A beautiful little thing called trust (2)

Sitting in the great hall with my elbows on the table and my chin rested in my palm, I was bored. I sat next to Ginny, not because she or I wanted to, it was out of pure habit and that hanging by the thread politeness. At the moment, she was cheerfully chatting with her brother and her boyfriend, in a way I looked at it as she had succeeded that role from me. I was sure they had some sort discussion about me, about how they should act around me, since the awkwardness only lingered for a brief second when I first took my seat. All of them greeted me kindly, Ron included. Then they carried on with their conversation as if I wasn't there.

It was a bitter fruit to swallow, as my former friends had become mere acquaintances and might or might purposefully excluded me from their chats, though occasionally they would acknowledge my existence. And by that, I was specifically referring to Ginny. There was a sense of guilt in her eyes as if she felt bad about what she did to me and having an internal debate about whether she should confess it to me.

It was what it was.

The current atmosphere at this particular part of the Gryffindor table was delicate. It was strategically and intricately balanced. Nothing appeared to be abnormal, yet everything was marginally off, not enough to cause questions, but enough for those who involved to feel uncomfortable.

Ron Weasley was stuffing his face as he always did meanwhile avoided eye contact with me the entire time. So did Lavender. When I asked her to pass me the pepper, she didn't say a word, just simply pushed the container toward me while focusing her sight on Ron and acknowledging whatever he was saying at that time with a nod and a smile.

I wanted to see how and what Malfoy was doing, but I couldn't. Not to mention the Slytherin table was on the other end of the hall, I was also back facing them. I could, however, turn around to check on him, but I figured it wouldn't be a good idea for those who were sitting around me to notice my intention.

He used to sit next to Pansy Parkinson, just like how I was used to sit next to Ginny. It was a habit. I wasn't sure how all of a sudden, I began to concern about him and Parkinson's past. Like he said, it was the past and there certainly was no point for me to dig it up.

I blamed my out of place worry and jealousy on the sense of isolation and loneliness I was experiencing. Before I thought I had someone else, had a group of people that would support me when I was down, and now, now all I had is Malfoy. And I frantically wanted to hold him tightly close to me, scared he would leave me as well, leaving me utterly and completely alone.

That was not a good sentiment, not the way to display the sense of trust.

Why would I ever worry about Parkinson anyway?

I had never thought one day I would want school to be over, but here I was wishing for summer, for graduation, for putting the old life behind and ready to start a new one.

The longer I sat at the table, the more those chatters bothered me. It was as if out of nowhere I became intolerance to all kind of sounds and noises. A voice in my head kept telling me to make an escape, and that was what I did.

"Not going to stay for dessert?" Ginny asked as I was getting up.

"No, it's ok," I shrugged, "Never much of a fan for sugar. I'll see you later."

Ginny nodded; she opened her mouth but swallowed her words back, eventually she said:

"Sure, I'll see you around."

As I was walking down the hall, I glanced over to Malfoy's direction. He was indeed, sitting with Parkinson, and she was chirpily talking to him. Our eyes met and his sight followed me. Then he stood up in the middle of her sentence, she paused, followed the direction of where he was looking at and frowned when she saw me. Though far away, I could tell there was some anger wrapped in her superficially nonchalant expression. Malfoy quickly said something to her before started walking toward the end of the hall as I resumed my steps so that he could meet me there.

"Did they give you any trouble?" He asked as he pushed open the door and let me through first.

"No, we barely spoke," I said, "Only Ginny talked to me."

"Really?" He said dubiously, "That's interesting."

"How so?" I reached out for his hand, "Maybe she has some consciences."

"Maybe," He smiled and squeezed my hand, but I could tell there was something going around in his mind.

"You sat with Parkinson today," I found myself saying the words I didn't want to, "Why?"

"I don't understand this jealousy that sprung out from nowhere," He squinted and tilted his head, "I've always sat with her. If you don't like it, then the next time I'll tell her off."

"It's just…"

"Listen," He stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor tower. With his hands now on my shoulders, he turned me to face him, "I assure you that I never had, have, or will have anything to do with Parkinson. Like I told you, whatever that was between she and I, I just went with it and had never given any more than a platonic thought. So, please, trust me and don't give any unnecessary thought about it. I'm yours and only yours. "

"I'm sorry," I lowered my head, "I shouldn't overthink it. I guess my mind has been going crazy recently with all the drama."

"It's fine, I understand," He lifted my chin and kissed me, "Now go get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I sighed. As he was leaving, I added in a haste, "I love you."

He stopped, turned around to look at me with a complicated smile on his thin, pale lips.

All without saying anything.