Demons » Drarry

17 | Laundry Day

Chapter 17: Laundry Day

Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, a lump rising in his throat. He wasn't sure whether he was angry or about to cry, or possibly both. Regardless, he made his way to the Slytherin dormitories so he could be left alone. It was time for him to stop repressing his emotions.

Once he made it to his bed, he drew closed the curtains, cast a silencing spell around himself, and finally let himself feel. He shoved his face into his pillow and screamed, he punched the bed frame, he let sobs wrack his body. Anything that needed to be felt. He couldn't form a coherent thought to say why he felt what he felt, he just accepted the feelings as they came. Any time the image of his blonde roommate crossed his mind, the emotions only intensified.

Wave after wave of emotion would peak and lull until Harry was finally drained. Pulling at his hair and gently rocking on the bed, he allowed his thoughts to fall back to Draco.

What am I gonna do? What could I ever say to Ron or Hermione to make them understand? I'm supposed to hate Draco! I thought I did hate Draco! But then he went and kissed me and now nothing makes sense anymore... Ron and Hermione will never forgive me. I lied about my inheritance so now I can't even use that to explain what's going on between me and Malfoy. I'm so stupid, I tried to have one good thing for myself and now I've buggered everything up.

Exhausted from his incredibly long day, Harry decided to brush his teeth and head to sleep. He opened the curtains around his four-poster bed to find that the other boys had come in and gotten into their own beds at some point. He hadn't really been paying attention to the time, but a quick Tempus spell confirmed that it was 1:08 AM. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Harry made his way to the washroom to brush his teeth.

Harry's reflection looked back at him from behind the mirror, reminding him of how miserable he looked. His eyelids were puffy from crying, his under eyes dark from how little he'd been sleeping, and his cheeks sallow from his recent lack of appetite. The sight of himself in this state brought back memories of life at the Dursley's. He remembered one particular occasion when his accidental magic had caused Uncle Vernon's jumper to catch fire. He had been furious, possibly the angriest Harry had ever seen him at that point in his life. Not only was Harry restricted to his cupboard for the month— only allowed out to use the washroom or do chores— he was forced to cook, but forbidden to eat for two weeks straight. He had been so hungry and so upset that all his six-year old self could do was cry.

Harry sighed gently, wiping the toothpaste from his lips. He felt about as helpless now as he did back then, only this time, it was his own fault. The raven-haired boy collected his toiletries and padded quietly back to the dormitory. After stripping down to a stained t-shirt and his boxers, Harry settled into his bed, quickly falling into a much-needed sleep.

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"Aren't you coming to Hogsmeade, Draco?" Blaise inquired, shrugging on his jacket as he prepared to leave the Slytherin common room.

"No, father has requested I take care of some business for him this weekend," the blonde responded, pointedly returning his attention to the book in front of him.

"What business could you be doing that's more important than coming to Hogsmeade with us?" Crabbe asked, without a hint of insincerity.

"Just about anything, Crabbe," Draco replied, giving the boy an incredulous look. "Honestly, aren't you bored of visiting the same old shoppes all the time?"

"You're always so cynical, Draco," Pansy drawled. "Just because you don't know how to have fun—"

"Guys, come on! The carriages leave in five minutes!" Goyle called to the group of Slytherins. "I'm not letting Honeydukes get picked over just because Malfoy hates fun."