The Tragic Tale of the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Wanted to Die [ON HIATUS]

If Draco wasn’t avoiding Potter before, he sure was now. He knew that Potter knew that his arm was fine, and had expected Potter to tell a teacher what he had seen, but if he did, nobody told Draco about it.

Draco was now doing everything he could to get away from Potter, including finding new ways to class to avoid passing anywhere near the Gryffindors. He even skipped a full Care of Magical Creatures lesson, which hadn’t improved since Buckbeak’s attack. He just couldn't stand the sight of Potter anymore.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the look Potter had given him. It wasn't full of hate, like Draco would've expected, but was instead full of concern and alarm. That scared him, since the last thing Draco needed was his worst enemy butting in where he wasn't needed.

He noticed Potter staring at him during the times they were forced to be in the same room, and he never knew what to do when this happened. The day after the incident, during Potions class, he noticed Potter looking at him, and he nearly dropped what he was holding.

He couldn't get over how different he looked without pure rage on his face. He looked… attentive, even thoughtful. Sort of similar to Theo. Draco considered skipping the remainder of his Potions lesson after the third time he caught Potter staring at him, but decided against it. What did it matter, that Potter saw his arm get sliced open? But that hadn’t been all he saw, he had also clearly seen Draco’s tears. That was the real reason Draco was avoiding him. Draco had always tried his hardest to hide emotions from his friends, not to mention enemies. Like his mother had said, ‘crying gets you nowhere in life’.

His arm was still sore, and now that he could see, he could tell how badly he had cut his arm. It was red, and he could trace the exact place where he had cut it. The poorly re-wrapped bandages rubbed up against the skin where the wound had been, and it hurt like hell every time he moved his arm.

He almost went to Madame Pomfrey to get his bandages professionally fixed, but he knew she would see the cut, and would ask questions. He couldn’t handle questions right now. Blaise clearly didn't the memo, however, because mid-lesson he whispered to Draco,

“Potter keeps staring at you. What happened?” Draco didn't know what to say, so he just muttered, “I have no idea.” and moved on. He didn't look over towards the Gryffindors for the rest of that lesson.

The days were starting to reflect his mood; it was becoming increasingly rainy and gloomy. He wasn't at all surprised when Flint came over to see him in the common room weeks later, a few days before the upcoming Quidditch match (Slytherin v. Gryffindor).

“How's your arm? I would suggest getting the match rescheduled, since you haven’t flown once this whole year, and the weather is shit.” He sounded almost angry, and Draco could easily tell exactly what he wanted to hear.

“The rain makes it too risky. I think we should reschedule.”

He wasn't going to make a fool of himself on a broom in front of Potter in the pouring rain, even if Draco definitely didn’t care what Potter thought. He later found out from Ginny that Gryffindor was now playing Hufflepuff.

He decided he would go down to watch the match, and the morning of, he realised that sitting out was definitely the right choice. It was pouring rain, and looked like it might storm.

He noticed Potter walk by, and looked away immediately. Whenever he looked at Potter now, he felt nauseous, like Potter would notice and then tell everybody what he had seen. He just decided to keep eating his waffles and try to ignore Potter sitting over at the Gryffindor table. It was hard, but he did it. When Draco and the other Slytherins headed out for the match, they couldn’t even see their way through the rain.

“Glad we aren’t playing, right guys?” Blaise asked Ginny and Draco once they all sat down.

“With my arm, I wouldn’t’ve played anyway. But yeah, the rain would hurt our chances if we played.” Draco replied.

“But now we get to see the Hufflepuff team. And the Hufflepuff Seeker!” Pansy burst into giggles, along with Daphne.

“Oh come on, what’s so good about Diggory?” asked Blaise.

“Well, he’s a good Seeker, or so I’ve heard…” Daphne trailed off, and she looked at Pansy. Immediately the two started laughing again.

“And?” Blaise looked annoyed.

“And he’s hot!” If Pansy and Daphne weren’t in hysterics before, they were now. Pansy had to clutch onto Daphne’s shoulder for support. Draco scanned the Quidditch pitch, and found Diggory. They aren’t completely wrong, thought Draco.

“What do you think of all this Draco?” asked Blaise irritably. Draco, who wasn’t paying attention, said,

“Yeah, he’s alright, I guess-” The words weren’t even all the way out of his mouth when he realised what he was saying. “No, no, that's not what I meant!”

Blaise and Theo were speechless, while Pansy and Daphne were almost crying with laughter.

“That isn’t how I meant it! I swear I- guys, stop laughing, it isn't funny!” Draco cried, exasperated.

“See, Blaise? We were right! He is-” Daphne couldn’t even finish her sentence, from laughing so hard. Draco was about to respond, but then the match started. Draco could hardly see anybody through the blanket of rain pouring down on them. He was freezing cold and soaked through to the bone. He couldn’t hear the commentary through the rain, so he was basically just sitting there doing nothing.

Then, he heard the distinct sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle, and assumed the teams were going on time out.

“Who’s winning?” he asked Theo, who was sitting right next to him.

“Gryffindor, they’re up by 50.” said Theo.

“Great.” replied Draco sarcastically. He wasn’t really rooting for either team, originally he was going to root for Hufflepuff, but after the Cedric Diggory incident earlier that match, he didn’t know now. Ginny was supporting Gryffindor, and was over sitting with her friend Luna, who was also supporting Gryffindor.

The rain hadn’t let up, but Draco convinced Pansy to share her umbrella with the rest of them, so they wouldn’t be as cold and wet. He could see way better now that his eyes weren’t being assaulted with raindrops.

A few minutes after they had resumed play, Draco noticed the Snitch glittering near the goalposts. He saw Diggory glide through the air towards it, followed by Potter, when he felt his insides turn to ice.

Hundreds of dementors were making their way onto the field. Draco felt empty once again, like he had on the train. The cold was suffocating him, like a thick fog that seemed to go on for miles. He couldn’t breathe, or see. He could hear the same yelling as before, but this time clearer and louder.

‘YOU’VE BROUGHT SHAME ONTO THE WHOLE OF THE FAMILY, YOU HEAR ME?’

Those were the last words Draco heard before everything went black.