A Letter From Mother
Harry always loved rain. The way the droplets cluttered on the windows. The way the noises of water falling from the sky accompanied their lessons in class. The smell of freshly fallen rain in the courtyard.
Seated in the back of the class, which was not his usual custom until now, Harry found himself inattentive to what Slughorn was teaching.
His eyes scanned across the room, leaving their attention from the quill that lay victim to his fidgety habits, and found their way on his classmates.
Neville and Hermione of course were paying full attention, Ron had dozed off. His focus fell on Draco, who was nose deep in a new book.
He had informed Harry during one of their brief conversations before deep sleep that he had finished Gatsby, now reading the Catcher and the Rye.
“It’s terrible,” He complained, rubbing his cheeks in frustration.
“Then why read it?” Harry pondered.
“Because, Potter, I intend to read the most famous muggle books I can find, and I will finish them,” He paused and groaned, “No matter how putrid they may be.”
Adjusting to this new Draco became easier after a week or two, his mood was lighter, his motivations still as determined as they were before. It was refreshing to not bicker with him like they did all those years ago. Before the war.
Adapting to Draco was somewhat easy, sure, but adapting to living at Hogwarts was simply impossible. So many aspects of the school reminded him of the battle, the crumbled walls, the shattered windows. Hell, even the classroom he sat in had a patched up hole in the ceiling.
The rain falling in from that hole dripped into a bucket placed by Ron’s desk, the constant dripping sound ringing in Harry’s ears.
He felt a pair of eyes on him and looked up to see Hermione, who’d turned around to check on him. She gave a soft worried smile, and when he responded with a barely a grin, she frowned.
Class was dismissed, and Harry filed out with the rest of the students. Ron and Hermione had caught up to him, even with his faster than usual pace. Harry found himself wanting to be left alone more and more lately.
“How are you feeling?” Hermione surveyed, shoulder to shoulder with Harry in the crowded hallway.
“Same as always, I suppose,” Harry found himself resorting to that answer quite often. But what else could he say? He didn’t feel any better, or any worse for that matter. He just felt. There was nothing else to it.
He felt pairs of eyes cast upon him, and turned over his shoulder to see a group of first years whispering. No doubt about him, what topic however he didn’t want to know. He quickened his pace.
“Want to come with us to Diagon Alley this weekend, you could use a break from Hogwarts, couldn’t you?” Ron asked, attempting to catch up to Harry.
Hermione followed, agreeing “Yes Harry, you deserve a day away from stress.” He noted the cheeriness in her voice, although he could faintly distinguish the touch of worry in it too.
“I don’t want to be a third wheel on what is obviously your date,” Harry responded, trying to match her cheeriness as to not come off as rude. “I’ve got a book I plan on starting, so I’ll let you two enjoy yourselves.”
“A book?” Ron gawked.
“What?”
“Well it’s just that, Harry, that’s so unlike you. What book is it?” Hermione inquired. The group had stopped in the middle of the hall.
“The Catcher and The Rye,” Harry answered. And with that he followed his path back to his dorm, leaving his friends behind with their jaws on the floor.
When he arrived, blonde hair abruptly greeted him. Draco was pacing back and forth like a troubled ferret.
“How does she expect me to go along with this?” He barked, clearly talking to himself, yet expecting an answer from Harry.
“Who expects you to do what?” He asked, trying to avoid Draco’s frustrated arms as he made his way to his bed.
“Just look at it.”
Handed to him was a letter with gold ink writing, a silvery border around the edges. Draco huffed, impatiently waiting for Harry to finish reading it.
Draco Darling,
I have arranged for you a meeting with Astoria Greengrass and her family, and if all goes well, we plan to have you eloped before next spring.
Kindest Wishes,
Mother
“You’re going to be married to this girl? Have you even met her?” Harry asked, a little stunned by the letter himself.
“No, I have not!” Draco shouted, gripping his hair as his cheeks flushed with anger. “I am to be married off to some stranger, even though she knows I’m-“
His words trailed off abruptly, as if he remembered Harry was in the room with him in that moment. He glanced down at the raven haired boy upon his bed, and sighed, plopping down on his own right across from him.
“I’ve lost control of my own life.”
“Did you ever have it?” Harry queried, a soft tone in his voice, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly.
A chuckle broke from Draco’s lips, “No, never.”