Remember when I loved you-drarry story

Chapter 11

Later that day, Harry strode into the Headmistress's office quietly, his thoughts racing wildly, and his heart in tatters in his chest. His arms and limbs felt heavier than ever, as if he were desperately trying to swim across a muddy pond with broken bones all over his body. He struggled with each staggering step, and mustering enough strength to walk and move was harder than ever. However, his mind was focused intensely on a singular purpose — a single goal which felt all-consuming and inevitable, and even though he felt like collapsing to the cold hard floor and lying there emptily like a puddle of water, he would not stop.

He needed to meet someone, and it was unavoidable and felt more important than anything.

The Headmistress's office was dark and unoccupied. The fire smouldered in the hearth, and the odd little instruments hissed and made strange little noises that resounded loudly in the silence.

Harry shakily shut the door behind him, marching in without hesitation. The window was wide open, and a cool gust of wind ruffled his wild, unkempt hair as he peered out at the lush green grounds below. He could see McGonagall, sprinting haphazardly down the slope towards the main gates, where several enraged witches and wizards were assembled with cameras and journals and quills, competing for scoop and eager for more sensational information.

The gates were closed, but muffled arguing, shrieking and shouting noises got carried over. The reporters clicked away, and the commotion kept getting louder and louder as he watched.

The news of what had happened early in the morning had apparently reached the rest of the Wizarding community.

Harry turned away silently. The light in the office was dim and dreary. Fortunately, the portraits were deep in slumber, but one of them was wide awake, staring at Harry with a cold, numb indifference that chilled him to the bone.

"Potter," said Snape warily.

"Professor Snape," he responded quietly, coming to stand in front of him.

Snape's eyes narrowed as his gaze scrutinized Harry up and down. "How did you get in here?"

"Professor McGonagall gave me the password."

Snape regarded him with an icy gaze, his expression uncaring and hard and unreadable. "I see," he drawled calmly, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

Harry swallowed thickly and turned to Dumbledore's portrait, grinding his teeth, his blood freezing in his body for a fraction of a second. "Where is he?" he asked frostily, a white-hot rush of anger flooding his veins, lighting him on fire, chasing away the frigid numbness that had encapsulated him. "Where is Dumbledore?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, his cracked lips curling into a snide, contemptuous sneer. "Dumbledore is a busy man, Potter," he remarked, his gaze bitter and scornful — and it was impossible to say whether it was directed towards him or Dumbledore, or if it was just the natural state of them. "Yes, even in death, Dumbledore is a busy man. After all, there are several people who still look for him for advice."

"It was him, wasn't it?" spat Harry bitterly, shaking uncontrollably with rage, unable to control the churning emotions which rose to his throat and spilled out of his lips inevitably. "It was all him. The spell didn't go wrong — such a spell didn't exist in the first place! This was his plan all along. I forgave him when he left me to die. I forgave him when he used me. I forgave him when I realized I was just a pawn in his grand game, but after everything I went through, how dare he —"

Snape eyed him coldly. "I do not understand what you mean, and I hardly care to ask, so could you take your little emotional meltdown elsewhere —"

"You knew too, didn't you?" shouted Harry, his shaky fingers twisting desperately in his hair as tears swam in his glare. Trembling angrily, he paced back and forth in front of Snape's portrait, resentment and hatred coursing through his body. "You all knew, and yet, you never told me. You made me believe that I was doing the right thing! You made me abandon Draco and — and my own baby! You made me hurt him — you made me —"