The Scent Of Malice | drarry

eleven | blue bruise baby

When the bruise began to develop under Malfoy's eye, fading dark blue against his pale skin, he lied to everyone and said that he tripped, and Harry was oddly grateful for this.

He knew it sounded an unlikely story - Malfoy walked like a model and would sooner starve than trip - and it was probably just to protect his own dignity as ever, but either way Harry appreciated the lie.

He'd been feeling calmer since the latest confrontation, and hadn't seen Malfoy half as much as he normally did over the past few days, which was a relief. Maybe he'd finally listened and agreed to stop tormenting him. Or maybe he was just cooking up something worse.

In reality, Draco was distant because of an emotion that was previously entirely foreign to him - an inkling of remorse. And it wasn't remorse in the sense that he wished he hadn't done it because he'd been punched, but actual genuine guilt for his actions and the things he'd said. And he hated it.

Pansy and Blaise, however, were endlessly amused when he confided the story to them one day in the Common Room, incessantly desperate for details.

"He tried to kiss me again, the pervert," lied Draco in an airy tone, "And when I pushed him away he shoved me back, and I guess that's how I tripped. I don't really remember it."

His left hand slipped subconsciously up to press against the mark left on his cheekbone, the only sign of his dishonesty. The mark would fit Potter's knuckles precisely.

"This is completely fascinating," Pansy giggled, leaning in as he spoke. "I mean, I just can't believe it worked so beautifully."

"Can't believe what worked?" Draco asked absent-mindedly. His fingers carried on tracing over his bruise.

"Oh, yeah! He never got the hint, Pansy, remember?" Blaise laughed pointedly, and with that he had Draco's attention.

"What hint?" he demanded. "I always get hints."

Pansy and Blaise shook their heads with identically infuriating smiles.

"Sorry, Malfoy, darling," Blaise said mock-sympathetically. "If you didn't listen the first fifteen times, we aren't telling you now."

There was probably no quicker way to wind Draco up than this, other than literally to be Harry Potter.

"Nah, you've got to tell me," he glared at his friends, getting to his feet and spinning his wand through his fingers. "Besides, think I don't know Legilimency? Hope you're an Occlumens, Blaise. We'll soon find out one way or another."

But before Draco could enter the other boy's mind he was already blocked out, and he growled in frustration.

His friends laughed again, riling him up further.

"For goodness' sake, Draco, what did you expect? We're all queer Purebloods," Pansy rolled her eyes. "Surely you can't think it's just you who's ever tried to hide your thoughts from your parents?"

"I realise that now," Draco glowered down at her. "And it's extremely annoying. I liked being the most traumatised member of the group but now I'm questioning it, because Blaise was fast just now."

"Try it again and I'll be fast to Hex you into next week," Blaise warned him, and Draco knew he meant it.

"This is so fucking ridiculous." He began to rake his hands through his hair in frustration, not stopping till it was completely wild. "You can't keep secrets from me."

"Oh, but we can," Pansy smiled. "You'll find out soon enough, though. And it'll be glorious."

Draco clenched his jaw so the vein stuck out by his throbbing temple. "I'm going to go and take this out on Potter," he announced.