the hermit (the chariot pt2)

16

So okay, I am sat here at the Gryffindor table and I can safely say that this has been the most excruciating, terrifying but exhilarating non-meal of my life. Non-meal because it was hard to summon up any kind of appetite whilst having a hundred eyes fixed upon me. I couldn't chew and then attempt to swallow with the whole hall staring at me. At Harry. At us. Literally. I looked at Harry's plate and found that he also had his half eaten plate still set in front of him.

I could feel the mixture of pure outrage, shock and venom being thrown at my back and it was a good thing that I was turned away from my house table. I couldn't even begin to imagine what their faces looked like. But I guess, if the Gryffindor faces were anything to go by, it was pretty bad and I should probably be ready for my execution as soon as I stepped foot out of the Great Hall.

I looked at Harry and he looked back at me and, actually, the more I stared at him the more I felt better about my impulsive decision of waltzing over to his table. There were worse situations to be in... Saying that, Weasley had worn a look of sheer disbelief throughout dinner. I just knew that he was thinking; ''how the fuck did Malfoy have the audacity to come up to the table and sit down?'' Worse still act like a ''friend'' to Harry? When clearly I was no 'friend' of Harry's if I correctly remembered our conversation, which had taken place a few months ago.

Perhaps I had changed my mind - maybe I wanted to be a friend to Harry... for now. If that is all I could be at this moment then I could try and be a friend. I could. At first. It's what Harry needed. I knew I could not perform miracles over night and there was a lot going on in Harry's head that would take me some considerable time to become privy to. But slow was better than hasty. Earning his trust and companionship was better than snogging him senseless and having him run a mile in the other direction. I snuck a sideways glance towards the staff table. There was a look of complete and utter disapproval from my housemaster, who looked liked he may want to skin me alive – literally. Masked astonishment from McGonagall and a calm but amused expression from Dumbledore.

Harry and I sat at the table for as long as we possibly could. I didn't look about me much in case I inflicted some premature damage to myself before even walking out of this room; however, soon it became apparent that we could not sit here for all eternity. We had to get up from the table eventually. Granger was pulling Weasley up from his place, as he seemed too stunned by my presence to function properly. The she-weasel murmured something unintelligible to Harry but at least she was moving away from him and that was always good. Bitch. Soon, it was only the two of us left at the upper part of the Gryffindor table and I found that my legs would not cooperate.

'I can't move,' I said to Harry in a low tone.

As the Gryffindors reluctantly started to leave the dinner table, mutterings of ''what the heck is Malfoy doing?'' were heard and soon I found myself relatively alone with Harry. I was grateful he was there as I genuinely began to wonder if I would ever leave my seat.

'I seriously can't move,' I repeated and Harry looked at me with a mixture of concern and compassion, which was both comforting and peculiar. 'I don't want to leave this seat ever,' I repeated for the third time and Harry nodded solemnly.

'So we should just sleep here tonight,' he deadpanned and I looked at his face catching a hint of amusement lurking in green eyes. I felt my mouth twitch at the absurdity of wanting to be glued to the seat for the rest of my life. I felt a spark of hysteria rise in my throat and chuckled a little. Harry grinned at me and we both laughed breathlessly for a moment.

'You're something else, you know that?' Harry said and I thought I could almost mistake it for an admiring tone.

'Yes, well,' I said primly, 'I just sort of committed social suicide – so, yes, I agree I am something else all right.'