Blood Boundary [A DRAMIONE fanfiction]

14 | Snake and Lion

He shook his head, smiling. "No, I don't mind."

"Alright, I'll be back in an hour."

- - - - - - - - - - 

"Come on, where is it?" He frantically looked from underneath his bed. 

Five minutes after Blaise and Hermione left his room, Draco had subconsciously placed his hand in his robe pocket, just to check if the page was still there. When it was nowhere to be found, he had basically turned his bedroom upside down, anxiety striking him. 

He just hoped that no one would find it before he does.

"Come on, where are you?" 

He never should've taken it out from inside his pillowcase. He should've never even placed it inside his pocket, just sitting there, as vulnerable as him. And now, worst case scenario, someone might have found it, and, if the person was smart enough, he or she might have already deduced who the owner of the bloody page was. 

His fever was shooting up again, Granger had said. If anything, it added to the adrenaline he was feeling right now, and it increase the need for him to find her picture. 

It's not anywhere on the floor, on his duvet. He even tried looking in the loo, even though he vividly remembered not going into the loo before he and Blaise had gone downstairs.

Someone might have found it by now, he thought to himself. If it were Blaise who had found it, he'd abruptly go up and give it to him personally. He can't imagine the page being in the hands Harry or Ron—or even worse, Granger herself. He just might prefer to be locked up in Azkaban, so he can never have to look at her face again. 

He heaved a breath, telling himself to calm down. "You just have to go downstairs." He muttered to himself. "Just go downstairs non-chalantly, and ask Blaise to help you look for it. Right."

Draco slowly sauntered down the steps, looking down at every inch of the living room's floor area, the muffled voices of the three boys distant and incoherent.

"Ah, blast it." He scolded himself.

It's not on the stairs. It's not in the living room, he thought. Might as well go to the dining room. 

He inhaled deeply, ignoring the migraine he was feeling. When he got to the room, he was surprised to see Blaise, his friend, play wizard chess with Weasley. The three of them looked like they were having a great time. The table was cleaned, the dirty dishes where nowhere to be found, and, instead, a chessboard was on top of it. 

He looked away at the sight, jealousy running through his veins. He'd never seen Blaise smile like that; and knowing that his witty remarks nor his mischievous pranks at Potter or Weasley had been the cause of that grin, he found himself scowling at himself. 

"Why the face, Malfoy?" Harry asked him. Ron and Blaise looked up from their intent game, their laughter dispersing into the air. 

"Nothing, Potter," he tried his best to act demeaning. "I'm just—"

"—looking for something, mate?" Ron asked him, his tone oddly kind. The fact that he had just call him his mate, it made his stomach churn with anxiety. 

"None of your business, weasel." He turned to look at Blaise. "Can I talk to you for a second, Zabini?"

He glanced over at Ron, who was looking at him expectantly. 

"You go," Ron told him. "It'll just be a second, after all."

Draco pierced his eyes at him, turning around to walk to the living room. Blaise followed him suite.