Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy XIII

A/N:  I feel like this story is stuck in a strange point. It advances in the next chapter...probably.

 Chilled Legacy XIII

It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.

Was it possible to actually die of laughter? After what must've been minute four of laughing without cease, Luna had finally begun to look concerned. Luckily it began to die down, mostly because it was starting to hurt.

Neville began to talk strategy—he and Luna would confront the trio separately and talk some sense into them—but Draco cut it short.

"It's okay. I can stop the curse without them. I'm quite close, all I need is to crack the code from this enchanted book and bang, I'm free. The golden heroes can go to hell."

They turned the corner. Draco noticed Luna and Neville shared a glance, but he ignored it, realizing he didn't give a damn what they thought of his new plan—or what anyone thought of anything for that matter.

"Are you alright?" Neville asked, eyeing his smiling face warily.

"Great," Draco said. "Never better."

"What happened in there," Neville continued, ignoring his reply, "I never thought it would turn out that way, but it's not the end. Harry can be thick, but if we just give him some time to cool off I know we can do this as a team."

"A team," Draco repeated, holding back more laughter.

"Don't do that," Luna said. "Shutting everybody out again won't get us anywhere."

"Ever heard the term 'mind your own damn business?'"

Even through the venomous reply, Draco knew she was right. It's exactly what he was doing. He was shutting the trio out for good. Maybe they were the only people he intended to slam the door on, but doors were swinging left and right as he watched a wall build between him and everyone he'd begun to open up to—Luna, Neville, McGonagall, even Astoria.

It's not like they were doing it—if anything Luna and Neville were the nicest people he'd ever met. He just couldn't bring himself to trust they could forgive him anymore. There was no urgency to make the distancing stop, he just let it happen and embraced the solitude.

Draco led them to the room of requirements.
After all, it wasn't the mission's secrets that he was afraid to share.

***

"All I'm saying is you can be scary when you want to be," Ron said.

"Or don't want to be," Hermione added.

Harry sighed, feeling useless.

Hermione rested a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I just can't shake the feeling. Did you see his face? He wanted to say who the ruler was. Maybe if you'd given him a less—er—savage approach," Hermione began. She wasn't even close to done with the lecture when Ron started laughing.

"I saw his face alright. Pathetic. Really thought we'd buy the sob story."

"It wasn't a sob story," Hermione argued. "If it was, none of us would've listened...it was an apology."

"You never did warm up to him," Harry said. "Not even after the Fiendfyre."

"For a second I thought you had," Ron said. Guilt only crossed his face for a moment.

No one felt as guilty as Harry did though.

The entire mission had rested on Malfoy giving them the name, and unless someone conjured up a truth potion right quick, there was no way they were getting it now. It wasn't the first time he'd let his emotions get in the way. He lost count of how many times he'd yelled at the wrong people—his best friends included.
Though, that wasn't the only thing he felt guilty about. It would be stupid to try to lie at this point. All three of them had started to warm up to Draco, and never in a million years had he expected to hear an apology, let alone imagine himself reacting the way he did.
The minute Draco had left the table was the minute the sound of his own voice had echoed back at him.
Had he really been so cold?
Draco had done shitty things, and he didn't deserve the second chance he was looking for—no one ever does.
Harry had the chance to show him mercy, but instead ridiculed his sincerity.
Who was he, a saint? Wasn't the point of all this that they were all imperfect people who needed mercy?
And here he was, slamming that door on Draco's face—as if using himself as an example of how rotten humans could really be. Quick to forget the good and eager to focus on their pride.