Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Seven

I tried to finish my essay that night, but I couldn't focus. I was still surprised at what Malfoy had said to me, and I wondered whether he was being serious. I was beginning to doubt whether he had said it at all, and was considering the possibility that I had imagined it.

Mirah strode over to me where I sat by the fire and invited me to a game of Wizard's Chess, and I agreed immediately, eager to take my mind off Malfoy and Potions.

Mirah noticed my distracted mood as we began the game, and I told her about Malfoy, how he wouldn't stop looking at me with this weird look and how he kept coming to talk to me, but would only taunt me until I snapped and walked away.

But then I told her about today, how Malfoy had offered to help me with my essay, and was actually acting suspiciously nice to me.

"Maybe he likes you," Mirah said with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes, groaning.

"Mir, I'm being serious," I told her, but she only laughed and replied, "So am I.... Hey, here he comes, now!" she exclaimed, and I turned around to see Malfoy enter the common room, rummaging through the bookbag slung over his shoulder.

Mirah called him over, and I whirled to face her, my eyes wide in protest. "No!" I hissed to her as she waved him over, and Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her in puzzlement. He slowly neared us, and I sank into my cushioned chair, not ready to see him yet after our last encounter.

"Malfoy, care to take over for me?" Mirah asked once he was near enough, gesturing toward the white game pieces.

Malfoy simply answered, "No," before starting to turn away, suddenly noticing me sitting across from Mirah. He looked at me blankly, his expression almost angry, but mostly humiliated, as if he regretted ever talking to me in the first place.

He pursed his lips and walked away, lounging onto one of the couches in front of the fireplace and resting his feet on the table in the center, dropping his bookbag on the floor beside him. He pulled a book out, setting it on his lap, and he slouched over the armrest, holding his hand in his blonde hair as he started reading.

I stared at him, torn, and when Mirah called my name to bring my attention back to chess, I turned to face her. She wore a wide smirk, and I sighed, rolling my eyes as I said in an exasperated tone, "I'll be right back."

I stood up and crossed the room in long and determined strides, stopping before Malfoy.

He didn't notice me at first; he was too engaged in his book. I cleared my throat to get his attention, and his eyes glanced up at me, looking irritable. But then, seeming to realize it was me, the icy look left his eyes partially as he stared up at me expectantly.

"I lied," I told him without context, and he raised his eyebrows, confused. "I didn't finish my essay."

Malfoy stared at me for a moment longer before looking back at his book, smirking. "Why would you lie about something like that?" he asked, looking back up at me through his dark eyelashes.

"Because... you were acting weird, and it was scaring me," I answered honestly, flustered, and instantly regretted it. Why did I say that? I thought to myself, feeling my cheeks burn as Malfoy stared up at me, a humored smirk playing on his lips.

"Thanks for your honesty," he remarked, looking on the verge of laughing.

I rolled my eyes, irritated at myself. "Listen, the point is," I sighed, unable to believe I was about to say this, "I need help with my essay," I told him reluctantly, and his eyebrows shot up, the smirk fading.

He composed his expression a few seconds later, and he looked back at his book, his expression suddenly bitter.

"And what makes you think I would help you?" he asked flatly, clenching his jaw so his jawline stood out prominently.

Ignoring the flare of annoyance his words brought to me, I replied, "Because I thought you might like to hang around someone you don't have to pretend for."

Draco froze. He looked up at me slowly, swallowing nervously, and he frowned at me. He seemed to read my expression for any sign that I was bluffing or lying, but when he found none, a slow smile spread across his face, and his silver eyes lit up.

He set his book down, sitting upright. "All right," he said offhandedly, shrugging. "But I think you should finish your game of chess first. Your friend Holland hasn't looked away from us since you came over here."