Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Mending

Draco trudged into class with a slowness that made him wince. He and Harry had stayed up into the late hours of the night last night playing exploding snap and the other games that had been strewn across the long mahogany table that filled up the room. He had tried to play chess with him, but it turned out that Harry was an absolute disaster at it, and Draco eventually gave up and moved on to something else.

They had also talked more about occlumency and Green Eyes had practised meditating, although he seemed rather distracted when Draco would talk to him—opening his once closed eyes to stare at him, even though he should have been in a calm state.

There had also been a large conundrum this morning in the Great Hall as the Prophet newspaper spread through the table, whispers sprouting from every corner of the room as people talked about the newly escaped prisoners from Azkaban.

Whatever that is, Draco had thought. He wasn't sure why everyone was so...adamant and vocal about it; different houses having varied reactions, especially from the Gryffindor table about some kid named Weeville or something—Draco couldn't remember, Ironically enough.

He had merely dug into his food and tried to ignore his friends when they asked about his opinion on the matter in low whispers as if he had one in the first place.

Plunging down into his chair, he took out his notes for Arithmancy class. He glanced around and noticed Hermione sitting in front of him and a little bit to the right. When the girl looked back at his psst sound, she saw Draco there, waving to her from under the table.

Hermione stared at him long enough that Draco actually became worried that his hair had turned red again.

"What is it?" He mouthed to her as the class began to fill up with students.

Hermione shook her head.

"Nothing," she whispered back from where she was sitting. She then gave a tentative smile, glancing around as if someone might hex her by just the action of her mouth lifting up.

He smiled slightly back at her in a similar manner, unsure about the nervousness that the action had been warranted.

Hermione turned back to her work, but Draco didn't miss the small and confused shake of her head as if the world had just tilted off-kilter and she had to right herself before going on with her day.

Draco sighed. Some things never change, I guess.

At least people in the Great Hall had stopped glaring at him when he walked by, and had instead moved to looking at him weirdly or simply straight out ignoring him.

He also sent greetings to Haisley when he saw her in the hallways, and the girl would smile back and wave her hand at her side as if she didn't want anyone to see the minuscule action.

Draco knew why she did it, mostly based on the reaction Harry had had when he told him he became friends with a Hufflepuff fourth year. He understood that if someone saw Draco being all chummy with her, then the news would probably spread around the school about his sudden change in demeanour—and based on the whispers directed towards Harry and the Dark Lord returning, he doubted that they would be anything good when pertaining to him.

For the moment, though, he simply pulled out his favourite quill and got to work writing down the things that Professor Vector was saying.

~*"*~

Draco tilted his head back and breathed in the night air that was surrounding him. It felt as though he could almost touch it; the way the dank and thick particles flowed through his nostrils like silk and how the dark sky accentuated the stars on its inky blackness like white splatters on a dark canvas.