Malfoy's Moon

letters and tears

"Another letter?" Pansy says, observing her with dark, raised eyebrows. "From who?"

"No one," Astra says at once.

"Probably her parents saying they can't afford next term's books," a Slytherin boy pipes up and Malfoy gives a grudging smile.

The taste of his comment is bitter; her parents' fall from wealth and their high position at the Ministry was distressing, but they aren't poor, aren't struggling. Watching the boy's eyes glimmer with laughter, and the slight upturn of Malfoy's mouth just about tips her temper over the edge.

She tucks the letter in the pocket of her robes, away from Pansy's prying eyes. When she's finally left breakfast, she tears open the letter with slightly fumbling fingers.

Miss. Hawkings,

I have scheduled an appointment with you this upcoming Christmas break. We shall be able to talk more openly there, and I'd expect you to give me an update.

I will see you then.

- Barty Crouch

There's no avoiding it. Meeting Crouch is inevitable.

Like a telltale whisper of something in the back labyrinth of her mind, where she begged it keep still, her father's words travel to her shaking fingertips.

Be careful around Crouch... He fights the Dark with just as much fervor as they do, with the same kind of force and intensity.

And what would happen when she told Crouch that Draco Malfoy had simply obliterated her two attempts to get a hold of him?

How was she supposed to catch him when she could now barely look him in the eyes, petrified of those glassless windows to his soul?

It was not the thought of his death that held her back; it was making another plan, again, going after him, again, and watching him hold her back, tie her attempt in shackles worthy of those surrounding Azkaban, again.

She can feel her heart nearly come to a shuddering stop as she unravels her thoughts in her mind.

Between the lack of sleep and empty stomach, she feels the sudden desire to run, letting her legs carry her where her own mind couldn't, letting the air rush past her when her own fears couldn't.

In some distant part of her mind that she's already beginning to discard, her awareness obliges just enough to recognize that she's standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Her head is slightly bowed against the harsh, cruel wind that blusters in.

She hardly registers the slight creak of a door, hardly can comprehend as someone walks in and leans against the railing, just a foot away from her.

"Malfoy, leave."

He doesn't move.

"For God's sake, Malfoy. Just go."

Frustration and pure anger have conquered any of her common sense. Everything comes plunging at her. All the pressure. All the fear. All the letters. All of the mind-destroying thoughts.

A cold, lone tear escapes her eye, trickling down her cheek in a stream of shame. From the corner of her brimming eyes, she can see him watch her, rapt with attention.

"Just go. Please." She's begging now, but she doesn't care. "Please just leave."

He moves closer and she's forced to look up at him.

"Pathetic, Hawkings." He says, slowly.

After a couple of beats of silence where the empty void is just filled with her shuddered breathing, he says, "You know Adrian was just joking. Don't tell me that actually hurt you."

"I told you to leave."

"You're not the only one who's subjected to hurtful words, Hawkings. Get over yourself."

"It's not that, Malfoy. This might come as a shocker to you, but you don't know everything, so stop acting like you understand." Astra says, determined to dampen his grandiose ego even just a little.

"What don't I know?" Malfoy says, his cold tone challenging. "How you've nearly tried to attack me twice?"

"Like I said, you don't understand everything." She says, wrapping her trembling hands around the railing in order to calm herself. She realizes that her anger has ceased the flow of tears, so that the leftover streams are just lying on her cheeks, receiving a chill whenever the wind blows against them.

"Pathetic," Malfoy repeats.

"I'm not pathetic."

"Stop acting like it, then."

She whips around, a sudden fire igniting in her stomach. "Can you just leave? You know, I pity you, Malfoy. More than I despise you, actually. All you do is find comfort in hurting other people – just stop using your own issues as an excuse to do so – just stop."

For a moment, his features are oddly still. She wonders if his mask of calmness hides his fury. She can feel some sort of vindictive satisfaction at seeing him seethe. At least he's feeling of fraction of the anger that she feels.

"I suppose your comfort is going around attacking people, then."

"Piss off," she mutters.

Malfoy's hand suddenly touches her face, his forefinger and thumb brushing gently over her glazed tears. And he's not taking them away, not brushing the tears off. His hand is just there.

If it had been any other time, if she had been in any other state of mind, she would've whipped his hand off her face and backed away. But she's willing to give up on any sense of sanity and she finds herself melting just slightly in his unexpected touch.

From clutching the iron railing so tightly, his hand emits a metallic scent.

Oddly enough, it reminds her of blood.

Her eyes move up to lock into his cerulean colored eyes, with specks of silver painted among the streaks of blue.

Just as soon as his hand is there, he removes it, like there was some electric shock of his palm against her skin.

Before he leaves, she can feel his hand in the pocket of her robes briefly.

She looks down and finds a tinge of silver flashing in her pocket. For a second, her hazy, teared up eyes are reminded of the blade of that knife all those days ago. But then, as she looks closer –

"Your necklace." Malfoy mutters. "Found it stuck to a button of my suit when we... when we – that other night."

When she looks back up, he has already left the room. 

a/n: malfoy's literally bipolar