CHAPTER ELEVEN

1.6K 47 67
                                    



"Love and hatred are not blind, but are blinded by the fire they bear within themselves." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Draco woke up feeling hollow and weak and a little puffy, but cleansed. Like he'd been thoroughly and forcefully rinsed and then wrung out, clearing away the debris of the lies and repressions he'd clogged himself with out of a deluded sense of self-preservation. He slid out of bed, realizing he'd fallen asleep in his clothes from yesterday. It was yet another thing to strike off the list of 'Things Draco Malfoy Never Does.' He went into his bathroom and splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up, then lifted his eyes to the mirror.

The same face peered back at him: the same tilted, translucent grey eyes, the almost invisible, blond, arched eyebrows, the high, subtle yet defining cheekbones, and the thin nose. The soft blond hair was now long enough to begin toying with the idea of drifting onto his forehead.

He realized he'd been expecting to look different, to be somehow marked by what he'd acknowledged last night. It had changed his inner composition irrevocably, so it only seemed fitting that his outward composition should have shifted as well. He was both relieved and regretful that it hadn't. He didn't want people to be able to give him a once-over and know, but it had been such an impossible, heart-rending thing to acknowledge, such a monumental personal upheaval, that he felt the outside world should have felt the change, too, on some level. He leaned closer to the mirror, as close as he could get without losing view of his whole face, looking for some physical indication that a new Draco Malfoy now inhabited his body. Still nothing.

And then, though he didn't move a muscle, the corner of his reflection's mouth twitched ever so slightly upwards.

When Draco approached the Slytherin table a half an hour later for breakfast, he saw Pansy and Goyle sitting across from each other. The sight struck Draco as oddly domestic and cozy, the two of them sharing space and sipping coffee. It made him ache a little, in a corner of his heart he hadn't known existed. It must belong to the new Draco.

Pansy glanced over suddenly and noticed his approach, then forcefully set her coffee mug down and stood up. She stormed away from the table, pointedly not looking at Draco as she passed him but staring stonily ahead. Somewhat to Draco's surprise, Goyle stood up to follow. He shrugged apologetically at Draco and his body language, ever more eloquent than his tongue, seemed to say, "What can you do?" Then he, too, walked away.

Some kind of alliance appeared to be forming between the two of them, Draco mused as he sat down by himself, a pale deserted island in a sea of black robes. As it stood now, it looked as if his friend count had dissipated from 2 to 0. It struck him that he should be more bothered by this, but he'd never measured himself by the number of people who liked him – if he had, his value would be even lower than he currently appraised it at – and he had more pressing concerns this morning, of all mornings. Far more pressing indeed.

Such as the fact that in twenty minutes he would be seated next to Harry Potter for almost two hours, since today was double Potions. Not only would he be seated next to Potter, but he would be seated next to the... Draco shut his eyes and his stomach knotted. The person responsible for putting those knots in his stomach. The object of his oh-so misguided affections.

Draco really had to hand it to whoever was in charge in the larger-than-life scheme of things: this was one sick twist he had never seen coming.

Last night's submission to the invasion of the truth had been a quiet thing, sneaking into his mind under the cover of darkness. Now, rather than being able to chalk it up to the folly of semi-consciousness and over-wrought emotions, the light of day seemed to be illuminating every newly clear corner within Draco, showing him just how surely this truth had taken root in him. It was reaching eagerly up toward the light, preening and begging for attention.

Two Sides of the Same Coin(DRARRY) Unde poveștirile trăiesc. Descoperă acum