someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

021

artemis still spent the majority of her time with cyrille.

draco generally saw no problem in this—only that it almost felt as if any sort of friendship the french girl, who'd showed up at his family manor the summer passed, had established with draco and the rest of his friend group seemed to have been disposed of and forgotten completely. over the course of three weeks, it was as if it had dissolved; merely a forgotten memory swimming in the endless pool of the lost and neglected.

a rhythmic clack-clack was emitting from the heels of draco's school shoes as he wandered the halls in solitude. he'd wanted to be alone for several reasons; one being he simply felt drained by the amount of time he'd already spent in the company of others. another was that he needed to study—every other time he'd tried that week, something had succeeded in his distraction. at this point, he had procrastinated an unfathomable amount of homework. the library had been no good; students were becoming noisier and gossipier by the minute. all draco heard when he'd sat at table to revise or work was the droning of quiet chatter, the whispers slipping through cracks in the wood of bookshelves and floating through the circulating air. finally, he stopped before a classroom that seemed to be vacant. its dark, rustic door was sealed shut, and he could discern no light from beneath its crack. it would have been deserted, if artemis, who sat cross-legged on a chair, hadn't been there. her shoes had been removed, and rested just beside the slim foot of the desk upon which she'd rested her head, chin tucked into the fold between her forearm and upper arm. her ink-black hair was splayed, fan-like, across the soft edge of her tricep, and her eyelashes fluttered open and closed like butterfly wings. draco exhaled wearily. he'd wanted to be completely alone—and it seemed the world would not allow such a wish at this time.

"oh, it's you," he breathed. and then; "where'd your friend go?"

artemis muttered, "studying with the other beauxbatons students." she appeared somewhat dejected, lonely. draco regretted what he said next.

"right; that's not you anymore, is it?" he'd raised an eyebrow at her, as her head shot up to look at him—likely trying to decipher the intention with which he said such a statement.

"no," she said. "it is not." draco grinned, scoffed. already, he could feel the atmosphere changing; the air seemed to become thick with tension, and his palms felt clammier. he released his hand from where it gripped the strap of his schoolbag.

"it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with your new friends, you know," he said. the ones you leave at the slytherin table at mealtimes, he wanted to add. it felt too cruel, however, to say such a thing. so draco swallowed his words, masking his regret with the cold, pallid mask of the sole malfoy heir he'd practiced countless times in front of his bedroom mirror.

"yes," artemis sighed, blowing a sharp breath from her nose. "but i'm not going to see cyrille much after this year, so i'm spending a lot of time with her. you understand, don't you?"

"sure."

draco had made a mistake—he knew it by the way artemis' face contorted in disbelief and horror and shock. something within her seemed to have snapped, swift as a jinx. "look, it's not my fault i had to transfer to this school—"

"and what exactly do you mean by that?" the tension crackled, waiting for the climax of the day's narrative as the two of them became filled with offense and hurried to pull the shields of their souls up.

"i mean," artemis begun, "that as much as i like you and your friends—"

"oh, they're just my friends now? not yours?" he had raised his eyebrows and pushed his weight onto one leg.

with her mouth open, artemis gasped, "that— that's not what i meant and you know it!"

"sure, you didn't." then, silence pressed in on them, suffocated them; artemis who was glaring at draco with the sort of expression he had never seen on her face before, and draco, who had crossed his arms as his thin lips pursed together distastefully.

"as much as i am fond of our friends," she started again.

"we're the replacements, i get it," draco snapped back at her, aware that there was a newly established cut in their relationship—as if someone had taken a blade and severed whatever string of decency and mutual liking had tethered them together. just like that, draco thought to himself, it was done. the damage was irreparable, and deep down, he knew so.

"no," artemis said, her stern expression falling in a curtain of despair. 

"yes, we are. stop trying to convince yourself otherwise," he said, quietly into the still of the day. "you would much rather go back to your little french school." before he gave her the chance to continue whatever that had been, draco spun on his heel with a final, definite composure and allowed the heavy door to swing shut behind his furthering back.

.

artemis was livid.

artemis had heard some describe anger as a burning hot red; yet she disagreed. anger sent a cloudy mix of vomit-green, endless onyx, saturated scarlet and a nasty shade of brown into the edges of her vision. it looked different depending on the day—who or what she was mad at, how quickly the blood was pounding through her arteries. that wretched boy draco malfoy simply did not understand her perspective. of course; when she had not been given a choice in her transfer of school, she would opt to spend time in the company of someone she would scarcely see later. someone whom had been her friend for several years longer than draco, someone whom artemis cared for and understood far better. he didn't understand. of course he did not—who was she kidding, to think that he (who had only ever had one set of friends and had lived in one place his entire life, loved by both parents) might feel some hint of empathy for her?

when the thwack of the classroom's closing door had finished resonating around the space, artemis stood; her chair falling backwards in reaction to her speed and clattering stiffly to the ground. an ugly, defiant noise wrenched its way from her throat, and she found herself pacing the floor—fingers wound tightly in the roots of her hair, eyelids pressed tightly together like armour. all artemis felt was hot, pulsing rage. her ribcage felt as if it were about to burst open. her fingers trembled.

"why," she said aloud, "does he have to be so stupid?"