Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Forty-Seven

I couldn't believe how much of a coward I was.

Despite realizing my idiocy, I still couldn't pluck up the courage to talk to Draco. I kept making excuses — "I only ever see him during classes, and I can't talk to him there," and "he looks annoyed right now; I'll wait until later," and etcetera — but deep down, I knew I was just too scared to.

But could anyone blame me? I mean, he'd been pushing me away, telling me to stay away from him, and when I approached him, he told me he'd slept with the person I hated most in the world.

It was funny that I thought he'd even want to speak to me — he never so much as looked at me, even when we were standing right across from each other in Potion's class.

And yet, even when I knew for a fact that he hated my guts, I still kept a close eye on him, though we hardly crossed paths outside of class. And because I was suddenly paying attention, I was starting to notice that whenever I saw him, he looked significantly worse than the last time.

He had dark shadows under his eyes, and he kept falling asleep in class. He was looking paler than usual, and it looked like he was losing weight; his cheeks were thinner, his robes hung a little looser every week, his hands shook every time he picked something up. His expression was always tired and blank, and his eyes were colorless, lifeless.

He looked exhausted and physically sick.

It was clear he wasn't doing so good, and it showed when he didn't even bother paying attention in class. For a while, I watched him mix random items together into his cauldron just to seem like he was doing something, not even trying to follow the instructions.

But eventually, he stopped trying altogether, neglecting the potion completely and staring at the table, ignoring everything Professor Slughorn said.

However, I knew things were much worse than I expected when December came, and the Saturday of the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor rolled around to much excitement from the students.

I was sitting in the Great Hall, trying my best to ignore Cori, Raylee, and Mirah sitting just a few meters away.

I stared down the table at where Draco normally sat with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, but hadn't in a long time. It was strange; I'd asked Crabbe and Goyle a few nights back if they'd seen Draco anywhere, but they told me he hadn't hung around them in a while. It seemed he was spending more time by himself, just like I was.

"Gryffindor's gonna crush us," I heard Mirah sigh disappointedly, and my attention piqued. I turned to glance at her to see her glaring across the Great Hall at the Gryffindors.

"Why's that?" Cori asked, and Mirah raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her.

"You haven't heard?" she asked, looking surprised, and Cori shook her head. Raylee just stared down at the table in annoyance; probably at the news Mirah was about to share with Cori.

"Slytherin had to bring in a backup Seeker last-minute," Mirah said, looking dejected. "Malfoy's gone off sick."

"Why didn't they just delay the match, like they did last year?" Cori asked, looking confused by this news. I was confused too; I never knew Draco to back out of a match, especially when it was against Gryffindor.

Mirah shrugged. "I guess he just didn't care."

I took a start in reply to these words. He didn't care....

Draco allowing his grades to slip was an entire thing on its own, but dropping out of Quidditch and avoiding his friends?

Whatever was going on with him, it was bad — worse than I thought it was.