Something had changed between us. It was small at first. So small that I didn't even notice it. We never spoke about what had happened; about everything that we'd said to one another, about the things that we'd shared, but somehow it felt like we didn't need to.
Potions class was just the same as it had always been. In that regard nothing had changed at all. We worked together and completed whatever that week's assignment was. But we barely spoke. We barely even looked at each other.
But detention was different.
We didn't talk much. Not at first anyway. After we had shared so much with each other things were at first a little awkward, but we soon eased back into our routine, except this time it was void of any hostility or bitterness. It was just strangely comfortable.
At first it was just a question. Asking to pass a book or the next roll of parchment. Asking what time it was. Then it was hello and goodbye at the start and end of detention. Then how was I getting on with the transfiguration assignment? Or telling me to have a good weekend.
It was the week after when things progressed beyond general niceties. We had finished cataloguing the extensive remedies section and were beginning in the fiction section. Hogwarts fiction section was small in comparison to the many others in the library that were needed to help students with their studies and assignments, but it was one with which I was well acquainted. As a voracious reader, it wasn't just the extensive range of new knowledge offered by the Hogwarts library that had appealed to me as a wide eyed first year, but the endless new stories and adventures that were now at my fingertips caused an equal amount of excitement.
Throughout our detentions Draco and I had taken turns alternating between reading aloud from the scrolls and ticking off the list of books we found and describing any damage or looking through the shelves to find the books. Once again it was my turn to locate the book from the shelves.
It was late on Wednesday evening and we had been working for over an hour and I had been sitting crossed legged on the floor looking for books on the bottom shelf. I reached above my head, stretching out my aching muscles. Draco looked over at me from where he sat comfortably at the desk.
'We can swap if you want?'
I looked up, surprised as usual when he spoke to me. It been happening more and more often, yet every time it still felt strange.
'I'm fine, thanks.' I replied, giving him a small smile as I rubbed at the back of my neck with my fingers. A smile that that I quickly let drop as I saw him watching me intently. I cleared my throat and with it, cleares the tension in the air. 'Right. What's next?'
'Favian Carntyne. Fire and Shadow.'
'Oh, I know that one.' My hand immediately found the red leather cover embossed with black lettering. I couldn't help as my hand fondly traced over the title and the picture of the young wizard on the front as he stood surrounded by sparks and flames. I flicked through the pages, skimming over some of my favourite scenes.
'You read it?'
I looked up to find Draco once again watching me intently, and I blushed under his scrutiny. 'Pardon?'
'Have you read it? The book,' he clarified, nodding at my hands as I continued to stare at him mutely.
'Only about five times.' I looked back down the book, smiling fondly. 'It's one of my favourites.'
My head rose sharply when I heard a derisive snort from the wizard beside me.
'What?' I snapped.
He shook his head in a dismissive gesture, doing his best to look contrite, but my irritation had spiked. If there was one thing that I would not tolerate, it was mocking the books that I loved.
'What's wrong with it?' I questioned, folding my arms in front of me.
'Nothing, if you like sentimental mush.'
'You've read it?' I asked, surprised that he knew enough about this book to have formed an opinion. Even if it was the wrong opinion.
He gave a non-committal shrug. 'I started it and then skipped to the end.'
As I stared at him, muted in horror, he rolled his eyes. 'I know that judgey little face. What?'
My mouth twisted in annoyance, but I just raised my chin and turned back to the bookcase, not sure if he was merely baiting me into an argument. 'What's next?'
'Come on, he prompted, ignoring my question. 'Just say it. You know you're dying too.'
Annoyingly, he was right and as I spun back around; I could see the remnants of his satisfied smirk as he wiped it from his face.
'One,' I began, beginning the count on my fingers, 'it is not sentimental mush. Two, you can't make that judgement if you barely even read half the book and three, I can't believe you are one of those people that skips to the end of a book.'
I would swear I saw the infinitesimal quirk of his lip but as quick as I saw it, it was gone, and he was back to serious. 'How else will I know whether or not it's worth my time? No point reading if it's got a shit ending.'
'So, you only read a book if it's got a happy ending?'
He shrugged, nonplussed by the judgement in my voice. 'On the rare occasions that I read, then yes. Believe me if I wanted to depress myself there are quicker ways.'
My eyes flashed to his, but he was looking back to the table in front of him. I could let the comment go. We could revert back into silence and just pretend that it didn't happen, but there was that look in his eyes again and I found that I didn't want to. 'But that's not real life at all. Not all endings are happy, Malfoy. That's what makes them worth reading. Besides you don't read a book for the ending, you read for the journey. Seeing what the characters go through. Seeing what they learn about themselves. Whether it's love, bravery, truth, perseverance, forgiveness. That's the best part.'
He gave me a long weighty of stare before he spoke. 'But that guy in the book, Marron- '
'Marek,' I corrected instantly.
'He was a complete arse. His wife should have hexed him and then left him. He was no better at the end of the book than he was at the start.'
'But she loved him.'
'She shouldn't have,' he scoffed. 'He wasn't worthy of her love.'
'Maybe not,' I conceded. 'But isn't that what love is? Being with someone even though you know all of their flaws. Accepting them for their mistakes. He wasn't prefect but he realised his mistakes in the end.'
'Yeah, and in the end, he left her.'
'Because he realised that he couldn't make her happy,' I explained. 'He knew that he wasn't the right man for her. That he couldn't give her everything that she needed, everything that she wanted, so he loved her enough to let her go.'
'Yeah, and that's not depressing.'
I shook my head, adamantly, for some reason determined to make him understand. 'No, it's not. It's beautiful.'
'Not sure you understand the concept, Granger, but then I shouldn't be surprised. It's that what Gryffindors are like, endlessly optimistic.' His tone was light, teasing almost, but his expression didn't match his words.
'Not always,' I said on a soft laugh. 'But it is beautiful. To love someone that much that you would give up everything for them, just to make them happy. It might not be the perfect happy ending, but that's what makes it even more beautiful. Sometimes those stories, the ones that are the hardest to take, are the stories that are the most beautiful.'
F
or a few beats Draco stared at me intently, his grey eyes meeting my brown ones. My heart started pounding at the look in his eyes and I wondered what he was thinking. Then he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, 'Right,' and it was a long moment before his eyes eventually released mine.
That following weekend was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. I of course knew that I wouldn't be able to go, yet strangely, I didn't feel upset at the fact that my friends would all be going without me. After everything that had happened with Cormac, Harry and Ginny had stayed close to me, making sure that I was ok, but after I had continued to insist that I was fine, they had begun to spend more of their 'alone' time together. I was glad that things between them seemed to be fine again, but then it had the resulting consequence that it left Ron and I together. Alone.
Ron had been too busy with Lavender to truly notice that something was wrong with me, or to notice all the concerned looks and little chats both Harry and Ginny had been giving me to make sure that I was ok. But as time went on, that started to change. Things between Lavender and Ron hadn't been going well, which had the resulting consequence that he had spent more time with us, something which, if the look on Lavender's face was any sort of indication, was not helping matters. Occasionally he would meet Lavender in the evening or have dinner with her, but he tended to storm back into the common room a short time later with an angry expression on his face. I didn't ask why. I knew I was being a horrible friend, but I had been in the middle of Ron and Lavender's drama once before and I had no desire to repeat the experience.
So, with Harry and Ginny 'busy', Ron and I had been spending more time together. All throughout the summer, I would have given anything to have just had an hour alone with Ron. Even just the month before I would have been desperate just to have the time to simply talk to him, to spend time with him and try to reconnect. Yet in such a short space of time, everything had changed. Ron was still my friend, he always would be, but he had hurt me, and I wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet. Spending so much time with him again, him acting like there was nothing wrong, like everything between us hadn't ever happened, continued to exacerbate a wound that still hadn't fully healed.
There were some moments when I could almost forget about everything that had happened, when I could just think of Ron as my friend. As he sat beside me, as he walked me to class, as he helped me to carry my books if they were too heavy or when he made me laugh, I could almost pretend that we had gone back in time to before everything had gotten so complicated between us. I could tell that he was trying, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't bring myself to lower the hand I had held up to keep him at bay.
If he sensed that there was still a rift between us, he never said and he never showed it. For some reason Ron seemed determined to put himself firmly back into my life and I was glad to let him. Glad to simply have my friend back. Glad that we could finally get things back to normal and how they used to be.
It turned out that Ron had different ideas.
Ron and I were sitting alone together having an early dinner on Friday evening before I was going to help him with the latest Transfiguration homework. I hadn't forgotten what he had said to me the night of the Gryffindor party and if I couldn't help him with his relationship then I would at least help him in the best way that I could. While we were eating, I was reading over a chapter from my Ancient Runes homework while Ron chatted happily beside me. He was quite happy to have a one-sided conversation where I was only required to give the occasional 'yep' and 'uh- huh', while I only half listened to what he was saying. Something that I would come to regret.
'So what do you think then?' Ron said.
I turned my head back to Ron, once again realising that I hadn't been listening to a word he was saying. Mainly due the fact that I had once again just gotten distracted by a flash of white- blonde hair entering into the great hall. My eyes had followed him all the way to the Slytherin table. He was alone again. He walked, head bent down, stopping halfway down the table before sitting down in an empty seat, before helping himself to some roast beef.
'Sorry, what?' I said, watching Ron as he sat opposite from me, aware that he seemed to be waiting for some kind of response.
'I said, what do you think?' he replied, with what seemed like hope in his eyes.
There were of course three options. The first I discounted immediately. I didn't want to admit to Ron that I hadn't been listening. Again! So that left me with just two choices. Yes or no. But which one to choose? There was of course no way to know the right answer, so I made my decision, keeping everything crossed that it was the right one.
'Em, sure,' I said slowly, waiting nervously for his response. Luckily for me he seemed to sigh in relief and his eyes visibly brightened.
'Great, so how about Puddifoots then? We can do a bit of shopping first if you like?'
'Sorry, what?' I asked, completely confused. Whatever I had expected him to say, it wasn't that.
'Tomorrow. You and me are going to Puddifoots.'
'We are?' I asked in surprise, my heart immediately flipping and not in a good way. I suddenly realised, far too late what he was asking me. The next day was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year and by the sounds of it, Ron had just invited me to spend the day with him. In Puddifoots no less. The pink, frilly, lace- covered, fluffy, hearts on every surface, couples make- out zone tearoom in Hogsmeade that you only ever went to if you were dating. And since Ron was already dating someone, I quizzically asked, 'Shouldn't you be taking your girlfriend to Puddifoots?'
'Lavender's not my girlfriend anymore,' he said simply, giving a small shrug. 'We broke up.'
'Oh,' I said not entirely surprised. The writing had been on the wall for a while. I briefly wondered who had done the actual breaking up, but I knew that now was not the time to ask, so instead I settled for, 'Ron, I'm sorry.'
'It doesn't matter,' he said, waving a hand as if he were swotting away an irritating fly. 'So tomorrow?'
I looked to Ron still confused, wondering why on earth he wanted to go to Puddifoots and why he wanted to go with me. Puddifoots was the notorious haunt for couples, or for people who wanted to be. It was not the place that two friends would ever go. Perhaps he had already booked the table and now that he couldn't go with Lavender, he was trying to take me instead. Whatever his motivations, I would never find out, as I had to turn his offer down.
'Oh, Ron, I'm sorry, I can't go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I have my detention, remember.' I felt part relief at having escaped a trip to Puddifoots but increasingly guilty as Ron's hopeful expression fell.
'But surely you can still go to Hogsmeade? I mean I'm sure if you asked McGonagall, she would let you go. Couldn't you ask her?' Ron asked hopefully.
I gave a short laugh just thinking of McGonagall's face if I went up to her asked to skip my detention all so that I could go to Puddifoots instead. She would probably double my detentions for my efforts. 'Ron, can you imagine? It's a detention. She's hardly going to let me out of it.'
'But you could at least ask.'
'Ron, I can't.'
'But…'
'Ron, I said no,' I said definitively, putting an end to the discussion.
'Fine, don't bother then. Enjoy your detention. Clearly you'd rather be there than with me.' He stood up and walked away from me. My eyes followed him as he stalked out of the great hall, leaving me wondering what on earth was going on. I mean Puddifoots for goodness sake! What was he thinking? He had made it perfectly clear to me that he didn't want to be with me. But then if that was true, why was he so angry?
I sighed deeply wondering why boys were so complicated. Standing up, I gathered my things together and followed Ron's path out of the great hall. I would go to the library. If Ron wanted my help, then he would know where to find me. As I walked down the central aisle I once again tried and failed not to look over at the Slytherin table. Only this time when I glanced over, my eyes met a pair of steely grey eyes staring straight back. I continued to walk towards the exit, my gaze being forced away when I had to swerve to avoid walking straight into a first year who barely came above my waist. I determinedly didn't look back, even though I could feel the weight of his stare following me with every step.