Around us || Draco Malfoy

41

Weeks and weeks passed since the night I fell apart in Draco's arms. With every passing moment I had started feeling a tiny bit better and eventually I started to be okay again.

Things at Hogwarts were different. Umbridge had been named as the high inquisitor and she had been putting all these new rules on to make our life even more boring.

Her classes were still bullshit with no magic, but I had learned to sit quietly and not make a scene again, just because of Snape's threats of getting me expelled.

The back of my left hand was still sore everytime it was touched, and the words never disappeared – they just simply faded a little. But I had learned not to look at the words anymore, not wanting reminds about that night.

We had read and heard about the dissapearments of witches and wizards, and seen how the ministry is covering things up – well depending on who you're asking.

Some people blindly believed the ministry, some had their doubts. And then there were the few of us who still believed what Potter said – that Voldemort was back.

I guess it was easier to people to believe the soothing story about everything being okay. Why would they voluntarily want to believe that there might be a another war coming, not when they could just trust what the ministry said and not worry about it.

But the few of us who were somehow closer to the subject, who had some kind of emotional bond to it, still believed the boy who lived. The ones who had lost something – someone. Or the ones that had been touched deeply by the last war. Or simply the ones who were brave enough to think about the possibilities of the worse side of the story.

And then there was Draco, who had his own beliefs – that he claims comes from his family and are logical and safe.

"We've talked this like hundred times already" I sighed walking along a corridor, holding Draco's hand in mine.

"I know, but I just don't want you to get hurt. Why won't you just consider the fact that maybe there aren't anything to be afraid of and he-who-must-not-be-named isn't back?" Draco said, looking at me, serious expression written on his sharp face. It surely wasn't the first time Draco had tried to make me change my mind, and somehow I understood him because he was never really touched by the war – well that's what I knew of his family. He had no reason to not believe what his family was telling him. That was always his excuse, his family believing the ministry.

But I had my reasons for my point of view. My parents were killed by Voldemort, just like Harry said Cedric was. I had lost too many of my family members to not believe Potter.

"You know well why I won't do that. Can we just not talk about this?" I said, not wanting to continue this conversation any longer – I had seen how this ends so many times already to not make that mistake anymore. "I don't want to fight" I added, looking at Draco.

"I know, me neither" Draco sighed, giving up again. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we continued walking in silence.

                                              

I watched from the seats of the almost empty quidditch stadium as the Slytherin team was flying around the pitch, practising for the upcoming match. No one was sure if the quidditch season could even continue anymore, since Umbridge had already banned most of the students in Gryffindor team, and few players from other houses as well. It sure looked like it wouldn't be much of a competition if the other team was missing half of their players.

My gaze was focused on the blonde boy, howering over the other players, trying to find the golden snitch. Draco's hair was damp and it fell messily down on his forehead everytime he looked down. He was wearing his quidditch robes and he was sitting in his broomstick annoyed, both hands up in the air as he had to scoot down because one of the players almost hit him with the quaffle.

As I was so focused on Draco, I didn't notice one player flying next to the seats I was sitting on, stopping right in front of me.

"Didn't know you liked quidditch?" He said, making me turn my head towards the speaker. Adrian Pucey, one of the chasers. He brushed his sweaty black hair back with his hand and tilted his head a bit, waiting for my answer.

"I do actually" I sat up straight, slight grin on my face. "I just always cheered my cousin – not you guys" I said, already waiting for the lecture about the stupid house pride. But instead he just smiled a little and looked down.

"I'm sorry, he was a great guy. And a great seeker" Adrian said as he looked up again, and after seeing my small smile, he turned his broom around and joined the others again.

"Guess I'm not the only one coming to say I'm sorry today" I got startled by another voice, coming from the direction of the stairs this time. I turned to look at the sound, finding Fred Weasley standing at the edge of the stadium. He was looking at me, his both hands leaning on the railing.

"Weasley?" I asked, making him walk to me and sitting next to me.

"I came to say that I'm sorry about the whole fiasko last year. And that I'm really sorry about Cedric"

I stared at the boy, confused why he now suddenly felt like apologising after so many months.

"Thanks" I managed to say, still looking at the boy with a puzzled expression. "I'm sorry too, for like how it was handled" I quickly added to not seem so harsh.

"It's fine" Fred brushed it off. "But actually that's not why I'm here" he continued and took a piece of paper from his pocket.

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows as in asking him what was going on.

"I heard you talking about how you still believed Harry and all that, and just wanted you to have this" he gave me the folded piece of paper and stood up, already taking few steps from me, his back facing the direction he was going.

"Just come and check it out, please" he pointed at the paper and turned around, dissapearing into the staircase.