Conflicted Loyalites

Chapter 16

Draco's PoV

I found myself in annoyingly high spirits for the next while. I couldn't even force myself to glare at Weasley with the appropriate haughtiness as I passed him on the way out of the library in the early evening. I settled for a stoic look, because of course, Malfoys must remind those around them who's boss - regardless of one's own emotions at that point in time. 

I was almost smiling to myself more than once - unprompted.

Potter, Potter, Potter, what are you doing to me? What is this irritating disease you've inflicted upon me? It boiled deep in my bones like the moulded remnants of hope long forgotten.

It was quite unnatural. However, it seemed that way with most things associated with Potter. It was continually unnerving how much he could affect me. Damn the Golden Boy, with his oh-so-perfect body.

My good mood lasted through the taunts and whispered murmurs of those around me that had become a persistently biting mantra. Their cutting words were knives across my skin, yet they hurt a little less than usual, all because bloody Potter had graced me with a snippet of his time. How I hated these conflicting emotions. Malfoys didn't feel any more than was necessary, let alone allow others to hold influence over those feelings.

Regardless, it still took more restraint than I would have liked to force myself to stay put and absorb their scathing words. Malfoys don't run away. Malfoys don't fall to the inferior masses.

Fighting one mantra with another. I loathed that my mind flew to the strength of my surname even still.

It was more proof that I didn't deserve to be a Malfoy. I wasn't as strong as Lucius, as my mother, as any of them. I was a downright disgrace to myself and all who knew me.

The Malfoy name was all I had ever had, and even it didn't want anything to do with me.

Then again...

Potter seemed annoyingly dead-set on being friends - for reasons I couldn't quite comprehend the motive behind. That single thought, that for whatever cruel reason he'd decided to take an interest in my life, was almost comforting through the snide remarks thrown over my head.

I'd spent the remainder of the day in an extra Potions class with Blaise and Pansy, going over the expectations for the essays due throughout the week. They didn't sound overly difficult, but it wasn't the worst way to spend a Saturday afternoon, so I was more than happy to attend.

After the class, I headed up to the dorms quickly and dropped my books and bag on my bed. My heart was tight in my chest, and each breath felt as if it was wrapped in sandpaper. It seemed the drain of the day was catching up with me. Oh goody. Just in time for the first of the three Potions essays I'd selected from the offered ten. At least Potions was thought provoking. Perhaps it would serve to distract me from the rest of my pathetic thoughts.

I conjured myself a cup of tea, with no sugar and only the slightest dash of milk. It was how Aunt Bellatrix had liked her tea. It was one of the few things I'd learned from her that I hadn't blocked from my mind.

I sat for the better part of an hour reading through the specifications for the first essay and designing a thorough draft. It was on the identification of usable and expired antidotes, and which antidotes worked best for which compounds. It was interesting; more than engaging enough to keep my mind off of other matters.

The first essay was easy enough to write once I actually drew my focus to the subject. It was only once it was finished, the parchment tucked away till Monday and the other essay prompts lined up on my side table, that I let my mind wander and my body relax.