The love that’s always in the air

That night I lied next to Malfoy, running my fingers through his soft, pale blonde hair as I watched him slowly drifting into sleep after a long day that wasn't kind to him.

How much did I actually know him? There was guilt wrapped all over me, the kind of guilt and realization that I hadn't been paying much attention to him. In between all the chaos, devastation, heartache and focused most of my energy on myself and the others, I almost forgot he was standing right next to me, stayed there for me without any complaint. He was there to lend me his shoulders whenever I needed them; he was there to listen, to mitigate the problems with his usual sarcastic manner; he was there in silence and never tried to bring up his troubles.

I thought after all these months, I've come to know Draco Malfoy. But after spent more than a few minutes to thoroughly think about it, I was horrified by how little I knew about him. I knew practically nothing about his emotions, his interests and his family.

And that was the man who I considered my friend, my lover and my backbone.

Instead of sulking and fixating on what he saw in me and chose to stay with me, it was about time to turn it all around and for me to reciprocate the support and affections he had given me.

When you love someone, you stay with them.

Malfoy spent about a week in the infirmary. When he was finally discharged, he turned a deaf ear to madam Pomfrey's orders as he spoke in a stern tone about how he refused to wear a sling because that would bring back the thought of that unpleasant event in the third year where he was attacked by Buckbeak.

"To be completely honest," I said when I was walking him back to the Slytherin dorm, "You did ask for it. If you followed the rules, be polite and not a snobby rascal, you wouldn't be hurt."

"Spare me with the haunting memory of those reckless days," He shook his head and said in the slightest trace of shame, "I still would like to have my pride intact."

"Or arrogance," I curled my lips while hiding a laugh, "Or ignorance."

"Ignorance is a bliss," He shrugged and tried to wrap his arm around my shoulder, "And this wasn't the most brilliant idea, wrong arm."

"I know I shouldn't laugh," I attempted to keep a straight face by clearing my throat, "But the way how you said it was just a tiny bit too funny."

"Heartless, Granger, heartless," He pretended to be mad while rubbing his arm, "One would expect with all the healing magic, a broken arm would not take a significant amount of time to heal, but it appears to be that's just in the rumors."

"I'm sorry that you are in pain," I became worried, "Maybe you should stay in the infirmary longer? I mean, you didn't just break an arm, you also had a couple broken ribs."

"No," He said firmly, "There's nothing I wish more than not to return to that dreadful place, boxed in with depressive walls and the never fading medicinal herb scents."

"As much as I want to disagree with you," I carefully put my hand on his back so that I wouldn't accidentally hurt him, "I cannot."

"That ticks off another box on my bucket list," He smirked. Seeing I was confused, he added, "To get Hermione Granger to agree with me, that is."

I rosed my eyebrow as he laughed and gently kissed me on my cheek.

When Valentine's day came around the corner, I had been occupying myself with schoolwork and hadn't been talking to my then friends, now acquaintances much. So, my surprise was justified when Ginny asked me if I had any plans for Valentine's day.

"As you know, there's no official banquet," Ginny said slowly with shine in her eyes, "But I spoke to the other Perfects, and we decided to plan one ourselves."

"Well, I knew you definitely would have better relationships with them than me," I was caught off guard but managed to hide my astonishment, "How come Malfoy did that me that?"

"Again, thank you for recommending me to take over, it's appreciated," Ginny said sincerely before she frowned, "Didn't he tell you that he passed his position to Blaise Zabini when this term started?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I guess somehow forgot about it," I lied and tapped my temple with my index finger, "There are too many things going on these days, my brain is foggy."

"It happens," Ginny shrugged as her concerned expression morphed into a smile with excitement, "Are you going to come? We were hoping to improve student relations between all the Houses, especially when we through a war last years. It's about time for people to get along."

"That's a very sweet thought," I said forcefully while wondering if she realized the hypocrisy in her statement, "How about I go ask Malfoy first, then I'll get back to you?"

"Sure," She said cheerfully, "Keep me posted."

I nodded.

Why didn't Malfoy tell me that he resigned as a Perfect? At the beginning of the year, I quit that job I wanted to get since the day I stepped into Hogwarts because my feud with Ron. It clearly wasn't a good idea continuing to work with him and got into even more unnecessary arguments. Malfoy was the first one to know after I spoke to Professor McGonagall about resigning and recommended Ginny Weasley to her.

"I do not like any of the Weasleys, but against my better judgement, I'd have to say if that girl can take some of the stresses her brother has caused you, then perhaps I shall turn a blind eye on my resentment toward her," I remember Malfoy saying the moment he saw me outside the Headmistress' office, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed.

Back then I just brushed it off as one of his snarky comments. But now when I thought about it, he was already a caring soul regardless.

"I heard from Ginny that you quit being a Perfect," I asked Malfoy later that day when I caught up to him after dinner, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Good evening to you too," He rose his eyebrow, "You seem angry. There's nothing to be furious about, I simply didn't think that was a concerning matter."

"But don't you feel I should know?" I tried to keep my voice down. I wasn't entirely sure what kind of emotion I was having at the moment. It was best described as a mixture if angry, disappointment and sadness.

"If you insist," He said nonchalantly, "I figured you wouldn't like Pansy Parkinson and I working together, given your irrational sense of jealousy that suddenly came out of nowhere. So, I quit."

I was stunned. This was not the answer I expected, I was expecting him to say something ridiculous like he was tired of looking after the younger kids or fed up with the Hufflepuffs kept getting sidetracked in the meetings.

He quit an opportunity he saw as precise because it would make his father proud of him. All these years, he longed for his father's approval, and when he got it, he decided to give it up when the end of the last school year was near.

"I'm sorry," I didn't know what to say, "I…"

"Please, stop being frazzled," He threw his hands, "Like I said, it's nothing to be concerned about."

There were so much I wanted to ask him and talked to him about, yet I had no idea where to start.

But I knew, I would never stop trying.