SECRET ( Drarry fanfiction)

Chapter 49

Harry went downstairs with Draco for breakfast on Friday, wondering what the new day would bring. The entire week had brought about one stressful event after another and the tension was mounting steadily. He didn't understand why he was feeling the pressure more today than he was other days, but he was feeling it, nonetheless.

Seating himself at the table, he tried to relax. The others were chatting animatedly and he reflected that meals at Grimmauld Place now were reminiscent of meals at Hogwarts. Sitting at the table with this group of Slytherins wasn't all that different from sitting with the Gryffindors. Different people, but the conversations were eerily similar. It was comparable to the first days back in a new year when everyone was catching up with each other. There was a lot of the typical gossip and, as usual, a lot of it seemed to centre around him.

He halfheartedly listened to everyone discussing the events of the week, but he started tuning out when their talk started overwhelming him. It was one thing to try to keep up with his busy life. It was quite another to hear about it. He could hear the fear, the awe, the hope in their voices and it was both depressing and terrifying him.

Turning his thoughts toward his training didn't help him feel better. The day before had been spent learning defensive spells – shields in particular – while downing Pain-Relieving Potions like there was no tomorrow. He shuddered as he realized that there may be a tomorrow for him, but he couldn't guarantee that he'd be around for the day after.

He didn't hold out any hope that his shoulder would heal completely before facing Voldemort. He'd developed a tolerance for the non-addictive Pain-Relieving Potions, they were only effective for so long, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Severus for anything stronger. It would be an admission of defeat.

It was when he started thinking that it didn't matter if he took the stronger, addictive potions because he'd be dead in a couple of days that he started scaring himself. He could live with his shoulder aching. Death wasn't an option.

Death. Scrimgeour's funeral was going to be that afternoon, having been put off due to other funerals. He hadn't liked Scrimgeour, but the man had died a hero's death. If there was such a thing. He'd died defending the Ministry he served. Fudge would have hidden himself away, but Scrimgeour had fought. Bravely.

Harry couldn't handle the thought of going. Thinking about Scrimgeour led him to thoughts of that corridor, and he couldn't afford to think about that. He desperately needed to pull himself out of this depressing mood, and going to a funeral and thinking about death wasn't going to help. Not that Severus would risk allowing him to make a public appearance, anyway.

As far as he knew, Severus would be ushering him and Draco back to the training room immediately after breakfast. He wasn't looking forward to it. Severus had been pushing him incredibly hard, and they'd worked late the night before until it was all Harry and Draco could do to drag themselves to bed.

He knew Severus was building his skills up to something but he still didn't know what it was and it was frustrating him to no end. He wanted to inform Severus that he was only going to be able to master so much before the final confrontation, but Harry couldn't bring himself to quit training. He'd been frustrated with Severus' teaching methods when he was originally supposed to be learning Occlumency, and quitting that had ended in disaster. He wasn't going to make the same mistake. So, if Severus wanted him to train up until the moment of the final battle, even if it seemed pointless, then so be it.

He absently swirled his scrambled eggs with his fork, wondering if the proverbial weight on his shoulders could get any heavier.

"Harry?"

Harry glanced up at Draco, hearing the concern and wondering what he must look like. "I'm fine," he muttered. "I'll be in the training room when you finish breakfast."