Chapter Text
Her thoughts had been rather distracting of late. Uncharacteristically so. Dracae took pride in her ability to distance herself from the basic trivialities of the commoner’s day to day life. She was, after all, better than such worries. Yet something unfamiliar, and rather unsettling had been gnawing away at her in recent days, weeks or maybe even months now. She couldn’t tell. But it was something she silently feared that she may have tried too hard to suppress for too long. And now, it had evolved into a problem too big to ignore.
It was also an issue that said problem happened to be standing right in front of her. Blocking her way in fact. Ordinarily, any of her problems of this sort would have been made quick work of with a scathing remark or glare, causing even the boldest of Gryffindor students to second guess themselves. But unfortunately, this was no ordinary problem. In fact, there was very little ordinary about the Boy Who Lived.
She looked up. His tall lanky frame was surprisingly well filled-out nowadays, a big change from when she would once easily glare down at his shorter scrawny self in their earlier years at Hogwarts. Instead he now looked down at her. And what perhaps vexed her the most was that since he had well and truely matured physically, he seemed to have done so also emotionally. He never flaunted his height or size to get back at her for the years of taunting and bullying she had performed in their first few years. Instead, recently he just looked tired whenever he saw her. If not tired, then just as if he hadn’t seen her at all.
This was the REAL problem in Dracae’s mind. Their years of banter, tense encounters and arguments had impossibly ceased, creating an unfamiliar silence in her life. A silence which should have been welcomed, but disconcertingly enough, wasn’t. There was no way she actually enjoyed bickering with the insufferable boy was there? She absolutely despised how he carried himself so carelessly, especially with the so-called friends he kept, spanning from mudbloods to even the looniest of Ravenclaw’s rabble.
Then why did it feel like a gut-punch every time he looked her way now and acted like he hadn’t even seen her?
She had tried to tell herself it was nothing. She was obviously just missing a verbal (and sometimes wand induced magical) sparring partner, that was all. If there was one thing and only ONE thing Potter was any good at in this school, it was some quality back-and-forth.
That had to be it, she had resolved.
But even reaching that resolution many weeks ago had not stopped the indescribable sensation from growing. It was problematic. So she had tried to perform all sorts of other mental gymnastics to convince herself it wasn’t what it couldn’t possibly be.
And now here he was, blocking her way in this tightly wound staircase.
He couldn’t possibly ignore her this time. Not with her physically blocking his only way down.
And this time, she wanted answers.
Real resolution to give her peace of mind that she craved.
But as she looked up at him and saw his expression of surprise quickly morph into one of pure stoic resolve, her own surprise melted into something that really wasn't quite anger. Regardless, she wasn’t letting him ignore her this time.
“You haven’t been very conversational lately, Potter,” She implored, with a lot less venom than she had intended.
He just looked straight ahead and let out a deep sigh.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” she stated matter of factly, “Which I must say, has been a rather pleasant change of wind.”
It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“Is that so?” he replied, and for the first time in a month his head cocked down to properly look at her. His pure green eyes bore straight into her own, as his stone cold face made her almost shiver.
“I heard you’ve been quite riled up lately,” he continued.
*“*Riled up?” she repeated, trying desperately to not sound unsure of herself. “That’s ridiculous.”
He hummed for a moment in response.
“Yeah, riled up. Snapping at others, especially your ‘friends’ more than ever, pacing in the Slytherin common room, grades slipping too…” he trailed off, “One couldn’t help but think it’s related.”
She opened her mouth to offer a retort but spluttered on her own tongue.
“I— I … ihh”
He let out another small sigh before continuing.
“Listen Malfoy, I’m just done with the fighting, the arguments and the constant harassment of not just me, but my friends too. You obviously hate me, so I’m doing us both a favour.”
He paused, trying to gauge the expression of the seemingly astonished girl in front of him. It wasn’t often Dracae was found speechless.
“I think I don’t really want to talk to you ever again.” He finished.
He stopped for a moment, waiting for a response. When one didn't come, he sighed once more and carefully shifted himself around her to continue down the stairs, leaving her there frozen, wide-eyed and thoroughly lost for words.
If all the other times he had ignored her felt like gut punches, then this final line felt like a giant’s club swung straight to the heart. A dozen retorts popped into her mind: insults, rage, her saying that she returned the sentiment vehemently! But nothing of the sort seemed right.
His footsteps echoed through the staircase as trailed off behind her making his way, an almost deafening sound lingering in the absence of her reply.
“H- Harry…” she finally said, barely above a whisper.
The footsteps continued.
“Harry, wait… Please.”
The silence was welcomed.
She turned around and walked to where he stood, a few steps above so she could look him in the eyes and hold his gaze on the same level for once. He looked frustrated, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his emerald eyes.
“I - Yo- You’re right. I have been unnecessarily cruel,” She paused, regaining some composure, “And although I might think you’re not good for much, you are a good bickerer. In a sophisticated sense. You keep me on my toes, and I like to think I keep you on yours too. I - It’s kind of fun, right?” She had begun to almost sway as the words flowed from her mouth. Fingers nervously running themselves through her long blonde hair as she searched his face for any positive response.
She found none.
He looked at her, head cocked with an expression that could only be read as confusion.
“You think calling my friends slurs is fun?”
Her face fell.
Confusion had quickly morphed into anger.
“Nn- No that’s not what I-”
“What is wrong with you? Like I knew you thought you were better than everyone, but this is next level.”
“It’s the sentiment, it’s not like you’re exactly exchanging pleasantries with me either!” She retorted, finally finding some of that venom she’s so familiar using.
“You’re always the instigator,” he accused angrily, “You go out of your way to make us suffer.”
“Oh and because you’re such a pleasure to be around, give me a break, Potter.” She said defensively.
“You’re a vile person Malfoy.” He said and turned away.
She let out a frustrated groan which quickly crescendoed into a cry of anger accompanied with an emphatic foot stomp.
“LISTEN to me! These arguments make me … make me actually FEEL," she violently confessed. A light heat spreading across her face as the realisation of what she had said hit her.
A pause.
"I need them," she added firmly leaving many things left unsaid.
He turned back to face her, anger similar to her own, but composed, etched onto his features.
“And that’s just the problem isn’t it? You think your feelings are more valid than everyone else’s. You don’t care about the other people you hurt. All that matters is that you get whatever you want. It’s honestly insufferable.”
That hurt.
That hurt a lot.
She didn't even have the capacity to be defensive anymore. The heat had well and truly established itself across her face now, a furious blush which was not helped by what felt like tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.
“B-But surely our history meant something to you?” she asked hesitantly, imploringly even, as though not quite sure even what she was asking him for.
“Our history?” Now he really looked confused. “The only thing it meant to me was pain. You’ve been loathsome, Malfoy. You don’t understand the hurt you’ve caused not just me, but almost everyone I know.”
He let out a deep sigh.
"Please Dracae, just leave me.. us alone," he finished with an almost pitiful expression as he took in her state, and quietly turned to leave.
Her knees felt weak. Tears truly began to silently fall down her cheeks, freely now that he wasn't watching. Surely he didn't mean it? Why wasn’t she angry, cursing back at him or even just trying to hex him? All things she had easily done before.
Because this seemed final.
And because it was true.
If this was the sort of hurt she had caused him and his friends for all those years, this degree of pain and confusion and just plain discomfort, maybe she was the loathsome person he painted her to be.
He stormed down the stairs this time, bending around the winding staircase well and truly out of sight. Only the increasingly distant echoing of his footsteps remained. That, and a permanent mental message clear in Dracae’s mind:
Something had to change.