Notes: Sorry this is a short chapter! Will update more soon.
Harry Potter rights belong to J.K. Rowling.
How could he do that? Defend that horrible greasy parasite! And to my face! Draco fumed, burying his sticky tear-stained face into his pillow and hoping he could knock himself out from lack of oxygen. Here he was after such a wonderful morning, and such a magnificent moment holding Harry's hand and tracing eternity circles gently; crying feebly over a boy who wouldn't even admit they were more than friends. That's because we weren't! Draco had never felt so foolish; he had let his emotions lope away from him, out of reason and complete reach. Assuming Harry felt what he did...but patently it was all hogwash, complete and utter bollocks.
Harry preferred Ron.
It wouldn't matter how close they ever became, how much love Draco had to give Harry; Ron would always be more important. How could Draco have not foreseen that? It was so obvious! It had been staring him in the face all this time. A sob ruptured from Draco's chest. Cursing himself, Draco sat up; clawing his forehead hysterically and embedding his palms into his eyes.
"Draco," Millicent's worried voice gushed as she crashed through the door to the Slytherin 5th year boy's dormitory. She was accompanied by Pansy and Tracey. Draco held his breath, dropping his hands and hoping they didn't cross the room otherwise they'd see he was crying. He swallowed nervously. "Draco...we heard."
"Heard what?" Draco asked fiercely, scowling at the floor and balling his fists. He didn't have time for any more rumours the students of Hogwarts had pathetically come up with. There was a pause of awkward silence.
"We heard you and Potter arguing," Pansy murmured woefully, "we all heard." Great, Draco groaned; now everyone knows. Now the entire school can laugh at how pitiful his existence was. One big joke, that's what he was.
"For what it's worth, Draco...Potter looked really torn up when he came back." Tracey mumbled, Draco sighed, swallowing another sob; tears gently flowing. He actually went back to Weasley. Draco doubted Potter was remotely torn at all, he most likely laughed about it colossally with Granger and Weasley after the girls had pitifully come to find Draco wallowing in self pity.
"We can kick his ass for you, if you like." Millicent chuckled half heartedly; Draco's lagging departure protective instinct lashed out. Draco stood abruptly and turned to scowl at them, all three girls' taken aback by Draco's state.
"Touch him, and I'll make you regret you ever attended Hogwarts." He fumed, "Now get out," he spoke each word clearly and full of hatred. As the girls just gaped, silently wondering what to say or do; Draco's last nerve snapped. "GET OUT!" Millicent and Tracey jumped back, petrified as they fought to leave the room first. Pansy however regarded Draco solemnly for a few long seconds, letting Draco's temper cool slightly before she took her leave; pulling the door slowly shut behind her. There was no way Draco was attending dinner, and Professor Flitwick could give him a thousand detentions for all he cared. He collapsed back down on his bed, staring aimlessly at the moving photograph of his first Quidditch match win from his second year. He felt humiliated, disgraceful and disappointed in himself. His father would be mortified at the state Draco was in even if it were over a girl Lucius approved of.
'This is pathetic, Draco. Pull yourself together.' That's what his father would say. Those were the words Draco needed to hear, if not to console him but to make him feel an ounce of love from anybody in this God awful world. Was he that bad? Had he done something to deserve abandonment? Surely his attraction to men was not worth discarding him over. Didn't they care? Didn't they miss him? Draco heaved out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, letting his limbs flop off all corners of his wooden posted bed. There were only two things Draco was certain of; nobody was going to look out for him but himself, and he'd never live it down if the Slytherin boys came back to find him red paced and puffy.
Draco hauled himself up and made his way to the boys' lavatory, rubbing his eyes with the rim of his sleeves and feebly wishing today hadn't happened.
