Haunted

18 | liar liar liar

The library was empty. She slowly made her way to the seat that Malfoy normally occupied, running her fingertips across the worn wooden table where he normally rested his elbows, or sometimes his feet if he decided to lean back in his chair. There was no sign of him. No scattered books, no crumbs from a snack left behind. The chair wasn't even warm.

She sighed. He hadn't been here.

For once, she actually wanted to see him. She was seeking him out, as crazy as the notion was. Instead of retreating up the stairs to the reading nook, she sat in a chair at his table. Not his chair, and not even the one right next to it, but at his table nonetheless. It took a ridiculous amount of courage to do and she felt dramatic for the way her heart pounded at the thought that she was sitting at his table.

She would wait for him.

After dinner the previous night and with nobody to take her mind off what they'd discussed, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about their conversation from when she'd told Narcissa about the Occlumency. The oddest look had crossed his face and before she could elaborate, he'd interjected, had said she was learning Occlumency because he was teaching her advanced shielding techniques.

It hadn't exactly been the truth, and her brain would not stop replaying the moment. Sure, he'd offered to teach her the advanced magic, but that had been ages ago. He'd told her to talk to him when she was ready to learn, but so much time had passed and she hadn't taken him up on the offer. So then why had he so quickly told his mother that he was teaching her?

Why had he lied?

The question bugged her all day. As she ate breakfast, her eyes found him in the dining room. She'd studied him. Wondered. She'd hoped to corner him after the meal but didn't get a chance to as the soldiers paraded down the hall to the training room where they met Pansy and spent the rest of the day practicing healing. She'd been distracted, still pondering that nagging question. She'd scraped by during the healing lesson, her thoughts too cluttered to focus properly. She'd endured several disapproving stares from Pansy, had flushed and tried to get herself to stop thinking, but it was impossible. He'd lied, he'd lied, he'd lied. At dinner she'd watched him still, liar, liar, liar. It wasn't as though his lie had been something so menacing, so horrible, but it was still a lie, and she had no clue why he'd done it.

She'd been hoping to ask him after the meal but abruptly in the middle of it, he'd stood and practically ran from the dining hall, his hand on his forearm, a pinched look on his face. He seemed paler than normal, she'd thought. She wondered if he was alright, and found herself struck with the sudden realization that she hoped he was. Seeing him at dinner the previous night had irreparably altered her perception of him, had broken the fourth wall, and now she couldn't go back to just the two dimensions she'd been living in. Malfoy was more than what she'd thought. Denying the fact was in vain. She didn't think she hated him anymore.

And so, still in search of him, she'd come to the library, anticipating to find him here. But alas, she was alone.

Alone with her thoughts— a blessing, or a curse?

Maybe it didn't matter that he'd lied. Maybe she needed to stop worrying over the fact. It wasn't as though it was so far from the truth. In fact, maybe it could be the truth.

He had offered to teach her the magic, in fact. Sure, it had been a while ago, but he had offered. Perhaps the offer still stood? Since then, she'd improved drastically in her mental magic skills, and his demeanor towards her had shifted significantly. Perhaps training directly with him wouldn't be the disaster it had been that first time around. She didn't hate him anymore. Perhaps he didn't hate her either.