Wanderer

The Abyss and Granger

Chapter Four- The Abyss and Granger

He was in a bad mood. A really fucking sour mood.

It must have radiated from him, rolling like waves from the snarl of his lips and the hood of his eyes, because everyone he passed on his way to breakfast took one look at him and moved quickly out of his way. They ducked their heads, though their submission was counteracted by the trail of whispers their brashness allowed. Draco angled a glare at a particularly bold Gryffindor who didn't even bother to lower her voice when she used 'Malfoy' and 'Death Eater' in the same sentence.

It wasn't like she was wrong, but he didn't need the fucking reminder.

He didn't have his bag because lessons hardly mattered now. Blaise would slip him a quill and some paper when the professor wasn't looking, and Draco would take notes only after five minutes of stewing furiously and a laborious sigh because his head was starting to burn due to the heat of his friend's glare. Although he had always been a good student (never as good as Granger, he thought bitterly), he could only question what the point was. What was the point in trying to haul himself back on track when in less than four months it could be too late?

Blaise hadn't brought up his trial again. Draco was secretly relieved at his friend's tact, but part of him wished that Blaise would care less. He ostracised himself when he was seen with him, and Draco was well aware that convivial conversation died when he entered a room. He'd also noticed that Blaise would fill both his own and Draco's plate with food to make sure he was eating. It was part of the reason Draco had taken to having some of his meals in the kitchen.

He didn't want Blaise getting attached. Not if he wasn't going to be here for much longer.

But he also knew Granger ate in the kitchens too, and right now, Blaise was the lesser of the two annoyances.

He wondered what her reasons were.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter. The owls had just swooped in and they pecked at the fingers of their recipients, vying for food or payment. Draco found himself drawn to the open window that allowed them access. He wished it was that simple to just take off, into the September skies and never have to stop or look back, to just disappear into the clouds. The din of morning excitement withered away and he was painfully aware of the silence, and the hundreds of eyes that turned to stare before relocating rapidly.

Draco found it worsened his mood considerably.

He skulked over to the Slytherin table, and when Blaise moved along the bench to let him sit down, he obliged, not having the effort or energy to fight him this morning. His heart dropped with his body as he slipped in beside Blaise, shoulders deflating, head pounding. He didn't even argue when Blaise began putting bacon and toast on his plate.

"Do you like black pudding?" Blaise asked nonchalantly.

Draco didn't reply. His eyes stung because he'd hardly slept, and he felt like the world was falling away at his feet.

"I'm going to take that as a no," said Blaise. "You're having some beans though. They're good for your heart."

"I'm going to Madam Pomfrey after Transfiguration," muttered Draco, and Blaise looked at him in surprise. "I haven't been sleeping."

Momentarily struck by this change in his friend, Blaise was silent before he said, "Okay. Good. That's good. She can give you a potion for it."

"Yeah."

He pretended he was doing it for himself, and he allowed Blaise to feel as though he was trying to get back on track. In reality, it was because he didn't think he could face Hermione Granger.