Beautiful World ~ 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀

Chapter 10

He'd known that he was dying for three days, and the rage was still burning. If anything, it was hotter now. More furious. Because only three days had passed but Harry was beginning to feel like time was slipping through his hands like water. He wasn't really living anyway. Getting up and not going to class, (he didn't want to be shouted at for not doing his homework as he'd decided to quit the day he found out he wouldn't live to see his sixth year), eating, going to sleep. Nothing moved him, nothing mattered, and he was remembering why he'd wanted to die in the first place. Except that he didn't want to any longer. He just didn't want to live this way.

He didn't feel, didn't care, couldn't find anything to cling to, anything he'd really miss when he was gone, besides breathing. The simplicity of drawing breath. It was strange, calming, something he'd never noticed before. For the past three nights, Harry had lain awake listening to his own breathing and wondering what it would be like to stop.

Now, however, he was alone by the lake, throwing stones angrily into the water. Ron was busy and Hermione wasn't speaking to him, she was in a snit because he was boycotting homework. Of course, he hadn't told her why. He hadn't told anyone, and he hadn't been to visit with Sirius or Dumbledore either. He didn't need anyone to deal with this. What could anyone do for him anyway?

Whenever he found a flat stone, Harry would run his fingers over the water-worn surface and breathe deeply before throwing it hard, making it skip across the surface. It was a way to measure the minutes, and these days, all Harry seemed to do was measure them. Every second that passed was another he wouldn't ever get to have again. One step closer to his birthday. Every time a stone skipped across the lake, one less time his heart would beat. One, two, three, sink.

Nothing mattered but skipping stones and breathing. In, skip, out, skip, in, skip, out. Easy.

Hours passed and the sun set (another sunset Harry would never see again), and it grew too dark to see the stones. Making his way back to the castle, Harry wondered what would happen if he just turned and went the other way. Walked away from this, into the forest, or maybe to Hogsmeade. Disappeared. Who would notice?

"Best bet would be to head into the forest and walk south for three days, till you get to the small village on the other side. I don't even know its name, but I saw it on a map in the library. That way, if anyone went after you, they'd assume you went to Hogsmeade and you'd have more of a chance of getting away before they dragged you back." The words were said in an absent, bored tone, and before he even turned, Harry knew who had spoken them. Only Draco could talk that way without sounding like a complete prat.

Or, if he sounded like a prat, he did it so well and Harry was so used to it that it was some how above and beyond normal levels of pratness.

The sun was setting and the light getting hazy; Harry turned slowly away from the forest to study Draco in silence. He was sitting on the front steps of the castle and met Harry's stare defiantly. Finally, Harry said, "You spend a lot of time thinking about the best way to run away?"

Draco shrugged. "I've always done that. Planned how I'd escape from anyplace I was at for more than an hour. Some call it paranoid. I call it careful. You never know when you'll need to run, after all."

Considering Draco's words for a minute, Harry shrugged, dropping down on the step beside him. "Do you smoke?" he asked.

Draco looked surprised. "No. Do you?"

"No. But I figure now's a good time to start."

"Smoking kills, you know," Draco pointed out absently.

"Not fast enough."

"You want to die fast?"

"I don't want to die at all," Harry said abruptly, and then changed the subject. "What are you doing out here anyway?"