Silencio

Chapter 6

She didn't make another effort to speak to him.

Draco now had nothing to distract him from his task and his nightmares. He worked as diligently on it as ever before, yet there was absolutely no progress. He needed a distraction, he soon had to admit. Something that could allow him to relax a bit, perhaps even take his mind off things. He had originally planned the meeting with Granger because of that very same urge, but that obviously hadn't worked. He was at a loss as to what else would do it.

Quidditch didn't interest him anymore. It seemed entirely too frivolous waste of time when he should be doing something else, something much more important. He had a suspicion that the only reason he wasn't kicked off the team was because of the bribe that had gotten him there, to begin with. It didn't matter, he simply didn't care. They could do whatever the hell they wanted.

No, he needed to find another outlet. Normally, he would have loved to take it out on Potter, but since he was rarely found without a bushy-haired little vixen near him, Draco opted to avoid him, too. Besides, Potter didn't need another reason to follow him around. For now, Draco had to live with being stuck in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction.

*****

One night, he was lounging in the Slytherin common room, just staring at the wall, thinking about nothing in particular. His mind was severely muddled by lack of sleep, but there seemed to be nothing to do about it. Dark thoughts kept him awake at night, and when he finally fell asleep, nightmares would wake him again. He had had to start casting silencing charms on the curtains around his bed to keep his roommates from finding out.

After one such nightmare, it was very rare that he could go back to sleep again. The few times he had succeeded, it had only been due to some stupid fantasy that he now did his best not to think about. He didn't need it. He'd be fine without pining for useless things.

He had, of course, considered going to Madam Pomfrey to get some sort of sleeping draught, but she would ask too many questions. Questions he didn't want to answer.

Pansy sidled a little closer to him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

Draco didn't even look her way. "Nothing," he replied.

"You don't look well. You should go to the hospital wing." Always with the astute observations.

Draco considered whether that was concern in her voice, or if it was simply veiled disgust. He supposed she did have some concern for him. "I'm fine, Pansy, just tired," he assured her.

Zabini entered the room, looking haughty as ever. For a brief second, Draco envied him. Zabini had not a care in the world. His biggest problems were his grades and how to assert himself as an alpha male.

Draco even considered for a moment if he himself would be willing to live the rest of his life as an underdog, if it meant never having to deal with this kind of stress again. With a heavy sigh, he conceded that, no, he wouldn't. He was the last Malfoy, and he would remain on top or die trying. He was very likely to die trying, actually, but everyone had to die sometime, right? He swallowed hard. He had just thought that he would have at least a century to get used to the idea.

Zabini sat down in the chair across from the sofa Draco and Pansy were inhabiting and Pansy took Draco's hand. Huh. She hadn't seemed overly eager to touch him just a second ago. He felt a little disgusted with himself that even this insignificant and contrived touch comforted him in some ways.

"What's up, Blaise?" Pansy asked, attracting his cold, dark eyes. Draco always did wonder why she seemed to like that bloke so well.

"Nothing much. There was a rumor of some Mudblood in our year puking her guts out all over the place. We'll probably all be sick from the likes of her within the month."