𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐒𝐈𝐀| ✔︎

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄|𝐄𝐔𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀

EYES PRICK OPEN. He rubs them lazily and licks the end of his fingertip to turn the page of Romeo and Juliet. There is a singular stone hinge that acts as a bench in the middle of the alcove that Harry is sitting on. By now, he can't tell what's what anymore. If this even is his own reality or if he's only here because of mere whim. It's like things are now played out, and Harry can't 'not' choose to do something because it is already happening.

Goosebumps showered the Gryffindors' arms — however he couldn't contemplate if it was from nerves or the slight chill of the Spring sun.

He tries to shake these thoughts from his head and go back to enjoying his book — but as if it's almost a cliche distraction, there is a Sparrow sitting right next to him. Tweeting — calling to get his attention.

"Shoo, go on," Harry urges; jerking his hand in it's direction. But the bird just stares at him. He tries again, but it doesn't seem to take a hint.

That is until, it flies onto his head, and Harry decides he's had enough.

He tries to whap it away with his book, careful not to destroy the fragile binding. Harry has no idea why a singular Sparrow is angering him so much but it just seems as though he can't control his temper nowadays.

"Go away little bird! I haven't got any food for you," he urged as the tiny bird was now fluttering around him, tweeting in every-which direction as a hummingbird until it finally flew back into a tree.

"Golden Boy playing amongst the Pigeons?" a snarky voice came above him.

"Looks like it," Harry said reluctantly. "but it's not just that."

They were out here. Alone, Harry supposed. So what would be the harm in being a little honest? If Draco laughed at him, he could laugh straight back. It would be fine.

"I felt fatigued. I just needed to get away from everything for a while. You were right, this is a good place to read. The scenery's immaculate."

"And your friends let you go out – alone?" Draco's voice was dripping with sarcasm. He leant down to give Harry another rose, in which he gradually accepted.

"I told them I needed time for myself. I love them — it's just they've been... getting on my nerves lately to be honest." he said truthfully.

"Finally, you see it too," Draco said with a small scoff.

"I don't know. Everything's just been pissing me off," Harry said, stopping to notice the wrinkle in Malfoy's nose.

"What?"

"Do you really have to sound like such a muggle, Potter?" he mused.

Harry shrugged.

"Lived with them long enough." he muttered.

Deep down, it was hard to believe that Harry was being this honest, but Draco seemed to be making more logical sense than anyone else he had been talking to. Almost as if he was the only one who understood him.

"Yet you still worship Dumbledore. Pity," the blonde sighed, leaning his chin to rest on Harry's head. Draco looked down in curiosity at Harry's book.