrated and even more confused than before.

          He was so close to telling me. I know by the way he looked that Malfoy was on the verge of telling me everything, why he’s always so tired, why he spends so much time in the Room of Requirement. But then he chickened out and ran for the door. Feeling extremely frustrated, I head for the door as well, deciding there’s no point in staying anymore. I will find out what’s going on with him, I think determinedly. Even if I have to force it out of him.

 

~*~

 

          The next day, I try to be as friendly with Malfoy as I possibly can during Charms class. Maybe if I’m nice, he’ll tell me what’s wrong.

          That, unfortunately, is easier said than done. Malfoy’s constantly laughing at me as I attempt to charm a quill to spout legs and walk around the table.

          “It’s not working, Jackson,” he says, trying—and failing—to stop laughing. “Maybe you should let me do it. You know, save you the trouble.”

          “You’d do that for me?” I reply sarcastically. I flick my wand over and over at the quill in frustration. “That’s—very—sweet.”

          “Jeez, don’t poke someone’s eye out,” Malfoy smirks, reaching out his arm to stop my flailing wand. “I worry about you sometimes.”

          I finally give up and slide the stupid quill over to Malfoy, barely refraining from rolling my eyes. Why can’t I focus? Normally, Charms is the easiest class ever for me, but today I can’t do anything right. I watch as he reaches for his wand, and I say defiantly, “Well, you’re the one distracting me.”

          “I was not distracting you!” Malfoy retorts, positioning the quill in front of him.

          “Mmhm, sure,” I say as Malfoy mutters the enchantment. “You hate me so much that you want me to fail Charms.”

          “I don’t hate you.”

          Malfoy said it in passing, almost like it really didn’t mean anything. I look up and catch his eye at just the right moment, and it’s as though something shifts between us. Almost like we’re not complete enemies anymore, nor just classmates. Neither of us looks away for a few seconds, and I know Malfoy felt the change, too. It’s not until the quill flips upwards onto its new legs and runs straight into Malfoy’s arm do we look away from each other.

          Malfoy reaches down quickly to pull the quill away from his arm, grumbling about how I distracted him. I giggle softly as he rubs his arm, pretending that it hurt.

Maybe, I think to myself as I watch, Maybe this is what it’s like to be friends with Draco Malfoy.