If I Say Yes [UNFINISHED]

Chapter 3 - Parallels

Harry tugged on the deep red curtains of his four-poster bed and lay back on the pillow, his mind racing.

Malfoy couldn't be mean to him? But why? What was stopping him?

Harry didn't understand, and lay down in confusion. He closed his eyes, hoping to get some peace on his own for a while, but fate turned a blind eye.

The door to the dormitory banged open and Harry jumped. He pulled back the curtains, ready to shout at the newcomer, for making themselves known in such a loud manner.

However when he saw a head of red hair, he turned away in anger. He was livid that Ron hadn't said a word to him yet, and at how immature and childish he was acting.

Harry, always being the one to try and put things right, calmed himself and got up to face Ron, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at Harry with a mixture of distaste and guilt.

"Ron, look," Harry started, nervous. "I swear I didn't put my name in that cup. Why would I? I'm not stupid!" Harry flung his arms in the air, as if it would help emphasise his point.

"But I need you to listen. The first task is in one week and I'm not prepared. I—"

"And whose fault is that?" Ron cut across him, his tone dangerous, his gaze hard.

"I-I, look, I've just been caught up in a few things okay?" Harry spat out, already knowing it was going to be impossible to make him see sense.

Ron scoffed. "Yeah right! Like what?" He folded his arms and stood up, looking at Harry with a nasty smirk.

Harry stood there speechless. He couldn't tell Ron that all he'd been doing was thinking about Malfoy and how his behaviour was changing towards Harry.

But thankfully Harry didn't have to answer because the door flew open and Dean and Seamus entered, laughing at something Neville had said, the latter following along behind as a few chuckles escaping his own lips.

Harry turned back to Ron, fixing him with a cold, hard stare.

Dean was the last to stop laughing, and looked up to see Ron and Harry giving each other death glares.

No one said anything and Harry swore he could cut a knife clean through the tension between them.

The rest of the boys looked between the two, awkwardly silent. Then Neville coughed and everyone looked at him.

"Uh.. hi, Neville," Harry said through gritted teeth, fixing his green eyes back on Ron. Harry could feel the anger pulsing through his body.

Neville awkwardly lifted a hand in greeting and went to the other side of the room, not wanting to get between the feud.

Ron was looking at Dean and Seamus, and Harry could tell he was becoming increasingly agitated with the two, as they stood there like lost puppies.

Seamus finally reacted, and trying to make conversation, said, "Harry, um, have you er, I mean, are you prepared for the tournament yet?"

Seamus immediately knew he had said the wrong thing as Ron looked triumphant. Harry mentally punched him.

"Um, no, Seamus. Not yet," he replied shortly. "I'm going to bed."

Anger, guilt and embarrassment flooded through Harry as he pulled the curtains once more and laid down.

He could hear the others talking in hushed whispers, but couldn't be bothered to make out what they were saying.

Harry's thoughts left the boys, Ron and the dormitory, and instead wandered to a perticular blonde Slytherin.

Harry thought of his face, the sharp, pointy nose, his platinum-blonde hair, the way it fell over his forehead softly. The way he always pushed it back when it got in the way. His pink, soft lips that sat perfectly on his face.