Hidden Feelings - A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Thirty-Five - Fifth Year

I make my way back outside, my heart racing. What just happened was certainly a dream. A weird, unexpected dream that confused me to no end, but a dream, nonetheless.

When the cool breeze from the evening air hits my face, I take a deep breath in, giddy from excitement. I hear shouting in the crowd, and start jogging, hoping to see Harry standing at the entrance to the maze with the cup held high above his head. I need to be there to see his reaction. Or Cedric's, of course; either deserved to win, and either would make a gracious loser.

However, it's not the sight I expected when I reach the stands. The shouts seem to click from happy to terrified in a split second when I see Harry and Cedric sprawled over the grass. Amos Diggory runs down the seats, stumbling down in a far from graceful collapse over what I now realize is the dead body of his son.

I cover my mouth, my chest now seizing for a different reason. I take a few steps forward, but stop, paralyzed by the sound of Harry's yells. My head snaps up to look for my parents in the stands. Dad catches my eye first, a picture of calm as he stares at the scene with a stone-cold expression. Mom clutches his arm, the more anticipated look of horror masking her face.

"Elizabeth!" I hear Ron and look in the other direction, seeing him running toward me. I open my arms and hug him tightly, and surprised, he takes a moment to return the embrace. I pull myself up, putting my lips near his ear.

"Voldemort," I whisper. "He's back."

It's the first moment I put it together. From what Harry had learned of Karkaroff to the cut I see on his arm, I know.

I feel my entire body shudder as I wake up, a small gasp escaping my throat. I sit up, looking at the window across from me. It's still dark, but I'm certain I had just heard something from outside. When I turn to the alarm clock beside me, I sigh, seeing that it's only 1:03. I was barely asleep for two hours before the stupid recurring dream, flashback, whatever, woke me up.

I tug my covers off and swing my legs around, slowly touching my feet to the cool wood floor. I move to my desk, sitting down while careful to avoid the chair to scrape too loudly. I open one of the drawers and pull out the ring Draco gave me, running my finger carefully over its crevices. I was told not to write him before we left school, and unfortunately, that was the extent of our communication ever since we kissed. I tell myself repeatedly not to be too upset, or surprised for that matter, over it, but I can't help but hope things will return to normal once he's not stuck at home with his father, who would inevitably kill him (and likely me) if even a letter was seen.

The truth is, I don't know if I really like Draco, or if I, in a moment of pain, felt that he was the best one to turn to. He is the only one I could imagine talking about my father's old death eater status about...but it wasn't that I didn't like my other friends less. I just fear the loss of their trust if they do find out.

But if I do really like him, and if he somehow likes me back...how would the others react?

I set the ring back in the drawer. Harry and I have been writing back and forth, but there are days that go by without him responding due to his horrid family. In the last letter, he admitted that he's been having nightmares about what happened at the tournament. I was too embarrassed to admit that I had been, too, despite not having nearly the trauma to warrant it. Even if I hadn't witnessed the events, though, I felt Harry's pain, fear, everything after he described what happened to me.

After a moment, I pull the ring back out, reaching down to grab my bag. I tuck it into one of the smaller pockets and zip it, knowing I won't want to forget it when visiting Ron and Hermione.