Even though Harry insists that we should spend some time together, I ignore him and wander around the hallways instead, worrying that I'm going to snap at him. If there was one person who I never want to hurt, it's him, the brother who I found at eleven. And Remus, who I realize I haven't written to in a while.

Just as I am thinking about the contents of my letter, I spot Draco, who's running? He slams into me, and we fall onto the ground as my head hits the floor with a thud.

All the books Hannah Abbott reads, which I've borrowed from time to time, show this as attractive, but it just hurts.

"Fucking hell," he mutters as my ears ring. His face looks down at mine, and he looks more tired and pale and puffy-eyed than ever. "You alright, Potter?"

"Since when do you care?" I ask, dizzy. "Also, please get off me."

Draco scowls, nevertheless obeying, dusting himself off.

He offers me his hand, acting like he's a gentleman. While it shocks me, my rage overpowers it; how dare he act all nice after being so cruel?

Giving him the most disgusted look I can muster, I swat his hand away, getting up myself.

He continues glaring as his cheeks are tinged with pink, as if I would accept my blackmailer's offer. Hah. That's right. Be embarrassed, twat.

"Blonde prat," I grumble to myself. He just ... makes me so angry.

The egotistical little bastard flips me off, and I feel proud for making pissed, before I remember his threat, and my brain. I feel rough hands from the past on my neck, squeezing it. Gulping, I stand up straighter.

"Malfoy," I mutter, as if my life wasn't in danger, as he walks away. "What's going to happen between us?"

He turns around, smirking, and I immediately realize how wrong that sounded.

"Nothing, Potter. There is nothing between us."

Does he expect to be hurt by that? I roll my eyes.

"Of course not," I say, unbothered. "There is, however, something between you and Harry."

He glares at me, his smirk vanishing. "There's nothing between Potter and I."

"Don't lie to me," I said, imitating Susan from earlier. "You don't need to."

"Shut up, crybaby."

He scowls as I blink at him, confused. Where did that come from?

"What?" he asks. "You think I didn't know what you were doing, skipping all those classes, showing up at the required dinners, all puffy-eyed?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd notice. I thought you were too obsessed with Harry."

And he looks like he cried, too.

"I am not obsessed with Potter, for the last time," he snaps, walking towards me. "You need to stop."

"Or what? You'll blackmail me? Again?"

He leans down, his gray eyes staring into my dark ones. "I could erase your memories right now and right then. I told you I didn't want to, but you infuriate me."

"Likewise," I say, raising my chin, even though my stomach churns and screams. "Bastard."

He grits his teeth, and I feel the world fall beneath my feet. I'm falling, falling, falling. And soon, my mind won't even remember a word that he said.

But obviously, I don't know any better. So I keep going, even if Draco Malfoy is much stronger than me, and better at dueling.

Why do I keep doing this?

"Speaking of crying," I say scathingly, grinning at his flinch. He serves it, for calling me a crybaby even though he did the exact same. "You need to take a good look at yourself."

I didn't want to bring his puffy eyes up, but being nice doesn't seem to accomplish anything. Him, crying while he blackmails me, is the stupidest thing in existence.

He glares at me. "Mind your own fucking business ━━━"

"Too bad," I snap. "You're literally blackmailing me ━━━"

"Shut up, Potter! What if someone hears you?"

"I have nothing to lose," I say, rolling my eyes.

We both are silent now, softly breathing, his gentle breath fanning my reddened face. If he leans even more, I can count the blue flecks in his cloudy eyes, which quickly glance down to my lips before flicking upwards.

I want to step away and run, but I can't. Something about him pulls me in, his occasional words about me that no one says, his expressions that I want to decipher.

"You weren't like this a few weeks ago," he notes.

"Like what?" I ask, my voice softer than I want it to be.

"You were quiet before," he admits. "But now, you're even more interesting. And now," he adds smugly, "you're blushing."

"Go to hell, Malfoy," I snap, and we're glaring at each other again.

I feel the hatred pooling in my stomach, aching. I want to punch him for his infuriating little smirk and his angry words.

Someone passes by, and we jump apart, as if nothing ever happened. He is gone a few seconds later, and I watch his back, touching my cheek.

I can't believe myself.

I can't believe him.

. . .

I don't understand Draco Malfoy.

One second, he is blackmailing me, eyes full of hate and mouth full of angry, hurtful words. And the next second, he calls me interesting, staring into my soul as if he thinks that he knows everything.

Obviously, I can't tell anyone anything. I just attend classes, do my homework, lay on my bed, send constant letters to Remus, and occasionally not avoid Harry, who asks me a bunch of questions.

My head throbs as I lay on my bed, my stomach churning.

After dinner, I'd immediately gotten up from my seat, all alone. The bile had built up in my throat as I raced to the bathroom, emptying my guts. I was sobbing, holding my own hair back, as all the food that I tried to eat came back out.

Five cleaning spells later, it's like my sick was never there in the first place.

That invisible hand clutches my throat like a lifeline, determined to end me. To throw me in the veil like Bellatrix killed Sirius, as everything killed my brother's innocence. And now, it's Draco who wants to take away everything I have in my brain: my brother, my godfather, and my new friend. All my memories, bubbled into a tiny spot, would be ripped away from me.

My heart is beating loudly, and guilt sears across my heart as I remember Katie Bell, who was my mistake. Every day, I tell myself to tell Harry.

And everyday, my brain screams at me, raw as it tells me what I'll be losing.

Katie didn't die anyway, it says. It's okay.

It is not, but I wish it is.

I look to the door, where Susan should be arriving. But she doesn't, and the room feels bigger than ever, like it is the whole chilling night sky, and I am merely a blade of grass, shadowed.

What if someone else gets cursed? What if someone dies?

But on the other hand, what if I can't remember anything ━━━ screw it. Screw my selfishness. I let a girl die.

I throw on a jumper after getting up from bed, resolve bundling in my chest. I'm going to tell Harry tonight, no matter what the consequences are.

I rip a small piece from my parchment stash and take a quill from my drawer, settling myself on my desk.

To Chrys ━━━

Draco Malfoy is blackmailing you. He is a Death Eater. If your memories are gone, then I'm afraid he found out that you told Harry.

I'm sorry that I didn't do this sooner.

I hide the note in my drawer, before heading out. Damn myself. Damn everything. 

notes / she's so me when i write reminders to go to the gym (guess what happens)