Chapter 4
The need to escape and never be found was strong, traveling through his body, up his stomach to his neck, making him swallow hard passed the lump in his throat. It was so strong, in fact, that he started to move to get his stuff with shaking hands until the image of his friends appeared in his mind. He can't. Giving up, Harry moved to the other side of the room. Despite how much he hates the idea he is still needed. His friends, Draco, Neville, Hermione, Susan, and hopefully Luna too if she wants, expect to see him again. He can't leave...
And maybe Voldemort's words were a good motivation too, he admitted to himself. The idea of not being enemies never occurred to him, strange as it sounds. He was used to it, expected it even. And now, well, now he doesn't know what to do. He can live his life with no worries. Except, Voldemort never promised to not kill him. He said he wanted to see him grow, change. Not with those exact words. Still, he has time. He can relax. However, Voldemort was not his only enemy (enemy sounds kinda childish now that he is thinking about it but that is what the Dursley are to him, and Dumbledore too if the old man insists on making him sacrifice for the Greater Good). They are bad. They are cruel and uncaring. They never cared about him, never accepted him. They hurt him. And even after all this time it still stinks. The Dursley were supposed to be his family, and Dumbledore? Dumbledore was his mentor and what he thought could be considered a grandfather.
Taking a deep breath, the boy looked out of the window in his room, in his relatives house, his mind full of so many thoughts he was drowning in them. From afar he could see a silhouette, someone was watching him. He knows it's probably one of Dumbledore's men. It doesn't stop him from feeling the fear coursing through his veins. He took another deep breath and exhale softly, fog coming from between his lips. It wasn't cold, it was just him. Luckily no one else seems to notice everytime it happens. It started recently so it makes sense.
Looking away from the window, Harry took a sit in the uncomfortable bed, not needing to sleep as much as he used to. His tiredness wasn't from his lack of sleep but his own mental turmoil, after all. Living more than one life tends to do that to you, he thought grimly. Deep breath.
A soft hoot shook him from his depressing thoughts. He watched as his loyal white owl, Hedwig, landed in his lap, curiosity shining through her intelligent eyes. He pat her fluffy head, a small smile appearing in his face. I'm not alone, he reminded to himself. "Thank you, girl." He said outloud.
He was at Hogwarts, safe as he can be, yet he wasn't happy. Why wasn't he happy? He left the Dursley without the Weasley's helps, so he was not reprimanded nor were the Dursley extra mad at him beyond the susual. Dobby, to his relief, left after he promised not to go. Of course he lied but the house elf didn't need to know that. Luna was going to be Sorted this year, same with Ginny and so many others, Voldemort took the stone in his first year and the Headmaster is suspicious of him but he still has to act on his suspicions. All in all, not that bad. He can live with a suspicious Dumbledore watching his every move, he has done so in every life. No, there's something else bothering him.
Shivering slightly, the boy left the comfort of his bed and went directly to the Great Hall alongside his classmates. He hadn't been able to sleep.
Interestingly enough, the Slytherins are very protective of their own. Something that both surprised him and delighted him. So, every time they were outside of their common rooms they went in pairs or in groups. That's definitely a much more effective way to protect each other, especially the younger ones. To his disappointment, they did need a lot of protection from most of the older years from every house. Gryffindors being the worse of them. Oh, how much the roles have changed. Worse is... How could he have been so blind? It couldn't possibly be happening only in this life.
"What's gotten into you, Potter? You've been sighing all day." Came Draco's voice, sounding annoyed. He's not blind though, he could see the boy is worried. This Draco hasn't learned to mask his emotions just yet.
"Not sure. Must be the weather." The green-eyed wizard replied absentmindedly, a weak smile appearing in his mouth. Draco looked sceptical as the ceiling was showing a deep blue sky with some passing fluffy clouds. It couldn't be a better day.
"Right... Well, when you stop sulking you know where to find me. Though I doubt you're interested. You've never shown any interest in anything." He grumbled more to himself than to anyone who was listening.
Harry blinked owlishly at him, brows borrowed in an un characteristic display of what appeared to be human emotion. Finally, thought the young Malfoy.
" What... do you mean?" The boy asked slowly, as if he was finding a hard time to focus on what he wanted to say, dragging each syllable. "I do enjoy some things."
Draco snorted. "Of course you do. Like what? Reading? Because that would be the most boring interest." He replied, looking at his classmates and finding that none of them seemed to be interested. The blond pouted at that.
"Well, yeah. I like reading. Now. But I also like... I like flying." Continued the raven, recalling wind in his face and the feeling of being free.
"Flying? Why didn't you say so!?" Excitedly, Draco took Harry's hand and took off running, leaving a very bewildered group of Slytherins and, though to a lesser extent, confused and amused teachers.
In the corridors, close to the outside door where you could find the Quidditch pitch, Harry stared at where the blond's hand was holding his. He wasn't used to people touching him in such a gentle way even when the other boy was literally dragging him. The Dursley only touched him to hurt or manhandle him, Voldemort was the same tho it is somehow still different in his opinion, and some of his friends... you could say that they were too liberal with their touches and never really realised his reactions. At least not Ron or Hermione. Neville is a very quiet kid so the young Master of Death is uncertain about his thoughts but he was more respectful with that. And to his surprise, his shy friend has very good occlumency shields. Another prove that he's much more powerful and skilled than people assume.
"Umm... Draco?" he called his newest friend. "We are we going?" Of course he knows where, he just doesn't understand why. In his first year he never had to play Quidditch and Draco never seemed to be interested on talking about it nonstop like Ron used to do. Or maybe he was too absent-minded, a pang of guilt punch him in the gut almost making him trip if it wasn't for Draco's hold. Of bloody course I have to feel guilty for this too, what else?
"To fly, of course!"
Right, Harry thought in despair. Because that explains everything.