Chapter 3
Harry didn’t know what to do, it’s been three days since he’s seen Draco. The last time was during dinner in the great hall, where Draco avoided his gaze and left early. “Where is he?” Harry sighed, picking at his food.
“Who?” Hermione asks.
“What?” Harry said, looking up at her.
“You said, where is he? And I asked who.”
“Oh, you heard that?”
“Harry, you’ve been sighing, picking at your food, and mumbling that same question for the last three days.” Ron laughed. “Who are you talking about so much?”
“No one,” Harry quickly shut up, putting his fork down. “I’m just a bit tired.”
Ron and Hermione looked at him incredulously, “Harry…”
“Forget it Hermione, I just have a stomach ache.”
“Sounds rough,” Said Ron, shoving more food in his mouth, “Make sure you throw up in the bathroom, not on my shoes this time.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m not gonna throw up.”
“Yeah yeah, that's what you said last time.”
Harry just rolled his eyes again before standing up. He smacked Ron upside the head, lightly. Ron just chuckled at him and continued on eating. Hermione on the other hand, stared at him with narrow eyes and a concerned look. Harry ignored her and continued his way out of the great hall. He wasn’t feeling sick, but he did feel like there was a big hole in his stomach that couldn’t be filled.
Harry made his way to his dorm room, preparing for sleep. He felt like there was nothing left for him, nothing left to do.
He fell asleep rather quickly, however it did not ease his misery.
‘Harry’ a familiar voice in his dream said.
Harry’s heart raced, his stomach filled with butterflies. He turned around from his post, he was wearing a guards uniform. A muggles rifle in his hand. Was he having a war dream?
When he turned he saw the outline of a man, tall and lean with fair-light hair and a black outfit. Why did it seem familiar?
‘Harry, don’t worry about me.’
Harry tried to speak, but nothing came out. ~Worry about who? Who are you?~ He tried to say.
The man didn’t move, he didn’t say anything else either. Harry stared at the man, the rest of his features slowly coming into frame.
He had sleek blond hair, strikingly silver eyes, and an impeccable black sleek suit with a green hem. He looked just like someone he knew. Harry knew who it was, but couldn’t say the name. He reached his hand out, trying to pull the man closer.
The man smiled as Harry’s hand wrapped around his wrist. The smile made Harry’s heart race, he wanted to see it more often.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but once again nothing came out. The man then pulled his hand away, dropping his smile and turning around. Harry reached out again, but his legs wouldn’t move. He tried to scream but no sound came out. Why couldn’t he speak?
He screamed and screamed.
“HARRY!” he heard, jolting him from his sleep.
“What?” He sat up in a hurry.
“Are you okay?” he heard softly.
Harry blinked slowly, trying to readjust his eyes. He reached for his glasses and looked around for the person who spoke. It was Ron, worriedly looking at him from the foot of his bed. “Are you alright Harry?”
“What? Yeah…” he said softly, trailing off, trying to recall his dream.
“Well you were screaming. Just like you did when you-know-who was tormenting your dreams. Was it him?”
“Yes,” Harry said without thinking, “I mean no. No. I was just- I don’t remember what it was.”
Ron worriedly looked at him, “You were screaming.”
“I heard you, I don’t remember why. Voldemort made sure I remembered his dreams. It was his method of torment.”
Ron paused, “Do you need anything?”
“No,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes, pausing at the feeling of water. He was also crying, why? “I’m going to go for a walk, thank you for waking me up.”
“Of course,” Ron said, clearly still worried, “Do you want me to wait for you?”
“No. Please, sleep. I don’t know how long it’ll be.”
The red headed boy nodded, taking a deep breath, “Alright, well enjoy your walk. I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said softly, “You’re a good friend.”
Ron gave a small smile, “Yeah, of course, buddy.”
Harry didn’t say anything else. He just got up and put on his shoes and a hoodie. He was already wearing his sports shorts so he put the hood over his head and walked out of the dorm. It was silent, the only sounds made were from the moving staircase and the echoing footsteps of the boy who lived.
He walked across the gardens where he and Draco had fought in the fourth year when Mad-Eye Moody had turned Draco into a ferret, and when he and Draco quarreled about soiled clothes. It’s been three days since he last saw the blond boy, someone he thought he loathed but ended up dreaming about him.
Harry sighed loudly to himself as he sat on a bench in the garden, he stared at the big fountain in the middle. It was devoid of water, it used to run year-round, even in the winter. Perhaps, since Dumbledore has died the upkeep of the castle has gone down. But that kind of observation is unfair, Dumbledore never did much to help the castle, it was all the house elves. Many of them ran after the battle and refused to come back out of fear of more impending doom.
Harry sighed, pulling out his phone which he smuggled in. He dimmed the light on his screen, along with pulling out his earbuds from his pocket. He sat there, a slight breeze blowing through his hair, and searching for a song.
He settled on Pierce the Veil. He enjoyed the rock chorus and the blending of different chords. It seemed like a good escape to listen to the beats and the tempo. An escape from the prestissimo tempo of his life. Harry closed his eyes, leaned back, and drummed along to the rhythm, tapping his fingers against the bench he sat on.
He was enjoying his peace, feeling the cold air agaisnt his face, the smell of petrichor filled the air around him. It was peaceful, it was calming, but he was interrupted.
Harry felt someone sit next to him, he stopped tapping, he sighed and opened his eyes. He stared up at the night sky, ignoring the stranger next to him. After what seemed like forever, at the end of his song he looked next to him. Wondering who would be sitting next to him so late at night.
His heart nearly leaped out of his chest. His glasses seemed to slip down the bridge of his nose and his breath slowed down as if he was just punched in the gut.