Redemption.

Chapter 21

The air in the Transfiguration classroom was thick with tension. Professor McGonagall wondered what was going on between her students. Malfoy and Granger sat as far from each other as the room allowed, and avoided looking in each others direction. Both their eyes were red, and adorned with dark circles.

Draco felt tired, and he just wanted to go to his room and sleep. He found it hard to even swallow his own bile, which rose unpleasantly to his throat. His head felt like it would break in two if he moved it around even a bit. So was the case with his heart. Although, it was already broken, and Draco didn't want to scatter the pieces even more.

MCGonagall cleared her throat. Draco looked up, trying to focus solely on McGonagall, but out of the corner of his eye, he could make out her long, brown hair. Draco's gut twisted painfully. If the Christmas holidays were torturous, the days after were nothing short of hell for him. Even thinking her name would cause a hitch in his side, and a hive would pierce his broken heart, wedging the two pieces further apart. She could have shouted at him...hit him till his last breath...hex him into oblivion...

But no, this cold indifference was far worse than any sort of punishment he had ever received. She didn't acknowledge him, she didn't look at him, she didn't talk to him. Even if she had to it would be in monotonous tone to inform him  about the prefects...Draco felt like he was rotting from the inside. And his head? He forgot how it was like without a headache. Constant, never ending, painful pounding around his temples... he didn't understand anything anymore..

"I do not usually indulge in student affairs," McGonagall started. In all his years at Hogwarts, Draco had never seen her look uncomfortable. "But there seems to be a certain ill air around you two. As Head boy and Head girl, I suggest you look more closely on how you two react to each other, so that it promotes house unity. And not being able to bare each others presence within the same classroom...well let's say it doesn't necessarily-"

The bell rang and Draco was out not turning back even when McGonagall called him. He was angry, he was pissed off, he was guilty, he was irritated, he was in a fucking foul mood. He felt like he wanted to punch something, or someone- which was himself. Draco stormed ahead, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing. He didn't even apologize to the people he bumped into, but just roughly pushed past, ignoring all the jibes sent his way.

His head was pounding, and he wanted to pull his hair out. It felt like he was going mad. His head spun, and his footsteps faltered. His breathing was ragged and hollow. He could feel his heart beating rather fast, faster than usual. In his mind's eye, he saw her eyes, angry and unforgiving. He heard the cold and malice in her voice. He felt the sting of her palm on his cheek. And suddenly Draco collapsed. His vision was fading, and he could hear nothing. The last thought before he passed out was that there was nothing called second chances in this world. With her brown eyes burning into the back of his skull, Draco finally saw black.

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He could hear someone calling his name...all though he wasn't sure what his name was.

They, whoever it was, seemed far away in a distant place. He was surrounded in black shadows...but the shadows weren't moving. They were as still and as cold as the ice formed in his chest.

He didn't know if he was alive, just knew that he had some sort of weak consciousness.

Was he floating in some great pool of nothingness? He felt no pain, no worries. But he also didn't feel happy or content. He just felt nothing.

He didn't know what he looked like. He couldn't remember anything of what he was, who he was, where he came from, why he was here.

Then he saw a pair of beautiful, brown eyes...the sweetest shade of honeysuckle, and chocolate. An angel's eyes. It anchored him to where he was.