Drarry - It Was All Just a Game (REWRITE - MATURE VERSION)

CHAPTER 14 - THE RIGHT THING

Draco had never missed someone so much in his life.

Sometimes he missed his parents when he went to Hogwarts, though not too often. He didn't really miss his mum when he left for camps while he was growing up. He hardly missed his grandparents after they visited him—they were just simple bores. He just wasn't close to any of them, because they never wanted to be close to him.

But missing Harry—someone who was interested in him, invested in him, and someone who brought so much joy—was insufferable. It was a constant ache he couldn't fill. It was as though Harry was on the back of his mind. All he could think about was how would Harry like this dinner, or maybe Harry would like this book, too, even if he didn't read.

What's Harry doing right now? Does he miss Draco as much as he missed him?

I wonder if Harry's thinking about me this much because this is kind of creepy.

July was nearly over before Draco received an unexpected note in between ones from Pansy and Blaise. Immediately, Draco's heart skipped a beat, and he hid the scrap of paper in between the other envelopes.

The note was brief and unrecognizable to anyone who didn't know Harry's handwriting. He didn't sign it, so it made Draco a little less uptight.

Today is a Friday

And I am missing you

I wish you and I were together

That would make two

I really didn't want to write this

Because of fright, but I do miss

My sweet ferret

So don't swear it

I know I'm really bad

But I didn't want you to be sad

I know this is really lame

But I thought it was all just a game

And now I've fallen for you

And I hope you have, too.

Draco hadn't allowed himself to smile in over a month, but he gave himself permission to for just a moment. He hadn't laughed either, and that thought made him yearn for Harry even more. He just wanted to flee this hellscape that was Malfoy Manor, gloomy and too fancy.

He grabbed a spare piece of parchment and only wrote You're a modern day Shakespeare before sealing it in an envelope and sending it off.

Then he marched downstairs, passing through empty hallways that seemed darker and colder than usual.

He found his way to the dining room, a place he had to walk through to get to the front of the house and therefore the owl post, but upon entering, he realized he wasn't alone.

The dining room table was full, nearly all thirty seats, and at the head of it was not his father, but instead a snake-like figure with red, murderous eyes. Draco's breath caught in his throat.

There were three bodies hanging by their ankles in place of the chandler, all of whom were dirty and bloody and the smell—

"Ah, yes," You-Know-Who greeted. "You've grown so much."

"Get out," Lucius snapped under his breath.

"Lucius, what's your son's name again? I cannot recall." His voice was wispy and airy and terrifying.