Chosen || Draco Malfoy

47 - The Pimple

When I return to my dorm after my midnight session with Dumbledore, I lie awake for hours, my mind buzzing with the things I'd just witnessed in our headteacher's mind.

I was fully disturbed that he'd shown me Voldemort as a child. This is the dude he eventually wants me to off, and I've got to see him as he was in his 'innocence': a poor disturbed orphan child who clearly needed a psychological evaluation and a supportive network around him. Doesn't Dumbledore realise that it's all I'm going to fucking see now?

I am still awake when the sun rises, and I feel a ball of panic behind my navel realising I had had exactly zero hours sleep. Luckily, however, it is a Sunday and technically I could roll over and spend the day catching up on some z's. Except I can't because not only do we have Quidditch training but I've got a Transfiguration essay to complete and Slughorn has ordered the Slug Club to his office for a Sunday afternoon roast and a 'special announcement'. Ugh.

So, grudgingly, and with very heavy limbs, I climb out of bed, my head spinning with wooziness. When I go the bathroom and look in the mirror, I scream.

"A pimple! A fucking pimple!" Indeed, there is a great big white spot sat at the end of my nose.

In my panic, I squeeze it, and not only does it splat satisfyingly against the mirror, but so does a shit load of blood.

"I look like fucking Rudolph!" I cry in horror to my reflection. My god, is it too late to send an owl to Dumbledore and ask him to declare it a dress up as your favourite reindeer day? I mean, he does owe me a favour or six.

"Diggory!" Zacharias bellow when I eventually join the Hufflepuff team down at the Quidditch pitch. "Why the fuck do you have a scarf wrapped around your face?"

"Bad cold," I mumble, my voice muffled. "I don't want to spread it."

He looks like he's about to tell me to stop being dramatic and take the sodding scarf off when he hesitates.

"Go back to bed then. You're no use to us if you're ill."

Thank fuck for that bet.

I go to turn but he has one more thing to add. "And Cecilia, I've got some vapour rub I can smother into your chest later."

The entire team sniggers and I resist the temptation to stick my middle finger up at him.

But even worse than that, the second I step into the Entrance Hall, I see Draco emerging from the dungeons.

To my surprise, he heads straight towards me, a frown creasing at his brow as he nears. "Cecilia," he murmurs with a touch of amusement to his voice. "I'm sorry, but I've got to ask, what's with the scarf?"

"Cold," I mutter stiffly, my eyes shifting around uneasily at the people passing us by.

His gaze follows mine and he quickly takes a step back, clearing his throat.

"Can we talk?" He asks, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. "If you're not busy, I mean?"

He looks incredibly ill, I realise, as though he's not slept or eaten in a long time.

And I want to talk, I really do, but like hell am I going to let him see my pimple.

"I can't," I say, my voice muffled behind my scarf as I shake my head. "I've got homework and sleep to catch up on."

His face falls slightly which he quickly recovers. "Come to the Room with me then, and we can sleep and work on our homework there. Please, I need- I need a break so much."

A break from what? I want to ask.

"I've got Slug Club later," I say, although I'm definitely calling in sick for that.