madness ; draco malfoy

TWO

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IT was a restless night for Cordelia, tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning, but she hadn't expected any different; Dumbledore's speech had kept her awake, running the words over and over in her head. The startling realisation that he would have to die at either her or Draco's hand was enough to make her sick, and she hadn't quite come to terms with it until seeing him standing there the night before.

As she got dressed for the day her mind felt heavy with trepidation and uneasiness, which she was sure would never go away. The bags under her eyes reflected how she felt, appearing to drag her whole face down and making her look almost ill.

Her father had told her before she left 'to act like everything's normal; if you start changing anything, how you look, how you behave, people will become suspicious.' Heeding his words, she brushed out her hair and covered underneath her eyes, instantly returning to the polished and refined girl everyone knew.

Sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, she observed the Gryffindor table closely, wondering why Potter was turning around every few seconds to look at her. She narrowed her eyes and stared right back at him, which took him by surprise. Turning back around, he whispered something to Weasley and snuck one last glance before Draco sat opposite her, blocking her view.

"Morning," he muttered, grabbing himself a piece of toast.

"Morning," Cordelia replied slowly, slightly suspicious that he was even talking to her after storming off last night.

They ate their breakfast in silence, each of them enjoying and understanding the other's quietness. A piece of paper landed in front of Cordelia and she picked it up, examining it in her hands; her new timetable. Draco looked at his own with a bored expression, sighing deeply.

"What a pathetic excuse for a school," he said, tossing it to the side. "Think I'd pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower at the thought of having to stay for another two years."

"I know how you feel," she muttered. "All of this is pointless; nothing's going to matter in the end, least of all school."

Draco regarded the girl for a moment; she'd said it so casually he didn't even think she realised it.

Nothing's going to matter in the end.

She was right, of course. None of this would even be remotely significant enough to remember, none of it would stay with them for years to come, these last peaceful mornings they were having. Instead, the memories of their teenage years would be made up of recollections of fear, anger, and death.

Draco wished he could cherish these moments more, he wished he could forget about everything and live carefree. But he knew he had a job to do, a job that would keep his family safe and protect Cordelia's. He couldn't let her take the fall for this; he knew that no matter how much she wanted to help him, he had to be the one to do it. He had to be the one to carry it on his conscience for the rest of his life, not her. Draco knew he could deal with it, but with her, he wasn't so sure.

Looking over his shoulder cautiously, he cleared his throat and leaned towards Cordelia. "I think we should talk later," he said quietly. "We need to come up with a plan."

Cordelia sighed and nodded her head. "Yes, I've been thinking the same thing. Have you ... have you had any ideas?" She whispered.

"One," Draco murmured. "But I don't know if it'll work." The clock at the top of the room rang three times, signalling the start of the school day. Cordelia got up from the bench and grabbed her bag, waiting for Draco to join her, and they walked together to their first class; Defense Against the Dark Arts.