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

Year 7 - 202

There was little doubt when saying that Draco Malfoy could hold a grudge longer than anyone else could. The weeks following the big fallout amongst everyone in the Great Hall, Draco had not spared her a single glance. Whenever she walked past, he pretended to talk with somebody at his side. When he walked alone, the lad just jotted out his chin and glared somewhere above everybody else's heads. Not hers though. It's worthless mentioning he didn't talk to her either.

Astrid told herself it didn't matter. That she couldn't feel anything anyway. But she also couldn't help noticing. 

As the two sat, staring out the window of the train compartment, forest, lands, hills whizzing past them, she couldn't help but notice he kept avoiding her. They sat in front of one another. She had come into his compartment when she had seen him enter there alone. Astrid didn't even really know why. But he still hadn't looked at her. Like a statue, Draco sat gazing sideways, the only movement being the one of his jaw as it clenched and unclenched time from time.

Astrid could see why he was angry. She had set him up to be. He had all the rights to be if he thought she had been cheating on him, that she had lied, that she didn't care. She had expected anger. She hadn't expected he would outright ignore her. 

She knew he wanted to say something. Often when she entered the room, even if he didn't look at her, he knew she was there. His eyes would set on a particular object in the room and his body would go rigid as if it was taking all in him not to say something nasty. Not to make a scene. Not to return to the usual taunting that came when somebody upset Draco Malfoy. All because he knew her better than that. Draco knew that vile words would bother her much less than outright ignorance. 

A vast, empty land stretched out ahead where Astrid watched the window too. A small river, leading down the side of the ditch by the train tracks, had overflowed, burying the fresh green grass underneath it. Spring had come. Snow had melted. Trees had just started growing back their leaves. 

With a slam, the compartment door slid shut. Astrid jerked a tad, looking to the side, only to find Draco had left. They hadn't even been on the road for 20 minutes yet. Yet he left to rather sit all by himself for the following 8 hours of the journey. She knew because they were practically the only kids going back home for spring break. The Dark Lord had ordered them to be there.

Was she supposed to feel relief? Was she supposed to feel anything at all? Did she?

* * *

After the disaster which locating and bringing Harry Potter to the Malfoy Manor had turned into, the Dark Lord wasn't in a very pleasant mood. Which was obviously an understatement. 

He had gathered everyone directly involved, and some more, around the table in the Malfoy dining room. Some of the ones involved... were no longer among the living. Astrid was the only person in the room who wasn't secretly trembling.

When she had been summoned from her chambers, Astrid hadn't really known what was going on. The first thing she had said upon entering the room and seeing their company had been "oi, what is a fat-faced Potter doing in our living room?" Even then Draco hadn't looked at her. But she had seen in his glare that she had screwed up. Naturally, all hell broke loose after that. Still, somehow, the Boy-Who-Always-Got-Lucky had escaped.

Sitting there now, in the dining room, Astrid couldn't quite figure out why Draco had decided to lie. It was too obvious the guy they had captured had been Potter, what with Hermione and Weaselbee in his company. He was too easy to recognize. Did Draco not realize that it would only be beneficial to them if that pain-in-the-arse got caught?

A hand suddenly squeezed her cheeks, interrupting her thoughts, and when her face got angled up, her eyes met the red slits that were the ones of the Dark Lord.