The Lies I Told Myself

Part 3

Harry's p.o.v
He didn't know where he was going. He just ran, oblivious to everything around him. Every now and then he wiped his still streaming tears away. They'll never understand.
When he stopped running, he realised that he had ended up in front of a familiar wall. The Room of Requirement. He paced in front of the wall 3 times, thinking about what he needed. I need a place to get my frustration out. After the third time a door appeared as it always did. He went inside and found a room filled boxing pillows, comfy sofas, a small desk with a few books lying on it and a bookshelf filled with books about all his favorite topics like Defence against the dark arts or quidditch.
He walked around the room and ended up in front of one of the boxing pillows. As he stood there he let all his anger out and hit the pillow, he kept hitting until his knees gave in and he ended on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He let out a painful scream, he filled it with all the pain he could.
He did this again and again until his voice could no longer stand it. The tears streamed, making a small flood on the floor.
He took of his glasses and tossed them aside, lying down on his side on the floor. The only sound heard, was his continuing sobbings. After something that felt like an eternity, he had no tears left. He just lay there, motionless on the hard stone floor.
He sat up, wiped his eyes, and started to search for his glasses. He found them a short distance away under one of the sofas. He picked them up and sat on his legs, putting them on. The glass had broken and the frame was crooked. He murmured the charm he had remembered since the day he had met Hermione and Ron on the train. He would give anything to go back to those days, where they were all happy.
He looked through his newly repaired glasses, down at his hands. His knuckles were a slight pinkish color from hitting the boxing pillow. How long he'd been in there, he did not know. He had completely lost track of time, when he had freaked out in the Great Hall. He got up, standing on his shaking legs. He leaned against the sofa for a while, afraid that he might pass out. He felt so exhausted and so weak. He took a step towards the door, letting go of the sofa, to see if his legs could carry him. When he had concluded, that they were able to, he walked to the door, and went out into the corridor. He stood there for a moment, deciding where he would go.
He didn't feel like going to the Gryffindor common room. He would have to talk to Hermione, Ron and Ginny when he met them, there was no doubt, that they would confront him. The only places he could think of, that would be empty, or at least not too crowded, would be the Black Lake and the library. He decided it would be best to go to the library. As he went through the castle, he used some of the secret passageways, he so often had used. He arrived in the library a few minutes later. There were only a single Hufflepuff girl sitting at a table, reading and Madam Pince lurking behind the bookshelves. He went to the table in the back and sat down. He rested his arms on the table, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. No one will disturb me here. He stayed like this, relaxing in the chair for a few moments, before someone, panting slightly, walked through the library until, finally, they came to a halt, a few feet away. Just standing there.

Draco's p.o.v
He broke in to a run, running the same way Potter had gone. He searched the corridors, the empty classrooms and rooms he came by. Everytime he opened a new door, his hope was shattered, for there were no signs of Potter. After almost ten minutes of looking, there not even a single sign of where he had gone, he seemed to have vanished from Hogwarts.

"Vanished... Vanished.. Possibly..?" He whispered to himself. He'd been looking the wrong place the whole time, it must be it.

He ran through the corridors, ignoring all the odd looks he got. He stopped in front of the wall, that awfully familiar wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, gathering his thoughts.
What would he have thought? He paced in front of the door, thinking what Potter might have thought.
I need a place to get my feelings under control. Three times he paced in front of the wall, saying the sentence in his head over and over. When he stopped pacing, a door had materialised and had replaced some of the empty wall.
He went to go inside the room, but hesitated, his hand resting on the handle of the door. He embraced himself, took a deep breath and breathed out before turning the handle.
He probably still hates me, he opened the door slowly, but who blames him? I would hate me too..
No sound escaped the room. He reached for his wand, ready to protect himself, if something attacked him when he entered. He pushed the door completely open, revealing a room, completely deserted. The room had sofas, boxing stuff and a small desk upon which, a few books lay. He didn't see the details, because he had spotted a small puddle of water on the floor beside a boxing pillow. He kneeled by the puddle and noticed a few dark hairs were floating in the water. He looked over to a sofa, where glass lay shattered on the floor. He's been here. He got up, took one glance back at the room, before he closed the door behind him.
"Where would I go, if I wanted some peace from people?" The thought hit him.
Of course!
He felt stupid for not thinking of the place sooner. He'd been coming there for years, when he wanted to be alone. He sprinted down the corridors, passing students on their way to classes. Breakfast was over and the classes would begin soon. He speeded up, running faster than he'd done in a very long time. He only stopped running, when he arrived at the library.
He began going through the library, looking to his left and right. As he went deeper into the library, his shoulders dropped, his hope almost gone. When he'd almost given up, he saw him through a shelf. He walked past the shelf and stopped.
Potter. He looked so peaceful, yet so troubled. As he stood there, looking at the boy with the dark, messy hair and glasses, he couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Why, he did not know, nor did he know, why he'd been looking for him in the first place.
He stood completely still, breathing hard. For several moments, he just observed him, his lips slightly parted, his arms hanging down his sides. He was rooted to the spot. He couldn't move, neither could he speak, so he just stood there, taking in the view.