fervere

Chapter Thirty Seven 

After Gryffindor’s final morning practice, the Slytherin Quidditch team were making their way over to the changing rooms, talking amongst themselves about what drills to run and reminding each other to trim and polish their broomsticks after their three hour practice.  

A rare sort of smile plagued Draco’s face, unable to contain his delight that his afternoon was going to be enjoyed outside. It was a warm April afternoon and in the bits of time between classes, students hung by the windows to relish the pleasant warmth of the sun trickling in through the arched paned windows.  

They stayed in the sun as long as they could to thaw out from the drafty chilly classrooms, especially when they were stuck in the dungeons during potions.  

Draco had been looking forward to a bit of fresh air.  

For the past week he had been inhaling the thick stale air of the library. Apart from his studies, he had been on the hunt for anything to help him with the map which meant he practically lived there. He was never alone in his search. Both Ginny and the twins joined him regularly. They were luckily enough to not be under the pressure of OWLs.  

Draco had been meticulous in keeping tabs in the areas where Ginny had searched through. Fred and George often camped out next to him flipping through the pages to find any kind of spell, pointing it at their own copy of the map and then grumbled under their breath. 

“What about the Social Category upstairs?” Ginny asked, after thumping the last stack of books she found from the Linguistic section of the library. 

Fred cocked a brow up at his sister, nearly annoyed that they had even more books to sift through, “Oh I suppose that an animation spell would be in the middle of the five major governments of wizarding world.” 

“Or the economics of the American Magical Creature Trade.” George added. Ginny glared at her brothers but not quite with the intensity Draco knew her to have.  

Draco cleared his throat, itchy from the books Ginny had pulled that had a thin film of dust from years of being forgotten. Draco understood why the twins were particularly annoyed. It’s not that they didn’t want to help out. It was because they couldn’t quite figure it out.  

Truth be told, there was nothing that the twins weren’t able to work out. Ginny softened around her brothers dejectedly, perhaps because she knew Fred and George were also under a bit of stress that laid outside the halls of Hogwarts. It was only these past few days that Draco found out they were planning on starting their business the second they left Hogwarts.  

They had enough testing on products and a good size amount of stock to start up their store. 

They were practically begging for their life to begin. 

“What’s left Draco,” Fred sighed, falling back into his seat scowling at the quill in his head. 

“Language,” Draco sniffled, “Or even Magical Theory? That’s all that’s is left in the categories of interest. Don’t think Magical literature would be of any help.” 

Draco crossed out a list he had next to his Transfiguration homework that included title of books they had gone through.  

Ginny was struck with an odd look on her face, “Theory?” 

Draco sneezed.  

It was a stark difference in environment; the quidditch pitch that is. Draco hiked up towards the center of the pitch, fully geared up and grinning from ear to ear now holding on to his Nimbus 2001. 

The wind was still slightly crisp but the rays of sun warmed his skin on his cheeks up.  

He joined the rest of his team that were huddled around at the center. Captain Montague directed Warrington and Bletchley around for some quaffle drills before taking off. Pucey, their keeper, goaded them on to attempt any kind of score. The angrier any of the chasers became, the more difficult their throws were to block and that is exactly what Pucey needed to up his game. 

Crabbe and Goyle took almost an hour just warming up their arms with the bat.  

Twenty minutes for each arm.  

The four of them whizzed around the pitch while Draco stood on ground, looking up at the clear sunny sky, wrapping a gripping bandage around his hand. It helped him have a good grip on his broomstick when it came to sharp dives and advanced gravity defying skills. He also checked on his niffy compass that attached to the end of his broom stick. 

When Draco was finally ready, he took out a small bottle of Beryl’s Blink Brights and tilted his head back to receive a few drops of liquid into his eyes. It stung only for a second but it helped him clear his sight. It felt like a constant freshness and sharpness with his grey eyes dilated enough to soak in every single detail of the pitch, down to each dewy blade of grass.  

He then turned to Crabbe and Goyle who were by the ball box, a bludger shaking the old box in its restraints and the golden snitch, peacefully resting in its mold.  

Draco nodded at his two friends, taking out his own wand.  

“Relashio!” Draco commanded, sending the eager bludger zooming out soaring into the sky while the snitch buzzed around before taking flight. 

Draco launched himself into the air a second later, running drills, helping the chasers out by pretending to play as their opponent while he kept any eye out for the snitch. It was a rather good practice.  

Draco managed to catch the snitch at total of three times, roughly taking about forty minutes between each catch.  

When their practice had come to a conclusion, they all bustled into the changing room, taking a rather long time to chat and organize their belongings for tomorrow’s game. Draco constantly rolled his eyes at Crabbe’s antics as he polished his broomstick to a mirror gleam. Draco even managed to set out his uniform neatly on the hook of his own changing room down to the cleats and socks at the ground besides his feet.  

By the time he was finished, most of his team had wandered off. Draco showered off quickly and dressed himself back into his school uniform. He needed to look dashing when he showed himself at dinner at the Great Hall this evening.  

Goyle, the only other person left in the changing rooms, shouted his goodbyes to Draco racing out Draco nodded once at Goyle, acknowledging his farewell and wheeled back around at the small mirror by the showers. Draco tilted his head this way and that, laying his fluffly blonde hair flat on the sides with a hair cream and tousled the rest.  

He stared hard at himself and took his time to look presentable. He had a plan he had been arranging in his head. It had been inspired by some movies Draco saw in theaters.  

The idea came to him with one of the cassettes he had curiously never listened to was popped into the player and he was immediately transported to the theaters with Snape next to him, dozing off.  

Draco popped the cassette back out and stared at the title.  

The Smiths.  

There was a vague feeling of a muggle teen movie and then a declaration of love. It made Draco gag when he was twelve but, thinking of it now, it wasn’t such a bad idea if it managed to get what the character wanted at the end.  

So please, please, please. Let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want. This time.
 

The words resonated in Draco’s head, softening at the kind of gesture he once considered stupid and gross. Maybe he didn’t need to shout it out in the halls or send an extravagant gift for a bit of attention.  

A more understated declaration was much more his speed.  

But first, he needed to convince his girl to come out.  

Draco nearly trampled over his feet, rushing but not rushing over to the Great Hall, his lungs burning from the lack of proper oxygen. It wasn’t because he was running, because he wasn’t. It was because he held his breath all the way over, nervous and wanting to get his idea off his chest. 

Draco could have given himself a moment to control his breathing but he didn’t. He marched right on through the Great Hall that was now filled at peak hour with hungry students. 

Draco must have looked insane because for the first time in a long time, he had approached the one girl that most had been sure he had given up on.  

Millie finally looked directly at him, straight at him, as he stood behind her for a full five eternal seconds. Her friends tipped her off of the sudden appearance causing Millie to look over her shoulder.  

Millie had barely any food on her plate, favoring the space to be occupied by a pile of books and discarded broken quills and layers of parchment. Her brows twitched up, surprised that Draco was standing near her, almost hovering over her while he huffed and puffed.  

It was a sight that certainly caught her attention, but then again, most people would be curious to what Draco was about to say or do.  

Millie’s friends were certainly invested. 

“Meet me,” Draco commanded in between breaths, “After the game.” 

Millie's lips parted. She didn’t look angry or indignant. She simply looked like any other fifth year: tired.   

“Draco,” She shook her head, “I don’t even know if I have the time-” 

“Please. I- you don’t have to watch the game. Just a few minutes. After.” Draco insisted. Millie, although looking rightfully annoyed, nodded slowly. 

News of their pending reconciliation was, of course, making it’s rounds around the school by the end of dinner, not that Draco paid any attention to it. He was oddly smiling to himself, pleasantly surprised that he was able to finally get his foot in the door with Millie. 

He had his meal, starving from a long quidditch practice, and he promptly left to finish off his night at his desk, with more music and flipping through his playbook. He figured he could stuff in a few more plays to memorization before he slept.  

Draco settled in, with only the desk lamp illuminating his desk area, his ears covered by a set of headphones blasting a cassette filled with soft moody symphonic classical music. Surrounded by trinkets and school things, Draco immersed himself in his playbook, enjoying the shapes and dotted lines that zipped around the pages of his book. 

Draco zoned out, happily lightyears away in a wistful daydream that included winning tomorrow’s match. He had been slightly entertained by his train of thought that he hadn’t realized that Ron had slipped into his room until he was right beside him.  

Draco jumped in his skin, knocking off his headphones the rush of reality and stillness hitting him square in the face, He shouted out a slew of curses at him.  

“For fuck’s sake Weasel,” Draco groaned, “Couldn’t you knock?” 

“I did,” Ron twisted his freckled face, “Daph said it would be okay to step in. She said you usually listened to that thing when you studied.” 

The soft sound of music coming from Draco’s headphones continued on until he pressed the pause button.  

“What do you need?” Draco asked, huffing out the rush of his heartbeat from being startled.  

“Your books.” He simply answered.  

“You have your own, don’t you?” Draco asked dismissively, whining like he was talking to a brother.  

“I mean your June B. Jones,” Ron clarified, “You brought some with you, didn’t you? Hermione said.” 

Draco blinked, nodding slowly unsure of what use was needed from those stupid useless books. 

“Yes?” Draco slowly cocked his head to the side suspiciously. 

Ron let out a long sigh, “It’s well worth a shot.” 

Ron turned and went straight for his bookcase where a stack of long forgotten books was left on the shelves. At first, Draco remembered packing the books in question in fear that perhaps one day people like his father, deatheaters, would manage to make some of those spells work in desperation. 

He had underestimated how much work fifth year would be. In comparison, it was perhaps the first year Draco had to truly work to be on top of his studies. 

Draco stood up confused watching Ron rummage through his bookshelf, “If this is a ploy to get me distracted from tomorrow’s game Weas-” 

Hermione’s head poked in, sneaking in with an apologetic look on her face. She bit on her lip as she winced at Draco’s piercing stare, taking in the sudden intrusion of not only Ron but Hermione.  

“I told him to wait until tomorrow... or a few days-” 

“There’s no time to waste,” Ron announced, “If what you said is true about nothing worth is in the library and that Harry saw one of these books in Sirius’s old room then...” 

“It’s not for certain!” Hermione cried, looking back at Draco with sincerity, “Honestly, I’m sorry for barging in like this.” 

“Which one was the one Ginny said looked familiar?” Ron mused to himself, completely ignoring Hermione’s need to correct the situation. It was a little too late, Draco was now mildly intrigued.  

“What is going on?” Draco groaned out.  

“Nothing,” Hermione blurted out. Draco gave her a stern look.  

“Please, amuse me,” He drawled, his eyes half lidded, “So you can get what you need and get out.” 

Hermione winced.  

Ron turned back to look at Hermione and then glanced at Draco.  

“Hermione mentioned to us that you brought some of these books,” Ron began giving Hermione a suspicious look, “Ginny said that they must have gone through the entire catalog of books and that’s when Hermione suspected that the Marauders wouldn’t have used a common book from the library at Hogwarts.” 

Draco glanced at Hermione.  

“I’m not sure what prompted Harry to recall but he said that Sirius had a few books in his room he flipped through over the summer. He remembered some of the authors because he would stare at them for a period of time when he was moody.” Ron continued, “June B Jones is a name he recalled and Ginny and Hermione went up in arms about your collection. And Hermione said that you had some in your room. And now we’re here.” 

Hermione quickly interjected, “The theory is that perhaps Sirius found something helpful to aid him in the animation of the maps in those books but you said in plenty of instances that the books are a bunch of hogwash-” 

“Like I said,” Draco shrugged, “Good in theory, but in practice; questionable. Take what you need Weasley.” 

Ron saluted him and began to look through his bookshelf.  

Hermione watched as Draco take up his seat again and settle himself back into the flow of his study, placing the headphones over his ears.  

Ron mumbled under his breath, opening each book to scan the contents of it to see if they were worthy of being the source of their success. Hermione kept glancing over to Draco, his back facing them. Her head craned to the side to see what he was working on when her eyes caught to something entirely different.  

The photo of the Prefects.  

All of them were in different stages of goofing off. Photo Ron was busy arguing with Pansy, possibly asking her to go get Daphne who was now the Slytherin Prefect. Photo Millie was tossing her hair off her shoulders looking haughtily at everyone surrounding her. Then there was Photo Hermione looking longingly at Draco. She would nervously pat her hair down to tame it, checking her breath, and even fixed her collar to show as much skin she could get away with in hopes to get the attention of Photo Draco who had a book in his hand. 

Heat burned at her cheeks.  

If the photo was any indication, it showed their current moods and judging by the way Photo Hermione was primping and preening clearly it exposed the way Hermione was feeling despite her successful attempts of trying to bury it. 

She cautiously stole a glanced at the side of his face. 

“Hermione?” Ron called.  

Her head snapped towards her friend.  

“Quit staring and come help.” Ron huffed.  

Hermione wanted to choke that infuriating idiot who was now grinning stupidly as if he saw the whole thing and knew what exactly she had been thinking. Thankfully Draco had been listening to music to have heard them hissing insults at each other.. 

Hermione sorted through Ron’s selections, recalling Harry saying Sirus owned a blue or green colored cover, which was helpful considering most of June B Jones’ books were black. They had about three books that could be possibly it and satisfied with their findings Ron shouted at Draco to get his attention.  

“Mate! I think we’ll run along now!” Ron smiled.  

“Find anything?” Draco asked shoving the headphones off again. Ron nodded sheepishly and shrugged.  

“I suppose,” Ron glanced over to Hermione who stared at Draco when he stood up. He had been in the comfort of his leisurely attire, loose fitting grey sweatpants and a deep green hooded sweater. She gulped trying to keep her eyes trained on his face. Instinctively her hand went up to her hair to tame it down.  

“This isn’t some kind of Gryffindor ploy to try and win tomorrow’s game, is it?” Draco asked, teasingly. Ron snorted but Hermione stared on. Her chest rising and falling, dizzy with the thoughts of that kiss and how she hoped it could have happened in his bed.  

His lips parted. Grey sweatpants.  

She flushed.  

“I should go.” She blurted and ran out. 

Stunning her two friends, Draco gave a long hard look at Ron as if to answer for Hermione’s strangeness. Ron simply shrugged. 

“You’re still going to lose tomorrow if you’re up to something Weasel,” Draco lightly warned. Ron snorted.  

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ron insisted and looked out to the door Hermione had left half open.  

“Heard Gryffindor is already setting up a victory party.” Draco softly glared. 

Ron held up his hands innocently, “Hey, we didn’t organize the theme of the party. Harry’s only looking forward to any celebration.” 

“Room of Requirements?” Draco asked. 

Ron nodded, “Well if we were so certain of our victory, we would have done it in our common room, don’t you think?” 

Draco grinned, “So, you sure about these June B Jones books?” 

Ron sighed, “No, but it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” 

Draco crossed his arms and contemplated before agreeing.  

“I guess not,” He mused.  

Ron nodded and lifted the books to show what he had picked, “I’ll take these and hand them over to Ginny and the twins, they seem to have a better grasp at tricky spells. That and they actually have the time. Cheers, mate.” 

Draco nodded and waved Ron off. He sat back down, not giving another single thought about those useless books the second he opened his quidditch playbook and readied himself for tomorrow’s game. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Draco was determined to avoid injury this last game. He didn’t need another night at the Hospital Wing when time was running out.  

He was also as determine to win.  

Speaking of time, the final match was nearing two hours now. Professors were holding on to each other up in the stands with one very obvious absent seat: Umbridge. It was a rather glaring elephant in the room that none of the professors seemed to care that Umbridge that morning hadn’t attended Breakfast and there was no sign of her wanting to get out of her office.  

Flich accounted it on her hard outpour of care and work she had put into Hogwarts.  

“Must have worked all night,” Filch assumed loudly in the corridors to McGonagall right after breakfast. He mistakenly announced this in front of the twins who, soon after, gave Harry a big thumbs up. 

Nobody cared that Harry had made his unlawful appearance to the quidditch pitch, in fact, it riled up the students for the blatant disregard of Umbridge’s rule. Even Neville, who had been sequestered into daily detentions, was out with Dean and Seamus handing out Butterbeer to their rowdy corner of the stands. 

The roar of students was unmatched every time points were scored. Both team’s chasers were ruthless with their attacks.  

Pucey and Ron equally had trouble blocking all throws from their three hoops. Attempts at scoring were hard and only the most outrageous plays gain points. It made the match even more thrilling.  

Scores were neck in neck. Slytherin would overtake the game, leading by twenty points which then, within the next ten minutes, Gryffindor would catch up and lead by thirty.  

Draco circled around the pitch, his eyes wide and bright, taking in every single detail of the area, looking for that glint of gold. He had the advantage of his drops sharpening his vision as well as a beautiful clear spring day.  

The sun had been particularly bright at times. 

Harry had mistaken a few streamers as the snitch, catching the golden gleam of the sun. Even Draco made the same error which was quite annoying because he knew their teams were depending on them to finish the game.  

It wasn’t going to be up to the chasers' abilities.  

They were matched in all accords and their efforts were showing, slowing the plays down as the teams grew tired.  

There was the weight of anticipation tilting into the favor of either team, hoping with every fiber the end was near. Everyone waited with baited breath, hoping either Harry or Draco would spot the snitch whizzing around.  

The sun had been gleaming brilliant directly overhead now burning a small patch of heat on the top of Draco’s blonde head.  

At first it was pleasant but as time went on, it was a constant reminder of how long they had been out there, slowly growing in temperature and adding to his irritation. It shouldn’t be this hard. Draco’s heart pounded against his chest in nerves.  

It has never been difficult to spot the snitch. He had done all his preparations and made sure to give himself the best possibilities to spot it.  

His eye drops.  

The expensive dust free specs he cleaned this morning. 

The constant surveillance of the pitch that was now like second nature to him. 

He just couldn’t spot it. 

Until Draco did.  

His heart leap in his chest in glee and then sunk immediately when he realized that the snitch was bouncing around the Slytherin beaters, using them as their guard.  

Of course, it would have been difficult to spot the snitch around the beaters when the focus is on avoiding getting hit by them. Beaters also weren’t trained on spotting a snitch much like a seeker was. There was no way Crabbe or Goyle would have signaled Draco because they had no idea.  

Just as he figured it worked in his favor, the Snitch jumped over to the twins, a pair that wouldn’t think twice on allowing Draco within fifty meters from them without being aimed at. 

Draco gritted his teeth, going back on how he did not want to end up spending the night in the Hospital Wing. 

“Oh, fuck it,” He growled, disregarding his hope.  

He dove for the twins, who were twisting around in the air, flipping their bats flamboyantly to aim for Pucey. Draco’s grip tightened, nearly choking the handle of his broom with his grippy gloves. His focus lasered on the snitch circling around the twins, until the snitch shot away, sensing the chase. 

It was only a moment later before his play caught on. 

“WHAT IS THIS?” The announcer, happily reporting on someone other than the chasers and the keepers, “MALFOY IS ON TO SOMETHING IT SEEMS? YES! IT SEEMS HE’S SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Draco growled, knowing the announcement would tip off Harry and sure enough, Harry appeared behind him only a moment later, as he weaved around chasers and looped around towers. The snitched zipped through crowds and bulleted towards the center of the pitch before launching itself far up into the sky like a rocket.  

Draco, hot on its tail, pushed the tail of his broom with his heels sharply turning his direction up. He wasn’t sure if it was the distance from the pitch when he launched himself far into the sky but it suddenly became eerily quiet, wind whipping into his ear, hearing his heavying breathing in the echos of his head. 

He was so close.  

Draco gritted his teeth once the sun blinded his vision, unable to see if he was still on the right track. He looked behind him to find Harry still behind.  

And then, Harry stopped, and shifted to his right into a nose dive.  

Fuck. 

Draco barely caught sight of a glittering tiny dot freefalling back towards the pitch and then a moment later, being captured by Harry.  

Draco slowed, suspended in the air. 

The explosive cheers of the crowd raised up towards him as the game was called, an eruption of red and gold filled the field and sat high above everyone, watching while the slow realization sunk in. 

He had let down his entire team.  

They had done such a fantastic job, tirelessly for the past two hours, only for Draco to fumble his chance.  

He had spotted the snitch first, he was the one leading the chase. 

But what Draco ultimately did was lead Harry to the win.  

Draco analyzed the final moments of his loss, thoughts swirling on the chain of events looking for that one error. And then he found it as he ruffled his hot hair, heated from the sun.  

The sun. 

He was sure that Harry trailing behind Draco blocked the sun from blinding him the way Draco was. Harry had the advantage to react to the snitch changing course seconds before Draco realized.  

It was all the advantage Harry needed.  

And Draco delivered that advantage on a silver platter to him. 

As he floated back down, he dodged the center of the pitch which was now flooded with all kinds of students, of all houses. Even those in Slytherin congratulating the Gryffindor team for a riveting game and cheering up those in the Slytherin Team, rallying around them in support.  

Draco’s feet hit the ground, a sharp pain zapped up his left leg, landing too roughly and slightly askew. He turned towards the opposite side of the pitch, towards their changing rooms ready to change and then drown himself in the prefect’s bath.  

Draco crumbled in guilt at how elementary the mistake was, he had been desperate to end the game to relieve his team from playing more and in turn he made the stupidest mistake.  

And then there was one more stupid mistake he had set up for himself.  

One he was now not in the mood for.  

Millie stood in front of him in the middle of the pitch, with her arms cross, just as he asked of her. When he pictured this, he hadn’t accounted the possibility of a loss. He had asked her to meet in hopes that he’d ask for her forgiveness with the confidence of a win behind him.  

Instead, he faced her as a loser, feeling as low as one could feel after a defeat. He didn’t want to face her when he felt pathetic and full of self-pity. But she was also someone who had made him feel, wasn’t she? 

And right now, that’s all Draco wanted.  

He wanted to feel anything but stupid.  

Millie cocked her brow up and huffed.  

“Well?” She sighed in annoyance, “I’m here. What do you want?” 

Draco stared blankly at her, his grip on his broom loosening.  

What did Draco want? 

He wanted to forget his failures. He wanted to recall that stupid cheesy plan he had formulated in his head to sincerely ask for her forgiveness but he couldn’t, as failures often forget. There was a mounting pressure in him that was boiling up from the expectations he couldn’t meet. 

Millie gave him a frustrated look for dragging her out of her studies. She licked her lips about to dismiss herself and Draco zoned in on those lips that had drove him crazy once and he wanted that feeling to drown him again.  

“You.” Draco simply said, his voice nearly overwhelmed by the cheers of the Gryffindor’s and some other spectating houses when the Quidditch Cup was presented to them. Drums and loud horns thundered through the air.  

“What?” Millie screwed her face up.  

“You,” Draco repeated and this time, he didn’t allow her to respond because he cross over the final two steps, a sharp pain twisted his face overcoming a limp, towards her and captured her waist, roping her to him and catching her lips unaware. 

Millie resisted for a single second before she completely melted in his embrace and fully submitted into his hungry kiss. Her hands found his sweaty hair, combing her fingers through it frantically, accepting his wordless apology. 

It was the most painful kiss he’d ever experience in his short fifteen, nearly sixteen years of life. He was fighting that innate need to be private and an ache that was now radiating in heat right at his left ankle.  

He had never wanted to publicly be affectionate with her and there he was, kissing her in front of the entire school as they celebrated his defeat. 

Millie loved it, quickly forgetting of how much she hated him for befriending Hermione.  

She kissed him in the way that ensured that the moment they were in private, clothes would come off.  

She pressed herself against him, letting out soft moans here and there, blissful in the assurance that he had finally come around and realized he loved her. And she was certainly going to reward him for rightfully choosing her.  

Draco also let out small grunts. But not of pleasure.  

The heat of his ankle was now becoming very uncomfortable to bear any weight on it. He tried his best to lean his weight on the right but every once in a while he’d rebalance and a soft moan would also escapes his lips.  

By all accounts, it seemed like Draco was equally as impassioned as Millie, however, there was something off. Something Millie hadn’t noticed as she was currently consumed with her public vindication. 

There was something terribly wrong.  

Draco didn’t feel that magnetic pull he had for Millie the last time they kissed. Hard as he tried, it felt as empty to him as kissing a wall, if walls could snog. He tried harder, deepening the kiss hoping it would reignite those feelings but it was as if he had been led into a farce. He felt even more distance from the girl he was embracing and he just couldn’t understand why. 

He didn’t understand why his heart was shattering and heating his face from the growing pain. 

Millie jumped and wrapped her legs around him.  

“Room,” She said hastily, “Now.” 

Draco’s face twisted and shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. Millie paused for a moment, staring into his clear grey orbs.  

“Draco?” She whispered.  

Draco slowly let her go and instead of voicing his uncertainty, he gulped from the twitching of his muscle spasms that tried to withstand as much weight from going straight to his injury.  

Draco squeezed his eyes, trying to reimagine that feeling, as if he could just conjure that magic at will. With one last passionate snog, Draco pulled away, his heart sinking.  

“Hospital Wing.” Draco squeezed out. 

Mille gave him a startling quizzical stare but when Draco used her to lean on, she put two and two together. 

“Let's go,” Millie smiled encouragingly, wrapping her arm around his waist, slowly leading him to the changing rooms.  

Draco didn’t understand as he hobbled and limped by Millie’s side. It was as striking as the pain that was beginning to consume him.  

He had been so sure of how strong Millie’s pull was at Daphne’s party. It couldn’t have been a fleeting feeling, could it? The thought of it made him feel fickle and question all his emotions. No.  

He was certain he wanted Millie. He still did.  

It was the defeat of the game that dampened his mood, that’s what it was. And the overwhelming pain of a twisted ankle when he landed too hard on the soft ground, giving way to a small hole. It was only luck that his boots were sturdy enough to keep him upright, but not enough to correct his balance when he landed. 

“Everything okay?” Millie asked when Draco’s icy exterior gave way to a lost puppy. She gently patted his lean stomach as they inched away from the celebration 

Draco did a double take on Millie’s large wide eyes, “I- um, the game.” 

Millie’s eyes lit up in curiosity and for a split second Draco almost saw that spark. Or perhaps it was the reflection of the fireworks the twins ignited behind them, blasting at random pops. 

“Right,” Millie nodded, pulling the hem of his pants with her pointer finger, “You need a bit of cheering up, right?” 

Draco suddenly felt his insides twist and drain him of any kind of reaction.  

He heard himself respond but it didn’t feel like him.  

“Right,” He nodded, “But I think the Hospital Wing should be first.” 

Millie held out her hand and cocked her head to the side, “Right. Let’s go then, we can have our own party there. Unless you want to go to-” 

Draco shook his head. His pride not allowing to have him parade around his errors in front of his close friends. 

“Everyone is going to be at that party, aren’t they? Lucky that Umbridge is out sick today.” Millie scowled. 

Draco nodded.  

Millie regarded him, looking him up and down, “Well I believe that means that my dorm will be empty for the rest of the day, if Madam Pomfrey releases you today. I do have some knickers I would have shown you before we, you know, took a break.” 

There was something off and even if there were alarm bells now ringing in his head, Draco gulped.  

“Your bed?” Draco blinked. 

Millie nodded coyly, “As long as you want. I’ll take care of you.” 

Draco didn’t have time to process when Millie continued to pull a rather dazed looking Draco away.  

In the depths of the crowd, booming with cheers and confetti, Hermione was giggling as Fred and George took turns twirling her around in celebration. It was the best victory of their five years and the excitement was palpable. It wasn’t until the Slytherin team pushed themselves in, congratulating the Gryffindor team with hugs and study pats on the back when Hermione noticed Draco wasn’t amongst them.  

She wanted to offer a few words to him. Encouragement. Something. Anything in this context wouldn’t be so wildly misconstrued, not when everyone was busy caught up in their own celebration. Her eyes wildly looked for that blonde hair of his until she noticed him walking in the opposite direction.  

Her heart went out to him, knowing how confident he was on winning today. She pushed past a few of her friends and bumped into Neville who was dancing around with Padma.  

The crowd thinned out at the edges and that's when Hermione had a clear view of Draco. 

And Millie. 

A sense of fear coursed through her veins that Draco would soon be tipped off of something amiss but then, he stepped to Millie and captured her lips feverishly snogging her as if he ached for her.  

And Millie reciprocated, as if nothing was wrong these past couple of weeks.  

The air in Hermione’s lungs disappeared rasping her throat as she struggled to breathe and her eyes pricked with hot tears.  

She sharply turned away and felt the first acrid breath sting her chest. She gasped, her breathing uneven as she struggled to composed the sudden tear of her own heart.  

This reaction wasn’t a simple small crush. Had she denied it that much that she diminished her growing feelings for him? She knew the kiss was the final catalyst but she had no clue that Draco returning to Millie would have slapped her with the undeniable truth. 

Embarrassed with the sudden emotions in the midst of celebration, Hermione ran off pressing her lips together to hold in the pressure of the sob that was aching in her throat.  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

And just like that Draco was dating Millie once more. 

Talks of Millie being by his bed side for the first days for being bedridden by Madam Pomfrey populated the rumor mill. She brought him his books and studied at his side up until curfew. Millie even snuck in during her patrol hours to sneak in a cup of hot chocolate to cheer him up. She was also right on time when Draco was cleared to be released. It was a simple strain but it was somethign magic couldn’t immediately fix.  

Madam Pomfrey was baffled when her usual remedies seemed to do nothing. She was even certain that Draco was suffering with something far more than a twisted ankle. He looked feverish and dull at the same time. She checked him over and over again and found nothing but a fat swollen ankle she fussed over. 

“If you weren’t eating,” Madam Pomfrey began, “I would have sent you to Saint Mungo’s. I don’t like to boast but I’m a rather skilled potioneer. The pain reliever would have done the trick to decrease the swelling. I’m glad that doubling dosages helped but don’t you dare take more than I tell you, Mr. Malfoy.” 

Draco gave her a crooked smile, holding on to Millie for support at the door of the Hospital Wings. 

“When do I ever stray from your advice?” Draco joked.  

Madam Pomfrey huffed and turned to Millie, “Thank you dear for keeping him company. I swear if you hadn’t, I would think I was tending to a statue.” 

Draco and Millie both laughed, knowing the past two days were very strained in Draco’s silence but Millie persisted, and although Draco didn’t quite understand what was wrong with him, he was grateful. 

The following weeks while he recovered, Millie was right at his side, making sure his food was always warmed up, helping him in and out of bed, carrying his stings with a simple levitation spell.  

Millie was more than happy to help Draco and although he truly was trying his best to recreate those feelings that once sparked intensely between them, Draco failed.  

He was softer and kinder to Millie, trying his best to make up for his past shitty behavior as if it would be the key to unlock that passion again but nothing worked.  

He blamed a lot for stalling his advancements. 

He first blamed the game dampening his mood. He blamed his twisted ankle for constantly being under medication. Once May came swinging in, and the intensity of their assignments only grew, he blamed that.  

Even so, Millie stuck to him like glue even during his worse silent moods, sitting with him during their breaks and joining the Slytherin table for meals, placing kisses on his cheek anytime she could.  

It seemed like even Millie became sweeter but only superficially, as if she was careful to not let anyone know of the imperfections of their relationship anymore, preferring to keep quite when anyone asked her how Draco was faring. 

It was a bit too late for that effort.  

Draco would have really appreciated her consideration earlier on but now it felt forced much like he felt he was forcing himself to pretend it was okay.  

It wasn’t and he couldn’t understand why.  

Perhaps it was the how his friends shunned him for returning to Millie. Crabbe and Goyle were not speaking to him at the moment. They weren’t mad per say, but they excused their silence with the reason of studying and the DA. Draco knew that was half true.  

Even Ron and Daphne kept their distance from them. Ron was polite but Daphne looked at him like a parent who was deeply disappointed in him.  

The isolation only made him gravitate to Millie more and feel the weight of it when she was not around.  

Once he was able to walk without his crutches, he was happy to get out of his room to roam around without feeling imprisoned.  

It was exactly what he was feeling as he patrolled the corridors one day towards the end of May, surprised on how quickly time was moving. Within a full week, they would be seated to take their OWLs and Draco didn’t know how ready he was for the exams.  

He hobbled along up and down stairs slowly, ruminating in the hollow loneliness that plagued him when he was in the quiet corners of the castle.  

He wondered if the looming exams would help clear up his mental fog once they were over. Perhaps after, he’d have the room to breathe and figure out why something felt off.  

He stared off into the distance down the corridor, fixated on nothing in particular when Hermione rounded the corner. He immediately snapped out of his daze and smiled, finally happy that he had bumped into someone that was his friend.  

Surely Hermione wouldn’t make him feel like his other friends.  

“‘Mione?” Draco called out, his smile stretching wearily across his face. Hermione stood still, having no chance to escape when Draco limped hurriedly towards her, “Hey!” 

Her heart caved seeing him lightly struggle with his recovering pain. 

Hermione shrunk in her own skin, “Draco.” 

“How’s it been!” Draco huffed our excitedly, happy to speak to someone who wasn’t Millie or her friends. “It’s feels like it’s been ages.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hermione simply answered, her hands kneading together nervously.  

“How’s the OWL prep?” Draco asked.  

“I hope good enough, I was just checking up on my knotgrass in the greenhouses for our potions OWLs” Hermione frowned, “And you?” 

Draco gulped but shook his head, “I don’t know. I’m hoping I’m doing everything I can.” 

“Yeah, same.” Hermione agreed.  

A small beat of silence fell over them.  

“Did you end up going to that party?” Draco blurted, wondering about the only party he had skipped out on involuntarily, “How was it? I’m sure the twins made sure it was a party to remember.” 

Hermione’s mouth parted a flash of realization came across her eyes, she smiled bitterly and shook her head.  

“I’m sure it was,” She squeezed her eyes, “I didn’t go.” 

Draco blinked, “No? Why?” 

She shrugged, “I had things to tend to. You? You didn’t go either.” 

Draco slowly nodded, “Yeah... I- Hospital Wing.” 

Memories flooded in, memories he was not too proud of. One of Millie placing a silencing charm around the privacy curtains and pulling his hospital gown to expose him to her. 

Hermione blushed in embarrassment, “Yes, of course. Your foot.” 

“Ankle,” He winced, hating to correct her. 

Hermione opened her mouth and froze, her eyes wide and her brows tilted up as if she had an enormous weight she need to talk through.  

“Draco?” Millie’s voiced called out, “Is that you?” 

Draco tensed.  

History between the two had Draco fearing that Millie will rip into Hermione again, just like she did at the Three Broomsticks. He began to brace himself for the worse, quickly trying to make up an excuse as to why he was with Hermione at the moment, in the middle of their patrol. Millie calmly approached them, beaming up at Draco, her eyes narrowed but calm. 

Like second nature, she slipped her arm into his, leaning her head on his upper arm, her eyes glinting at the sight of Hermione.  

“Oh, Granger,” She smiled, “What a surprise to see you here.” 

Draco braced himself.  

Hermione seemed to feel the same way.  

“I ran into D-, Malfoy,” She explained and Draco withheld a childish pout, “I heard a sound coming from this area but-” 

“I heard the same sound,” Draco lied, “We were trying to figure out what it might have been.” 

“Seeing how he has limping around,” Hermione began, “He said it was possibly his wooden leg we heard.” 

Draco cracked a smile at how quick she was with her wit... and lies.  

Another tense silence fell over them, Hermione and Draco struggled to keep their faces from splitting open sharing a lie like that.  

Draco cleared his throat, “Anyways, Hermione was just telling me she was coming from the Greenhouses. She was checking up on her Knotgrass.” 

“Oh right,” Hermione perked up as if a thought suddenly came to her, “Lucky I ran into you. Would you tell Goyle that I watered his plants after patrol? It was looking rather dried up and I don’t think they’ll make it to OWLs week.” 

“Pity,” Millie narrowed her eyes. Hermione smiled confidently. 

“I should have enough knotgrass to share with him if anything goes wrong.” Hermione bit her lip, “Tell him not to worry, or actually, he’s been pretty anxious about it. Don’t tell him.” 

Draco felt that funny feeling of needing to tease Hermione’s indecisiveness. His face was stoic but strained from stopping himself from smirking. 

“I’ll let him know,” Draco confirmed, “I think? Maybe.” 

Hermione, who had been intertwining her fingers together nervously, gave Millie a tight smile, “I’ll be going now.” 

She had only taken two steps away when Millie called out for her, her hands lovingly caressing Draco’s chest.  

“Granger?” 

Hermione whipped around at the sound of her name.  

“Yes?” She responding to Millie, her eyes widening out just slightly. 

“I want to apologize,” Millie’s smile held something Draco couldn’t quite place his finger on. 

“For what?” Hermione furrowed her brows in question, perplexed on what was going on. 

Millie sighed, “For everything. The things I said about you, especially. I know it was awful to bring you into our disputes, truthfully, I felt shitty about what rumors I started. Quite the reach, isn’t it?” 

Draco stood there, utterly startled and confused on how Millie was acting. Hermione stood firm but inwardly crumbled when the idea of Draco and her seemed to be a silly little fantasy that even his own girlfriend thought it stupid for falling for the idea.  

“Draco knocked some sense into me,” Millie explained, “Clear my mind, you know? It’s a kind of clarity after a passionate conversation. Pretty eye opening. I apologize. Draco explained you’ve become something like friends over the year.” 

Draco tensed up. He had said that in so little words, her willing body sat up on his one recent night. Draco shoved the very vivid memory away.  

Hermione gulped, “Yes, Potions really forced everyone to interact with each other. I’m quite close to Gregory, too.” 

Millie cocked her head, “Who?” 

“Goyle,” Draco interjected. Millie let out a long realizing ‘oh’. 

“I’m sure it’s like that with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.” Hermione smiled. 

“It’s an odd number in our class but as a trio, Marietta and I get along well enough with Ernie Macmillian, although he’s quite the laidback lad, I should say.” Millie sighed out, “Anyways, speaking of which I should get going, I’m tasked to check up on the Owlery.” 

There was a sort of pain expression lingering in Hermione’s brown eyes as Millie’s hand trailed up to Draco chin to direct him towards her. She showed off her precious bracelet, gleaming green, as Millie tip toed to kiss him.  

“See you after patrol?” Millie cocked her head to the side sweetly.  

Draco nodded stoically.  

Hermione’s eyes, who had been on Draco watching him intently, flickered back to Millie who walked past her with a proud swing in her step.  

Hermione gulped, feeling an unfamiliar ache in her chest but more so than that, confusion clouded her thought process. Draco recognized the confusion in herbeautiful brown hopeless eyes. 

He wanted to ask but he didn’t know precisely what to ask. He stood there awkwardly waiting for her to speak and she did.  

“I’ll be going now,” She smiled stiffly, “See you around Malfoy.” 

She waved him off and Draco felt himself pout.  

Malfoy?  

She called him Malfoy. Twice.  

A familiar ache returned to Draco and it wasn’t his tender ankle.