Harry watched the door close in front of him, its shutting muffled by the room's silencing charms. It took all his self control not to run, or at least, not yet. The dream had been unlike any of its predecessors. He hadn't been walking through some strange corridor lined with opalecent, bluish orbs, the same shade as Draco's eyes, he mused, nor had it been some strange vision of which he remember only the feeling of fear. No, this was different. Harry had been the snake, he had slithered up to none other than Mr. Weasley and sunk his fangs into his flesh. He had tasted the blood, and had enjoyed it. Harry, no, the snake, had been lapping up his victory over the writhing corpse until that sobbing, silvery ghost had broken it all. Then he'd woken up.
The Gryffindor's pace quickened as he reached the now familiar passage to his common room (a recent addition on his part to facilitate his meetings with Draco). He needed to tell Ron. He needed to tell Ron, then Ginny, then the twins, then Dumbledore and whoever else would listen to him. Arthur Weasley was in danger, and it was his fault. If no one believed him, an innocent man might die. From wounds you directly inflicted!, Harry's mind accused him. This was too much to handle at three in the morning. What person ever wanted to tell their best mate that their father was dying, or worse, dead?
Harry paused to catch his breath, hands on knees. He really shouldn't have been so surprised, this sort of thing followed him everywhere. But perhaps it was that he hadn't thought that it would follow him there. There, where he could hold and be held under the sweet canopy of mahogany. There, where the air hung low with the scent of turpentine and tuberose. There, where he could fall asleep in a cloud of black silk comforter and marvel at the curveballs life had thrown him. It was a place to watch these misfortunes, not experience them. He would have never expected to think this: but Draco's room was free from the danger of the outside world. In all the gloom and darkness, Harry had never found more light.
By the time all the Weasley siblings had been gathered in Dumbledore's office, the group was in tatters. It was strange, to see the ever-cheerful faces streaked in tears Harry could no longer cry. He watched as they were devoured by grief and green flame, faces deformed by their pain. Even Fred and George's unison faltered as they ducked into the fireplace, knuckles white from gripping hands too tightly. Harry hoped never to see that pain again. He could not join them yet, he knew. This was time for the family to share amongst themselves. They should be undisturbed this Christmas, lest it be their last together.
As the fire returned to its orange hue, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "I want you know," the old warlock said, locking eyes with the boy, "That this was not your fault. You were only the instrument, not the heart." Harry looked away, his guilt eased, but present still. What if the sorting hat had been right? Maybe there was some grain of evil that could not be covered by even his best efforts. A throat cleared and Dumbledore spoke again. "Another thing, Harry. Keep and eye on your friends and, erm, acquaintances. They need you now more than ever."
----
It blizzarded that night. The Scottish sky was a white fury, as though heaven itself had opened the pearly gates to scream in anguish. As the world froze outside, two boys could not sleep. Each in his own hell of sea or sky, black or white, they cursed themselves and the stars. One stood before a full length mirror like a ghost, whiter than the snow outside, a vial to his lips and a wand at his throat. Another covered his face with a pillow to muffle his sobs, black hair streaking his sheets like Evelasting Ink. A soft whisper escaped their lips in twain, curling up in questions they barely dared ask. "Am I a monster?"
AN: I know this is a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to get to carried away in the interlude. How did the new POV work? Remember, feedback is much appreciated and I'll try to incorporate your preferences as best I can. Stay safe and healthy my dears, and do not let the world break you down. Remember to hydrate, sleep, take your meds, and if you are binding, please do so safetly. I hope you know how much you mean to me and that you are loved. Writing is one of the only things that brings me peace, and just the thought that maybe, just maybe, somebody is reading these words makes it all worth it. I love you all,
-Ophelia
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Eyes of Phthalo Green - DRARRY
RomanceDraco Lucius Malfoy. Every name holds a story: it's time we tell this one. It's 5th year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and life has never been harder for this particular name. But when a new emotion starts to figure, a new, dangero...
