Forgiven // Drarry

Friend

Friday afternoon, Harry returned to Umbridge's office. As soon as he walked through the door, Umbridge handed him the quill with an overly-sweet smile spread across her toad-like face.

"You know what to do." She said and she walked over to her desk. Harry sat by the window and took out parchment.

I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies...

Umbridge was evil. Pure Evil.

Harry's hand stung more and more every time he wrote the sentence, until it hurt so much it felt numb. As Harry wrote, he noticed that down below, the Slytherin's were practicing at the Quidditch field.

Harry longed to be down there, flying freely on his broom, rather than sitting in Umbridge's stuffy office that smelt like over sprayed perfume, carving letters into his hand. But instead, Harry had been banned for from playing Quidditch for the rest of his years at Hogwarts.

As Harry looked down longingly at the Quidditch field, he noticed Malfoy's light hair zooming around. He realized that he no longer considered Malfoy as an enemy. He could even be a friend at this point. But Harry didn't know. Malfoy might be more of an acquaintance.

But, Harry noticed that the more he talked to Malfoy the more Malfoy seem to stray farther away then the image he'd set for himself for the last five years.

He wasn't sure how to react to that. Malfoy had said some terrible things in the past. And although he wasn't going to let the curse take his life without a fight, Harry wasn't sure how he'd ever even begin to trust Malfoy. How he'd ever let go of the things he'd said and done to him and his friends. And that's why Harry was unsure of whether he should start considering him as a friend or as a player he had wounded in a silly game of rivalry that was never intended to cause fatal harm.

But as he stared down at the field, eyes following the blond streak circling smoothly around the field, Harry began to wonder more about Malfoy. Harry had observed as Malfoy and him talked alone with each other, Malfoy became less of the awful person Harry made him out to be. Harry was curious about him. He was curious if Malfoy really meant everything he said to him in the past, or if it was just an act being performed for an audience that gave him no mercy.

As Harry lingered on these thoughts, Umbridge took notice that Harry had stopped writing and was only staring out of the window.

She cleared her throat. "Hm, hm, Mr. Potter." She looked directly at him with her malicious smile. "Is this your way of telling me you'd rather stay longer?"

Harry returned to his senses and gave a quick shake of his head no, with wide eyes. He tightened his grip of the quill and began writing again.

"That's what I thought, Mr. Potter. After all, we only have a few hours left left before the message sinks in."

Hours.

I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies...

Harry wondered if he was nearly finished for this evening. He doubted it.

I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies...