When I am walking across the hallway after eating breakfast, I spot Draco with dark circles and even paler skin than before, walking with Zabini. I can't help but wonder if he's okay, but then I decide that it's not really my business.

"Potter," he says after seeing me, and I flinch.

"Draco's merely ... interested."

"Malfoy," I mutter, giving him a half-hearted wave. I cannot decipher his intentions at all.

Zabini smirks. "Are you coming to Slughorn's party tonight, Potter?"

Draco scowls, while I give him a nod. "You?"

"Of course," he says smoothly, before walking away with Draco.

I watch him warily as he leaves with Draco. Why are they talking with me? What do they want?

After they are gone from my sight, I walk in the opposite direction, deciding to clear my head and hoping that Slughorn's meeting will go well.

It does not. Harry is not there, and the questions are directed to me instead:

How is Harry doing? What is going on in your brother's life?

I am sick of it.

When I walk out of the room, I am glowering, trying not to cry. I am just a ghost in these halls, while all my brother did to receive attention was be brave.

I am not brave. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and my loyalty was the reason why he gave me the bruises on my neck that have now almost faded away. The crescent moon scar on my hand is also from that night, glittering ominously.

Hold your tears in, I tell myself. I can cry in the dorms.

As I walk back to my Common Room, prepared for another round of crying and painful sleep, I see Draco with two first-year girls. But then I stop walking when he glances around suspiciously, and disappears down the corridor. I stay rooted to my spot for a second, thinking about following him or not. It is an invasion of his privacy ...

But screw it. I'm curious.

I sneakily follow him, keeping my footsteps light. The girls glance behind them occasionally, but look back ahead, thankfully. I can't be caught.

Draco stops in front of a wall, and my eyes widen. That's where the Room of Requirement is supposed to be, where Harry taught his Dumbledore's Army classes!

But what is Draco doing here?

He paces three times near the wall, his face screwed up in concentration. Could this be ... for his Death Eater activities? My throat tingles and my hand immediately starts massaging it.

A door forms, and Draco enters, the two girls staying outside.

Shit. What do I do now?

I hate myself for following him; curiosity killed the cat, and here I am, about to be killed. I am the bloody cat.

Damn it, Chrys, my brain snaps at me. Why do you have to be so damn curious?

I don't know.

But then those girls do something wonderful (or horrible): they leave, muttering something about cupcakes and how they'll be back. They don't even see me, surprisingly.

Once they disappear, I walk to the wall, pacing three times (find Draco, find Draco, find Draco). A door appears, and I push it open, finding him inside, staring at a cabinet, the Vanishing Cabinet Harry was telling me about when we met up with his friends. Draco doesn't have robes on, only his white shirt and dress pants.

He startles once he notices me.

"Potter?" he sputters, immediately getting up. "What are you doing here? You need to leave ━━━"

"What are you doing?" I counter. "It doesn't look very legal to me."

He frowns. "That doesn't matter! You –—— you followed me!"

"No, I didn't!" I exclaim, lying through my teeth. Something about him pisses me off. "You're an absolute jerk," I mutter, and his eyes widen as he trembles with anger.

"I'm the jerk?" he exclaims, as if I've called him a serial killer or something. Which he probably is, too.

"Yes," I say bluntly.

He bristles, aiming a death glare at me.

"If I'm the jerk, then you're the stalker!" he sneers, walking towards me. "Spying on me for stupid Potter, aren't you?"

"My brother isn't stupid," I say, staring into his stormy eyes. I notice his cheeks are tinged. "Are you blushing? I mean, Harry isn't bad looking, but I suppose since I'm his twin, I'm obligated to say ━━━"

"What?!" he exclaims. "I'm not into bloody Saint Potter. Thinks he can get away with everything and have all the attention ..."

"He does not," I say, but Harry does receive a lot of attention. "And I am not a stalker! If I'm a stalker, then you're a Death Eater!"

I almost gasp at my words. What did I just say? Oh God, I'm going to get murdered. I should've never followed him.

Draco, on the other hand, is silently fuming.

"I am not! You're just like that annoying Mu ━━━"

"Stop," I cut him off. "Those words are exactly why people think you're a Death Eater."

And his father being one certainly seems to help, too.

He freezes. "Shut up. And you didn't even deny spying for your brother. Where is he and his stupid cloak, anyway?"

"You're so obsessed," I mutter, causing him to gasp indignantly. Merlin, why am I like this with him? "And he's not here, for your information. Don't be too sad."

"What's that supposed to mean, you ignorant ━━━"

"I am not ignorant!" I glance at his left arm, which is covered up by a white sleeve. "And you have been obsessed ever since he rejected your friendship."

He rolled his eyes, but then noticed where I was looking.

"Stop staring at my arm. I'm not a Death Eater, Potter."

"Prove it," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Lift up your sleeve, and if there's nothing there, then I'll leave. We can pretend that this conversation never happened."

He flinches. "I can't."

"Why not?"

He walks even closer, so close that our shoes almost touch. "Stop asking questions, Potter."

I lift my chin up; our faces are a few inches apart. "Why should I stop?"

Stop it, Chrys! My brain screams.

"I take back what I said," he mutters, his voice low. "You are interesting."

Color blooms in my face, despite my brain screaming at me to hate him. He is horrible. He is horrible.

My stomach flips.

"Don't say that," I whisper.

"Why?" he asks, smirking at me now.

"Because it's a lie. I don't need to be lied to ━━━"

"I'm not lying." His eyes narrow. "I've always been curious about you, Potter's sister, and why you don't talk to anyone else."

"No one really talks to me, either, you know," I murmur, as his "curiosity" registers in my brain. "Compared to Harry, I'm ━━━"

No, Chrys! I chide myself. Don't spill your whole life story.

"Invisible?" he drawls, finishing my sentence perfectly. "Hardly."

"What?" I ask, unable to believe him. "Are you serious?"

To him, am I not invisible?

notes / cringy-ass ending but isn't that the point? i swear i've cried of cringe when writing this story