Traitor: A Draco Malfoy Story

fifty-one

He was walking so fast I was practically dragging behind him trying to hold onto my broom. "Can you just--hey, slow down! Malfoy!" I continued to protest.

His grip wasn't harsh or painful, it was gentle yet demanding, his long fingers wrapped around my upper arm. When we reached the castle, he turned into an empty dim corridor and brought me in front of him, his hands starting at my shoulders and running down to my hands before lightly cupping my cheek to look intently at my eyes. It was a quick, full-body check to make sure I wasn't in too bad shape, and his care didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you okay?"

"Why were you at the tryouts?"

He glowered. "What, a guy can't watch his ex-teammates and the best house have Quidditch tryouts? It's the only sport."

My cheeks reddened slightly. "Right. Sorry."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "And I may have wanted to see if you could possibly hold your own on a field with Purebloods. It might have been a 'two birds, one stone' situation."

I smirked. "It might have been?"

"Well, thank Merlin it was," he breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't ever do that again."

"Do what, get hexed?" I laughed. "You're responsible for half of the hexes thrown at me."

He looked away. "I asked you last year to not dance too close to the edge. I didn't just mean with ballet." His gaze met mine again. "You might not believe this, and I don't really care if you do, but I want you to know that--" he stopped as though he'd choked on his words. "That--"

I put a hand on his arm. "Relax," I soothed, tracing small circles with my thumb on his sleeve.

Instead of relaxing, he seemed to shut down. Coldness seeped into his features and his body was stiff once again, like he had realized he was getting vulnerable again and shut that part of him off. His voice was monotonous when he found his words again, and there was no trace of the gentle humanity that he had shown before. "I just don't want you doing anything stupid. We both know that's hard for you so just, try."

I didn't say anything for a few seconds. When I did speak, I wished I hadn't. "You can't even admit that you care about me, can you?"

I was surprised to see pain twist his face. "No. I can't."

I tilted my head to the side. "That wasn't a no to the caring about me, just the admittance."

Defeat softened his features slightly as he looked to the ground. "I can't seem to stop caring about you. No matter how much you or anyone else wants me to. I need you to do something for me. Please."

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched him take a deep breath.

"I need you to hate me."

"What?" I ask, a brash chuckle escaping my lips.

"It'll make it so much easier just—I need you to want nothing to do with me."

"I mean, you're a pain in the ass, and you make me madder than anyone else, but I could never hate you. Even after everything you've done."

"You don't know what I've done."

I rolled my eyes. "You can't have done anything that bad."

The pain in his eyes almost brought tears to my own. I could have sworn I saw one slip down his face before he turned away, tearing off his suit jacket and yanking his sleeve up. The Dark Mark sat etched onto his skin, the blackness of the tattoo poisoning his porcelain skin.