Bouquet of Knives Book One

Chapter Thirteen

Draco's POV

     It's been a few months since Harry's death. Everyone is silent, no one's the same. Whenever talk about witches or Dark magic came up, everyone would become gloomy and unable to properly learn. Hell, even I wasn't able to pay attention in class. It wasn't like I couldn't it was that I wouldn't. I didn't want to learn because my mind was always on Harry. He'd be making some remark about me and talking to his friends. Instead, the entire class was dead silent, even the professors.

     When I looked across the dining tables towards Gryffindor, I could see the dead looks in everyone's faces. Especially Hermione and Ron. They looked most devastated out of everyone. It seemed like without Harry, the entire school just shut down. No one wanted to speak, no one wanted to do magic. No one even broke the rules. Who knew Harry would be missed so much... That he would make such a large impact on the school that even the professors can't function correctly.

     I walk out of the Great Hall, unable to be in there when it's as silent as it is. It was too haunting. My mind has started playing tricks on me, making me think I heard Harry's voice when I didn't. Or made me think I saw him walking behind a corner when there was nothing in site at all. It was driving me crazy and all I ever wanted to do was scream or just fall to the ground in defeat. It's clear this is some type of prank he's pulling on me. As if his ghost had found its way back and started to terrorize me as a punishment.

     I lean against the railing, looking out across Hogwarts. I almost believed that Harry would walk onto campus with a smile on his face, holding up a "You got pranked" banner. But beliefs are nothing but empty promises, sick dreams in need of being put down. They only caused more problems than the ones already existing. Who's dream actually comes true? I guess mine did when I was with Harry but then again, that didn't last either. In fact, it crash and burned into the ground the second I let my hands off it. The second I let it sore by itself. After that, I told myself I would not allow dreams.

     The world seemed darker, much more somber than before Harry. But now... The land sat there with a sad expression, only growing more bleak with each day. The sun didn't dare peak out from behind its gloom. Didn't dare express a single ounce of light on such a dark situation. Ugh, look at me. Sounding like a sad poet. How revolting.

     "Draco?" I hear Hermione's soft voice and turn to see her slowly approaching me at the railing. She looked up at me with concerned eyes, "Why are you out here?"

     "I don't like loud rooms," I remark and earn a mean glare from Hermione. I sigh, "I'm sorry, it's just... I'm not handling all of this very well. If anything, the days are making me worse as they go by. I am no longer able to do much of anything, barely able to get out of bed without wanting to throw myself over this ledge each morning."

     "That'd be a very selfish thing of you," she looks almost hurt by my words. "I miss Harry, too, but you can't run to selfish ideas like that. You knew Harry just as well as I did and I'm sure he'd want you to stay alive."

     "What a muggle thing to say," I bite and sneer down at her. "Is this your form of moral support?" She grows angry, crossing her arms.

     "I am only trying to help!" She shouts at me, looking at me in pity.

     "But I didn't ask for any help! Especially from the likes of you," I look her up and down with distaste.

     "I'm not the one looking out across a gloomy campus, Malfoy," she fires back. "I know you're hurt like the rest of us but that doesn't give you the right to be so rude," I spin, yelling at her angrily.

     "I can do whatever the hell I want, Granger! I'm not going to let some... some..."

     "Some what?"

     "Some dimwit stop me from doing it!" Hermione stares up at me with a scowl before reeling her arm back and punching me hard in the nose. There was enough force that I stumbled backwards and almost fell. I hold my nose in my hand, cursing at myself. I completely deserved that. After what I said... What I did... Her action was totally justified. I just couldn't believe it actually happened.

     I hated when I was upset because I would turn into... that. It was as if my father was a part of me and he only came out when I was upset. It's the reason for so many bloody noses and fights. So many arguments with Harry and his friends. If I didn't have that part of me, I was sure I could have made Harry stay. Made him stay with me instead or at least made him realize that it was too dangerous. I could have saved him... Saved all of us. But then again, the witch hasn't bothered us so maybe he really saved us all in the end. Sacrificed himself. Like the git he is.

     I had no one to turn to now. No one to be comforted by. I didn't realize how much I depended on Harry and how much his comforting touches and talks actually did for me, how much they helped. Unfortunately, I only see that now after he's already gone. There's so many "I should have..." suggestions running through my mind. All of them only making me worse, not at all making me want to keep fighting. But Hermione was right: Harry would want me to keep going.

     I look up and see a figure run behind the corner. I squint my eyes, following after it and ignoring my throbbing nose. I turn the corner and see a fuzzy cloaked figure running down the hall. I run after them, yelling at them to stop. They turn and I see glasses. And the scar. I trip over my feet and tumble to the ground. I look but the figure was gone, no evidence it was ever there. If it was even real. It looked just like him, though. But there was no way. None. If the witch threw him over the cliff, he wouldn't have survived that fall. No one would have.

     Instead of getting up, I remain on the ground as I begin to cry. My mind had just played another trick on me. Another torturous trick. I couldn't handle seeing him so many times when he wasn't real. When he wasn't alive. I knew that he was gone but my mind still had that doubt, that hope. But how could it? He's been gone for months. Even Snape had given up hope. So why do I still have it? It's only making me hallucinate and they're not fun. I hated them. The hope in my head is slowly killing me. Eating me away carefully like a corpse.

     I struggle to get up, shuffling towards my dorm. I didn't care about my nose. I just wanted to sleep. The only way I was getting any sleep tonight was for me to cry myself to sleep. If I couldn't escape the thoughts while I'm awake, maybe I'll escape them, even for a little while, in my sleep. It's worked before and I'm hoping it'll do the trick now. I needed to sleep. I'm not sure when the last time I slept was but it was quite some time ago. I haven't seen what my face looked like in weeks so I wouldn't be surprised if I had dark bags under my eyes.

     Getting to sleep that night wasn't easy. I kept waking up from nightmares about Harry trying to reach out for me as he's falling but every time only our fingers brush. He slips right through them and falls, his screams filling my head for the rest of the night. I woke up gasping for air that I couldn't get, as if my lungs had stopped working. It felt like I was choking but no one was there. I refused to go back to sleep after the fifth nightmare, figuring two hours of sleep was better than none.