Remember when I loved you-drarry story

Chapter 7

Mealtimes in the Great Hall had turned into extremely awkward and nerve-wracking ordeals, and Harry deeply regretted coming down for dinner at all. Students and teachers alike stared at Harry apprehensively, as if he'd just marched into the hall stark-naked. Most of them kept shooting him curious glances and pointing him out to others. Many younger students spoke in deliberate, hushed tones around him, making dramatic suppositions, spouting their own assumptions, and gossiping over the latest preposterous rumour (which just happened to be about Harry and Malfoy having met the Headmistress secretly).

Some — mostly younger Gryffindors — glared at Harry with utter disgust and loathing, as if Harry had stomped on their poor Pygmy Puff, or personally committed some sort of monstrous crime against them in particular. Even some of the teachers were stealing eager glances and murmuring. More than once, Harry felt like crawling under the table and remaining there for the rest of his meagre life. However, he wasn't such a cowardly man, and he knew he'd done absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever. So, in spite of it all, he steeled his resolve and pretended to be indifferent and unbothered.

Harry wasn't really sure how long he'd be able to keep it up, though.

Malcolm, the conceited bastard whose one sole purpose in life seemed to be bullying and insulting Malfoy, was glaring daggers at him. He was lounged a little distance away, but all the seats around Harry were empty, giving Malcolm a clear, perfect view of him, Ron and Hermione.

Harry played with his food, moving his fork aimlessly. With great difficulty, he attempted to ignore Malcolm as much as possible, but his blood boiled at the sight of him, and he couldn't take it any more.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" he finally snapped, glaring angrily at Malcolm.

Malcolm shrugged and gave Harry a blank, nonchalant look. "Nothing. Sorry," he muttered, turning away.

Harry felt incensed. "Look here, you little piece of —"

A cool hand touched his arm, gripping gently. "Just ignore him, Harry," sighed Hermione wearily, patting his arm in a placating manner. "It's just not worth it. Let them all stare as much as they want. They'll soon get tired of it and move on to the next scandalous thing. It's what they always do."

"So, that's what Professor McGonagall wanted to tell you," mumbled Ron quietly, his expression conflicted. "I don't know what to think, mate."

Oh, right. He'd just shared with them everything McGonagall had divulged in the morning. After the harrowing conversation and the shocking revelations he'd had to go through in her office, he'd spent the entire day in a state of shocked, bewildered daze. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember the exact classes he had attended or even what he had done all day. He'd been lost in his puzzling thoughts the whole day, following Ron and Hermione from class to class, and staring at lecturing professors in an open-mouthed trance.

Ron and Hermione had asked nothing. They'd taken one single eager look at him and closed their mouths, patiently keeping quiet all day and smartly refusing to mention anything even remotely related to Malfoy. Even though they looked like they were bursting at the seams with the desire to ask and know, they'd suppressed their curiosity and treated Harry normally, avoiding the subject of the paternal bond and glaring menacingly at anyone who dared to insinuate anything related to the topic.

Shameless stares had followed Harry everywhere he went, but fortunately, he'd been too distracted by his own inner conflicts to even notice.

At dinner, however, Harry had finally gathered courage and revealed it all. He didn't think he'd survive to see another day if he kept it all to himself. It felt as if he were a single moment away from exploding like a poorly-concocted potion, spilling his emotions and anger and confusion all over the place.