Everything Black | Harry Potter

8. Running Up That Hill

The wind was cold, slicing through the air and biting savagely at any who dare to venture out at this time of night.

Harry felt a raindrop fall against his skin, followed by several others, but he didn't have the heart to move from his position. He was sat at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, legs through the railings and hanging over, arms resting on the cold metal, head rested on his arms to observe the remaining constellations uncovered from the clouds. The moon was nowhere to be seen, allowing Harry to see an eclipse of blazing stars, stars that were now being obscured by thin clouds. The incoming rain chilled his bones, the water making his eyelids heavy. Harry slowly closing his eyes, a rattled sigh passing through his parted lips as he did so, causing his breath to fog up in front of him as he his mind wander.

. . . okay, so he hadn't exactly made true and gone to sleep after leaving dinner, but in his defence he did try.

It's not his fault there were too many dead people waking behind his closed eyelids.

Harry had actually laid awake until much later listening to Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus falling asleep. Eventually he'd pulled on his bathrobe, picked up his wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. He'd stayed there, hoping the ambience would lull him to sleep but it didn't even make him sleepy.

His mind was too loud.

So, he snuck out of the tower and let his feet guide him as he wandered the castle, ducking out of Filch and Peeves' paths, until after about an hour, he found himself climbing the spiral steps up to the Astronomy Tower.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but enough time had passed since the rain had started that Harry was now soaked to the bone.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

Harry had never had the chance to experience his grief this bad before. It all started when he lost Sirius, his world and his hero. It sneaked up on him quietly and took him under its arms in an instant. Every memory played like a song in Harry head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. Every minute brought fresh waves of people he'd failed and who had paid the price for trying to keep him alive. For the longest time, he was lost mostly because he had lost a big part of him. He couldn't get that part back and he wanted it so bad as him life depended on it but it had been all gone, vanished in thin air. But now he has it all back and he doesn't know what to do with it. 

The rain stopped hitting his skin and Harry lifted open his eyelids, green orbs instantly searching for the answer.

Draco stared back at him, wand pointed to the sky, an umbrella charm shimmering above them.

Harry didn't remember if he asked, made a sound or just stared at the boy, but Draco seemed to understand either way.

"Of course I was looking for you," he said softly, "You were a mess, Potter. I was fucking worried about you."

And it was like the flood gates exploded.

The grief surged up with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by Harry's gasping intakes of the sharp, cold night air. Tears began to spill from his helpless eyes, indiscernible from the rainwater dripping from his hair onto his face. His hand flexed helplessly and he tried to subdue his sobs, eyes squeezing shut, trying to calm his shuddering breaths.

Warm arms reached around him, pulling him into a warmer embrace.

Harry stiffened for a moment, still trying to supress his sobs, and then let go.