wrong ||| dramione

Memories of Year 1 + Year 4 || The World Cup

- Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people.

Draco looked up once more, feeling humiliated by his father in front of the Weasleys - but as he saw who was standing up there with them, his heart sank even lower.

***

Had it really been him, just a month earlier, standing on the balcony of his room where he'd grown up, looking out into the darkness of the rainy night? Was he really trying to forget a dream he'd just had, a dream that made no sense and could never make any sense?

Why was he still thinking of her? What was the matter with him? Draco could be blind at times, but he was no fool. He knew that out of nowhere, out of the black cloud that he called his soul, a feeling had come out, a feeling so raw and unnerving he was panicking.

There was no way he could care about her. She was a Mudblood, a pest, someone who had to be erased... He had never liked her, why was he acting his way now?

He tried to remember every interaction they'd had, but soon got lost in the number. Second year, he'd gone into the Hospital Wing to look at her as she lay there, petrified... Why did he do that?Did he already care too much about her back then?

Draco passed a hand through his hair and walked over to the railing where he could feel stray raindrops falling gently on his head. Outside, it was pouring.

Granger. Hermione Granger. 

Why think about her now, when she was nowhere to be seen? When he was surrounded by so many people and didn't have to run into her every day or share classes with her?

Wasn't he supposed to be happy about it?

A voice inside him was getting angry and it was the same voice that he tried to make his own, a voice that whispered:

"You like her, admit it. But you have yet the power to stop it. You're not that far gone. You have to fight it, Draco. You've always been a fighter, you can win just one more. All it takes is cutting the feeling."

And for the next couple of days and weeks and months, it worked that way. He resolved not to think about her and even though sometimes he saw her in his dreams, usually angry at him and him feeling an indescribable sense of sadness because of it, he no longer suffered.

The main feat remained - to meet her again and not to react.

***

But there she was, averting her eyes from him as if on purpose. 

Draco gazed at her, oblivious to the sound of his father's voice... Granger. The pain in his ribs seemed to augment as he thought that she too had witnessed his childish attempt to laugh at Harry and get physically attacked by his own father instead.

And Potter was holding her by the hand, trying to turn her away and shield her from whom... from him??

His father suddenly caught the edge of Harry's leg with his long stick and Harry was forced to listen to his threats. Hermione stood there, breathing heavily - but whether it was from fear or from something else, Draco didn't know. 

He looked up at her for such a long time, he felt he'd forgotten about everything else. The voices in his head screamed for a second and died down as he realised he had underestimated how badly he wanted her to look at him - even if it was with loathing...

But no, she wasn't. Draco felt desperate - his father walked away and it was a matter of seconds before he saw Draco's absence and would humiliate him again.

- Look at me, Granger. Look at me... 

He felt ridiculous now with his beautiful black clothes and shiny hair and privileged position - what did it matter if all of it couldn't make Granger look at him, at least once?

- Draco? - came the voice cutting through his thoughts, the voice of trauma and deference, love and disgust at the same time.

He was just about to push himself away from the railing and kill the humming in his heart when it finally happened.

Just as Harry pulled her after him, she looked straight into his eyes - and it was only for a second and Draco couldn't know if it was with hatred, impassivity or anything at all, but their eyes had locked - and he suddenly felt whole again, as if the world was slowly coming back t him, and he was attractive, rich and powerful all over again.

- Draco, are you coming or not?

- Yes, father. - and Draco ran after him, flushed and scared of a reprimand or worse, another poke in the ribs.

But as his light quick feet carried him over the wooden floors, and his white hair flowed in the wind, Draco Malfoy caught his breath and smiled, and the voices in his head searched for an answer to his joy but could find none.

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