Carry On

Chapter 23

   I was on the battlefield, metallic blood surrounding me. I couldn't help but wonder why the DeathEaters didn't just use the killing curse. It was far less messy. I wanted to look, dear Merlin I wanted to see who else had fallen. Had Ron or Hermione been killed? Another one of the Weasleys?
   I finally made it to the Great Hall, or what was left of it, watching as Mrs. Weasley killed Belatrix. It was strange to see a woman who had shown me nothing but kindness murder another witch.
   Those thoughts quickly halted when I heard Voldemort scream in rage, aiming his wand at the woman. I quickly put up a protective barrier, separating the others from the two of us. I was going to win. I had to win. I was going to murder that man. Even death had yet to stop me.
    I woke with a start, feeling bile rise up in my throat. I gagged, bolting to the toilet. Nothing but stomach acid came up, as I hadn't eaten much of anything. I kneeled there, dry heaving for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the awful gagging subsided. Images of blood and gore flashing behind my eyes.
   "It's over. It's over." I whispered to myself brokenly, unknowingly repeating the words Draco had calmed me with that day in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
   I have no idea how long I stayed there, sweat covering me, tears in my eyes. It felt like an eternity. Eventually, I stood, leaving the bathroom after flushing the mess I had made in the toilet. I cast a quick tempus, realising it was still very early. Perhaps I could sleep a bit more? Flashes of the battlefield I had seen in my dream destroyed any chance of that quickly.
Making my decision, I swiftly gathered my clothes and walked back into the bathroom. I turned the water to the shower on, stepping into the icy spray. The frigid water gave me something to think about that wasn't bloody, a trick I had learned years before. It blocked the pain, however briefly.
   I had yet to break the habit of hasty showers at the Dursley's, so it was only a few minutes later that I turned the water off. I wrapped a towel around my waist, walking over to the rather large mirror behind the sink. My glamour had worn off hours before, when I was still asleep, so I could see just how truly awful I looked. Scars of varying sizes littered my chest and arms, even more covering my back. Some self inflicted, others from the Dursley's, and some from here at Hogwarts. The marks that covered my arms were an angry red, likely from my constant scratching. It was clear how malnourished I was, even I could see. I could count each of my ribs without any trouble. Deep purple bags were under my eyes, clearly showing how often I slept.
   I hated it. What stared back at me with dull green eyes. The scars, the marks. I looked like a walking corpse, though it wasn't too far from the truth.
   Turning from the mirror, I quickly dressed, muttering the glamour charm after grabbing my wand. I refused to let those thoughts get to me yet. I had been so happy these past few days since Draco and I had spoken. I wouldn't allow old demons to invade it quite yet.
   I quickly left the bathroom, trying to decide whether or not to go to the common room. Eventually, I decided to leave my dorm room, walking down the stairs from the boy's dorm.
I didn't expect anyone else to be awake, as it was still rather early on a Friday. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I saw someone sitting on the common room couch in front of the fire. That surprise lessened when I saw familiar pastel blue hair bent over a book of some kind. I walked over and sat down next to Draco, not surprised when he didn't notice my presence. I had noticed years earlier in the library how focused the other boy was when he read, particularly about potions.
I was tempted to alert him to my presence, but decided against it. I didn't want to disturb the other boy, especially with how intent Draco looked. He certainly made quite the sight, bent over a book, hair spilling over his ears and into his face. He always looked amazing, but only when he thought he was alone did he look absolutely gorgeous. When every mask dropped, and he was utterly comfortable.
"It is rather rude to stare, Harry." Draco eventually said, making me jump. When I realized what he said, I blushed.
"What are you reading?" I asked, genuinely curious. Despite popular belief, Draco's library wasn't solely made up off potion books. The boy in question quirked an eyebrow.
   "Would you really like to know?" He asked, not entirely sarcastically. It was well known that I wasn't particularly fond of reading. I nodded in response to Draco's question. "It's a particularly interesting journal from Alain de Lille." He answered eventually.
"It isn't in English." I said, after glancing at the journal.
"No, it isn't." Draco responded, going back to the book. After a few silent moments, he spoke again. "French. Alain de Lille was a Frenchman."
"I didn't know you spoke French." I said, surprised.
"Yes, I learned the language when I was young. My mother and I vacationed in France during the summer after fifth year. She bought me this book when we were there." Draco said, fondly staring at the foreign pages. "She wishes to see you." The other boy stated suddenly, after a few moments of silence.
"What?" I asked confusedly, not understanding what Draco was talking about.
"My mother." He clarified. "She wishes to see you. Actually, she has been wanting to properly meet with you since the war ended, but even more so now." I couldn't help but gape at him.
"Why?" Was the only question that would come to mind. Why would Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, want to see me? I thought that any dealings between the two of us ended when the trials did. I heard a snort come from the other boy.
"Why? Really Harry, even you must understand this. She wishes to meet with you to 'protect her son,' as ridiculous as it sounds." He snorted again. That's when I finally understood what Draco was talking about. His mother wanted to meet me because I was dating her son. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. Then a horrifying thought crossed my mind.
"I won't have to meet your father, will I?" I asked, terrified by the thought of having to meet Lucius Malfoy again. Especially since I was basically the reason he was in Azkaban in the first place.
"I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks." Was the angry reply. I couldn't help but wince at the tone, the same one that Uncle Vernon would often use when I broke a dish. The other boy obviously noticed this. "Sorry." Draco apologized. I just nodded in response, refusing to let old memories ruin the conversation. Despite the fact that Draco and I were now more open about our pasts, the both of us were still a bit hesitant about talking about them, especially the more painful memories. "She wants to see you as soon as possible, so perhaps this weekend?" He asked, stopping any further talk about his father.
"Isn't that a bit soon?" I asked nervously. The idea of meeting the regal woman was scary in and of itself, but now that I was dating Draco, it was downright terrifying.
"Less time for you to agonize over it." He responded with a shrug, going back to his book. Despite his casual posture, I could tell Draco was intently listening for my answer.
   "Alright, I guess. Best get it over with, yeah?" I eventually said, clearly nervous. Draco seemed to relax, relieved at my answer.
   "I'll owl her later today." Was his only response, now reading his book with an intensity I've only ever seen Hermione match. I shifted my gaze to the fire, allowing myself to get lost in the flames. Thoughts of fiendfire and three broomsticks crossed my mind, but I forcefully shoved them from my thoughts.
   "Harry?" I heard after a few moments. I hummed in question. "Do try and wear acceptable attire." Draco drawled, causing me to snort loudly.