mirrorball

chapter twenty four

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Clara returned to the Hospital Wing to find only the Weasley's left. Bill still seemed to be out cold, his pale body covered with one of the many red blankets that lined the beds.

She approached Ron quietly, not wanting to disturb the sullen family. She tapped the light brown wool of his jumper, causing him to finally comprehend her appearance. "Hey,"

"Hey," said Ron, his voice barely above a whisper, "Harry came through here, looking for you. Said he's going to your room to wait for you."

"Thanks," said Clara with a nod. It was nice to feel as though the group of friends who could read her mind was expanding. "I'll head there then, unless you want me to stay?"

"Nah, s'alright. Bill should be up soon. Thanks though."

Clara nodded and slipped out of the room as quietly as she had entered it. Why Harry would be in her dorm she did not know. She wasn't even sure that was possible. She imagined him walking into the dungeons, waiting for a Slytherin to come let him in. Surely they wouldn't. He'd be stuck outside the large, black doors. She could picture him, waiting patiently for her. 

Eager to hear his recollection of his meeting with McGonagall, Clara hurried her steps to the Dungeons. She turned the last corner, expecting to be met with Harry's green eyes, but he was not there. She paused for a moment. Had he left his position, or had he really gotten into the Common Room?

In a hurried voice, Clara spoke the password and the doors opened up to her. Inside the cold, green room, students were gathered in groups, no doubt gossiping about the night that had just trampled them like wild elephants. Clara rushed to her room, almost slipping on the third highest step in her hurry. Pansy opened the door as Clara reached for the door knob. She gave Clara a strange look before saying, "Your boyfriend's in there. Nice enough guy, a bit vanilla though, don't you think?"

Clara smiled at her roommate and had a sudden urge to hug her tightly. She ignored this and instead laughed. "Thanks Pansy, I'll make sure he works on that."

Pansy winked at Clara before retreating down the stairs. Clara pushed open the door to find Harry sitting on her bed, looking straight down at his hands. 

He looked troubled, maybe even frustrated? He raised his head as Clara closed the door and she could swear she heard a sigh come from him.

"Hey," she said softly, moving to sit next to him. She rubbed his arm lovingly, only to have it brushed away from her. Clara wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"How many lies have you told in your life?"

"Sorry?"

"A rough estimate, just throughout your life. How many?" asked Harry, not breaking eye contact with Clara once.

"Erm- I don't know. A hundred, maybe two hundred."

"Alright," said Harry, turning away from Clara for the first time since he had talked. He paused for another moment before continuing, "And how many of those did you tell to me?"

A feeling of dread lined Clara's stomach, causing it to plummet. "Harry, what's going on?"

"Answer the goddamn question, Clara." said Harry, his voice quickly rising to anger, without getting louder yet. It was a tone Harry was frighteningly excellent at producing, and it only furthered Clara's fear.

"I don't know! A couple? Maybe five?"

"Right, well, I found out one of them tonight, and I've got to say, it felt fucking awful." Harry looked at Clara again, his eyes tearing holes into her soul. She stayed silent, waiting for him to reveal what unspeakable thing she had done to hurt him. "Have you been helping Malfoy this whole time? Giving him tips, spying on Dumbledore's orders, pretending to believe me, to lov-" Harry cut himself off and stood from the bed, his body now towering over Clara. "Did you help Malfoy with his Dark Lord shit?"