The Scent of Love | | Drarry

Conscience

I exited Potions more confused than I had entered. What club? And why is Snape in it? I've been bombarded with some weird shit about Snape yet that wasn't even at the forefront of my mind.

Getting to dungeons wasn't an easy job. I kept tripping over my own feet just cause I'm in my head so deep. Not like me; I can almost always keep my footing. I stumbled into the common room and Pansy blurted out "Are you drunk?"

"I—"

"Of course he is, aren't you? Why didn't you call us?" Blaise answered.

"How did you even get out?" Pansy questioned, "and how do we get in?"

"We should get ready Pansy," suggested Blaise while Pans fetched cloaks. I tripped and finally fell. Me on the floor, didn't get up instead I brushed myself off, crossed my legs and shouted at the top of my voice:

"I AM NOT DRUNK!"

"Oh," said the pair of my so-called friends in unison dropping everything thing at once.

"Why are you acting," asked a puzzled Blaise, "like you've had to many Firewhiskeys then?"

"Can't I just fall over?!" I paused, "don't answer that. Let's just get to homework."

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We sat there for about an hour going through odd bits of homework but I have gotten barely anything done. Mainly because somethings keep crawling up to the front of my mind. I stood up cause I needed a quiet space to think. Pansy or Blaise daren't ask where I was going. Yet I told them anyways.

"Going up. Call me for dinner tonight." They responded with approving murmurs so I went. I sat on my black and green silk sheets and began to think.

'Famous Saint Potter' is my  mate. Am I mad? No.
Am I happy? Depends what you count as 'happy' If that is thinking about him a lot. And not absolutely hating the situation. Then yes.

Wait. One important question needs to be answered first. By me. Honestly.

Am I Gay?

Well. Let's do a review. I got out an old notebook to just write in because I'm quite organized to that point.

How often do I look at boys? Depends. Probably looking at them when not paying attention in classes.

How often do I look at girls? Not often.

How often do I look at Harry?
A lot - even when I'm not loathing him.

How much do I think about boys and being with them? Quite a bit. Mainly just about the possibilities.

How much do I think about girls and being with them? Again. Not often. My father always said marry for money and power.Too emotional.

How much do I think about Harry? Way more than anything else recently and in previous times considering, all the trauma we've both been through as well as our wasted arguments.

I can't believe how much I really think about these things. It's really just a topic that repeatedly crossed my mind but I purposely ignore them.But now to answer the question.

Am I Gay?

My heart began to beat rapidly. Am I? My father would never allow this. I would probably— No. I will get kicked out if I tell him. But I don't even know. Guess I'll just have to wait. To clear my conscience and just wait some time to figure myself out.

To calm myself down, I swiped up my sketchbook in a quick motion and started sketching random feelings into there.

• I drew a boy (who uncannily resembled Pottah) and some girl with a question mark between them.
• Me looking confused and looking terrible; question marks surrounding me.
• And all the sexuality pride flags I could think of and drawing each of them with the recurring questioning symbols in the middle.

When my hand was tired, I lay flat on my messy bed a hand by my head and another on my stomach. My brain - stress taking its toll on it - done the only rational thing it could think of.
"F*ck," I muttered as my eyes fluttered shut. So I drifted off to sleep.

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"DRACO! WAKE UP!" yelled a loud voice.

"ARE YOU DEAF?! DRACO?! COME DOWN!" hollered a different deeper voice. Wait; they were calling me?

"If you don't get your ass down here..." said the first voice which was quieter yet scarier. I rubbed my eyes and sat up gathering my bearings. S*it!  It's dinner! I rushed up and slipped on some shoes slammed open the dormitory door and shouted "Coming!" while thundering down the steps.

"Finally," cried Blaise, " we're like 10 minutes late!"

"You're lucky — we didn't leave — your ass," call Pansy beckoning me to the door when  I remember something.

"Go, I'll catch up," I said scurrying up the stairs. I quickly went up to check the two books I'd left open. I reached my bed and flung both shut and shoved them under the bed. I stood poised to kill even though I pretty sure no one had been up the whole time I was sleeping but I could always be wrong. Tension settled, I cantered along to the Great Hall.

At one of the last stairs up, I saw something – well, smelt it as well as that. It was Potter's scent but he wasn't alone. He also wasn't calm; rather distressed. He was arguing with Granger and the Weasel.

An unfamiliar fury rose in me but I had to restrain myself to listen. "What do you think 'is off' me, Hermione?" cried Harry.

"I'm just worried—" said Hermione softly who was cut off.

"About what? You Ron? I might be younger than you both but don't treat me like a motherf*cking baby!" the angry raven-haired boy called out.

"You were acting weird..." managed Ron who'd been silent the whole time for all I knew.

"I always am, aren't I?" Pottah croaked, his voice wavering with tears in his eyes. "Just gimme some time." And then he stormed off up the stairs. The other two knew better than to follow him and sullenly trudged right back into the Hall.

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Damn. 1013 words not including this. Sorry for not updating!

PS. This where the story really starts. 🙃