Hello! I know it's been a really long time, but for the New Year, I thought I'd post you guys a small New Year's present. This is a new fic I started, and I'm dying to know what you think about it. Let me know what you think, and whether I have to continue it!
Enjoy reading!
NOTE: This chapter has now been betaed by Lumcer! She did a great job in finding all the grammar mistakes! The next chapters will follow shortly.
Chapter 1
Lonely
Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor Common room, waiting for his best friend to come down. He was finishing up some homework he had to do for Slughorn and was hoping to play some chess or go out to fly at the Quidditch pitch. He hadn't seen Ron all week, and he was craving for some time alone with his cheery friend.
Hermione hadn't been around either, she had gone to the library – which was not surprising – not to do homework like Harry was doing, but to study, because all of her assignments due this week were already finished. The main reason she wasn't sitting here with Harry, although she had implied to him that the room was too noisy, was because Harry had the book that made his Potion's class a piece of cake.
Ever since sixth year had started, Harry had used his book to impress Slughorn with his Potion's skills, and Hermione, who had always been better than him at everything except for Quidditch, had told him to bring the book back and tell the teachers what was written there. She had also suggested sending the book to Libatius Borage, the writer of Advanced Potion Making to tell him the indications made in the book were more efficient than his, and that he could use them to publish another edition.
Harry had just waved her comments away, saying he was just using an old book and would return it at the end of the year. Ron had nodded, choosing Harry's side infuriating his curly haired friend. On its own, the book wasn't bothering Hermione that much, but she had been moody ever since Ron had started to spend time with Lavender. She was taking it out on Harry, because she couldn't stand to see them together.
Her distant behavior hadn't really bothered him at first, but it was starting to get on his nerves. He missed his female friend and her wise words. Even though she could be extremely irritating, and even though she mostly talked about school, he kept feeling like he should apologize and make up with her. During classes, she mostly hung out with Parvati, because Lavender mostly hung out with Ron ever since they'd started dating.
As easy as it is to put one and one together, it is not that difficult to derive that Harry had lost both his friends and could hardly spend time with them. At that point, Ron came down, grinning widely. "Hi mate!" Harry's face lit up, throwing his books in his bag as Ron reached the end of the staircase.
"Hi, Ron. Finally! Are you up for some chess?" Harry smiled, his voice sounding a little too enthusiastic. Harry knew Ron thought everything was fine, but Harry was really craving for some chess or Quidditch.
"No, mate. I thought I had told you. Lavender and I are hanging out together. Sorry!" Ron slapped Harry on the back jovially and made for the Fat Lady.
"Don't worry. I'll just get some extra homework done," Harry replied, his unnatural smile still glued to his face. Ron was gone before the words left Harry's lips. "Hang out. Rather like lick each others' faces clean," Harry thought furiously.
Harry wasn't used to being jealous. In fact he wasn't jealous; he just felt a little left behind. He knew Lavender was a new chapter in Ron's life, but to Harry's mind, they were overdoing it a little. Harry wasn't ready to hang with girls, nor did he have anybody in mind to date.
As for Hermione, he didn't dare go to her to talk about Ron, since her emotions were rather messed up because of his fling with Lavender. All she would ask was whether he still used that damned book, and he wouldn't give it up for anyone. Potions class was the only thing he was good at right now.
Deep down Harry knew she was always bringing up the book to avoid talking about Ron, but right now Harry was the one who could use the support of a good friend. He didn't feel like being the mediator this time. Harry sat down again, sighing as he looked into the crackling fire place.
Harry got out his book, Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, for the ten pages long essay they got from McGonagall earlier that week. It wasn't due until next week, but Harry didn't know anything else to do. It was already Thursday, so if he started it now, maybe he wouldn't have to do it this weekend. He got out a blank roll of parchment and took up his quill. He stared at the pages about Conjuration, but wasn't able to really read what was written there.
After another half hour, with no movement in the Gryffindor Common room whatsoever, Harry decided not to do his homework. The Room hadn't been so quiet in a long time, and Harry wondered why there wasn't anyone present. Even if the room had been crowded, it wouldn't have made it easier to study. His mind overflowed with thoughts of Ron and Hermione, it was silly to just sit there and do nothing.
He knew he shouldn't be feeling that dreadful about it, but he couldn't help feeling left out. He wished he had a Pensieve, like Dumbledore, but no such luck for him. His thoughts kept pestering him all evening. He remembered Hermione telling him about writing stuff down, so he decided to start writing down his thoughts, to clear his head… or to do something with his hands.
Dear whoever I'm writing to,
I have to get rid of my thoughts. I was trying to do some homework, but I couldn't focus because my thoughts are disturbingly distracting. I was trying to find a way to get rid of them, so I decided to write them down. Hermione told me that often relieved her feelings.
Well, I'm not even sure what I'm doing, writing to a piece of parchment. But well, I was waiting for Ron earlier today, hoping to do something relaxing together with him. He had plans with Lavender, so I didn't have anyone to play chess or that of a quick game of Quidditch with.
And Hermione isn't talking to me either. Silly, lonely me. I don't know what else to write, so I'll just quit here. It's not helping anyway. It's actually more confronting than relieving.
Yours sincerely,
Harry
Harry looked at what he had written and rolled his eyes. If anybody ever read this, he would no longer be the Boy Who Lived, but rather the Boy Who Had Gone Mental. How lame was he? He was acting like a ten-year-old, drowning in self-pity and he knew it. He folded it, put it in his pocket and got up, no longer wanting to stay in front of the fireplace. The red glow it was spreading reminded him too much of the old days he spent there with his friends, talking about Voldemort, talking to Sirius or trying to get homework done.
He exited the Gryffindor Common Room, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go. He soon arrived on the seventh floor, not far from the Room of Requirement. Of course! He could put his letter in the Room of Requirement, in the place where everyone hid the stuff that they didn't want anyone to find!
Smiling at his own brilliance, he walked forward, planning on walking three times past the blank wall. When he got closer, however, the place where the passage to the Room of Requirement was supposed to be, he could already make out a door. Seconds later, the so-said door opened. Harry saw a tall, slim figure making his way out. His platinum blonde hair stood out immediately in the dim light of the candles.
What was Malfoy doing in the Room of Requirement? Harry knew the blonde had found out about the room in fifth year, when Dumbledore's Army had used it for their lessons. Harry had never expected the young man to use it though. He watched as the Slytherin quickly threw a few glances around, probably to make sure nobody had seen him, suspicious as always.
As Malfoy exited the corridor, Harry made his way up to the room and put his letter in the place where everything was hidden, his thoughts still with the blonde. The boy was probably up to no good, and Harry was already determined to find out why he was using the Room. He hid the letter under a blue box, not paying much attention to it.
No one would find the worried secrets from the Boy Who Lived there.
As Draco walked around the corridor, he saw a mop of black hair floating behind one of the columns on the seventh floor. Potter? What the hell was he doing there? Had he seen what he had done?
Anxiety filled Draco's heart as he watched Potter walk three times past the very same wall he had just exited from. Of course Potter knew what room that was, but would he know what Draco had wished for? Would he know about the Dark Lord's plans?
Draco walked to the pillar Potter had been standing behind and waited for the latter to come back out. He probably had to save the day again, shadowing him around Hogwarts. Whatever the Savior was doing, it didn't take him long, as he exited the door moments later. This only increased Draco's worry. He walked around the corner, just as Draco had done earlier. As soon as his coat disappeared from view, Draco ran towards the shrinking door, throwing his body forward and making his way inside just in time.
Draco got up, smoothed his clothes and looked around. His heart sank in his chest as he saw the Vanishing Cabinet only a few feet away. How had he been able to choose the same room? Potter wouldn't know about that would he? Why did the Gryffindor always have to meddle into his stuff?
Draco looked around the untidy room, not having looked at it properly before. It was a mess. How could it be that so many people wanted to get rid of such ordinary things? Next to the Vanishing Cabinet stood a bookcase, with all sorts of dusty books on the shelves that Granger would love to stick her nose into.
On the table in front of the before mentioned bookcase were different roles of parchment. There was enough dust on them to make all the students of Hogwarts sneeze. The place was probably swarmed with Doxys too. Draco was just about to leave when he saw a navy blue, velvet-textured box. The box wasn't covered in dust anymore, which was odd, because everything else was.
Draco grabbed the blue box, disappointment appearing on his face as he realized it was empty. He then saw a neatly folded piece of parchment that had been lying underneath the box. He took it carefully, unfolded it and started to read.
Dear whoever I'm writing to
I have to get rid of my thoughts. I was trying to do some homework, but I couldn't focus because my thoughts are disturbingly distracting. I was trying to find a way to get rid of them, so I decided to write them down. Hermione told me that often relieved her feelings.
Well, I'm not even sure what I'm doing, writing to a piece of parchment. But well, I was waiting for Ron earlier today, hoping to do something relaxing together with him. He had plans with Lavender, so I didn't have anyone to play chess or that of a quick game of Quidditch with.
And Hermione isn't talking to me either. Silly, lonely me. I don't know what else to write, so I'll just quit here. It's not helping anyway. It's actually more confronting than relieving.
Yours sincerely,
Harry
Potter had written a letter? Why did he put it up here? Anyone could come here and read this. Draco wouldn't have been so idiotic, to do such a thing. He actually wouldn't have written it in the first place. However, Potter had decided to do so, and to put it into a room where anyone could find it. He had probably hoped it would be impossible for anyone to find it here. It was obvious that he had been raised by Muggles. Draco smiled at the letter, knowing he had a rare stroke of luck, to be able reply to Potter's dear worries.
He grabbed a quill and some ink out of his backpack, flipping the letter over he bent over to the desk while making sure that his robes didn't get dusty then started to write…
To be continued...
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