Isolation

Chapter 11: Doubt

The high didn't last long, but then it never did.

And what was left behind was self-disgust that was physically painful. He wiped away the remains of his orgasm with a pair of boxers and turned over; curling up into a defeated semi-foetal position. He could feel the cold clawing over his skin now, but he didn't cover himself with the blanket. There was no excuse for what he'd just done, and the cold brought reality back that little bit quicker.

The worst thing was, he had no idea if he wanted to slam his skull against the wall until his imagination tumbled out of his ears, or give himself another ride.

He didn't cover his head with a pillow to block her out. He should have done, but he didn't. Instead, he let her shower sounds numb his brain and distract him from the reality.

He'd just masturbated to Hermione Granger.

The Mudblood.

"Fuck."

He rolled over and grabbed the nearest thing to him; the Muggle book by the King bloke. He turned it over in his hands and analysed the cover for the hundredth time, recalling their discussion about prejudices and the trap he'd walked straight into. Curse her to the Veil and back, but it had made him think, if only for a moment.

He had wondered how he would see her if it weren't for her dirty heritage, and now he was doing it again.

Double fuck...

.

.

Neville had pretty much dragged her to dinner in the Great Hall, ignoring her protests and insisting that some time amongst friends would cheer her up. Apparently the distress about her flashbacks of Malfoy's lips was scrawled blatantly across her face, as Neville usually left her and her melancholy alone. He'd commented that she looked worse today, and she'd eventually agreed to join him and the others, reasoning that some lazy banter might distract her from the ugly truth.

And an ugly truth it was; brokenly beautiful in an odd way though. Like Draco.

How could I have kissed him?

She was sat on the outskirts of the small crowd, finishing a paragraph of an assignment that could have waited until later. She lifted her head and glanced around the group, moving her distant gaze across Ginny, Lavender, Dean, Seamus and to Neville at her side, frowning when she realised that someone was missing.

"Neville," she mumbled quietly, keeping her voice low to avoid interrupting the others' conversation. "Where's Luna?"

"We noticed that too," he told her. "She disappears at lunch sometimes, and I don't think she stays here at weekends either, you know. One of the fifth years said she saw her leaving the grounds last Saturday."

"Where does she go?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "None of us do actually. She must have permission from McGonagall though."

"That's odd," she sighed, turning away when one of the other boys said something that caught her attention. "What did you say, Seamus?"