Hateful Love

Chapter Thirty

NOTE: I do not own any of the ideas or characters expressed in this story (except Cassie Jackson). All of these belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Cassie P.O.V.

          It’s Sunday night when I finally realize there’s something important I forgot to tell Draco. I immedietley owl him so he can meet me in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes, because I know that things will get bad if I wait any longer to tell him.

          Luckily, it’s only four o’clock, so we have time before curfew. I have no intentions of getting in trouble with the Carrows again.

          I only wait for him for about five minutes, and when he arrives, he’s breathless. Draco shuts the door behind him and rushes over to me, grabbing my shoulders gently. He asks between gasps, “What’s—wrong?”

          “Nothing,” I say quickly, touching his arms in an attempt to calm him down. Then I remember what I have to tell him, and I add uncertainly, “Well…not nothing, exactly.”

          Draco gives me a confused look, and I don’t blame him. I can tell he’s about to make a comment about how strange women are, so I take his hand and lead him to the couch.

           As soon as we’re both seated, I face him with one leg tucked under me. It’s clear Draco knows I’m upset, as he takes both my hands in his while he patiently waits for me to speak.

          I take a deep breath and say, “I didn’t tell you everything about my detention on Friday. Something else happened.”

         Draco’s face turns hard, and I suddenly know what that must sound like to him. Quickly, I continue, “He just asked me something right before I left. And it wasn’t good.”

          His face looks more relaxed now, and he gives my hands a light squeeze. “What was it?”

          I swallow hard, knowing what this is going to do to him. I say as calmly as I possibly can, “He asked me if I was in a relationship with you.”

          There’s a minute of silence as Draco stares at me, clearly wondering if he’s heard me wrong. I bite my lip, feeling this immense pressure to break the quiet and say something to make it not seem so bad. But I’m terrified that it’ll just make it worse, so I stay silent for as long as I can.

          Draco lets go of my hands and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stares into the empty fireplace and says softly, “You’re right. That isn’t good.”

          I bring myself closer to him and whisper, “I told him no.”

          He turns his head and looks deep into my eyes, but doesn’t say anything for a moment. Draco closes his eyes, and when he opens them once more, they look pained. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

          I tentatively reach over and rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him through his suit jacket. Biting my lip again, I ask quietly, “Is he going to tell You-Know-Who?”

          Draco sighs and leans back against the couch, reaching up to clasp my hand once more. “I don’t know. Did it look like he believed you?”

          “I—I’m not sure,” I stammer, trying hard to remember the events of Friday night, but it’s all become a blur over the course of the weekend. “I thought he did, but it was really hard to tell. I’m sorry.”