the chariot 12-20

15

Draco had stayed in the room long after Harry had gone. Harry hadn't even banged the door shut. He had let it close behind him.

He hadn't even banged the door.

Draco sunk down onto the couch. A deadened feeling filtered throughout his body and he was still trembling. His fingers were icy and he could see them quivering. He folded them into his palms and sat with his fists clenched for a while - waiting for his heart to slow down and begin to beat again, waiting for his lungs to start working properly again. That had been the most upsetting fight he had ever had. It had been awful.

But it was for the best. Wasn't it?

Draco had to believe that. He had done this for his parents, his dad. His parents were the most important people to him and he couldn't disappoint them – could he? There was too much at stake wasn't there?

He felt his eyes burn and he took in a long gulp. This had to be done and he had done it. Granted it had gone appallingly, but messy as it was – it was over. That's what you wanted isn't it? He looked around the room, at the couch he was sat on, at the desk. He suddenly envisioned himself and Harry sitting and talking and laughing, and kissing.....

He made hurriedly out of the room and into the corridor. He stood there for a moment, resting his head back against the door. He felt weak; his legs just did not want to stand anymore- they were shaking that badly. He placed his hands flat against the wooden surface and stood frozen in his place. A few minutes passed and he realised that someone might see him and wander what on earth he was doing there in that position. Anyhow he shouldn't be here, it didn't feel right. It was just an empty room and he had no place for it anymore. He wandered if anyone had heard them shouting, but it seemed quite quiet. He didn't really care though, not now that it was over.

He walked to the landing slowly and reached the staircase. There was nobody around and he was a lone figure making his way downstairs. You were never really alone though- the people in the paintings were always moving and shifting around. They must have seen a lot over the years he thought. How many secrets were they keeping? Draco had no doubt that they had watched everything that had passed before them. One of them must have seen him and Harry together. Wander if you could use a painting's evidence in court?

Draco drifted down the stairs sluggishly, as if he didn't want to reach the bottom at all. He hadn't wanted to reach the sixth floor earlier either. He had the weirdest feeling in the pit of his stomach.

As he neared the third floor, there were students now walking to and fro, up and down the stairs and corridors. No one paid Draco any attention and he was thankful. He kept his head down and reached the Entrance Hall, opting to go out rather than go down to the common room. It wasn't a particularly cold evening and he walked over near to the greenhouses. There was a bench just behind one and it was empty. He sat down gratefully and waited for his knees to stop knocking together.

He took in a deep breath of cold, fresh air. He felt edgy and unsettled. As if he wanted to rip and claw his skin off and adopt a new one. Something didn't feel right inside. In fact everything felt wrong even after he had done the deed that he had set out to do. He felt like his insides had been torn out and placed back in all the wrong places. He felt dizzy and wholly uncomfortable. He could hear the argument still ringing loudly in his ears and he desperately tried to block out the words. He hadn't broken up with Harry, they hadn't been going out had they? And it was all just a bit of fun wasn't it? It didn't mean anything really - had it? Perhaps it had all been a joke, an act...

Harry would be all right. He could go back to hating him again and they would get over this glitch. And anyway, I should be concentrating on my studies, Draco thought. They were important.