after dusk - draco malfoy

viii. | eight

BACK AT SCHOOL, THE BUZZ WAS completely about Hogsmeade for the third years. We all loved it. I headed straight to the library when we arrived back at school, so I could get started on the essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I really liked Professor Lupin, he seemed to enjoy teaching, unlike Professor Snape in potions.

If a teacher didn't seem like they wanted to be there, then it makes me feel like I shouldn't either. Potions had always been one of my better subjects and I always loved it but ever since moving to Hogwarts, Professor Snape makes it so much less enjoyable.

Not to mention that he favoured all the Slytherin house over everyone else. That meant Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise always got away with talking and messing about. However, if Harry and Ron whispered to one another - which happened quite frequently - Snape would take points from Gryffindor.

I had noticed by then that Snape didn't take much of a liking to Harry and he would do anything to get him into trouble. To my knowledge, Harry had never done anything for Snape not to like him, he just didn't.

I had nearly finished my essay when I see someone looming over my shoulder. "Is that the Defence Against the Dark Arts homework?" The person asked me. I looked behind me to see Draco standing behind me. "I'm struggling with it."

I raised my brow at him and scoffed, slightly. "And why should I help you?" I suggested, thinking back to all the times he had picked on me. "You are never not making me feel like shit," I concluded, putting my quill on the desk in front of me. "Give me one good reason why I should help you?"

I noticed something dancing in his eyes, almost as though he knew I was going to say that and he had already come up with an answer. He leaned down to put his face to the side of mine, getting ready to whisper something in my ear. It took everything I had not to shrink away, feeling uncomfortable with him being this close to me. "If you don't, it just goes to show you're exactly the same as me," he started before leaning back. "Stuck up and selfish."

A soft yet insincere laugh escaped my lips and I shook my head in disbelief, slowly giving in. I pulled out the chair beside me, so he could take a seat. "You know, you shouldn't be proud of being stuck up and selfish," I told him, moving the book I was reading from down so he could see it. I handed him my essay plan and he got out an empty page of parchment.

I rolled my eyes at this, thinking he just wanted to copy my work. "I'm a Slytherin," he pointed out, getting his quill and ink out. "It's who I am. I can't change a thing." I decided not to reply, not wanting him to get satisfaction from the conversation. I finished my essay before him but I stayed, just in case he needed my help.

He had managed to get a few paragraphs done in silence before he stops midsentence and looks up at me. "Have you been in the Three Broomsticks yet?" He asked me, confidently, as though he had been thinking about it for a while.

My brows almost furrowed but I stopped myself for a moment. "Uh - yeah, I went in today," I told him, a bit cautious of where the conversation was going. "Fred and George got me a Butterbeer. Why?"

He shifted in his seat, almost uncomfortably. "Well, I was wondering if we could go down there next week and do any homework we had?" He suggested, my brows unfalteringly furrowing, without hesitation. "It's a nice atmosphere and I actually get work done when I'm with you, apparently," he mentioned, pointing to his essay.

I paused for a moment, thinking about it. "The Three Broomsticks isn't exactly my kind of scene for doing homework," I replied, not really feeling comfortable with the idea. "Plus, I'd like to keep school and Hogsmeade separate so I can go and relax in Hogsmeade."

A look of disappointment seemed to cross his face but I couldn't have been certain. "Oh," he replied, dragging it out. "It doesn't matter, I just - uh - nevermind." It was obvious he wanted to say something but I wasn't sure whether I trusted this side of him.

Regardless, I was curious about what he wanted to say. "No, go on," I encouraged him, now turned so I was facing him. "You can tell me."

He paused, blinking. A slight shock was constructed on his features before he opened his mouth to speak again. "I'm just failing quite a few of my subjects, and you seem to know your stuff in our classes," he trailed off, almost refusing to look me in the eyes. I nodded my head in acknowledgement, understanding where the conversation was going. "Do you think you would be able to help me?"

A conflict began inside of my head on whether I should or shouldn't. He's using you. He's only being nice because he wants something. Once his grade gets back up, he'll go back to being horrible to you. But then there was the other side of things. What if his parents are really strict, and this is why he is the way he is? I can't let him fail when I am able to help him, even in the slightest.

I let out a slow, heavy exhale. My eyebrows hung low and it was evident I was frowning as he didn't seem too confident on whether I was going to agree or not. "If I help you," I began, his facial expression lighting up, but not too much. "Are you going to stop acting like such a prat and actually treat me with respect?

He nodded his head, a small smile shadowed on his face. "Just don't tell the boys," he quickly added on, almost in a panic. "They'll just start taking the mick about me failing." I let out a small sigh and nodded my head in defeat. He smiled at me and finished up his essay. "You are the best, Delaney," he told me before turning away and leaving the library.

I stood there, absentmindedly, for a few moments and I didn't even realise I had been grinning like an idiot. When I noticed, it quickly fell and I shook my head, mentally cursing myself for giving in to my softer side.

Pinch of salt. It doesn't mean anything to you. He doesn't mean anything to you. Not even his nice side. Take it with a pinch of salt.