The Boy Who Made All The Wrong Choices

XXIV

This is a very short chapter, you'll see why. Sorry.

before we get into the chapter (yes I know I need to get on with it) here's some Harry Potter fanart I've drawn recently.

all of the watermarks (cheese.tone) are my Instagram. feel free to follow me.

Ok on with the story.

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The following week had passed by in absolute bliss. I had somehow managed to be happy for a matter of days. Something that had only happened during Christmas before I turned thirteen, when my father decided it was about time I became a man and watched him and some relatives smoke expensive cigars in his drawing-room while talking about the amount of land they own.

I would have much rather relaxed into my mother's side in the sitting room, while the women talked about their daughters getting married and having children. Even though the comments like 'oh Draco, you're growing up to be such a lady's man!' made my face burn, the warm presence of being around so many mothers had me calmed down to the point of melting.

As shitty as it was, listening to a bunch of old men drone on about their 'needy' wives and how much mudbloods suck, the Christmas when I was fourteen was my first experience with another boy.

It was Blaise, of course. Blaise was my first everything. First 'real' friend (Greg and Vince were nice and all, but they were too dense to have a proper conversation with). First kiss (I refuse to admit Pansy's disgusting wet kisses counted. The little bitch still thought we'd get married someday). The first person that I would ever allow to touch certain places on my body. The first person who was ever inside-

The point is, I'm happy. I've been happy for an extended period of time. I've been meeting up with Harry at night for hours. We've been pulling each other into alcoves and stealing quick kisses before running off because someone almost caught us. Harry once pulled me into an empty classroom to fervently make out and grind against each other, before a loud bell rang, signalling the start of another period.

Although everything was perfect, and I was smiling so often my jaw had cramped up from years of rarely using it that way, I kept waiting for something to happen. For some sort of shoe to drop. For the wrong person to find out about us and scream it from the rooftops.

But it just kept not happening. Days and classes passed by perfectly fine, with nobody catching us. At some point during the week, I just accepted that it was officially not very likely that anything was going to happen. I allowed myself to push anxiety to the back of my mind for once. To relish in this rare 'bliss' for just a little bit longer. I'll worry later.

After making it through six days perfectly fine, I accepted that the metaphorical shoe wasn't going to drop any time soon.

And I just kept smiling.

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The shoe dropped on day seven of my momentary happiness.

The shoe was fucking massive, apparently. It had Pansy and Blaise bolting down the unending number of hallways, tearing down hundreds- possibly thousands of posters that painted the walls. It had Headmistress McGonagall cutting off mail to certain students as the scream of hundreds of howlers filled the Great Hall.

It had Theodore Nott and Ron Weasley turning to fisticuffs. It had Hermione Granger attempting to be as logical as she can, while sending a letter to the Prophet.

It had Harry Potter locked in his dorm room, not breathing because he was being hounded and students were pounding their fists on his dorm's door and everything was too loud too much to loud please stop.

And it had me, curled up in the fetal position, my nose broken, my wrist broken, my ankles broken, my skull probably dented and bleeding out, on the floor of the very same classroom Harry had pulled me into a few days before.

Yeah, the shoe was fucking massive. It dropped. And it dropped hard. I groggily thought to myself, before dozing off in a pool of my own blood.

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I lied I'm not sorry. I'm actually really excited. This was a teaser chapter. Good luck waiting :)