Impossible ↠Drarry

Chapter Nineteen

Harry was now sat in potions between Ron and Hermione. Hermione and Ron constantly shared worried glances.

"Harry," Hermione started, "you look sickly pale... you look awful," she whispered, giving the boy a worried stare.

"Gee, Thanks." Harry replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Mate," Ron started, "you need to see a healer..."

"I'm fine." Harry snapped, his jaw clenching.

His emotions were scattered, and he didn't know what to feel, but for some reason anger rose above all others. Naturally.

He knew his friends were just trying to help, but he couldn't stand people pitying him.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, "ple-"

"Just leave me alone!" Harry snapped, causing the professor to turn around, "Is everything alright?" He asked.

"Fine. Everything's fine." Harry replied, his voice shaking.

He casted Ron and Hermione looks that told them to stay quiet, to which, reluctantly, they agreed to.

"Harry," concern laced the professors words, "you look ill."

He could feel everyones eyes on him, and it made him feel sick, "I'm fine." Harry snapped.

But his vision was hazy, and he knew he wasn't fine, and he knew he needed to go to the hospital wing, but he didn't want to. He hated it there. Hated it more than anything.

"Harry,"

"I'm..." Harry paused, blinking, "I'm fine. I promise. Just tired." He lied, looking up to meet the professors worried gaze.

He could feel Draco's gaze above all others in the room. It was like he was melting holes in the side of his head.

"...alright," He sighed, "tell me if anything's wrong... and class dismissed."

Harry stood instantly, getting slightly dizzy, but took no time in getting out of there. He ignored his friends and Draco's pleads.

Eventually he found himself in a secluded corridor, not a single student lingering in the halls.

Finally, he thought to himself, solitude.

Harry stumbled and gripped the wall next to him, grunting in pain.

"Harry," Draco breathed, jogging so he could get to Harry faster.

"Leave me alone." Harry bit.

"No. I'm here to help you, whether you like or not." Draco snapped, "just, please," his voice softened.

Harry clenched his jaw, but nodded, draping his arm around Draco's shoulder.

The two walked in silence, neither of them really knowing what to say. Harry was glad for the silence, whereas Draco was just uncomfortable.

"The ball is in two days," Draco finally commented, breaking their silence.

In all honesty, Harry forgot about the ball. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to go. It's not like he had a reason to. He didn't have a date, and no one wanted to go with a pathetic loser such as himself.

Harry nodded, mentally noting it.

"Did you find a date yet?"

"I'm  not going." Harry answered, staring straight ahead.

"What? Why not?"

"No one would ever want to go with me, for one," Harry stated, and Draco bit the inside of his cheeks.

I would, Draco thought to himself, I'd love to.

"I'm sure someone would want to go with you," Draco protested, "You're Harry Potter."

"Yeah. I'm Harry Potter. The boy who doesn't eat and needs his enemy to take care of him."

Draco looked over to Harry with furrowed brows. Harry looked completely... dead. Tired. Fed up. He didnt hold the same fire in his eyes, the same compassion. everything that Harry was had turned grey and dull.

Draco swallowed, "We haven't practiced dancing in a while," he spoke, "you owe me," he joked, poking Harry's ribs, which caused Harry to let out a small laugh.

Harry smirked, "Whatever, Ferret," he gave a half smile, "We can practice when we get back to the dorm."

"Deal." Draco smirked, leading them to their dorm.

*

As Harry had promised, as soon as they got to their dorm he distanced himself from Draco, bowing down and stretching out his arm, "dance with me?"

Draco put his smooth hand into Harry's rough one as Harry pulled them together, dancing smoothly to the quiet music Harry had turned on.

"What a shame you won't be going to the ball," Draco commented, "with manners like these."

Harry rolled his eyes, "oh, so flattering. Are you asking me to go with you, Malfoy?" Harry asked jokingly.

Draco rolled his eyes also, but smirked nonetheless, "most definitely." He replied, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Isn't it my turn to be top?" Draco asked, raising a brow.

Harry chuckled; something he hasn't done in a while. "Not if you're a girl."

"Oi!" Draco snapped, wacking Harry in the back of his head, "I'm more of a man than you'll ever be!"

"Yeah," Harry snorted, "Say's the one who spends an hour in the bathtoom gelling his hair."

"It's called class, Potty," Draco retort, "Something you clearly don't have."

This time it was Harry's turn to wack him in the back of his head, causing Draco to frown.

"Really, though," Harry spoke, "You should stop gelling it. It looks better natural." He stated, poking Draco's hair, which was stiff with gell.

Drco swatted his hand away.

"Does it now," Draco raised a brow, "and I suppose you'd know, scarface?" He sassed.

"Of course!" Harry retort, "I know best. I know everything."

Draco rolled his eyes, glad Harry was finally talking, and that he finally got his mind off things.

"Whatever you say, Scarface," Draco replied, them going silent and dancing to the rythm once more.

But there was still one question nagging in the back of his mind, something he so desperately wanted to ask Harry, but he knew it would make him upset at him, and for now, he decided to avoid it.

But it constantly rang.

Why did you hurt yourself?

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