Dark Promises (A Draco Malfoy Fanfic)

Chapter 7

It's been almost two weeks and I still haven't heard anything from Malfoy.

That b*stard has been ignoring me ever since my confession, skipping classes, perhaps to avoid me. And whenever he was there, he always kept his head down, never looking up, never looking in my direction.

And just when I thought that something may have changed between us after all that we've said. But of course, I should have known that this was just bound to happen. From the many years of knowing Draco, I've understood that he is an extremely difficult person to get through. It's like he follows this ordeal routine of revealing a little bit of himself, of a good-natured man, and then shoving it all back in as if nothing had happened. From the outside, he looks like his usual, unconcerned with anybody but himself. But the deeper that I find myself searching for something to grasp onto, I notice the little details that seem all too familiar, almost like looking into a mirror. It's the way that he detaches from the rest of the world, stuck in his thoughts with no one else to comfort him other than that black cloud that hangs over his shoulders. And yet, to avoid looking so meager, he simply goes on about his day, belittling everyone and everything without so much as a thought to it. 

And if I were to be honest, it really did hurt me, because maybe after all, he didn't feel the same. Maybe it was all just a game to him, another one of his meaningless pranks.

"Angitia, are you ok?" Hermione asks as she nudges me, pulling me away from the raucous voice in my head. "You seem to be lost in thought."

I throw on a smile and face her, "It's nothing," I say, pausing to think of something to change the subject, "I was just thinking about the Quidditch tryouts. Do you really think that team will accept Ron?" 

We both look down at the selection of Gryffindors standing about through the cool and misty drizzle. From the corner of the stands, we watch a group of first years nervously clutching onto old, musty brooms, using them to revert any unwanted attention as they gape at the seventh years confidently joining them in the field. Within this integrated crowd, we spot a bit of burnt orange emerging from the sea of students, holding a broom loosely, uncomfortably bouncing between two feet. 

Hermione straightens herself and answers with a simple response. "I can't say exactly, but I'm sure he'll do great." I nodded and although I agreed, the sight of Ron told me that his chances of getting onto the team seemed quite slim. He'd be lucky if he did. But I wouldn't say that out loud. 

Harry decides to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the field.

As the groups began the audition, chaos spilled; some had no clue what they were doing, while others didn't even have the equipment. A few girls were just there to fool around, and a bunch weren't even Gryffindors. And as time passed and more groups failed, the stands became busier and busier as they sat to heckle at everyone else.

Despite being distracted by the rowdiness that surrounded me, from the corner of my eye, I could see the unmistakable white-blonde hair peeking over the benches, as he was passing through to watch the show.

And as much as I didn't want to admit it, there was this little giddy feeling stirring in my stomach as I thought about all of the possible scenarios that could happen. What if everything I thought of before was wrong? What if all it took was just one look at me and then a realization would sweep over him-- that he truly wanted to be with me? That he made a mistake by neglecting me and making me feel something for him when I know I shouldn't have. But then I imagine him saying that it didn't matter because it was all in the past; that while we are filled to the brim with faults and flaws, he still cares and wants the best for me; that maybe whatever we have between us can actually become something worthwhile, something so precious that we wish could last forever.