Anonymous Love (Drarry)

Chapter 9 - The Eighth Night

Draco was a jumble of nerves and jitters as he neared the Great Hall on Saturday morning with his friends.

"Drake? You alright?" came Pansy's voice.

"M'fine," he managed to say.

He went in the front door and immediately started scanning the Gryffindor table. Harry's usual spot wasn't occupied yet, so he sat down at his Slytherin's table, buttering a piece of toast. He kept his eyes on the door.

"Mate? You sure you're alright? You've already smeared three layers of butter on your bread," Blaise said worriedly.

"Hm? Oh, I, I'm fine," he said distractedly and bit into his all too buttery toast. It tasted disgusting.

But just as he swallowed the revolting oily and fatty bite of toast, Potter, Granger, and Weasley entered the Great Hall.

He sprang up abruptly, almost knocking Pansy off the bench, and rushed to the spot where Potter's sitting down.

He paused a second to catch his breath and tapped on his shoulder. He spun around.

"Er, hi, Potter? Can I see you outside for a minute?"

Draco was starting to squirm uncomfortably under every single pair of eyes in the Great Hall on them.

Potter looked mildly unsure. Granger was watching them silently. To Draco's surprise, Weasley didn't jump up and punch him in the face or threaten him, telling him to shove off. He merely watched the two intently alongside his girlfriend.

Potter shifted in his seat. "Erm, sure... why not?"

Draco nodded stiffly and guided him outside the door, fully aware that the Great Hall was completely silent and everyone was staring at them.

They stood outside the corridor, far enough from the Great Hall for anyone to eavesdrop, not that far to make it seem like Draco was murdering Potter.

Potter chewed on his lip. "So."

Draco fought the urge to bite his nails. "So... um, I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Potter raised an eyebrow.

"For yelling at you. Last Sunday. I was just in a bad mood and lashed it out on you. I'm sorry."

He shifted his weight between his feet, looking hopefully at Potter's face.

"It's... okay," he said eventually.

Draco sighed in relief. "Thank you for understanding. And also thank you for healing my forehead... I- you should know, I didn't mean anything I said."

Potter nodded, a faint blush appearing on his face from the chilly breeze. He looked cute.

"Thank you for apologizing, Malfoy," he said quietly.

"It's what I should do." Draco paused. "Did... did someone pass along the word to you yesterday? I told someone to say sorry in advance and then I'll do it properly today."

Potter bit his lip. "Yes, someone did tell me."

Draco's face lit up with hope. "Can you tell me who told you?"

His eyes twinkled for a split-second but went back to normal as quickly as the sparkle appeared. "I- sorry, I can't. He told me not to tell."

Draco's face fell a bit. "Oh. Well, that's fine." It's not like he didn't expect that.

Potter smiled. He was charming. "Shall we get back to the Hall?"

Before he could stop his Potter-smile-rotten brain, he responded. "Okey-dokey."