1 Ch. 8
//Oh no// thought Dumbledore. //What sort of emotional uproar have those boys created for themselves//. He really did feel bad for them, having used his powers to discreetly listen in on what was being said. Harry tended to feel emotions much stronger than other boys did thanks to his extraordinary encounter with Voldemort and upbringing with the Dursleys, and Draco had been deprived of anything close to love for so long that he automatically tried to push away anyone who tried to get close to him. Dumbledore sighed and began to make his way up to the Gryffindor tower, trusting Severus to deal with Draco who would undoubtedly be sobbing in the Slytherin common room again. He just hoped that Harry would remember the fact that Minerva hadn't assigned any essays over Christmas.
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In one of the very few times in his life, Dumbledore was wrong, but he was extremely close to the truth. Draco had locked himself in the bathroom to take an extremely long shower in hopes of getting that look that Harry had on his face out of his head. He couldn't believe that he could make someone look like that. Sure, he had made tons of people in school cry. He was Draco Malfoy; people expected it of him. Damn them and his reputation too. It was really their fault he acted the way he did. Them and Lucius. The man may have contributed his DNA, but he was *not* a father.
As much as his mind wandered, it kept coming back to that expression on Harry's face. Having a Death Eater for a father, he had seen torture; and being Draco Malfoy, he had seen people cry, most of them because of him. But he had never seen someone look like that. Looking like nothing could ever go right in the world ever again. And the look was on the face of none other than Harry, and he himself had put it there.
//What have you done// he asked himself. //You just made the one person that you love, who possibly even was beginning to love you back, completely miserable. What is wrong with you?//. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the tears mixing with the shower water running down his face. Eventually the tears were coming too fast and strong for him to ignore and he curled up into a melancholy ball of misery with water beating down on his back.
(Sorry for all the short chapters, I'll try to make the others longer.)
//Oh no// thought Dumbledore. //What sort of emotional uproar have those boys created for themselves//. He really did feel bad for them, having used his powers to discreetly listen in on what was being said. Harry tended to feel emotions much stronger than other boys did thanks to his extraordinary encounter with Voldemort and upbringing with the Dursleys, and Draco had been deprived of anything close to love for so long that he automatically tried to push away anyone who tried to get close to him. Dumbledore sighed and began to make his way up to the Gryffindor tower, trusting Severus to deal with Draco who would undoubtedly be sobbing in the Slytherin common room again. He just hoped that Harry would remember the fact that Minerva hadn't assigned any essays over Christmas.
********************************************************
In one of the very few times in his life, Dumbledore was wrong, but he was extremely close to the truth. Draco had locked himself in the bathroom to take an extremely long shower in hopes of getting that look that Harry had on his face out of his head. He couldn't believe that he could make someone look like that. Sure, he had made tons of people in school cry. He was Draco Malfoy; people expected it of him. Damn them and his reputation too. It was really their fault he acted the way he did. Them and Lucius. The man may have contributed his DNA, but he was *not* a father.
As much as his mind wandered, it kept coming back to that expression on Harry's face. Having a Death Eater for a father, he had seen torture; and being Draco Malfoy, he had seen people cry, most of them because of him. But he had never seen someone look like that. Looking like nothing could ever go right in the world ever again. And the look was on the face of none other than Harry, and he himself had put it there.
//What have you done// he asked himself. //You just made the one person that you love, who possibly even was beginning to love you back, completely miserable. What is wrong with you?//. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the tears mixing with the shower water running down his face. Eventually the tears were coming too fast and strong for him to ignore and he curled up into a melancholy ball of misery with water beating down on his back.
(Sorry for all the short chapters, I'll try to make the others longer.)
