The Catcher and The Rye
“Oh, and what did you think of chapter six?” Draco snorted, taking another sip of tea from his bedside table.
“Simply putrid,” Harry chuckled, tossing the book back on his nightstand. It took a total of five weeks, well for Draco it took only three but he waited for Harry to catch up as he had started it late, but they finally finished Catcher and The Rye. And it was terrible.
“What’s next? We have a few good options, you know,” Draco questioned, searching through the large bookcase on the other side of their room.
Now their dorm was decorated in Chudney Cannon poster, flowers and succulents gifted from Neville, and assortments of other things they believed be deemed worthy of being present in the place they would called home until June.
“Hmm, how about The Outsiders?” The Slytherin turned, noticing Harry right beside him.
“Pass.”
“What about Little Women,” Draco passed the book to Harry, who perused the back. The blonde awaited his answer.
“Hermione read this one, said it would bore me.”
“But you read Catcher and The Rye,” Draco protested.
“Only cause you did.”
“So if I read Little Women, would you do it too?” Draco teased, waving the book in Harry’s face.
“Har har, very funny. Can’t we find something interesting?” Harry groaned.
“Silence of The Lambs?” Draco asked, passing the book to Harry. He scanned the back quickly.
“Seems interesting, what’s it about?” He questioned, duplicating the book to have a copy of his own.
“It’s rather creepy, it’s about this serial killer who is known for..” As Draco rambled, Harry took in his complexion. His soft blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and the tuff of white hair that draped just barely over his eyebrows.
“Draco,” Harry interrupted, avoiding any spoilers Draco was about to let slip, “Where did you and your mother go, after the war?”
“What?”
Harry knew he was treading dangerous waters, and was careful in trying to achieve the answer to his question. “Ron and I, and Mione, we saw you leave with Narcissa. Where did you go?”
The question sunk deep into Draco’s veins, he didn’t know how to respond. “We went North. We didn’t have a secure place, sort of bouncing around to avoid arrest.”
Harry glanced down at the book cover again, flipping through the pages as he thought of what to say. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
“It’s not your fault, we managed.”
Harry was about to continue their discussion when Draco walked over to his night stand, picking up a moving photograph of Pansy, Blaise, and him. Pansy was atop Draco’s shoulders, while Blaise clung onto his side. They were sprinkled with freshly fallen snow, their cheeks warm. Draco’s smile was so bright. A smile Harry hadn’t seen before.
“Do you ever miss them?” Harry asked, joining Draco by the table. He picked up the framed photo, examining it.
“There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wish they were here with me. I understand why they chose not to return, but I wish they had.”
Noticing the trimmer in Draco’s voice, the subject was dropped. He collected his things and waited by the door for Draco. Dinner was beginning soon.