Your type (Draco x Harry)

Chapter 8:

*Third person p.o.v*

"You good, mate?" Ron asked, watching Harry as he sat on his bed, silently, looking down at the floor.

Harry gripped the bed sheets so hard that his wounds from yesterday, could be seen clearly on his white knuckles. "Slightly better than four days ago, thanks Ron." Harry answered sharply, making the other boy not believe a word he was saying.

Ron decided not to comment on it even though he knew he was lying. He picked up his robes and started getting dressed.

Harry's harsh stare could bore holes into the wall. He still felt like killing whoever Ginny had cheated on him with. He still felt like fucking threatening every single boy in this school, until one of them would confess. He needed to know. Just had to. 

He stood up from his bed. 

But of course he wouldn't do any of that. Maybe he'd not even ever know who it was. 

Hermione was waiting in the common room, reading, when Harry and Ron walked down the stairs. They hadn't hurried as much as they usually do, since it was sunday.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked as soon as she caught the two boys in the corner of her eyes. 

She placed her book down on the table, and went over to hug the black-haired boy. 

"Well hello to you too." Ron stared at his two best friends, his jealousy obviously increasing more and more the longer Hermione hugged Harry. She had done this every day, since Harry and Ginny had broken up. 

Hermione turned her head. "Oh please, Ronald. Are you sad?" She squeezed Harry harder when she felt him tense up at the word 'sad'.

"Well now I am." Ron whined.

Hermione glared at the ginger, before letting go of Harry and studying his face like she had done the day before. And the day before that day. And also on the day before that day. And so on. 

"'Mione-" Harry breathed out, not wanting any more of her pity, but she cut him off.

"Have you slept? You seem kinda pale!" She placed a hand on his right cheek, and then the other on his forehead. "You look exhausted, maybe you should get some more rest." 

Harry groaned, now having enough, stepping backwards. 

Hermione stared at him.

"I.." The black haired boy sighed. "I don't want to talk about it. Can we just.. Not bring it up today? It's all we've been talking about recently." 

Ron sighed as well, walking towards Harry. "Sure, mate. If that's what you want." 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. Nodding, she stepped to the side, making space for Harry to walk out the portrait.

* * * * * *

"Mother had the exact same book," Draco pointed his index finger at a dark green book, Pansy seeing how his facial expressions changed at the thought of his mum. 

"Father burned it." Draco then stated, picking it up.

Pansy frowned. "How come?"

The Slytherin boy shrugged, studying it. "I guess he just felt like it. He also burned my favorite book, as he explained to me how utterly childish it was. Because it was about.." Draco pressed his lips together into a thin line.

"Love?" Pansy questioned. She knew fully well how her best friends father felt about that topic. 

Draco nodded. That memory wasn't exactly happy. But it wasn't the worst he had with his family either.