I'm Still That Confused Little Girl, but It's so Much More Confusing Now

When we got there Draco sat me down on the floor in one of the more discrete aisles and pulled out his wand. He tapped it on one of the bricks on the wall next to me. It moved aside revealing a few bottles of butterbeer. He drew two out and handed me one, before welding the brick back into place with his wand.

“Drink that. It’ll make you feel better.” Draco said quietly. Sitting down next to me and opening both our bottles. I took a drink, trying to gather my thoughts from the wreckage. My breathing pattern started to return to normal after a few drinks of butterbeer. I closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall of the library.

“Sorry.” I whispered.

“It’s fine Smith. Just get back to normal. You don’t have to explain.” He said, wrapping his arm round my shoulders and pulling me toward him. I sighed as a few tears seeped down my cheeks and dripped onto his shirt. I took a few minutes in silence to calm me down.

“It’s just, quidditch. I don’t do it because more than anything it brings back the day he die-“ My voice jammed in my throat. “Sorry.” I said softly.

“Stop apologising Felicity.” He said, equally gentle. “You’ve never talked to anyone about him have you? Your dad.” I shook my head noiselessly, still not opening my eyes. Somehow opening them seemed like giving in. With my eyes closed, I could pretend that me and Draco weren’t insane for having a remotely civilised conversation. Never mind something as intimate as this. I knew perfectly well that if anyone found us like this it would be all over the school in seconds. And Blaise was right; neither of us could afford that. I would lose my friends. Draco would lose his whole life.

“We’re stupid Draco. Doing this.” I heard and felt him sigh deeply, acknowledging my point. But neither of us moved an inch.

“I know. But for some reason I can’t stay away from you.” He said softly, resting his head on mine. “And that’s something I never thought I’d feel. Pure, sheer hopelessness.” I let out a quiet laugh. “What?” He said, indignant. A smile spread across my face.

“Hopelessness is all I ever feel. To me, this is the most certain thing I’ve felt since he died. We’re entirely different Draco. We should hate everything about each other.” Now it was his turn to let out a laugh.

“Who says I don’t?” The smile in his voice was all too clear. I couldn’t help but smile. I sighed, opening my eyes and looking down at our legs.

“Why do you always wear suit trousers? Even when it’s a Saturday?” I asked him quietly. He brushed a piece of dirt from his thigh, as if just noticing it.

“It’s just how I was brought up. Why do you always look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards? Even when it’s a weekday?” He said jokingly. I laughed.

“It’s just how I was brought up.”

“You were brought up like a jungle child?” He said in amusement.

“No.” I grinned, shook my head and moved so I could lock my eyes with his. “I was brought up not caring about how I look. My mother hates it.” The smile on his face drifted away.

“You don’t like her I take it?” I frowned, wondering how he knew that. “Please, it’s not hard to figure out. You never go home unless forced, you barely speak about her and when you do it’s ‘mother’ not ‘mum’.”

“You say ‘mother’.” I pointed out, a little annoyed. He raised a dark blonde eyebrow at me.

“Yes. But I say ‘father’ too. You say ‘dad’.” I breathed out an indignant breath.

“Yeah well. It’s hardly any of your business anyway.” He sighed and pulled his arm a little tighter around my body. Tight enough that he could feel the scars that peppered my arm. I felt his fingers tracing the scars, trying to figure out why the skin felt wrong. I closed my eyes and extracted myself from his grasp, pulling my sleeve up past the scars there. I looked at him, watching for his reaction.

It was not what I expected. Most people reacted with thinly veiled disgust. Some people reacted with indifference or sympathy. Draco reacted by placing his hand on one of the scars and running his fingers lightly between the scars.

“They’re beautiful.” He said gently, his voice littered with fascination.

“What?” I said in sudden shock. He wrenched his eyes away from my arm, locking his eyes on mine. He rearranged his face, from awe to normal.

“Sorry. That was probably the last thing you wanted to hear.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just no one’s ever said that before. Everyone kind of hates them.” He shook his head slowly, still tracing the scars with his fingers. They were as cool as they always were, but they were still making my skin tingle.

“I think they’re fascinating.” We sat for a moment in silence. I leaned over and picked my butterbeer up. I took a drink then looked at my drink in confusion.

“Why do you have butterbeer in a wall?” I said quietly, a laugh filtering through the question. He glanced at his own butterbeer, which was sitting abandoned next to his leg. He rested his hand on my arm, pulling slightly; inviting me to lean against him again. I did, but more upright this time. So that I was more on the wall than him, so that our shoulders and arms were touching, I could feel warmth radiating through our shirts. Odd, his hands were so cold but the rest of him was warm. I smiled; surprisingly I was actually feeling better.

“It was Nott’s idea. No one would ever expect alcohol to be in a library.” He shrugged. “Although it’s so far away from the common room, that we never use this stock. So it lies here pretty much all year untouched.” He smiled thinly. “It was a stupid idea. He’s a daft guy really. Lethal with a wand though. His father has been teaching him new hexes.” I frowned.

“Regular or dark?” I asked. Draco turned his head to look at me, as if assessing how serious my question was. He seemed to come to the conclusion my question was earnest.

“Dark,” He answered shortly. He watched me for a reaction. I can’t say I was too affected; I had known already that some of the Slytherins were involved with the Dark Arts. I turned my head away, ending the conversation about dark magic. I didn’t want to know.

“Are you feeling okay now?” He asked after a few minutes of calm silence. Neither of us really wanted to return to regular life just yet. I nodded quietly, finishing the butterbeer. I sighed.

“It’s quidditch. We were testing a broom out the day he died. It connected in my head. Now every time I see a broom I get panic attacks and memory assaults.” I swallowed, ducking my head away from him.

“Memory assaults?” I closed my eyes again and breathed slowly.

“I do quite a good job of blocking that day out. But quidditch brings it flooding back. I don’t know why. Fire doesn’t.” He returned his arm to my shoulders. Hugging me. I leaned in to the hug. Taking solace in the fact he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what I was telling him. I found it mortifying for people to know my feelings. You can’t hide things if everyone knows. But for some reason, it was easy to talk to Draco.

There was a noise from the next aisle along. Me and Draco moved apart and watched the end of our aisle warily. No one appeared and a moment later and noise sounded a little further away. We both let out a breath we weren’t aware we were holding.

Our eyes met, suddenly aware that whatever spell holding us there had broken. I smiled slightly. He copied my smile and stood up, stooping to help me up too.

“The password’s Potter by the way.” He said, pointing at the sealed brick. I glanced at it, then back at him with a look of incredulous confusion poisoning my face. Draco grinned a little sheepishly, running a hand back through his blonde hair. His ice grey eyes meeting mine. “That was Goyle. He thought it would be funny.” I smiled. His smile was contagious.

“You should smile more Draco. It lights up your face.” I said quietly.

“Right back at you.” He commented, still smiling. “I’ll go first.” He said, gesturing to the end of the aisle. “We probably shouldn’t be seen leaving together.” His voice was returning to its normal tone. My smile faded slightly. His too. “I’m sorry but B-“

“Blaise is right?” I sighed, finishing his sentence. “I know. I don’t want anyone else involved.” I sighed. “You realise he’s been getting worse right?” Draco cocked his head at me questioningly. “Hexing people. Gryffindors. He never did it before. Stayed out of the whole war thing. But he keeps randomly hexing people. And it’s always when I’m around. Like he’s making a point.” Draco scowled.

“I’ll have a word.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s the first years getting the brunt of it, because so many of our classes are close together. They’re so small. It’s not fair.” Draco nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him. I’ll see you later Flick.” Draco walked away from me, the swagger returning to his gait already. I sighed and turned away to look at the books on the shelves. I smiled slightly, understanding suddenly why he had chosen this aisle, it was the Care of Magical Creatures aisle. No wonder it was deserted.