Song of the chapter: Half A Man- Dean Lewis
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the thick windows of the Hospital Wing. There weren't very many other than the owls here this time of year due to the thick snowfall we never failed to get but the uncommon tune of a bird was heard every now and then.
I turned my head to relieve the knot in my neck and found Draco's eyes open and trailing over my face.
"Good morning," I yawned.
"Speak entirely for yourself. Madam Pomfrey hasn't come in to discharge me yet," he groaned.
"Perhaps that's a good thing. You were hurt really badly yesterday," I said, shifting my position again.
"You don't know anything, Grey," his cold reply sounded.
Right.
Did I really think our conversation last night had changed anything? Maybe I had hoped but it seemed all too biblical a thought now.
I sighed and sat up, determined to get some answers.
"Fine then. I don't know anything. But maybe that's on you. Maybe you should tell me things more often like you used to before you kissed me and ruined the perfectly fine friendship we had," I battled. My words were truer than I meant for them to be and they stabbed my tongue coming out.
He opened his mouth to make a rebuttal that I'm sure would've shut me up but Madam Pomfrey came bustling in at that very moment and cut his remark short.
"Miss Grey you can leave. Mr. Malfoy on the other hand..."
I stood up, gave Draco a teasing smirk and headed out of the Hospital Wing, leaving him to his check-up.
My lessons were unnervingly bland. I had Care Of Magical Creatures with Hagrid which would've been a highlight of my day if it hadn't been a lesson on pixies, something we'd already covered. Twice.
Then potions class came in which Harry earned another praise from Slughorn. I could barely watch the process. Harry's smile shone out and I wanted to punch him for hurting Draco. I only refrained for the sake of the rest of the class and Draco's honor.
Herbology was a silly lesson on the properties of Wolfsbane.
Arithmancy I had with Hermione. We discussed the upcoming prospect of Christmas and I asked her if she was planning on going home, to which she answered she would be staying in the castle this year.
The rest of the lessons were too long and my mind was too tired to pick up on the things we were taught.
It was evening but the time I saw Draco again.
The day had become precariously grey without even hinting at snow. I dragged my feet to the Great Hall after my very last class, charms, and taken my normal seat at the Slytherin table with Millicent and Daphne who were very certain my answer would change if they asked me how I was feeling over and over again. Each time I answered, "I'm fine thank you."
I ate a little, drank a little, but mostly listened to the conversation my two friends were heatedly having over whether or not a Mandrake root would cure a muggle who'd been put into a coma. I had to press a hand to my mouth to stop myself from laughing when they made some strange assumption about muggle life that was so very wrong indeed.
For the first time in a while, my eyes didn't dance from face too face looking for Draco's pointed nose and vivid blue eyes. It felt nice to say the least.
When the feast was over and the plates of food emptied I felt contented. I planned on confronting Draco the next time I saw him which would, without a doubt, be sooner than was healthy for me. This plan made me feel stronger, more hopeful and also very, unhelpfully full of anxiety.
I made my way into the corridor, following the crowd of Slytherins and reminding myself of Dumbledore's words of advice he'd given me that day in his office after I'd been attacked.
When a hand shot out of the dark shadows and grabbed my arm I thought not of the impending danger I was quite possibly in, but of Draco and his habit of pulling me into deserted areas, getting all too close to me, making my heart race and then promptly leaving me again.
Luckily it was the latter.
Draco's skin was soft against mine as he lead me into a dark classroom and lit his wand.
"Good evening Draco," I smirked.
"You didn't give me a chance to defend myself earlier," he growled as a greeting.
"Ah- false. Madam Pomfrey didn't give you the chance to defend yourself this morning," I corrected slyly.
"Don't be a prick," he said, only a hint of a smile playing at his perfect lips. I wanted so badly to get another chance to kiss them.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I said sarcastically, raising my hands in surrender. "That title is reserved for you."
He looked angry enough that it almost made me scared. I took advantage of his silence and forced myself to speak in a new tone. A sympathetic but questioning tone.
"What did Harry mean when he said you hexed someone?" I asked, finally letting out the question I'd been dying to learn the answer to.
"That's none of your business is it?" he snarled.
"Fine. If you won't answer anything I ask then I'll just leave." I turned to follow through on my words but he stopped me, turning me back around to face him. My heart gave an unethical jump.
"He thought I hexed Katie Bell," he sighed.
"Well? Did you?" I asked expectantly.
He went very still and extremely silent. I almost screamed. He had hexed her. He really had. I wondered what the context was before I shook my head and reminded myself that there was nothing that could make that right.
"Did I really miss that much?" I whispered. I was stunned at the fact I didn't even know what was happening at my own school. Then I was angry at Draco for preoccupying so much of my time and thoughts.
He looked at me pleadingly. Half of me wanted to smack him. The other half wanted to pull him in and hug him.
"Draco?" I whispered.
"I didn't mean to hex her. I swear I didn't," he told me. His eyes creased downwards into an excruciating sad expression.
"So you did hex her then?" I asked, only wanting to be completely sure.
His eyes begged me not to make him say anything but he nodded his head. Then he looked to the ground, to his feet. A few tears slipped out of his eyes which he brushed away quickly. My resolve, my will to be angry at him, all of it evaporated into thin air leaving me with a strange feeling that I should be comforting him.
"Draco," I said very softly. He brought his eyes up to meet mine.
"People make mistakes you know," I told him, tilting his chin up even more.
"Not those kinds of mistakes. Not the kind where you almost kill someone," he sobbed.
"Well guess what? She's at school. I saw her today in a few lessons. She's okay," I comforted.
"Doesn't change the fact that I could've killed her," he whimpered.
I stayed quiet, letting him think about it for himself.
"Will you ever forgive me Angel?" he asked.
A pause. Then:
"Already have. I don't care that you made a mistake Draco. I'm here for you now and always," I whispered. "No matter how many times you make big, stupid mistakes."
"That's not the worst thing Angel," he whispered back. His voice wavered.
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't mean to hex her," he told me quietly.
I knew my eyes were asking so many questions that my mouth couldn't possibly.
"I meant to hex Dumbledore."
My arms dropped back to my sides limply and he looked at me tragically. He was trying to kill the one person who'd ever accepted me.
"Dumbledore?" I repeated.
He nodded guiltily, tears flowing freely down his face now.
"Why?" I whispered.
"He made me. He wants me to kill Dumbledore."
"Who? Who made you Draco?" I asked. My voice sounded hollow and cold. Draco glanced at me nervously.
"Angel," he begged.
"Who?" I demanded.
Without looking up, without opening his mouth, Draco pulled up one sleeve of his suit and revealed a seething black tattoo.
The Dark Mark.