Jealousy (Draco Malfoy)

Chapter 1

1996:

I snap awake in a cold sweat; another nightmare about You-Know-Who. I glance at the ticking circle, 3 AM. Pansy groaned beside me, and I hope my night terror hadn't woken anyone up. I throw off the forest green quilt and stumble downstairs to the Slytherin common room. The concrete floor shocks me as my bare feet ease onto it. Half-running, I make my way over to the cozy fireplace situated in the middle of the common room. Expensive leather creaks under me as I sit on the couch arm. It had been two years, but Diggory's death still came to haunt me nearly every night.

A weight on my shoulder makes me gasp and whip my head around. "Draco, what are you doing down here?" I ask, relieved it's a familiar face. He chuckled dryly and made his way over to the opposite couch, sinking into its leathery depths. "I heard screaming, came down to see who the bloody hell it was," he said with a smirk. A sheepish smile creeps onto my face, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. "Sorry for waking you," I mumble. Draco stands up and walks over behind the couch where I sat trembling. He grabs a green apple from the side table and takes a crisp bite. With his mouth full he remarks, "Another nightmare, Hestia? You know Voldemort hasn't really returned don't you?"

I can feel his accusing eyes on me, judging me for believing Potter's words, yet still, a part of me felt as if he was scared You-Know-Who had returned as well. "I don't know if he's back or not," I explain, "but why completely disregard the possibility?" He scoffs and sits beside me on the couch arm. The aroma of sandalwood and apple fill my nostrils. My housemate heaves his arm around my torso, his actions louder than words. Oddly, I felt safe in his grip, a kind of warmth I had never felt before. "Are you going to stay down here the rest of the night then?" his blue eyes piercing in the warm light of the fireplace, "Seems quite foolish if you ask me," he whispers.

I stand up abruptly, my breath catching in my throat. I glare at his smug face, which retained a smirk still. He takes another bite of the juicy apple, his eyes never leaving mine. "For your information, Draco I was just about to head back up to the dorms," I lied. "Bye then, Hestia," he flaps his hand, waving me away. I furrow my eyebrows at him and spin around, my feet padding their way back to bed.

Our strange conversation replays in my mind as I crawl back under the heavy covers. 'What a prick' I thought. I had never held a conversation with Draco that lasted that long since third year. Smiling at the memory from three years ago, my eyelids droop down, and again I drift to sleep. 

Immediately, I'm transported to the Great Hall, everyone years younger. I look over to the Slytherin table where a young Draco is seated next to a young me. His right arm hoisted up in a fabric sling. Everyone leans in to him as he retells the story of the 'ferocious monster that almost killed him'. Even I was captivated by the tale, how naive I used to be. The blonde boy bragged at how he didn't even need to take the class, as he already knew the course. As Draco finished his tall tale, every witch and wizard tuned in gasped, and marveled in awe. When he got up to leave the Great Hall with his cronies, I followed behind him. "Draco," I yelled. He stopped in the grand corridor and turned to look at me. "Crabbe, Goyle, head back to the common room," he dismisses his cronies, "You are?" he questioned, walking closer to me. I gulped, "Hestia," I nervously replied. "Well?" he sneered. I cleared my throat, "I was wondering if you would help me study since you have good grades and everything." His fingers trailed through my black hair and landed on my shoulders. He bent his head down, so close I could feel his hot breath.

As he grasped my necklace, he whispered, "I think you and I both know that's not going to happen," his sharp eyes made contact with mine for a moment and he smiled. His eye line then traveled back to my honey-colored pendant, "Wherever did you get this interesting necklace?" Draco questioned, tracing the gold chain on my collar bone.

"My parents gave it as a gift at the start of term," I grabbed the pendant back from his grip, and slowly I drifted awake from the dream.

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As I add sopophorous bean to the bubbling cauldron, Professor Slughorn makes an announcement to the class. "Congratulations to Harry Potter for successfully making Draught of Living Death!" I slam my fist on the table, barely three ingredients in my cauldron. The rest of the class groans as Harry makes his way to the front of the class.

"Now while Mr. Potter will be receiving a vial of Felix Felicis as his prize, I would like you to turn your attention to this cauldron." the wrinkled professor side steps to a rather small cauldron and lifts the lid, "Ammortentia, the strongest love potion in the world, it smells different to each person according to what attracts them," he sighs giddily and places the lid on the table, "who would like to smell the potion?" he asks. Draco and I are the only ones with our hands raised, so I volunteer to go first.

"Ms. Finch," the Professor says, moving out of the way. I look over into the cauldron of love potion and lean my face in. I take a deep breath, "sandalwood and," I sniff the potion once more, "and apple," I gasp. Every student is looking at Draco, who's staring straight at me. My face flushes red as I step down from the cauldron and walk back to my station. 

 "Draco, you're next my boy." The tall, thin, blonde boy glanced at me as he walked past my station and up to the cauldron. He takes a hand out of his black pants pocket, gripping the lip of the cauldron. He was nervous. A metallic clink rang out across the classroom as Draco tapped his Slytherin ring against the pewter. Finally, he bends his head over the bubbling potion and sniffs.

"Lemongrass and fresh parchment," he says nonchalantly, looking at me. Unaware of why his eyes are on me, I confusedly sniff my cloak. "Oh my god," I say under my breath. Draco slinks back to his station, looking at the floor with a smirk on his face.

"Class is over everyone," Slughorn says, and with that, everyone floods out of the quaint potions classroom. "Ms. Finch, wait," the professor yells. I gasp and walk back in. Harry, Hermoine, Blaise, and a few others were also there.

"What are we doing here, we need to get to class," Hermoine whines.

"You're fine Hermoine," Harry pats her back, "but sir, she is right. What are we doing here?"

"You are all invited to dinner in my office tomorrow night!" the professor cheerfully states. 

 "Why have we been invited to this dinner?" worriedly asks Hermoine. 

"Are you collecting us like the students on your bookshelf, Professor?" Harry asks, suppressing a laugh.  

Everyone glances at Harry with puzzled looks on their faces.  Professor Slughorn shifts uncomfortably on his feet and coughs slightly.  "Quite right, Mr. Potter.  I see great things from all of you in the future, and wished to get to know more about you."