Flashbacks.
Harry wondered if Draco even remembered what happened the other night. He prayed that he didn’t and that his secret was safe.
Harry should have never asked what was wrong. He had problems of his own to deal with, not with whatever was plaguing Draco Malfoy. But he couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy.
Harry knew exactly what heartbreak was like.
He poked at his pancakes with a fork, sighing heavily to himself. The Great Hall was boisterous, children talked to each other animatedly, they laughed—hell, the teachers table was starting to ratchet up a notch.
He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the History of Magic teacher, Hollins, jab Flitwick playfully in the ribs. Both of them laughed.
Finally he saw something that he could relate to; trudging down the aisle was Draco, looking put together despite having drunk himself into a stupor again. Harry had heard the bottles clinking and the soft purr of some vinyl record.
Lines rippled on Draco’s forehead, indicating that he was deep in thought.
Harry thought about Astoria, her infidelity to Draco and suddenly became angry on his behalf. The nerve of her to write to him about it!
His fork jammed down and impaled the pile of pancakes. Minerva caught his eye and shook her head, ever so slightly.
A full grown man, and he was still being chided by Professor McGonagall. There was something ironic about that.
Draco nodded to a couple students on his way up to the table and took the seat directly next to
Harry.
“Hey,” he said under his breath to Harry.
Again, he only got a simple grunt in return. All Harry wanted to do was sit alone and mutilate his breakfast. He supposed that Draco wanted to have a conversation.
“What do you want?” Might as well get it over with.
“Breakfast,” Draco licked his lips and conjured up a plate.
“You drank again,” Harry said.
“Well you’re certainly direct,” Draco laughed half-heartedly.
“Not to be insensitive or anything but it’s best to just let it go,” Harry lowered his voice.
He watched Draco’s knuckles turn white in his clenched fist. “This isn’t something I can just ‘let go’,”
“It’s better than crying yourself to sleep to some janky song about laying in someone’s arms,”
“Harry, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like you’ve never—,”
Draco stopped himself, remembering how Harry whispered “Jacob” into the air and how it landed softly around them.
“Whatever,” Harry said and he got up and marched off to his classroom.
-
The students were taking notes down on parchment. Their eyes traced the lines of the textbooks, a hazy film of boredom began to cover them.
Harry liked this kind of silence, it helped to clear his head. Ever since Draco started using that record player, he started to feel muddled.
A few students flipped pages and a faint whispering started to grow from the back of the room.
Harry tried to ignore it at first, after all, they were just children but the whispering persisted.
A streak of pain jumped from the back of his eyes to the back of his skull.
It used to be a reflex for him to grab at his forehead when this happened, now he grabbed for the bottle in his robe pocket.
Harry ducked into the ingredients closet and delved into the pills.
He knew that if this kept getting worse he’d probably have to see Madam Pomfrey. Not yet though, he didn’t want to be weak.
He never wanted to feel weak again.
Jacob was whispering in his ear. He knew it. He couldn’t hear what was being said but he knew that whatever it was, it was meant for him and him alone.
Jacobs arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back into bed even though they would both be late for work. Jacob’s laugh rang out in his mind, a permanent fixture.
Jacob was crying. Harry wanted to know why, except the only thing he got in return was the shake of a head and more tears. All Harry could do was watch helplessly.
Jacob was leaving. He was packing up and leaving, he wasn’t yelling but oh god, he wasn’t meeting Harry’s eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at him.
Jacob was gone.
Harry gasped and his eyes flew open. He was still in the ingredients closet, pawing around at the wall for balance.
Had he blacked out?
A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. It had been years since he fell into his head like that.
Not since…
Never mind that, he had to get back to the students.
When Harry came out, he was shocked to see an empty classroom. The students had put
everything away like they had been instructed to do.
The clock on the wall read that the period had been over for a few minutes.
Massaging his head, he retreated to his desk.
A small voice called out to him. “P-Professor Potter, are you okay?”
Harry had to squint to see who it was. He recognized the kid. He’d seen him around with Draco.
The kid’s name was what, Corbin? Charley? C something…
“Calvin, sir,” the kid must have been psychic, “my name’s Calvin,”
“Ah yes,” Harry said almost apologetically. Almost.
The two stared at each other from opposite ends of the room. It would’ve been funny if Harry wasn’t so bewildered.
“Are you okay?” Calvin repeated himself.
“Oh sure, I’m fine, no need to worry,” Harry told the kid.
Calvin.
He needed to stop referring to them all as ‘kid’. He knew that Draco could name them all.
Why was Draco trying so damn hard? It made Harry feel like an arse.
Calvin didn’t look too convinced with Harry’s answer. His pale eyebrows arched skeptically and his mouth was slightly ajar.
“Really, Calvin, I’m okay,” Harry forced a smile on his face.
“Oh-kay,” He turned away slowly and scampered off to whatever class he had next.