- Hogwarts Messenger - (drarry) (COMPLETED)

{ 37- cement }

It was such a confounding thing to reminiscence about when he thought his patronus was the biggest of his problems. That a mere rabbit, something so small and fluffy, could affect his mood as much as it did-- it was simply ridiculous.

In fact, he'd come to terms with the trivial matter; Draco was rather fond of his little bunny, hopping in the air along with the streaky blue lights emitting from his wand, content to stay floating up there forever. Eventually, it would fade, and he would return to the present-- it wasn't such a fair deal. Not really a deal at all, for he hated the present right now, and if he thought about it deeper, probably more so than the past.

He'd allowed himself to hope, something that was beyond his line of vision, something that he couldn't handle losing. If the fear of losing was something that made people shake in nervosity, he would be a puddle of tears by now; he'd already lost. Of course, Draco wasn't a quitter. If there was one applicable lesson he'd been taught by his family, it was to never quit, even when everything came crashing down on you.

Fat lot of luck that gave him-- his family was dead now. Dead.

Draco rather didn't like that word, he thought it too harsh. Gone was better, softer, but he had no time to argue with himself over such simple things. If he was a milksop, he never would've made it this far in life.

And so, he returned his attention to the task at hand: Griff and Harry; Harry and Griff. Not that the name order mattered, it just felt... off to put one in front of the other. He'd learned his lesson with that already.

Despite all the gloom weighing down on him, there was a flicker still aflame: desolate and tiny, but still there. He couldn't help but think of it as a trick candle, another thing that would bite him when he turned, but he couldn't ignore it. And, deep down, he knew that he would gladly take any shot he was offered to get his happiness back because if he'd gathered anything from his time with griff, it was that having someone to lean on was so much more valuable than anything he'd been raised to idolize: money, fame, power. Draco had gotten a taste of what true friendship was like, and there was no way he was giving it up now-- even if it did take time, he knew it was worth it.

"How was that?" He turned to the back of the garden, where Harry Potter was leaning against a tree trunk. They were the last members there today; a few students had trickled in earlier, but all eventually left when rumors had been spread of hot chocolate in the mess hall.

"Yeah... yeah, it was good. Your lumos was good." Harry opened his eyes fully and straightened his back against the bark, carding a hand through his hair with the ease of a gazelle.

The wind blew relentlessly at the two, winter air not taking a break for their conversation-- as if it ever would. Draco pushed through the sprinkles of snow to take a seat next to Harry, one leg bent as he huddled in his robes to keep warmth.

"Are you fine? You seem a bit like cardboard right now. Oh, that was a weird comparison, I apologize." Draco laughed, trying to rid the aroma of awkwardness. It wasn't as if they were complete strangers; they'd shared a few conversations throughout the semester, nothing too important. Draco surely wouldn't have fallen for Harry this intensely if he was merely gazing from a distance-- he felt almost his friend now.

"No, no, it's okay. Thanks, er, for asking." Harry slumped down, his straightened back no more.

They breathed for a second, Draco trying to decide on what to say. He really wanted to question Harry further, but didn't want to seem too pushy-- there was a line of how far he could go at this point.

"Potter, care to talk about it? I promise I'll listen. Pinky-swear!" He held up his hand, intertwining his pinky finger with Harry's limp one and shaking it with a ghost of a smile. Harry shook his head, hand falling back to his side, but Draco could see now that something was very off.