Trust Me (Drarry)

Chapter 4

A/N- Wassup Potterheads? The sky! HAHAHAHAHA! No? Ok... So this update WAS quicker than the last (I think...). I'm working on it, but writer's block is just GAAAAHHHH so bear with me. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :-)

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DRACO POV

"I think I'm sick," I told Pansy, shooing a fourth year out of the best armchair by the fire to sit beside her. She looked up from her magazine only briefly, raising an eyebrow as if to say "so what?"

"Oh, thanks for the concern," I said sarcastically, picking at a loose bit of string on the cushion. "I've got this..." I felt silly saying it out loud, but better Pansy than Blaise, "feeling in my chest."

"Like a heart attack?" She asked, sounding only mildly interested and not at all concerned.
My eyes widened. "I hope not... how do they feel?"
"It depends..." she shrugged, still not looking up, "describe the feeling."
"It feels," I blushed. "Like a heavy weight. Started last week at dinner."
She paused and finally looked up. "When you saw Potter?"
I gaped at her. "How did you-?"
"Draco... do you understand the concept of guilt?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course I do."
"Have you ever felt it?"

I thought for a second. "No. I've never done anything to feel guilty about."
"Until now..." she shut her magazine and cackled. "You feel guilty about the prank you pulled on Potter."
"I- excuse me? Why the bloody hell would I feel GUILTY?"
"You said it yourself the next day. He looks ghastly because he hadn't slept, Snape has had him in detention every night, and he's stressed about everything."
"Why should I care?" I spluttered.
"Because it's your fault," Pansy said simply, still laughing. "You caused him pain - visible, physical pain, and you feel bad about it. You're going soft, Draco."

"I am NOT!" I made a sound of rage, pulling the string so hard that it ripped a hole in the cushion. "...how do I stop it?"
Pansy shrugged. "If you really feel THAT bad, make it up to him. Or just forget about it and go back to bullying first years."

She lifted the magazine up as if to say the conversation was over, leaving me more confused than before.

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The next day, I was walking a little way behind Potter and Weasley on the way to Potions, itching to make a snide comment about Weasley's tatty robes.

Instead, I took my wand out, pointed it directly at Potter's bag and muttered, "Diffindo."

The bag split down the seam, sending all of his stuff flying to the floor. He swore and bent down to pick everything up, waving to Weasley to go ahead just as I had hoped.

"Dear oh dear..." I emerged as soon as Weasley had disappeared, and Potter looked up and glared at me.
"Shove off, Malfoy," he snapped, trying to mop up spilled ink with his robes. Moron.

"Here... Scourgify," I muttered, and immediately the ink disappeared. He looked up in surprise, and then carried on picking up his books as if nothing had happened. "I can fix that?" I offered, pointing at the rip in his bag.

He paused as he stood up, the huge stack of Lockhart's ridiculous books in his arms, several quills and a couple of chess pieces balanced on top. He looked down at his bag and then back at me, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to find the catch.

"Here... Reparo," I said, and the bag looked as good as new... or at least as good as it did before I broke it.

"Thank you?" He said almost questioningly, allowing me to hold the bag open for him as be put everything back into it. He took it from me and looked inside, his eyes still narrowed, before putting it on his shoulder.