Shoulder Pillow

Chapter 19: Sunshine

 Heaving breaths echoed off the stone walls of the corridor. Rapid footsteps slapped down on the stone floor. Everything seemed to be made of stone—Draco's limbs included as he forced his legs to go faster, pushing as he'd never pushed before. The imposing darkness suffocated each struggling breath that tried to make its way to Draco's lungs.

Draco's mind felt as though he'd left it behind in his common room, still trying to process that there was something so wrong with Harry that Hermione had sent for him.

Unparalleled fear twined with adrenaline jolted through Draco's veins. It reached down to every nerve ending in his entire body. It made his heart throb and his lungs battle for breath. Draco pushed his legs to go faster, fast enough that he passed ahead of Ronald.

He knew the way to Harry's common room well enough by now that he knew he could run his way there without light. That is, until he slipped up the last staircase when a loud, shrill alarm sounded through the air—fire alarms. He barely caught himself at the last second. It hadn't even registered with him that he'd fallen until he was already up and running again, trying to block out the ear-splitting, piercing alarms.

There was no way in hell he'd let something as simple and humiliating as stairs stop him. Harry needed him. Whatever it was, Draco would've run across burning hot coals and a bed of nails to get to him.

After clearing the stairs and dashing down the corridor, Draco came to a skidding halt at the door to the northern common room. The fire alarm had miraculously stopped its shrieking calls.

Everything crashed into him all at once as he stared at what he sincerely hoped was the right door. Leaning over with his hands on his knees, Draco's mind reeled, trying to pull himself together. The only sound he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears. Every thought jumbled in his head until they were completely incoherent.

And yet it all boiled down to the same thing: What am I going to find behind that door?

"What the bloody hell are you waiting for?" It seemed that Ronald had finally caught up to him, the bright white light of his flashlight flooding the hall as he ran. Though he resented the way the light made his eyes sting, Draco knew that Ronald had a point.

For once.

There was no real reason for Draco to hesitate like this. He should have already busted down the door and demanded to know where Harry was from the first person he saw.

But fear... It was a powerful thing. It coursed through Draco's entire body, holding his legs as if they were stuck in wet cement. He felt himself drowning in it. Fear for Harry, fear for what might have happened. Fear of seeing what lay behind that door.

No, Draco screamed at himself, no, no, no, no, no.

With some miraculous surge of strength, Draco forced himself to open the door. Darkness greeted him—the sun having set minutes ago—along with the frightened mumbling of the people in the common room, a few of them holding flashlights. Wading through the crowd, Draco heard the telltale sounds of muffled cries.

***

It was dark. It was dark, and Harry didn't know why. Panic began to set in. His heart started racing, his breathing labored. He could have sworn that two seconds ago, he'd been with Hermione in the common room. They'd been fine, talking quietly in the corner. He'd been working up to telling her what had been pressing on his mind, working up the courage to take down that first stone in the dam that he'd built to hold everything back.

But then it went dark.

Just like how that cupboard under the stairs was dark—especially when Vernon shoved him in it as punishment.