Out of Time

Chapter 6

Draco leaves the dormitory early. The room is still dark, the curtains drawn, and three of the other four beds are still closed up tight. Zabini is the only one up earlier than Draco, something that isn't uncommon.

Even if Draco doesn't enjoy being up early, he does enjoy avoiding Crabbe and Goyle. The night before had been tense. He wasn't able to fully relax and trust that there wouldn't be another altercation, with all five of them sharing the same dorm. He doesn't fancy a repeat this morning, and he's only slightly less twitchy to hex Crabbe or Goyle today than he'd been twelve hours ago.

Zabini's already in the Great Hall, piling a plate high with smoked kippers and scrambled eggs. Draco occupies the seat across from him and Blaise talks around a mouth of eggs.

"Before anybody else gets down here, Malfoy, you have to tell me what it is about her. What's worth all this hassle?"

Draco tries not to feel offended. Blaise isn't trying to be disparaging. He wants to understand and Draco finds himself quite partial to justifying his efforts.

"She's just - different. Different than we thought. She's brave and open. She trusts me for some inexplicable reason. It feels - nice."

This is an extremely lame way to close. Blaise swallows and tries to hide an air of incredulity behind a full goblet of pumpkin juice. "She trusts you and it feels nice?"

Blinking twice, Draco considers shoving the pumpkin juice right into Blaise's lap. He resists this and attempts to wrangle his frustration into better words instead.

"She's... Potter's brains. She's every good idea that prat has. She's the queen of Gryffindor. She's so deep into the good and right thing to do all the time, and yet she looks at me like I might qualify. Even after the way I used to treat her. She's giving me a chance anyway. Yes, it feels... nice."

He stares at his plate, nudging around a kipper with the tines of his fork. That is a decent way to boil it down, at last. Nobody's ever looked at Draco like that before, and his mum doesn't count.

"Somehow she's decided that I can fit into her general worldview, that I'm not so bad, and she trusted me with the biggest secret of her life. Until I blew it up in the hallway the other week, that was." He pulls a face, not enjoying the facts. "I felt - hell, I feel like maybe I could deserve it. Sometimes. I want to - to be better. For her, I want to be better. And if you ever say a single word of this to anybody, I swear to Salazar, Zabini, I will curse you."

Blaise has been silent for several long minutes, and while Draco is torturously curious for a reaction, he's far more comfortable hearing it and not seeing it. The kipper takes another trip around his plate.

"Do you know anything about her, though?"

"What do you mean? I know she's brilliantly talented, she's brave and independent, she's extra hot because she doesn't know it, she likes firewhisky, there's a spot behind one knee that -"

"I mean, do you know deeper things? What do her parents do? What are their names?"

Draco doesn't know. "They're Muggles."

He can hear the eye roll without needing to look. "Obviously. Is that all you've got? What's her middle name, then?"

Draco doesn't know.

"Where did she grow up?"

"London?"

"Are you asking me or telling me? She's top in every lesson, but which one is her favourite?"

Draco doesn't know.

"What's her favourite colour?"

"Red?"