Exceptional love

Chapter 4

He wanted to die. He wanted to die in any way possible. Surely that would be less painful then the torture currently going on in his head at the moment. And Harry was sure most of the pain came from the blinding light shining against his closed eyes. Whimpering pitifully, Harry rolled over and pulled the comforter over his head. There shouldn't be any light shining into his room right now. No matter the time of day. He'd shut the curtains tight the day before, and the drapes were a deep purple color so nothing should have been able to shine through. Harry appreciated Tom giving him a room that allowed plenty of sunlight to come through during the day, but it was only the mornings when he had a problem with it. Which is why he'd requested darker drapes then the light blue the room had at first.

And that brought him back to the point. Those curtains were shut now, so why the hell was he being blinded even when his eyes were firmly closed? He could even feel the light from beneath the heavy comforter over his head. It was excruciating! Growling, Harry ignored his roiling stomach and his brain-exploding headache and kicked the blankets off him to go and shut the curtains. Only when he gingerly sat up and opened his eyes, he cried aloud and had to cover them again. It was like the sun was set up right in front of his window and it had only taken him a second to realize all of that light wasn't natural. Not only that, but the fucking curtains were gone! There was no escape from the horrendous light making his hangover three times as bad.

"I'm completely blind now!"

Harry twisted around and started running hands along the bedside table, looking for his wand. He found his glasses, and then cursed after accidentally pushing them off to the ground. He refused to open his eyes in order to retrieve them and continued to feel around for his wand. Once in hand, he moved until he faced the area where the light seemed painfully brightest and pointed his wand. "Finite Incantatem!" Nothing happened. "Err... Nox!" Still nothing. "Fuck!" Harry tried everything he could think of to douse the light and nothing work. He even tried blacking out the window. That didn't work and he knew then that this was Tom's doing.

Harry blindly stumbled his way to the bathroom, falling three times on the way, and vowed revenge. Tom must have been severely annoyed with the song by that time and somehow found out he'd been over drinking with Draco. And what better way to get back at him by making his hanger so bad he'd rather die.

Harry jumped into the shower after stripping. He couldn't even remember most of the night. And he didn't remember leaving Draco either, but he must have. He'd been sleeping in his bed with his clothes still on, so he must have made it to his bed before passing out. It was strange that he couldn't remember most of last night. Usually he wasn't one to forget things, no matter how much he drank. Which was sort of a curse, Harry thought with a wince. Because when drunk, he tended to let go of his inhibitions with relish; doing and saying what ever he felt like, not caring in the least about consequences of any kind. And then waking up with explicit memories of the night before...

Harry leaned forward with a groan. If he had seen Tom last night, what could he have said to the Dark wizard? Honestly, Harry thought with a pang of embarrassment, there was no telling what he'd said... or what he might have done because he found his control slipping every time he was within the same room as Tom. And it was worse since he couldn't remember a damn thing from last night.

"Calm down," he murmured, dropping his forehead against the tiled wall, letting the hot water wash away much of his headache. "Maybe he wasn't even around." He prayed that was the case.

The light was still excruciating when he left the bathroom and his headache came back tenfold. All the good the shower had done was instantly vanished in the face of such a boiling light. It was so bad Harry had to hurry to the bed, grab the comforter and throw it over himself as a tent while he looked around the ground for his glasses before moving on to the wardrobe.