when they became villains [draco malfoy] {book 2}

Year 6 - 159

Something else apart from the usual stress of mending the cabinet loomed over the head of the two teens that night in the Room of Requirement. It was Easter break and most of their friends had left again, not that that would change the fact the two were always completely alone in their own hidden room on the 7th floor of Hogwarts. 

Working on the cabinet, time seemed to fly by much faster than it had before, despite the fact they were always just as exhausted by the end of the day as they always had been. In the room, they often sat with their sleeves rolled up or, in Astrid's case, without a shirt and just in her crop-top. Too exhausted to be hiding during the day, it was incredibly refreshing to be able to be unconditionally the way they were, without fearing being exposed. Just feeling the chilly air, running up and down her bare arms brought Astrid a bliss she hadn't even realised she had missed so much.

Refreshing.

Even if hard workers, it was more and more often the two teens found themselves just lounging in the room, talking about this and that. Breathing easily. Once Astrid had even through a joke tricked some weed out of Theo that he had acquired and tried bragging to Rosier about, and Malfoy and her hand spent one of the nights high and laughing all through it, speculating and philosophising about all things that could and could not happen.

Malfoy understood her. Finally, he was also trying to listen. Astrid appreciated that more than anything. She knew it was bad that part of her better mood had been a cause of, once again, things the boy had done, but she liked to think it wasn't all that was there to it. Of course, having a friend like him did help, but it was that she had taken the initiative to remind him whenever she felt he might begin being too self-centred again that had brought them where they were. The same as he edged her on to talk whenever he saw she was closing up. Not just that, but Astrid was trying to better her relationships with her girlfriends too, the same as she was trying to better up her school game - attempting to return at least some of the normalcy that had once been.

And it was working.

Now that they had again sent a bird through over to Borgin and Burkes, Astrid's heart wasn't beating in her heart as irregularity anymore. Of course, she was nervous, but Astrid was no longer on the verge of having a panic attack whenever anything at all stressful happened. And when the bird came back through all chirping and very much alive, it was no longer a sigh of relief that escaped her, but rather an actual, genuine, loud squeal of excitement.

She had not expected such a reaction from herself and it was evident Malfoy had not either, with the way he turned to look at her. Light grey eyes shining bright in the firelight, with a dubious smile, he watched her and breathed even easier when the bird set off to fly somewhere into the debts of the room. Neither had either expected Astrdi's next move.

The air got knocked out of his chest when Astrid, still in the height of her excitement, launched sideways and onto Malfoy who had been sat crisscrossed by the cabinet right next to her. The boy fell backwards, and she on top of him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck tightly as she wiggled happily.

His arms had held against her sides as an instinct to keep her from collapsing onto him completely, though soon enough Malfoy eased into the sudden touch, allowing his arms to slide around her lower back to hold her just as tightly. For once, Astrid truly was really, really happy.

It wasn't long until she pulled away, supporting her on the hands she had placed on either side of Malfoy's face, straddling him. She smiled shamelessly and the boy had sucked in both of his cheeks in hopes to stop the smile of his own, yet still, it kept easily shining through. Biting down on his lip deep in thought, he had trained his gaze to watch the way her lips kept going into a side-pout and then straightened back out continuously, trying to contain at least a bit of the smile of her own, as his thumbs gently rubbed over the sides of her waist. She didn't mind.