[DISCONTINUED] The Broom Closet

Chapter Two: So, He Thinks He's Mr. Tough Guy?

     Normally, this would have been a sinch. The one problem was that Harry didn't exactly have his wand on him at the time, so it wasn't. Even if he had been tough enough to push this door down, he didn't want to be in charge to fix or pay for it with the money he currently didn't possess. Harry glimpsed back and forth between the door, and Draco, his eyes lingering toward the other boy to get him to turn around like they do in movies. It was almost like laser vision. The other person could just feel someone looking at them, and boom. They turn their head. Like magic.

     Draco began to feel uneasy, chills going down his spine. Perhaps this foolish movie tactic worked after all. Draco almost instantly turned around after a hesitant few seconds of just standing there, snapping and yelling. "What is it!" He would hiss, once again receiving the attention from Harry. He was rather proud but didn't bother to show it. Harry didn't say anything. He just jiggled the stubborn handle as a way to silently let the other know what had been the issue. Potter felt that if he didn't say anything, there was less of a chance he would get his head ripped off and served on a golden platter by the end of this whole fiasco. "You've got to be kidding me. You jammed the door, you git!" Draco would growl, instantly pointing fingers to the other teenager who clearly was just a bystander. If anything, it was probably the work of another Slytherin considering they're practical like this, or more likely a professor locking the closet up for the night with the assumption nobody was left in it. "The doors latched up from the outside." Harry reluctantly spoke, observing their situation out loud. "How could it have been me!?" He then would question harshly, his lip curling up and his eyebrows furrowing. He threw his arms up in automatic defeat, leaning against the wall that would be right behind the door. If it were to swing open,  the frail boy would get crushed. 

Now, this poor boy always got roped into situations he didn't want to be in. It was rather unfortunate of course, but nowhere near as awful as other events, he had been through earlier on. He just told himself that before he got upset. Harry felt funny. Nervous? Stressed? Probably both, honestly. Also, with a fair balance of enough exhaustion to make him wanna collapse then and there. Draco just stood there. He didn't want to believe Harry, even with the visual evidence. Distraught, he rubbed his hands together then cracked his knuckles, one by one. he was preparing himself to do what Harry had already tried numerous times. "Move, Potter," Malfoy ordered, using his shoulder to shove him aside as he made his way to the door before Harry was even able to obey. Now, Draco was built like a noodle. Sure, he had the common pretty boy physique, but he was skinny all around, just as his limbs. Even so, he had muscle and was definitely stronger than Harry, as well as bigger, but nonetheless, it probably wouldn't really get them anywhere anyway. As suspected, Draco gripped the handle and pushed it down before putting all of his might into pushing that door. It didn't work, and at this rate that went without saying. Mumbling under his breath, he began to kick at the door and Harry stood up straight, putting out his hands defensively. "Woah, Woah, Woah! Stop!" he would insist, causing the blonde to give one more aggressive kick and then back away. His foot was secretly hurting from that nonsense, but of course, he wouldn't dare to admit that.

"We're gonna be here a while, so at least try not to blow your brains out so early on." Harry would hiss, causing Malfoy to curse under his breath, the only audible words being "Stupid" and "Potter". Neither of them wanted to be in this situation. Why couldn't it have been anybody else? Or alone, even? That is, if it were to have to happen at all. Being locked in here was bad enough, though nevermind with each other. Someone was bound to be dead at the end of this, and chances are, it would in fact be Harry. No matter how silent or loud he was, or how kind or mean he was, he was risking his life just by sitting there and existing. Draco seemed to be throwing a bit of a temper tantrum, and Harry knew that interrupting wouldn't do him any good, so he just sat there and watched intently, seeing him end it by putting his back to the door and slowly sliding down it until his rear hit the ground and his face was in his hands. 

So this is what Hell is like. It's not hot, rather room temperature. Draco was equivalent to Lucifer in Harry's eyes, but what could himself be classified as? He didn't exactly sin or do something bad enough to deserve such cruel and unjustified punishment, did he? He was thinking too hard into the metaphor and decided to clear his mind until he needed to use it again. He hoped that wouldn't be for a while, because dear God, he pleaded for a rest.