NATALIA [Draco Malfoy Fanfiction]

Nine | No Longer Innocent

I wrestled with Dumbledores comments for longer than I'd care to admit, mostly to try and figure out why I found it insulting that Dumbledore thought I'd be so keen to spy. Was this all apart of the bits I didn't know?

Perhaps.

Perhaps he'll reveal all in hopes it'd make me help him when the time comes, or maybe he was just assuming I'd join, given that the other side would have me killed.

It was a loosing battle in my mind, but what's worse is that Malfoy's touch had lingered against my skin after he pulled me away from the scene at Hogsmeade, to the point where I almost thought about it more than the Dumbledore conversation.

I did my best to ignore it, which had almost worked until I saw him for our library session. The nerve endings in my hand sparked to life as my eyes met the back of his head, and a sick feeling had washed over me from the mix-bag of emotions that I was suddenly met with. I shook the feeling out of my hand, flicking my wrist as I moved to sit across from him.

I don't dare to meet his gaze, terrified of what I'll feel when I do.

There was something wrong with me, how did I still have hope in his intentions? Why did I... feel this way?

"You look sick."

"Probably just a cold, changing weather and all that." I don't get up, already knowing the books I wanted and summoning them with my wand.

Malfoy caught sight of one of the titles, his head turning to read it before I could hide the spine. "Why are you reading about Occlumency?"

"It's interesting."

He doesn't buy it, scoffing in a way that got under my skin, and forced me to look up; "something to add?" I asked.

"They've recruited you, haven't they?"

I blinked, only remembering that the order has entry level requirements that require such a skill after giving it some thought. "Still on that?"

"It's obvious," Malfoy stated with a shrug.

"Right, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the dark lord is one of the best known Legilimens in the wizarding world?" 

"You're... protecting yourself?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Isn't that what you're doing now, I wanted to add, but refrain, not knowing what sort of conversation that would initiate.

He frowned, "most people do that by picking a side," he explained, "not..."

"Well, maybe I don't care about who wins the war, I just don't want to loose to that fucking bigot," I told him, "I want to live—I want to have that against him, that I lived."

"You care about who wins the war," he insisted.

"I don't want to." But he was right.

"You... you don't seem to care so much about your life at all."

"Why, because I don't turn you over to Dumbledore? Because I stopped talking for a bit? Stopped eating?"

"You aren't exactly helping your case."

"Maybe I just see what it takes to survive," I pointed out.

"We've already established that staying buddy buddy with all of your friends isn't going to get you browny points," Malfoy stated harshly, a slight flare to his voice as he seemed to be annoyed with what I've said.

"And who says being 'buddy buddy' with Dumbledore will get me browny points either."

I wasn't about to trust a man who didn't even trust me with my own past, but I don't explain all that to Malfoy, after all, he had no reason to know anything about me. "I don't want to be friends with you," I told him slowly, "frankly, you give yourself too much credit for thinking I'm still trying."