Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting this long, but i just kinda left this story. i've still been getting reviews though so i thought i'd publish this - it's a chapter i've had for ages, and been working on very occasionally. it's been reworked many times, but i thought i'd publish it like this even though it's not as long as usual. hope you like it - don't expect anything more soon, although i still have lots of ideas, so keep the reviews coming! enough support and i may well start again, or in reference to 'since when', i may be getting a beta. who knows. enjoy!
Harry hated Thursdays. He felt as exhausted as if he hadn't rested for weeks – which come to think of it he probably hadn't – and there was still another whole day of lessons before the weekend. Two days if you counted today. Harry groaned and some third years looked at him in great alarm before scurrying as quickly as they could towards the hall. Harry was always a bit groggy in the mornings and it didn't help that Ron had stopped waking him up. Instead, he was left to sleep through until it was almost time for lessons. It meant that he had to try to wake up when everyone else did, but this proved more difficult than he had imagined. He needed more sleep and was usually so deep in slumber around the time of the other boys' awakenings that he wasn't even aware of them. Apparently, he had thrown a book at Dean's head when he'd tried to wake him up on Wednesday morning. After that, people had pretty much left him alone. After his verbal attack on Hermione on Monday, his relationship with Ron and Hermione had been strained. They were barely talking and he was treating them with careful indifference, they treating him as though he was a precious porcelain figurine – about to crack at the slightest knock. That was the way everyone treated him nowadays. If I had known that there would be this much stuff to deal with afterwards, I would never have bothered trying to kill myself in the first place. The murmuring coming out of the hall was louder than usual for this early in the morning, but Harry thought nothing of it, dragging his feet towards the big double doors that led to food and a cup of coffee. He needed a cigarette.
Suddenly, without warning, the doors to the hall burst open violently, and Ron and Ginny rushed out of them, Ginny crashing straight into Harry while Ron passed him, a blur of red and black.
"Come on Ginny, we need to get to him before he wakes up."
Ginny blinked up at Harry with wide eyes.
"Um, Ron. He's here."
"Wha – ?" Ron span on a step and almost toppled down. "Harry!"
Harry gave a small wave, his mind still fixed on his coffee, slightly annoyed at being interrupted from his quest in such a rude fashion. He looked down at Ginny, smiled in a confused but well meaning way and began to walk past her to the hall.
"You can't go in there!" yelled Ron from the stairs in a panic.
"Why not?" Harry's voice betrayed his annoyance.
"Because – " began Ginny
"Well you see – " started Ron.
"What?" He really needed a cigarette.
"Well we don't want you to get angry…"
"But you see the thing is…"
"Uh…"
The two Weasleys stood in front of him, shifting sheepishly from foot to foot, and looking at each other with panic clearly printed across their faces. Ron was mumbling something about a troll. At that point, someone came through the doors behind Harry. They stopped when they saw the scene in front of them.
"Hello Potter." Malfoy.
Harry turned to face Malfoy. Why was the world conspiring to keep him away from his coffee and cigarette?! They were simple needs, and no one understood his pain!
"Have you seen today's Daily Prophet?"
Harry reached out instinctively and took the paper being brandished towards him.
"Nooooo"
Ron and Ginny lunged but they were too late. A photo of Harry looking morose was splashed across the front of the paper next to the headline 'Boy who Lived and wants to die: Harry Potter attempts suicide'. Shit.
"They could have been a bit more original." Said Malfoy casually. Ron was an alarming shade of red.
"Just what are you trying to do, Malfoy?…"
"Do?" Malfoy said innocently, "Nothing, I just thought Potter might like to know that he's in the news again."
"Oh so you were doing him a favour? Since when do you do anybody favours?" Ginny said venomously.
"Well, whatever you want to call it," shrugged Malfoy, his slender shoulders clearly visible through the thin material of his shirt.
Ron made an indistinct noise at the back of his throat.
"We were going to tell you Harry," began Ginny, "but we didn't want you to get upset…"
"Oh please, what's with treating him like a he's going to break? Does he look like he's about to burst into tears?" Malfoy said scathingly.
"You should know…after what he…" Ginny was after all Ron's sister, and at this point she joined her brother in mouthing wordlessly, unable to voice her outrage.
Malfoy laughed and looked at Harry, "Look at him. He doesn't even look upset. He's like stone. Impassive, unfeeling, ugly…"
Ron became about as red as it was possible to become, his hands clenching into fists. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something very stupid.
Harry interrupted. "I really need a cigarette."
He turned and went into the hall, ignoring the faces staring at him, and directed himself towards the nearest coffee jug, pouring a steaming cup and then adding the milk in a splash, he turned and left, blowing on the cup as he made his way past his friends and out onto the field.
"Like stone…" he heard Malfoy murmuring as he passed, and he was aware of the boy's gaze on his back as he walked down the corridor. There was a beat as he opened the door.
"Harry!…."
Potter's back disappeared through the double doors and Draco was left facing the Gryffindor's girlfriend and supposed best friend.
"Well…" he said diplomatically, edging away from the freakily red faces of the two Weasleys. "I'll just be going then…"
He turned quickly and began making his way towards the dungeons. Behind him he could hear the girl holding the older Weasley back. "Ron…he's not worth it…"
He smiled to himself, and then frowned. He was worth it, dammit. As he made his way further into the recesses of the corridor, Potter came unbidden into his mind. When he had passed him, with that glazed look that sleepwalkers have, he had been truly alarming. Empty was the word that came to mind. Hmm, he thought, empty and unstable. Sexy. No, he told himself. Empty is not sexy. Besides, Potter had smelt of beds, and sleep, and unclean things. Draco shook his head. He neared the portrait hole, now he could settle down and read the classifieds and do the crossword and relax a bit before first lessons. He was about to say the password to the Slytherin common room when he realised he'd given Potter his Daily Prophet. God damn him and his emptiness, Draco thought. Draco turned around and made his way back into the sunlight. Maybe he could get his paper back and steal a bit of coffee and a drag of a cigarette while he was at it. The air outside was clean and fresh and Draco breathed it in. He walked around the edge of the building and saw a most unholy sight. Oh Merlin, thought Draco, my retinas will never be clean. Potter and the Weasley girl were engaged in what appeared to be sucking the faces off each other. Potter was hunched forwards, holding the Weasley girl almost without touching her, kissing her without passion. She, in contrast, was hanging round his neck, clinging to him as though she were Lois Lane and he Superman. Draco smiled at his fabulous simile derived from the hours of 'muggle studies homework' he had done over the summer. Then the revolting aspect of the situation was brought back to him. He was about to back carefully round the side of the building when Potter opened his eyes and immediately locked them with Draco's. His eyes widened and he was about to pull away when the Weasley girl yanked on his neck and seemed to wrap herself around him most skilfully. Potter was unable to get out of this strange clasp, trapped by the claws of the red-haired vixen. Draco was almost impressed. A girl after his own heart. His eyes were still attached to Potter's and the strength of those piercing green orbs held Draco to the spot. The panic was obvious in the Gryffindor's eyes, but he seemed unable to prise the girl off him. Slowly, she moved her mouth, sliding it across his jaw bone and kissing gently as she made her way down towards his neck. Potter stood impassive, no longer trying to disentangle himself, just standing there, monolithic. Her mouth continued downwards and Draco watched, transfixed as she sucked at the nape of the black haired boy's neck. Potter stared back and lifted one hand in a what-can-I-do gesture. Draco felt uneasy watching, he wasn't a voyeur and Potter's coldness towards the Weasley's obvious passion was somewhat alarming. Draco was about to edge back round the building, abandoning his daily prophet to the fates, when he noticed Potter's eyes were sparkling with something that Draco couldn't quite place. With a sudden amazement, he realised that Potter was laughing! Draco almost laughed out loud himself. The poor girl, he thought. That boy is a black hole and she's being sucked in. Draco shook his head and laughed quietly.
At that moment, Weasley pulled back suddenly, a diver coming up for breath. She must have seen Potter's open eyes because she then abruptly looked behind her. She coloured immediately when she saw Draco and jumped away from Potter as though she had been burned. She bit her lip, mumbled something panicked and ran off. Draco had never seen anyone leave so quickly. Am I really that evil? He wondered. He looked back, but Potter didn't seem bothered. He was already lighting a cigarette, leaning against the wall. His coffee was steaming gently at his feet, and beside that, Draco's Daily Prophet. Score.
Harry felt quite annoyed. But not too annoyed. He finally had his cigarette and nothing could stop the lazy smile that spread across his face as he took that first delicious drag. Well, maybe one thing. He glanced up and realised that Malfoy had crossed over and picked up the daily prophet and his coffee. Harry watched with a growing sense of outrage as Malfoy took a sip of the coffee and began flicking through the paper.
"Hey," he said, "do you mind?!"
"Not at all," said Malfoy, taking another drink from the cup. Weren't his lips burning? Wondered Harry. He decided he was too tired and just really couldn't be bothered with a row. He sat down and leant against the building, and Malfoy followed suit.
After a few moments of silence, Malfoy made a face. "You put way too much milk in your coffee."
"Don't drink it then."
"Swap you your coffee for a drag on your cigarette"
Harry took one last drag and passed the cigarette, taking a large gulp of the coffee. He liked it when it had lots of milk.
"Don't you want to know what it says about you?" asked Malfoy after a few more minutes of silence. Harry shrugged, he knew the other boy would tell him anyway.
"Harry Potter, famous as the only boy ever to survive the killing curse, and so recently recovered from the emergence of you-know-who, apparently no longer feels the will to live. The boy-who-lived tried to kill himself after his godfather, the infamous Sirius Black, was killed by you-know-who last summer – they'd have to get that in, wouldn't they – We are, as of yet unsure of his psychological state, or whether he has been checked by St Mungo's officials to verify his mental stability. Many parents are worried as to whether he is a threat to other students, and indeed one pupil at Potter's school feels worried himself. "Potter has obviously been shaken deeply by what happened and I don't know whether he's going to stop at damaging himself. He shouts uncontrollably and doesn't talk to other people, and the other day he came downstairs with no shoes on…". Others are worried as to whether he will ever be able to defeat you-know-who…"
"Please stop."
Harry couldn't take any more. He put out a hand and took back his cigarette then stood up.
"I think the bell went ages ago, I'm going to head to class."
He began to walk away, finishing his coffee and savouring the last few puffs of his cigarette. Just as he was about to turn the corner, something occurred to him.
He turned back to Malfoy, who was standing up, running his hand though his hair and smiling to himself.
"By the way, how much did Zabini get for that?"
Malfoy looked up, startled by the abruptness of Harry's voice. A flick of light blond hair fell into his grey eyes and his smile curled mischievously. One shoulder was raised delicately and he tossed the flick out of his eyes with a careless twitch of his head.
"About 75?"
Harry nodded and headed towards the doors to the school.
