(Wrath)

'The bloody Golden Boy,' he thought bitterly in a silent rage. Well… more of loud, roaring, very messy rage, actually.

He was positively steaming as he charged through his Common Room. People watched, unfazed by the Ice Price throwing another one of his many tantrums. He was in his private form, and slammed his door shut before they had a chance to blink. No one went to see him breaking down on the other side of that wood. No one heard the frustratedly angry sobs that wracked his body. No one stopped him as he loosened his tie, pulled out his want, and pressed it under his chin. It would be so easy, and then he wouldn't have to deal with this torture.

He didn't want to be mad. He just wanted him. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he shook, hesitating before chucking his wand away. Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair. If he could see him every day, that was all that mattered. He'd live with the seething as long as Harry Potter was still alive.

tbc.