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. . .
ENOCH IS ANNOYED with Malfoy. Yeah, that's right, Malfoy, not Draco—that's how annoyed he is. Just thinking about the blond makes his jaw clench. He'd really thought they'd been making some kind of progress, that the Slytherin boy had been getting slightly nicer. Or, at least, he'd hoped that was what was happening. Their library session had been surprisingly pleasant, so that had to count for something surely. Except for the end, which is causing Enoch all this grief right now.
But he's mostly annoyed at himself, for so desperately looking for the good he's not even sure is real now. It could be wishful thinking for all he knows, a delusion created to make himself feel better. He's the one who kept looking for the good, kept pushing it even when Malfoy seemed to eager to coldly shove him away. He's the one who suffered through the cold shoulder after cold shoulder just for a little bit of warmth. So yeah, he's mostly annoyed with himself.
Still, it's surprisingly hard to sit next to Draco and keep up his annoyed distance. The overwhelming amount of brine rolling from the boy makes it hard to focus on anything but that, and Enoch has gone through five lemon drops in the first half of the class. On top of that, he's really stuck on this Alchemy work. A quick glance over tells him Draco is, unexpectedly, having a far easier time than him. But the brunet can't ask for help, all he can do is sit, suffer and hope the answer comes to him.
Enoch wants to forgive Draco, he really does. And not just so he can break this silence and ask how to figure out this question. When Draco isn't being a total prat, the boy is actually relatively pleasant company. Enough for Enoch to, in those rare moments, consider him a friend. But, they're just too rare, and the transfer student refuses to let himself be treated so roughly for a reward so small.
"Why do you keep huffing so dramatically?" The quiet hiss of Draco's voice cuts through Enoch's thoughts. It startles him, to the point where he nearly breaks his own plan and goes to look up at the blond boy next to him. But, fortunately, he doesn't; instead he merely jumps lightly, eyes kept glued to his page. "And, more importantly, why are you ignoring me so obviously?"
Enoch doesn't look up. A burning sensation rises up the side of his face and he assumes Draco must be staring at him. As a hint of chilli brushes against the younger male's tongue, he stifles an uncomfortable cough. The spicy sensation doesn't ease up, if anything it lingers, growing worse with each second. Enoch grabs a lemon drop, quickly letting it rest against his tongue to try and block out all other tastes.
Eventually—though it feels like a lifetime—Draco stops watching him. The chillies ease up, giving the poor boy's mouth a much needed release from its pain.
"Have it your way, transfer."
And that, hurts just a bit more than the chillies.
