Resorted

chapter seventy-one [edited]

Waking up, Harry couldn't remember who he was. He was having such a ludicrous dream: there was a duel in the bathroom and then a demon came and healed the blonde. And then, the boy carried the blonde. On his way back from carrying the blonde, the boy fell into an abyss of nothing, spirally away-

That's when Harry sprung awake. Sweat cascaded down his tanned skin and his breath was laboured to the point Harry had to remind himself to take slow, deep breaths, and to breathe properly. The clothes he had on were not the ones he remembers changing into: someone must have changed them.

A letter was on his table, so he turned around, putting on his large circular glasses and lackadaisically shoved the note into his line of vision.

Harry,
I changed you out of that hideous jumper and trousers. What were you thinking wearing that out in public? Even in private it is a crime against fashion.

Blaise and I believed you would feel less uncomfortable if I changed you, considering I'm, you know lesbian- just in case you didn't know that.

Hermione told me not to ask you what's wrong, so I will reluctantly respect her wishes.
Pansy

That's when Harry remembered it was real... the gushing blood, the healing incantation, that spell and the 'falling into the abyss'. Unsurprisingly, Harry did not want to move. In fact, he didn't; he stayed put in the bed with the curtains drawn and him trying to comfort the fact that Draco wasn't there. Then he re-remembered why Draco wasn't there and the cycle began all over again.

"Harry?" Whispered a voice. Grunting in reply, he didn't turn his head and the girl felt deja vu from the day before. "Harry, get up: Professor Snape is asking for you and I'm not supposed to be here."

"'Mione?" Harry groggily asked, voice gravelly, tired. "Why're you here?"

Fondly, she rolled her eyes. "To make sure you're okay you daft bimbo." She laughed very weakly so it was barely a chuckle to lighten then mood. "Blaise slept in the common room, you're lucky the Slytherin prefect was an ex of his." She scowled at that, like Blaise having so many ex's was disgusting, repulsive. "Enough chit chat, you need to get up."

"Urgh! Leave me to wallow in my pity." His eyes pleaded, glowing with cuteness. "Please?" He added for good measure. With Blaise, Pansy, Neville, and even Dean and Seamus, that would work. It had always worked on those people. But not Hermione.

Sighing in defeat, he lazily got ready throwing on his uniform and half doing his tie to an appropriate knot (not perfect, because only Draco can do that).

"Potter." Snape sneered, looking down at Harry like he was a pygmy puff he was about to kick (Harry wouldn't put it past him). "Let's go." Grabbing Harry by the robe, Snape threw him out the doorway into the corridor and shoved him for good measure to move forward. "Ten points from Ravenclaw miss Granger, hiding behind a bed never will work." Drawled Snape and Hermione blushed, standing up. "Out of the dungeons in ten minutes."

"Yes, Professor Snape." She said normally even though her cheeks were as pink as Umbridge's dress itself.

Walking to Dumbledore's office, Harry couldn't help the dread that happily settled in his churned stomach. Normally, he would have woken and went to kiss Draco awake: he would peck his temples, cheeks and hug him tight until Draco groaned and told him to 'get off you Git'. It was the same every morning it was a Friday: Draco would be tired from doing work and Harry would be happy to get a break from work (even if he didn't study as much as Draco).

Then, they would walk the hall occasionally bumping shoulders and they would talk all the way, never getting tired of each others company. It wasn't anything important they talked about but mundane and forgettable conversations. Like the talks with friends that you forget because they had no meaning but made you laugh so hard you would run out of breath.