𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Part XXI

Part 21:   Last Chance

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?
Why can't we give love give love give love?
Give love give love give love give love give love?

Cause love's such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care
For people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way
Of caring about ourselves

"Under Pressure", Queen

If Harry had had even the faintest idea of what the morning held in store for him, he wouldn't have woken up with that slight smile on his lips despite the annoying ringing of the phone. He was just coming back to consciousness when it stopped, and he sighed stretching lazily.

"Draco?" He called softly, holding out a hand towards the part of the bed he thought was occupied by his lover.

"Draco?" He called again a bit more concerned, when all his fingers touched was the cold fabric of empty sheets.

In a moment Harry was completely awake. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table and wore them.

Then he looked around, deepening his frown as he noticed the silence that underlined the lack of an answer to his questions.

Finally, Harry got up and reached the bathroom.

"Draco, are you in there?"

Again, nobody answered. Harry swallowed nervously as he quickly visited every room of the house. He checked the balcony too, but the reassuring presence of Draco leaned on the rails smoking his morning cigarette didn't welcome him.

When Harry came back to his room, he was more than concerned. But he still held the hope that Draco had simply gone out, even if he couldn't explain why he would do that.

Anyway, this last faint possibility faded as soon as he caught sight of a piece of paper abandoned on his bedside table.

How come I didn't notice it before? He wondered, reaching it with his fingers. If he noticed them trembling, he didn't bother explaining wh

He held the folded piece of paper for a moment, while his hands kept trembling. He looked at it without actually seeing it.

Sighing, Harry unfolded the note and read it.

And as soon as the words written on it sunk in his brain, he froze.

Harry,

The term has ended.

Draco

PS: Don't look for me. Don't write me. Don't even think about me.

To an observer, he would have seemed a perfect marble copy of himself. A statue, holding a little piece of paper in his left hand and whose eyes weren't able to see anything.

The term has ended. Yesterday. It ended yesterday evening. I forgot it, he thought reflexively, without blinking.

Draco was meant to leave yesterday. I forgot. Oh, well... he considered while his fingers, now heavy as stone, lost their grip on the note, letting it fall on the floor silently.