Chapter Two: A little Christmas spirit
Author's Note: I put it to the readers, (if anyone reads this...*crosses fingers* lol) slash or no slash? ........
A pale finger of sunlight touched the face of the sleeping brunette. His long dark eyelashes cast feathery shadows on his ruddy cheeks. A strand of jet black hair trailed over his eye, and a well-sculpted hand reached up to brush it away impatiently.
One would never guess that the sleeping figure held the cares it posessed, or that only in sleep did the worry lines fade from his smooth brow, marred only by the thin jagged scar on his forehead. The traitorous strand of hair slipped back over his eye and with a grumble of irritation his eyelids opened to reveal the startling green iris's behind them
A few more phrases that vaguely resembled sentences, and Harry Potter sat up, rubbing his hads tiredly over his face. He looked around sleepily and saw that the bed next to his was still occupied. Ron snored softly, still wrapped up in the depths of sleep. Harry yawned and rolled out of bed, grabbing his glasses as he did so.
A glance out the window told him it couldn't be any later than 5:30, but his stomach grumbled insistently. As it was the first day of Christmas Hols, Harry didn't bother with his invisibility cloak, he just grabbed his regular robes and slippers and wand, for he never went anywhere without it these days, and made his way downstairs and out of the portrait hole.
His footsteps echoed slightly in the corridors as he made his way to the kitchen. He hadn't slept well last night. For one, he had just recieved some startling news. Sirius was coming for a visit, and this always caused him some anxiety. He had already lost so many people dear to him, and he didn't think he could bear it if he lost Sirius. For another, his nightmares had been getting worse.
He knew that at the age of 17, he had more responsibility than most people ever would, or should have. So many lives and dreams seemed to rest on his shoulders. And sometimes the enormity of it all overwhelmed him. A killing every other day, and his scar burned constantly, now a pain that was never sharp, only throbbing. The blackouts were becoming more and more frequent...and Ginny...
Harry rubbed at his temples, sensing one killer headache coming on. He couldn't even think about Ginny. Or Ron or Hermione most of the time. The danger they were in, every single day, simply because he cared about them. They had wanted to return to The Burrow for Christmas, but Dumbledore had firmly maintained that it was too dangerous.
And so here he was.
Harry stopped in front of the portrait of the fruit bowl and reached out to tickle the pear as usual, but his hand froze at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Potter?"
Harry turned quickly to see Draco Malfoy walking toward him with non of his usual swagger. In fact, Malfoy looked rather rumpled. His hair was dishelveled and traces of sleep still lingered over his features.
"Malfoy." Harry replied slowly.
"Come to visit your dirty little house-elf pals?" Draco sneered, though rather halfheartedly. There was something different about him today, Harry decided. He seems...sad.
"Breakfast." Harry said shortly, fingers flexing around his wand. Sad or not, he knew Malfoy and had no qualms about hexing him six ways from saturday if he tried anything.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "not going to Weasles house this Christmas?" he asked, not quite cruelly enough.
"Well I thought about it," Harry shot back. "But then I decided I'd rather be alive this Christmas."
The blonde's face twisted, his gray eyes looking stormily at his longtime rival. There was a long silence. "I'm..." Draco seemed to struggle. "I'm sorry."
Harry rand a hand absentmindedly through his hair. He was to tired to puzzle out that one right now. "Look," he said. "D'you want to join me for breakfast?"
Draco stared at him. "Are you MAD?"
Harry chuckled. "Call it Christmas spirit."
Author's Note: I put it to the readers, (if anyone reads this...*crosses fingers* lol) slash or no slash? ........
A pale finger of sunlight touched the face of the sleeping brunette. His long dark eyelashes cast feathery shadows on his ruddy cheeks. A strand of jet black hair trailed over his eye, and a well-sculpted hand reached up to brush it away impatiently.
One would never guess that the sleeping figure held the cares it posessed, or that only in sleep did the worry lines fade from his smooth brow, marred only by the thin jagged scar on his forehead. The traitorous strand of hair slipped back over his eye and with a grumble of irritation his eyelids opened to reveal the startling green iris's behind them
A few more phrases that vaguely resembled sentences, and Harry Potter sat up, rubbing his hads tiredly over his face. He looked around sleepily and saw that the bed next to his was still occupied. Ron snored softly, still wrapped up in the depths of sleep. Harry yawned and rolled out of bed, grabbing his glasses as he did so.
A glance out the window told him it couldn't be any later than 5:30, but his stomach grumbled insistently. As it was the first day of Christmas Hols, Harry didn't bother with his invisibility cloak, he just grabbed his regular robes and slippers and wand, for he never went anywhere without it these days, and made his way downstairs and out of the portrait hole.
His footsteps echoed slightly in the corridors as he made his way to the kitchen. He hadn't slept well last night. For one, he had just recieved some startling news. Sirius was coming for a visit, and this always caused him some anxiety. He had already lost so many people dear to him, and he didn't think he could bear it if he lost Sirius. For another, his nightmares had been getting worse.
He knew that at the age of 17, he had more responsibility than most people ever would, or should have. So many lives and dreams seemed to rest on his shoulders. And sometimes the enormity of it all overwhelmed him. A killing every other day, and his scar burned constantly, now a pain that was never sharp, only throbbing. The blackouts were becoming more and more frequent...and Ginny...
Harry rubbed at his temples, sensing one killer headache coming on. He couldn't even think about Ginny. Or Ron or Hermione most of the time. The danger they were in, every single day, simply because he cared about them. They had wanted to return to The Burrow for Christmas, but Dumbledore had firmly maintained that it was too dangerous.
And so here he was.
Harry stopped in front of the portrait of the fruit bowl and reached out to tickle the pear as usual, but his hand froze at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Potter?"
Harry turned quickly to see Draco Malfoy walking toward him with non of his usual swagger. In fact, Malfoy looked rather rumpled. His hair was dishelveled and traces of sleep still lingered over his features.
"Malfoy." Harry replied slowly.
"Come to visit your dirty little house-elf pals?" Draco sneered, though rather halfheartedly. There was something different about him today, Harry decided. He seems...sad.
"Breakfast." Harry said shortly, fingers flexing around his wand. Sad or not, he knew Malfoy and had no qualms about hexing him six ways from saturday if he tried anything.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "not going to Weasles house this Christmas?" he asked, not quite cruelly enough.
"Well I thought about it," Harry shot back. "But then I decided I'd rather be alive this Christmas."
The blonde's face twisted, his gray eyes looking stormily at his longtime rival. There was a long silence. "I'm..." Draco seemed to struggle. "I'm sorry."
Harry rand a hand absentmindedly through his hair. He was to tired to puzzle out that one right now. "Look," he said. "D'you want to join me for breakfast?"
Draco stared at him. "Are you MAD?"
Harry chuckled. "Call it Christmas spirit."