Alright guys, here's another new one that's been floating around in my head for a few weeks now. With this, I've now got 3 active stories and I will be trying my absolute best to keep up with all of them. Let me know your thoughts with a REVIEW, please. Hope everyone is enjoying the spring!
Harry sat in the back of the classroom, waiting for Potions to be over already. He sighed, realizing morosely that the period was only 10 minutes in, and he still had another hour and five minutes to sit through before he had any hope of escape. It was Friday, it was fall, and it was lunchtime. There remained absolutely no part of him whatsoever that had any desire to be sitting in a cold, musty dungeon which smelled very strongly of dragon piss.
He allowed his eyes to dart around the classroom, not focusing on any one thing in particular. There was a jar of pickled salamanders on the wall, a crack in the ceiling, and a spider crawling rather near Ron's foot. An evil grin crept across his face and he waited for the spider to crawl even closer to his friend before pointing it out frantically, causing Ron to squeak and shove his chair back into the row of desks behind him. This caused a disruption to the class.
"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing Weasley?" Snape snapped irately as the entire room proceeded to laugh at the look of terror on his face.
"S-sorry," Ron stammered. "There was a s-spider…" His eyes darted desperately around the flagstone floor for a sign of the creature. It had disappeared.
"Spiders are not an excuse for a disruption in this class, Mr. Weasley. 10 points will be taken from Gryffindor." There was a groan from the Gryffindors, but Harry continued to smile as Ron rather skittishly continued to search for the spider. He ran his fingers in a crawling motion along his neck. Ron jumped, spun around and punched Harry hard on the arm.
"Fuck you!" He mouthed. Harry laughed silently, and returned to his classroom gazing. There was a pile of dirt in the corner. He counted the number of heads in the row in front him (6), and the number of girls in the class who had ponytails (7), and even counted the number of broken stones on the floor (17). And yet, Harry was still bored. He looked over at Ron for some sort of distraction, but he now seemed not to be speaking to him, and at Hermione, but she was taking furious notes and would probably stab him with her quill if he interrupted her. He tried briefly to listen to Snape's lecture, but found himself falling asleep within the first couple of words.
He sighed again, and started humming to himself in his mind. His eyes continued to dart around the room but didn't really stop until he caught notice of something one row ahead and 3 seats to his left. Now, Harry wouldn't generally pay any attention to the Slytherins, and most certainly never this Slytherin, but there was something about Draco Malfoy that caught his eye. Rather, something about his arm.
Malfoy, like Harry, also appeared to be bored, and was sitting with his forehead resting heavily in his left palm. This in itself wasn't all that unusual, but Harry could see from his position behind him that the sleeve of his robe had ridden down a little bit, and beneath it Harry could make out a set of what looked to be cuts on the boy's wrist. His eyes narrowed and he tried to get a better look.
Harry's first instinct was that he wasn't seeing correctly, or that he was jumping to an incorrect conclusion. It didn't make sense for Malfoy to be cutting himself. It just didn't. He scooted his chair as surreptitiously as possible in Malfoy's direction and managed to get a clearer view. Well, they were cuts alright. That couldn't be mistaken. He turned it over in his mind. What could cause cuts like that? Straight, evenly spaced, thin, and deep? After 20 minutes he couldn't reach any conclusion other than that they had been self-inflicted, and this idea simply baffled him.
Harry began to wonder what sort of thing could cause the perfect, pampered Slytherin Prince to cause himself harm like that. How long had he been doing it? Did this mean he was suicidal as well, or just in a tight emotional spot? And most importantly, why the hell did he even care? He stopped for a moment. Well, of course he cared. Sure, he didn't really like Malfoy, but he'd been his classmate for 7 years. And if he was hurting himself then yes, it certainly did worry him. No one deserves that kind of misery. Even assholes like Draco Malfoy. He made up his mind to confront him on the issue. He spent the remainder of class trying to figure out how to do this.
When class ended, Harry sent Ron and Hermione on, claiming that he need to look for something in his back and that he'd meet them in the Hall. They left, and as Malfoy brushed pass Harry to leave, he grabbed a fist full of his robe and pulled him back. Malfoy spun around angrily.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Potter?!" He snapped. Harry sighed and finished packing up his things.
"Just… just hang on, Malfoy, I need to talk you for second." Malfoy looked at him like he'd lost his mind and for a moment Harry wondered if he had.
"The fuck for?" Malfoy glared suspiciously but seemed too curious to walk away as he hung back and waited for Harry anyway. When everyone else had left the classroom, Harry led Malfoy into the hallway and stopped in an empty alcove that granted them some semblance of privacy.
"What the bloody hell do you want from me, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, coldly. "I have lunch to get to." Harry sighed, wondering if he'd made a mistake. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to work out how to begin.
"Look, Malfoy, earlier during class I thought I saw…" He trailed off and didn't finish.
"Thought you saw what, scarface?" Malfoy pressed, menacingly.
"Nothing…" Harry answered, giving up, "Nothing, it's stupid." Malfoy advanced on him.
"I have no doubt its stupid, Potter, but you're going to tell me right now or I'm hexing your eyebrows off that stupid face of yours!" Harry stood up straight, and looked his enemy boldly in the eye.
"Fine then," he answered shortly. "I thought I saw some marks on your arm and it looked to me like you'd been cutting yourself." Malfoy's reaction wasn't what Harry had been expecting. His expression, previously angry, became guarded, calculating. He backed up slightly, thumbing his left wrist with his right hand, and when he spoke, he tone was protected and suspicious.
"What's that to you?" He asked quietly. Harry was shocked beyond words for a moment.
"S-so I'm right, then?" He stammered out in response. Malfoy's expression went cold, and his tone flat.
"I didn't bloody say that did I, Potter?" Harry sighed.
"No," he answered, "no, Malfoy, you didn't. Look to answer your question, I'm worried." Malfoy's expression changed to anger again.
"Don't fucking lie to me, Potter!" Harry, growing angry himself, shot back a glare in return.
"No, Malfoy, I'm not bloody lying to you! Look, like it or not you've been a part of my life for a long time now and whether you choose to believe it I find the idea of you cutting yourself to be a cause for concern! I know you haven't admitted to anything, but if you were doing that to yourself, it would clearly mean that something's wrong, and yes, I worry because I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. Not even you deserve that." Malfoy stared at him for a long time before answering, and when he did, he rounded on Harry threateningly, and his tone was defensive and shook slightly.
"Yeah well… Well, look here, Scarface! You can take your hero complex and go somewhere else because you didn't see anything, understand!? I don't need saving, so you can just get the fuck out of here!" Harry almost growled in frustration.
"Fine, Malfoy," he snapped. "I didn't see anything. I told you what I saw, and you have my concern. What you do with it is your own damn decision." He budged past Malfoy, who had pinned him to the wall, and started to walk away.
"Potter, wait!" Malfoy called after him. Harry stopped, and spun around.
"No, Malfoy, I'm not going to tell anyone," he said, answering the question before it had been asked. "And only because I know it wouldn't help you if I did. But you better bloody hope that I'm the only one who's noticed because I know the other Gryffindors wouldn't feel the same way and I really doubt the Slytherins would take very well to that sort of information either. So just… watch yourself, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he turned around and headed for the Hall, leaving the blonde standing by himself in the hallway, glaring angrily and clutching at his wrist.