The Serpent and the Lion [L.S]

Chapter 5

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It's chilly. 

A shiver runs down Harry's spine, from either anticipation, or the strangely freezing temperature of the Headmaster's office.

He's been sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap for twenty minutes, awaiting his fate—his demise, more like.

It wasn't a shock when he received word during his last class to appear at the Headmaster's office; he knew it was only a matter of time. Harry is surprised she had waited an entire day to summon him.

Discomfort wiggles in the pit of Harry's stomach when he thinks of yesterday's events.

It was never meant to go this far. That's no excuse, not by any stretch of the imagination, but—

He just panicked.

Harry had never felt emotion in his life like he had yesterday.

Emotion that overshadowed his better judgement, clouding over all rational thought, narrowing down to one pinprick of light that seemed like his only way out.

All Harry remembers is the rage. Blazing hotly in his chest, making him see red; followed quickly by indisputable shame that smothered any traces of anger as he realized that he was in the wrong.

He was in the wrong for all of it.

The worst part was the Earth-shattering look on Louis' face. His eyes—wet.

Vibrant, electric blue, even amidst the despair.

Harry cringes at the mental picture.

He doesn't even want to think about it, because the guilt that accompanies it threatens to bury him whole. He's still in selfish shock that he even said the word out loud, especially in front of... of everyone, really.

It kept him up nearly all night, tossing and turning with something bitter and ugly stirring inside him. There wasn't anything he could do but feel rotten, sitting in that feeling, until he was sure he was going to physically be sick.

The lack of sleep could have also stemmed from the fact that he was stuck sleeping on the Infirmary's uncomfortable cot all night, but that was furthest thing from the point.

It's a wonder and a miracle that Madam Pomfrey was able to reset his nose, after Liam Payne casually broke it in front of half the school. Serves him right. It's exactly what he deserves. 

A familiar voice brings Harry back to the present, snapping his head up from his hands.

"I apologize for the delay."

The Headmaster briskly sweeps through the grand door, shutting it behind her with such force that the sound echoed in her office.

She takes long strides to her desk without so much as glancing at Harry, and sits with an exhaled breath, heavy and tired-sounding.

Harry is hesitant to find whatever expression matches her tone, so his gaze follows slowly up her ornate desk before settling on her face. There, filled in the lines of her face, is exactly what Harry expected to see.

Disappointment.

"Harry Styles." The words are labored, tinged with sadness.  

"Good afternoon, Headmaster."

"It is regrettable to have you sit in my office under these circumstances." 

Harry swallows around the tightness that clogs his throat. "I agree."