Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Sixteen

I woke up to my name being shouted through the house.

I shot up, my heart pounding.

I waited for a moment before I heard my father shout my name again, and I jumped out of bed, throwing on my robe before rushing out of my room, sprinting down the hallway and skipping every other stair on my way down to the ground floor.

Terrified of getting in trouble, I skidded into the kitchen, entirely out of breath. "Yes?" I asked, heaving, and my mother turned to look at me, her face unnaturally bright.

"Are you ready to go?" I heard a familiar voice ask, and I whirled, my eyes landing on Mirah.

I squealed, hurrying forward to embrace her. She hugged me back, laughing.

"It's so good to see you!" I exclaimed, and Mirah squeezed me tighter before letting go.

"Likewise!" she said happily.

I hurriedly packed my things and left with her without so much as a goodbye to my parents, who had shunned me all summer, only calling for me when they needed something done for them, only cooking for themselves when they were hungry, forcing me to do all the cleaning, cussing me out when I refused to lend them money, and yet spent all my savings on themselves anyway, having found where I'd been hiding it.

At the Holland's, I set up my things in the guest room they practically gave to me since I was over so often, and we left to get our supplies from Diagon Alley.

We bumped into Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins, who had come with Mrs. Weasley.

We spent the morning shopping together, and Mr. and Mrs. Holland offered to pay for my school supplies, knowing what I dealt with at home. I tried to argue, of course, but, like Mirah, it was close to impossible to change their mind once they've decided on something.

By lunch time, we'd already acquired almost all of our supplies; now all a few of us needed were new quills, which just Hermione and I insisted upon getting.

I only needed one, however, because Mum had snapped mine in anger when she'd found me writing to my friends when I was supposed to be cleaning the kitchen.

I didn't say this to anyone, though. None of them truly understood. They'd only make me feel worse by pitying me.

Hermione and I split off from the others, heading to the quill shop together. The bell rang as we pushed the door open, and the store owner welcomed us.

Hermione and I headed to the left side of the store, and while I started looking around for a suitable, but not too expensive quill, Hermione nudged my shoulder.

"Look who it is," she whispered, and I turned to follow her gaze, my eyes landing on — you guessed it — Draco Malfoy.

He turned to face us, almost as if we had called out his name, and I smiled when he met my gaze.

But he didn't smile back, like I expected him to.

Instead, he looked me up and down slowly, and then turned away without so much as a second glance, his face as expressionless as it was before.

Just then, two people emerge from behind a shelf; a pale, slender woman with the underside half of her hair blonde, the top half black, and a tall man in black robes, his pale blonde hair longer than his wife's.

The man and woman walked up to Draco, and the man murmured something to both of them before leaving the store, not acknowledging Hermione's or my existence.

The woman put her hand on Draco's shoulder, telling him to choose his quill quickly, before departing from his side and following the man outside.

I glared at Draco. Why would he pretend not to know us just because of his parents? If my parents were here, I wouldn't give a single crap.

I continued browsing for a quill, slightly annoyed. My eye caught the box of a mahogany-tipped swan tail feather quill, but it looked slightly out of reach. I tried to reach for it anyway, stretching up onto my toes and extending my fingers, but it was still inches away.

A hand reached up from behind me and grabbed it, and I turned to the person to thank them for getting it down for me, not expecting to see Draco. I noticed, with a shock, how much taller he was now; he had shot up a few inches so that his eyes were level with my forehead (we'd been about the same height last year).

He smirked at my surprise, and when I reached for the box, he quickly held it above my head. I grabbed for it again, but he held it higher, teasing me.

"Draco!" I complained, and his eyebrows shot up.

"On a first-name basis, now, are we?" he asked teasingly, tossing the box down from above so it landed in the hand that hovered near my waist.

I grabbed for it again, but he dodged my hands easily, moving the box in every direction opposite of where I grabbed for it until I dropped my arms at my sides, glaring up at him.

"Won't dare tease me in front of your parents?" I asked, annoyed, in an attempt to distract him enough to grab the box from him.

"Careful," he warned, his expression suddenly dark, but his silver eyes still danced.

He held out the box for me, and I reached for it hesitantly, not trusting him. And just as I thought, he moved the box away from my hand, holding it behind my back as he stepped closer.

I froze; he now stood before me, an arm wrapped around my torso. I stared up into his eyes, unable to move, or even breathe.

He smirked back down at me, murmuring, "Nervous, Brianna?"

I swallowed, mustering up as much attitude as I could as I responded, "On a first-name basis, are we?"

Draco chuckled, his breath tickling my face. His scent was bold; he wore an expensive-smelling cologne that smelled strongly of fresh linen and mahogany, and it had a hint of sourness to it, like a green apple. And beneath the cologne, I could smell peppermint or eucalyptus, and a faint hint of campfire smoke.

He stepped back, pushing the box into my hands, and headed out of the store, calling over his shoulder, "See you at the World Cup!"

I didn't get the chance to tell him I wasn't going before the door to the shop closed. I'd wanted to go to the Quidditch World Cup, but of course, I couldn't get tickets.

"Are you two...?" Hermione's voice asked, and I turned to see her staring at me, her face pale and eyes wide. I realized what she was implying, and my own eyes widened as I shook my head furiously.

"No! No, never!" I exclaimed, and Hermione scrutinized my face for a moment before she sighed in relief, the color returning to her face.

"Thank goodness!" she sighed, and I laughed, fighting a blush that threatened to creep into my face.

We bought our quills, and then went to meet Harry, Ron, Mirah, and the twins.