Draco Malfoy

You sat in the corner of the Slytherin common room, clutching the book as if it could protect you. The rain was pouring outside, and the logs were burning low in the fireplace.

• Pretending you don't exist again?

Draco stood in front of you, his grey eyes glowing with poisonous amusement.

• I'm not pretending.

“Of course,” he ran his finger along the spine of the book, “Just accidentally stumbled upon the waste paper while everyone was discussing your failure in potions?”

Someone snorted behind him. You squeezed the pages so hard that the paper tore.

• Maybe that's enough?

Draco leaned closer, his breath burning his cheek:

• Or what? Will you run and complain? Or... cry?

You jumped up, the book fell with a crash.

• Go to hell!

Your voice broke, tears glistened in your eyes. You rushed to the exit, his laughter behind you.

• Run, run!

You flew out into the hallway, tears rolling down your cheeks. And Draco... suddenly fell silent. He looked at the slammed door, expecting you to come back. But no. A minute. Five. Ten. He stood up abruptly, walked out into the dark hallway. Empty. You were sitting on the windowsill, hugging your knees to your chest. The rain was knocking on the glass.

• Found it.

You winced.

• What do you want?

Draco slowly approached.

• You... didn't come back.

• Rejoice. You are rid of me.

He winced.

• This... I don't...

For the first time in years, Draco hesitated. And then he said:

• I'm sorry...