Chapter 1
Don't blink. Everyone's watching.
They'll think that you're up to something.
They need for you to be everything that
they cannot be themselves.
Dashboard Confessional - Morning Calls
Harry Potter downed the contents of the steaming glass in a single gulp. He felt the fiery liquid slither down his throat like a burning serpent of the Devil's creation.
The last day of Christmas vacation was drawing to a close. A silence lay over the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A slim, raven-haired man was uncouthly stumbling through the long hallways and ever-changing staircases. It was nearly midnight and Harry Potter was the only person not dreaming away in his four-poster bed. He defiantly ignored the portraitof a rail-thin woman in a silk, green dress that coughed in a way that sounded much like the word 'hooligan.'
He had just entered the seventh floor corridor when he heard a cat-like shriek echo through the hall. Fearing apprehension, he clumsily sprinted to the familiar stretch of blank wall.
He tripped through the magical door landing flat on his face. In his drunken haze he didn't appreciate the room for how magnificent it was. The room was dimly lit by an enormous fireplace filled with flames licking each other merrily. There was a beautiful, dark, mahogany bed with a down mattress and a plush comforter located in the center of the room. By the look of it,he would have to leap to get on it. The first thing Harry took notice of was a quaint writing desk in the corner, quill and parchment at hand.
Harry walked to the desk and slumped down in an old-fashioned arm chair. Suddenly, his mind was clearer than ever before. As the fuzziness temporarily subsided, he knew what he had to do to partially lift the burden that weighed him down for so long. Writing this letter, to only Merlin knows who, was like extracting a lethal poison from his bloodstream that was slowly killing him inside. The words seemed to flood out of the quill as he hastily scribbled them down. With the wall built around him knocked down by his drunken perception, he spilled out the contents of his soul ona single piece of parchment. He wrote down things that he never dared to say out loud... Thing he never dared, not even in his wildest dreams, to reveal.
Harry wrote until his thoughts because incoherent and his handwriting not legible. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he got into bed and was asleep before his head hit the soft, feather pillow.
A thick layer of snow covered the grounds throughout the night. Harry gazed out at the blinding white thinking about the letter he had found on the desk that he had no recollection of writing. He was, in short, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He wondered what in Merlin's name possessed him to write such things. I was drunk, he thought desperately, I didn't mean a word. He knew he was lying to himself, but he wasn't ready to admit it. Everything he read was perfectly true... Not a word was inaccurate... And he was ashamed of it. Cowardly. Weak. Vulnerable. He didn't want to be what everyone else wanted him to be, and he loathed himself for it.
Harry punched the glass in rage, although he immediately regretted it. His knuckles began to throb, matching his alcohol induced headache.
"Just perfect," Harry muttered angrily. He stomped to the large fireplace where the embers were still glowing hypnotically.
Morning came and went. He exited the Room of Requirement, roughly stuffing the offending parchment in his pocket, as if trying to punish it. He had previously made plans to meet Ron and Hermione in the Common Room that afternoon; they were returningfromtheir respective homes today. They begged Harry to stay withthem over Christmas break, but he declined, convincing them that he would be fine staying a Hogwarts by himself. Harry just wanted some time alone.
The corridors were cold because of the weather, causing Harry to shove his hands is his pockets before even setting a foot down the stair case. He walked the familiar path to the Gryffndor Tower, said the password to the Fat Lady (Gumbumble), and readied himself for the arrival of his two best mates.
As three o'clock neared Harry slipped on the mask that he so expertly wore, and he became the Harry that everyone knew. The reunion with his friends was a joyous affair. There was a lot of hugs, more laughs than can be counted, and too much butter beer (much to mild for Harry's taste). Ron and Hermione's arrival temporarilydrove the parchment, that was supposed to being in Harry's left pocket, out of his mind.
A/N:
Please review!Tons and tons of cookies for those who review! Ireally want to know what I am doing horribly so I can improve. Regular updates, at least weekly, sometimes sooner.
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