A Heavenly Betrayal (Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Exposed

Maria woke up Saturday morning in her bed. Everything that had happened the previous night was a big blur. She concentrated hard and had a distant memory of walking up the Ravenclaw tower, almost dream-like. She concentrated even harder and remembered that Malfoy wasn’t with her. She looked at her trunk and saw her wand lying on it. Relieved, she fell onto her fluffy pillow with a sigh. Sadly, her comfort was short-lived, for she shot straight back up: she had tons of homework to do and was behind schedule. She had to get working!

Meanwhile, Malfoy too was lying in his bed. He, on the other hand, remembered perfectly what had happened the previous night after she had fallen asleep. When he had heard Filch approaching, he had extended a long, white hand to her peaceful figure. Upon brushing her shoulder with his fingertips, her bright, blue-green eyes had opened and found his immediately. The image was imprinted in his memory, as vivid as a picture – for moment, he had doubted if it would ever wash away. How could he possibly forget those eyes? They were so piercing, so honest, so expressive, so... beautiful. The image haunted him. Filch had eventually appeared out of the darkness and after having carefully examined the trophies, had given them back their wands and rushed them off to bed. That night, his usual nightmares about the Dark Lord had turned into dreams of mermaids, of golden trophies and of Peeves trapped in a jar…

They both spent their entire Saturday catching up on homework. By the end of the day, Maria was done all of hers. She didn’t really have a choice; tomorrow was devoted to her first ever Quidditch practice. Roger Davies had booked the pitch for the whole afternoon: he wanted to make sure they had a head’s start on the other houses. Finally out of the library, she hurried off to the Great Hall for dinner; she was starving. She sat down beside Luna Lovegood, said hello and began shoving food in her mouth, not even taking the time to fill her plate. She was listening to Luna talk about a featured article in her father’s magazine, The Quibbler, when Cho Chang arrived, cutting across Luna:

"I can’t believe we have a four hour practice tomorrow! It’s murder!"

"No Cho, You-Know-Who killing people because he feels like it, that’s murder."

For a second, Cho looked as though she didn’t know what to answer.

"Um, of course. Anyways, see you later!"

Cho left as fast as she had come and Maria didn’t bother saying bye. She usually didn’t really mind Cho, but she didn’t like the way she had interrupted and ignored Luna. 

"I’m sorry Luna," she apologized guiltily.

"Oh no, it’s okay. It isn’t your fault."

"So, what were you saying about those Wrackspurts?"

Luna looked a bit surprised that Maria had been following her, but nonetheless pleased to be asked to continue. The girls were one of the last students to leave the Hall. They were talking animatedly but fatigue inevitably came upon them, so they parted and went to bed.

***

Draco Malfoy didn’t have breakfast Sunday morning. He was fleeing other’s company these days, more than before. It felt to him like he was being dragged into darkness – into nothingness. He may not have been the nicest guy around, but he wasn’t cruel, unlike his father. He would not share his burden with anyone: he didn’t wish to share this unbearable pain and desperation. Isolating himself would make it easier not only for him, but for the others as well... hopefully. 

He wandered around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, remembering with a knot in his stomach the first time he had seen the Dark Lord. He had been so young... and naïve. He would have been absolutely delighted to know that when he grew up, he would be in this position. However things have changed since then… things he didn’t understand back then, things he wasn’t aware of. His father meant him to believe that this was what he wanted, even now, when he was old enough to see through the web of lies. He kept telling him that this was where he ought to be; but somehow, it didn’t feel right to Draco. He wasn’t like his father and though he admired him in certain aspects, he didn’t want to be. 

He sat at the foot of a tall tree, facing the Quidditch pitch. He could see small figures zooming around the field and tiny balls flying around. He spent the entire afternoon watching the Ravenclaw team practice, clearing his mind of all other things. He was trying so hard to postpone the moment he would have to think seriously about his future; about what would become of him. But then a sharp pain in his left forearm reminded him that the Dark Lord didn’t wait and that his future was no longer in his own hands.

***

Four hours later, Maria was all in sweats, craving a nice bubbly bath. The Quidditch practice had proven to be quite fun, after all. She was the last person to leave the changing rooms; all the others had vanished quickly, unable to stand the rumbling in their stomachs. On her way out, she noticed that the silhouette that had lain huddled against a distant tree all afternoon had left. She didn’t bother any further. Humming, she headed not for the Great Hall, but for the prefects’ bathroom. She opened the wooden door... and regretted it instantly.

"Oh… sorry, the door... it was unlocked and I… I didn’t know..." she mumbled as her cheeks reddened at an alarming pace.

Malfoy was sitting in the pool-sized bathtub. Luckily for the both of them, there were still plenty of bubbles. 

"I’m leaving anyway," he answered emotionless.

She walked back outside, utterly embarrassed and waited, staring at her feet while Malfoy got out of the tub and put his clothes back on. He had tied a black bandana around his left forearm, and Maria hadn’t missed it. At first, she tried convincing herself that it wasn’t possible, that he couldn’t be a... well, that. It had to be there by coincidence - and only coincidence... A minute later, he was out the door and didn’t even look at her as he passed by. It was as if she hadn’t been standing there, and that meant no good: he had seen her glimpse it too. 

She was looking at him stroll away when something struck her. He seemed thinner; it was noticeable now that his wet shirt was sticking to him. She felt her heart sink, although she wasn’t too sure why. What she had just observed was proof that what she had been thinking since the beginning of the year was true: whatever it was Malfoy was going through, it had something to do with the Dark Lord and it was bad enough to affect him not only mentally, but physically too.

It saddened her to see Malfoy like this - no, it startled her. She was almost wishing that he could be his old arrogant, proud and over-confidant self once again. She had to find out what was going on.