Silence. [Dramione]

Chapter 2: Alive.

Unfortunately for Draco, his bitch of a Professor was right: the days that followed his return were bitter tasting.

Sunday morning escaped through his thin fingertips, as he slept till late afternoon, attempting to fix his previous almost non-existent sleep schedule. A dreamless lack of consciousness was exactly what he needed, and his body seemed to agree with him, waking up with the feeling that he had gained ten more years of life.

He calculated that by the time of day, the sky was already a burning red hue when he first awakened from his deep slumber.

It was refreshingly pleasant to not be able to see the sky though. A lot of sleepless nights under no roof tired him of the open nothingness. He already knew all the constellations that riddled the darkness by heart; he could read the sky like the palm of his hand, and knew the color of it almost any time of day without having to look. For him, it was all the same, really: boring and highly overrated.

Much to his surprise though, when his grey eyes flashed open that afternoon, Blaise's figure was hovering eerily over his bed, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips parted open.

"What the fuck!" Draco groaned, sitting up on the bed with his right arm stretched out, ready to hit his silent watcher.

"That's what I should say." Blaise huffed, making his way out of Draco's hitting range. "What the fuck are you doing back here, Malfoy?"

"I don't know what you mean." Draco cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. He decided to scoff and derail the conversation to his advantage, marking his territorial position "Why you ask? Are you that scared to see me?"

"I thought you were dead!" Blaise explained, still with a doubting expression splattered across his face, whilst Draco had a smirk planted on his "Well, your parents..."

"Well, I'm not." Draco spit out dryly, condescending as always. "Obviously."

"Where have you been?" his friend asked, ignoring Draco's usual aggressive remarks.

"That's none of your fucking business." Draco barked roughly at him, making Blaise back away even further.

"Fine, don't get your panties in a twist." Blaise rolled his eyes, losing rapid interest in that interaction. "You look like bloody shit, by the way."

Malfoy blankly stared at him in response, with that deadly, evil glare only he could pull off so effortlessly. He knew he looked like shit. Anyone who'd been through what he'd been through, or starved like he did, would look undoubtedly even worse than him. It was a miracle he held on so well.

But bloody hell, he surely didn't expect that Slytherin's arrogance and sharp tongue. Had he always been like that, or had Malfoy just been away for too long? Usually Blaise would have never acted like that towards him; he was just like Crabbe and Goyle, patient and quite clearly to him, inferior.

His lip twitched when the image of Crabbe falling into the pit of blazing fire shuffled in his brain. Despite always being tough and some times unforgiving with his friends, he still cared about them; and watching one of them fall to his certain, scorching death was certainly one of the memories that scarred him the most during the final battle.

Shaking his head and dark thoughts away, he noticed Blaise walking out of the dormitory. Slimy bastard, he was. Didn't even welcome his Slytherin mate like he ought to. Ridiculous. The school was in a worse state than he first thought.

So, he realized, this is it.

The word was officially out: Draco Malfoy, the arrogant, evil prick was back and ready to terrorize Hogwarts once more.