Conflict

Bandage

Footsteps come down the corner of the hall. They echo in the silence, bouncing off the high, evening-darkened walls. The stone floors do little to cushion the sound, and less to hide the way you sniffle in panic and hurry to rub your face clean of tears.

Even the noise of your robe's red-lined sleeves rubbing against each other is deafening against the quiet.

You look up to see platinum blonde hair swaying back and forth, making its way towards you. Draco. You felt like puking. Clumsily fumbling with the bandage you've been stuck at this bench trying to wrap your hand in, you silently pray that he'll leave you be.

"What's wrong?" He draws out as he gets closer, smirk plastered on his face like the silver 'I' on his robes. "Why the waterworks? Mighty wimpy for a Gryffindor, no?"

"It burns." You hiss. Your voice is wetter than your lashes as it leaves you, low and laced with anger. "Something you wouldn't know. Of course Umbridge's lapdog gets immunity."

Your throat bobs and your chest jerks, lungs jumping when your trembling knuckles once more lose hold of the bandage and your black quill scars are exposed again to the stinging air. Fire flickers in the back of your nose, and new tears well up to clog your vision.

Draco stands still in front of you, and you look away just in time to miss the way he rolls his eyes. He leans down, and his hands come forwards to take the bandage himself. You slap them away.

"I'm trying to help you, incompetent lion-face." His brows are furrowed when you turn your gaze to look up at him. Your chest jumps again and you sneer, lowering your uninjured hand to let him do the bandaging. Fresh tears have already made another mess of your face.

His eyes are trailed on your hand, and his face cinches inwards whenever he prods too hard and your fingers flinch. It's uncharacteristically gentle, and static roars in the pit of your throat. He makes quick work of it, and you're almost sad when he lets go.

Your eyes meet, and your heart beats just a little faster.

"There." He starts after a moment, rolling his eyes and looking away from you. "Just don't go getting yourself into trouble next time."

"You say it like it's easy," You sniffle again, finally calming down. "Lapdog."

Draco scoffs and turns away, subtly shaking his head back and forth before he stomps away down the corridor, leaving you to your own devices once again. You swallow around a nasty lump of snot in the back of your throat, and try not to let yourself miss his company.