flower crowns | drarry

five

five
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everyday, when harry walked into the great hall, his eyes lingered on them.

the death eaters' children.

the lost, rejected souls, floating through life with no purpose, no goal.

they struggled to find their true selves underneath the mask that had been forced upon them since childhood.

they scrutinized every thought, action, and opinion, scanning for traces of their parents views.

but how should they know what were their thoughts and what weren't?

harry's heart ached for them.

he didn't really know them personally, he didn't know what demons each of them had to face everyday. he didn't know if they weeped behind closed doors or if they were numb to it all, present, but not quite there.

he wanted to.

he wanted to help them.

because he understood them, to an extent.

he knew how it felt to grow up in a place where you couldn't be yourself, where you were forced into a role you didn't want to play.

he knew how awful it was to not know yourself.

but he also knew what it was like to have a real home.

he knew what it was like to be surrounded by warmth, family, and pure joy.

he knew how good it felt to be welcomed, to be told that you didn't have to deal with everything alone. to be understood and seen.

to be loved.

and he wanted all of them, every last one, to know how that feels.

he wants them to realize that they can be happy again.

***

"so harry," hermione asked suddenly, snapping harry out of his thoughts.

"hmm?"

"did you have a nightmare last night?"

he tensed.

he had been dreading this question all morning.

shrugging, he stuffed a slice of toast into his mouth in an attempt to dodge her question.

hermione sighed, her and ron exchanging a look that harry knew all too well.

"give me a straight answer, harry," she demanded. "we want to help you."

they'd had this conversation a thousand times before, and harry hated it more and more every time they did.

he dropped his fork, taking a big gulp of pumpkin juice before nodding, not making eye contact with her.

"and did you talk to mcgonagall?"

"it... it was late," he explained quietly. "i didn't want...to wake her."

"harry please," hermione whined.

after a brief moment of silence, an idea popped into her head.

"fine," she huffed. "you don't have to. instead, you can just tell her in the mornings."

"say, harry," ron spoke. "what's that on your head?"

"a flower crown ron."

"oh."

"well, we should be heading to class now."

it just so happened that their first class, transfiguration, was with the slytherins. when harry walked in, he noticed a certain blonde slytherin staring in surprise at him.

he probably didn't expect harry potter to voluntarily wear his flower crown.

draco was different at night.

during the day, he tried to fade into the shadows. he hunched into himself, kept his eyes low and head bent. he was quiet, almost soulless. his eyes held no spark of life or hint of emotion.

but when harry saw him last night, he was different. a soft boi™.

he allowed himself to smile, surrounding himself with the soft comfort of his sweatshirt, and his eyes sparkled silver in the pale moonlight. the twists and turns of his flower crown expressed his emotions, and the tone of voice he used when he talked about jasmines...

the day passed quickly, and when the night came, harry lay awake, wishing draco was there to lull him to sleep with mumbled words.

a/n: hiya! sorry this one was so boring hehe.
the next one will be more interesting i promise!
i'm on thanksgiving break so i'm trying to write everyday! if you have anything you want to happen in this book, please comment your ideas! love you. 💛
see you soon!
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