I Understand

Remembering Silence

Harry didn't see Malfoy again until Transfiguration, when he walked in and Malfoy was already sitting down. Harry wondered where he had gone to. Not that it mattered, he was just curious. Besides, Harry could understand why Malfoy had not wanted to be in the Great Hall with that many people. Harry probably understood more than anyone else.

Class was starting, and the new professor stood up from her small desk in the front of the class. I was weird not having McGonagall for Transfiguration, but the new professor seemed fine. She was a thin, short woman, who's hair fell just below her shoulders, she was a lot younger than McGonagall. Her voice was soft, yet held presence, and everyone paid attention as she introduced herself and immediately started class. Her name was Malnee Clawford, and had been in Ravenclaw during her time at Hogwarts. She was Bill Weasley's age, and Harry wondered if they knew each other.

Through out class they took notes and answered questions that she would throw in to check if everyone was paying attention. Soon the class was over, and most people headed to the 8th year common room, or their respective dorms. Hermione suggested they sit and talk about their day, she had said that it was good to talk things out, especially after a new experience.

"This isn't a new experience 'Mione, we've done this 6 times before. Besides, it was a pretty normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened." Ron commented as they sat near the fire.

"Still, we should still talk, be friends. We haven't really hung out in a while like we used to." She added as the set the book she had been holding next to her.

"I mean, it's not really the same anyway. With us dating and all, it's a little weird." Ron added.

"Ronald." Only Hermione and Mrs.Weasley called him that. "Just because we're together doesn't mean we can't be friends, and do friend things. Besides, the 3 of us aren't dating, we can't leave Harry out of it." She turned to Harry, but he didn't say anything.

Harry wasn't really paying attention, all the focusing had drained him. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, well, sleep as much as he could. More likely than not, he'd be up before the sun rose, just like this morning. But he wouldn't mind a repeat of this morning, it was more clam than the rest of his day. It hadn't left him feeling drained, in fact, it almost made him feel better. Silent, but not alone. He found himself hoping that Malfoy would be there again when he inevitably woke up before everyone else. It was peaceful, even if it was Malfoy that was there.

He also started to think about today in potions, the silence they had both been fine with while working together. Harry was glad he had partnered with Malfoy, anyone else would have wanted to talk to him. Mostly about the war. Always the war. Did people not think of anything else now? Harry was really glad Malfoy hadn't wanted to talk about the war. Harry knew it probably had something to do with what Malfoy had gone through. Though he didn't know all of it, Harry knew there was more to Malfoy than what met the eye, even if it was buried under layers of ego and slurs. That was one of the reasons he had spoken in Draco Malfoy's defense at his trial.

"Harry?" Once again, Hermione broke him out of his thoughts. "Do you want to talk about something?" She said softly, knowing Harry's mind had been wondering.

"Err, um, no. I actually think I'm going to lay down." He said standing up. He added, "I'll see you guys at dinner." Then walked off before they could protest.

He sat down on his bed and sighed. He laid back and threw his right forearm over his eyes but his glasses got in the way. He took off his glasses and set them aside. Harry was really exhausted, all he wanted to do was sleep, and slowly he faded into uneasy slumber. A dream about fireplaces and sketch pads met him as he slept.

~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy had barley been able to stop himself from adding to his collection of scars on his left forearm. 

He wanted to. Needed  to. But didn't.

Usually, he had no self-control when it came to this, but now, he felt like it would cause more problems. Please, he begged to himself, no more problems.

So Draco sat in a abandoned broom closet and tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. He sat there for what seemed like forever, when he decided to go to class. He hadn't heard to bell to signal lunch was done, so he figured he'd be the first one there.

And he was. It was only him and the new teacher, and they sat in silence.

Silence. Like this morning. Why couldn't he stop thinking about this morning? There was something about it, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He was completely lost in thought when class started, and dreaded having to pay attention. But he did so anyway, this wasn't his best subject.

Throughout class, he often faded into his own mind, then his thoughts circled back to his Mark. When it did, he quickly shook himself out of it. 

At the end of class he slowly put his stuff away, and was the last one in the classroom. Draco didn't want to go back to the common room, so he thought about going to the library. Then he felt someone touch his arm.

He turned around ready to walk away if it was someone else wanting to tell him he should be rotting away in Azkaban like his father, but it was only Professor Clawford.

She handed him an apple, "I figured you hadn't eaten, considering when you came into my class. Try not to skip meals, it's not good for your health." He voice was sweet, and he took the apple.

"Thank you." He said quietly, almost sadly, and he left without another word.

That was really the first time someone had treated him like a person that day. And he felt his eyes start to water.

He pulled himself together as he walking into the 8th year common room.

He got there just as Potter was walking to his dorm, leaving behind his friends.

Then Draco remembered the silence.

Professor Clawford had been the second person to treat Draco like a person, Harry Potter was the first. The he felt like he wanted to cry again, so he quickly made his way to his dorm.

Please, the thought, let me survive this year.