It Started With A Closet. . . A Drarry Fic (No Smut!!!)

Day Eight Part One

Hexa's POV

Hexa woke first a bit before seven, blinking her eyes open and taking a minute to register she was using Abigail's shoulder as a pillow and Abigail using Hexa's head as hers.

She reached for her notebook (which wasn't glowing this time) and wrote in it to Draco and Harry, asking if Abigail could sit with them at meals.

Draco responded not a minute later with a simple, "No,"

Why not? she asked, subconsciously running a hand through Abigail's hair, which was a mix somewhere between honey-colored and a medium toasted shade of brown. It went down to her elbows, and she curled it most every day.

Because I don't like her. Neither does Pronghorn. She needs to earn our satisfaction. She must prove she's worthy.

Worthy? Of what?

Of sitting with us. Hanging out with us––with you.

Draco I'm made up with her. We talked so much last night. The only thing I didn't talk with her about was the animagi thing. And obviously the stuff people just don't talk about.

Harry's admirer?

Of course not!

Good, Harry said, just waking up and finding a glowing notebook lying next to him. Another reason for her to stay away from us, especially during breakfast.

Not that I'm planning on going against your wishes, Pronghorn, but why don't you want her to know?

I don't want anyone to know.

Yes, but why?

Because then they'll tell everyone, and I'll get crowded around more. You know the famous thing gets uncomfortable for me. And you know how Abigail is about me.

Hexa decided it better not to freak him out by mentioning Zack.

Why do you hate her so much? I know it's not because of the lying thing. Not just, anyway.

Of course it's not! they yelled. Well, not physically, but if there were a way to yell over writing, that's what the two had done.

Then why? Hexa thought, but before she could ask, she felt Abigail stir beside her, eyes fluttering open, stretching her arms. She spotted the journal as she pulled the covers up more.

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" she asked softly, then yawned a bit. There was no hurt in her voice, nor animosity or sadness or anything else of the sort.

"We. . . I hate lying, but 'yes' wouldn't be the best answer, I think," Hexa pondered.

"It's okay," Abigail assured. "Wanna tell me how I was brought up, or is that something you want to not answer?"

"I asked if you could sit with us at breakfast. . ."

"Uh-oh."

"Pretty much, yeah," Hexa admitted. "I just don't get why they dislike you so strongly. The lying?Yeah, I can see why they might want a sincere apology, but you gave them one. Hexk, you gave them a whole speech on what you learned from your mistakes! But they still hate you, and they haven't given a straight answer as to why."

Abigail giggled, which soon turned to laughter.

Once her hysterics had subsided, she said, "Sorry. It's just, with how undeniably smart you are, I assumed you'd figured it out by now, so it's just a bit shocking."

"Planning on sharing?" Hexa asked in a teasing tone, bumping their shoulders together.

"I . . . don't think it's my place to tell you, but if your friends haven't, I guess they won't, and I guess someone has to, so here it goes." She took a breath. They were both sitting up now, and Hexa turned to face her instead of sitting side-by-side. Abigail looked Hexa straight in the eyes as she began.