For The Greater Good (A Draco Malfoy Story)

Antagonizing Outlets and Goodbyes

         The next three days passed by in a blur, but I barely paid attention to that. Anxiety constantly drifted through my body at the thought of my father's funeral. I was excused from classes the whole week but apparently I wasn't excused from Malfoy's torment too. After our heated discussion three days ago, it seemed his cruelty went up several notches. Malfoy ceased attacking me with his stupid pranks but his verbal abuse was far from over. I noticed that at dinner or during class, he was eerily quiet and seemed preoccupied with his thoughts all the time, but once he saw me, he started spewing out insults and hateful comments. This wasn't the only disturbing change in him. Malfoy had lost a lot of weight, he'd quit Quidditch, and he looked sick with every passing day. Dark circles, stormy frowns and a slumped back was all he had been reduced to those days. No one else noticed this but me, which was something I didn't understand. Why was I the only one who could see he was deteriorating from the inside and out? It was like a dark cloud hung over him wherever he went, and the thunder was in his stormy eyes. I seemed to be the outlet of his anger but I planned to find out what was the cause of his troubles. It wasn't because I cared, I didn't. I just had this nagging feeling within me that if he was kept away from that darkness, it would do a world of good.

Please, no one besides his mother could care about a git like that, I thought bitterly.

That wasn't all that was disrupting my life. Every day I noticed colors outlining people's bodies. I thought maybe my eyes were finally going bad or I was just hallucinating but the colors never went away. I didn't understand what they meant or why were they there, but it was becoming a real nuisance. It became such a distraction when I tried talking to people and sometimes looking at the colors gave me a pounding headache that lasted all day. Every time it happened, I picked up my quill to send a letter to my father but then I'd remember he was gone. Whenever I needed help, I always went to him. Now he and that privilege were gone. I couldn't tell my brother because he would just worry himself to death. As for my mother...I couldn't add more to the weight on her shoulders. She was all alone now, in a home where death clung to the walls and my father's memory hit her in the face wherever she turned. Even though it was going to be under horrible circumstances, I was glad I would see my mother today. I missed her comfort. I missed sitting between her legs, sipping butter beer as she'd brush and braid my hair.

"Alvers?" a cold voice asked.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

I turned to face the haunted face of Draco Malfoy. Suspicion clouded his icy eyes, as he crossed his arms. "What are you doing standing outside of the Slytherin common room...in that?" he asked, as he noticed the black dress I was wearing. I looked down at my outfit. It was nothing fancy, just a simple black dress with long sleeves made of lace and modest black flats. My hair was in a braid and I wore no make up; I was gonna cry all day, what was the point of wearing it?

"I'm waiting for my brother, not that it concerns you," I replied with a straight face. He was so not worth my anger. Leaning against the wall so my back wouldn't be turned to him, I looked down the empty hall then looked back at him. "Don't you have anything evil to do today? Like drown babies or kill good people, Death Eater?" I spat, even though inside, I was wincing. I probably shouldn't have said that. Before I could blink, a hand wrapped around my throat tightly and my head pounded against the wall. Malfoy stood over me with utter hatred and...fear? Alarm bells began to ring in my head.

"You shut your filthy mouth, bloodtraitor! You think you're so amazing just because your parents were Aurors and you can do some fancy magic, but let me tell you something. All you fucking are, is some know-it-all who can't even take a bloody shite without crying about her poor little dead daddy!" he seethed with such rage, a vein throbbed on his forehead. I gripped his wrist and tried to pry his hand away from my neck. As I stared into his stupidly striking grey eyes, I choked out a hysterical laugh, blackness crawling into my peripheral vision.