Chapter 8

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At breakfast Draco found it difficult to speak to anybody. In the space of a few days he had turned his life upside down. Recognising his feelings about his future meant that some day he would have to abandon his family, and his friends. He couldn't bring himself to chat amiably as though everything was the same.

He avoided catching Pansy's eye as she sat down opposite him. He turned away before she could speak...and found himself staring at, and being stared at by Harry Potter.

Oh yes, that was the other thing. Coming to terms with a complete political about-face and the knowledge that he would be forever distanced from everyone he knew as a result, was a problem. But discovering that the animosity, jealousy and resentment he had always harboured for Harry Potter was rapidly giving way to admiration and growing fascination...well that was a whole different can of worms.

As if I didn't have enough to deal with, he thought to himself. At that point he realised that he was still staring, and he looked away abruptly. He had time to notice that Potter had been looking at him with a most peculiar expression. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, just as he had looked that day in Madam Malkin's, the day he had been wrenched from his hitherto mundane existence and discovered a whole new world...

Ok, starting to understand exactly how that feels... he mused, redirecting his gaze into his bowl of corn flakes. He tried to pay attention to the buzz of voices around him, anything to distract him from the sight of Potter gazing at him. He caught a thread of conversation between Pansy and Crabbe, and clung to it.

'...he don't feel well. Gone to see Madam Pomfrey. She said he probably been eating too many sweets but I think it's flu or somefin'.'

'Goyle does eat too many sweets, it's a wonder he's still got any teeth. But I have heard there's a bug going round so it can't hurt to get checked over.'

Draco tried to look interested in the discussion about Goyle's troublesome bowel, but his mind was somewhere else entirely when the sound of his name made him snap his attention back to Pansy.

'You ought to go and see Madam Pomfrey, Draco. You don't look healthy, and you're not yourself these days. Maybe you're going down with something'.

'I'm not ill,' he countered defensively. Pansy didn't look convinced. 'I mean, I've had a lot on my mind lately and I don't sleep so well, but once I've got my Potions project finished...'

'Potions assignments have never stressed you out before. Are you sure there's nothing else bothering you? You can always talk to us you know, we're your friends.'

Draco tried to smile gratefully, but the expression didn't come naturally. He had to think about each little muscle in his face and mentally tell it to pull.

Pansy continued. 'My parents are having your parents over for dinner this weekend. Would it help if I passed a message on for you? Whatever it is, they might be able to help.'

'No!' snapped Draco, a little bit too vehemently. Pansy looked taken aback.

Absolutely the last thing Draco needed was for his father to get an idea that all was not well with his son. Not until he was ready, if he was ever ready, to come clean. He struggled to recompose himself while Pansy ploughed on.

'Well, I know it can be difficult to talk to your parents about personal stuff, but that's why I thought if it came from me...'

'I don't want to talk to my parents about anything. I don't want you interfering, and there is nothing to tell anyway! Now can we talk about something else please?'

Their end of the table fell silent for a moment. Then Crabbe decided to initiate a new discourse with his customary eloquence.

'Anyone know how to get Flobberworm piss off a pencil case?'

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