Draco, Part 3

                                        

                                              
Draco, Part 3
                              
Draco was practically slouching as he walked, a betrayal to everything his father believed. Malfoys do not slouch, nor do they mope. But he was. He needed air to unwind. Pansy, helpful bint that she was, sure as fuck wasn't going to leave him alone to wallow. He needed space, time. The cool morning air was helping. No one would bother him when it was this early... and chilly. He should have brought a jumper. He kept far away from Hagrid's hut and nearly went to the other side of the lake, hoping for some peace and quiet.
                              
Nope. Crack!
                              
Draco jumped in alarm as a sudden ear-splitting thud sound of a large object hitting another broke the early morning solemnity. Owls and thestrals scattered into the air. He pulled out his wand and was ready to go out fighting, unclear if he was under attack, or where the noise came from.
                              
Ka-boom!
                              
Draco flinched at the sound as more birds squawked in protest. Draco was ready this time, and the sound was coming from a nearby hill on the water's edge heading into the Forbidden Forest. As he didn't see anything through the trees, the noise was coming instead from the other side of it. He had no love for the creepy woods, but he had to see what the noise was. He stealthy went up the hill. Another few explosions confirmed he was heading in the right direction.
                              
Pow! Crash! Bang!
                              
Draco reached the crest of the hill and looked down at the noisemaker. It was Potter. He watched in awe and confusion as Potter wordlessly made a small boulder rise up, sent it hurdling into a giant one, twenty feet away, where it exploded into pebbles. Potter was getting decently skilled at wandless magic, he marveled before he shook out his head. It's unimportant, he told himself.
                              
Suddenly, Harry spoke. "Malfoy."
                              
Draco froze, thinking he had spotted him.
                              
"Bloody... hell..." Harry spat, angrily as he made another ten-pound boulder smash into pieces.
                              
Oh, he hadn't noticed him. He was... venting... destructively. But Potter had said his name, his heart fluttered. That's also unimportant.
                              
"Worst-fucking-luck ever," he muttered, spelling a few more boulders to their deaths. "Fucking Voldemort... fucking Death Eaters... fucking media... fucking Ministry... I'm fucking tired of it all!"
                              
Draco watched in mild fascination seeing Potter this unraveled. Was he always this... emotional? Harry suddenly split the huge hippogriff-size boulder with an ear-damaging "screeeecch". Draco had to grab his ears and massage them. Potter just stood there looking utterly defeated.
                              
"Fucking potion," Draco heard him say, though muffled by his hands on his ears.
                              
Whatever hope he was feeling died. Potter got his memories back. He got them back and he was appalled. He regretted everything. Draco lowered his head. He was a Slytherin... a marked Death Eater, and Potter was a straight-laced hero. He needed to leave, find his own spot to unwind. He definitely didn't want to be caught by Potter. He turned and made to walk back down the hill when he stepped on a branch that sounded like a bludger smashing a broomstick in the now quiet forest.
                              
He swore when Potter said, "Malfoy?"
                              
Fuck my life. He turned back. "Could you be any more louder, Potter? Are you trying to wake the whole fucking castle?"
                              
Potter glared. "Not trying. What are you doing here?"
                              
"Not that it's your business, but I fancied a walk and thought there was a rampaging giant over here. But no... it's you. Frustrated, destructo-boy?"
                              
Potter's hands were trembling. "It's better the rocks than your head, Malfoy."
                              
"Didn't like your memories, then?" he sneered.
                              
"No. I didn't get them."
                              
He almost gasped in surprise. "You... didn't?"
                              
"No," he snorted and surveyed his handiwork.
                              
"Well, good."
                              
"I figured there wasn't a point..." Potter trailed off, like it was a question.
                              
"No, there's no point," Draco said, though his heart clenched painfully, and he turned to leave.
                              
But he stopped when he heard a soft, "Malfoy?"