Time Period: About 7 years after school. Harry is about 24 & flashbacks of his 7th year at Hogwarts.
Spoilers: Hopefully you've read all the books and book five. But it doesn't matter to much. If characters are dead... it's because it's implied that they died in the passing time period. ;D Did that make sense? I hope so. :x
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Hogwarts
7th Year
(November 13th continued)
Harry sat on the ground, playing with the grass, as he heard the shuffle of feet coming towards him. His broom lay beside him, unused.
The snitch was flying somewhere, Harry didn't know where it had gone after Draco had let it go from his hand- and he didn't bother to recapture it.
He probably wouldn't be able to, anyways...
Ginny and Ron, both dressed in their Quidditch robes and ready for practice, were standing behind him. They both stared at him, hovering just a few feet away. He didn't take notice, his eyes were closed and his head was in his hands now.
He could feel the heat, the frustration, the anger... it radiated from his face as he sat there, unaware of anything but what was in his own mind.
"Harry?"... silence.
Ginny shot a look at Ron, exasperated, as if to say "what now". Ron didn't know what do to, so he turned away from her, watching Harry play with his wrist, tearing at the bandage.
He exposed his wrist, revealing a dim redness.
The cut hadn't even left a scar.
Nothing left of his attempt, nothing to show his agony... nothing but the memory of it.
The wonders of using magic to heal wounds...
It pissed Harry off.
He wanted to remember, he wanted to know he'd had the nerve to bring his life to an end- that he'd chosen a fate for himself. It pissed him off more to know he didn't have the control he hoped to have.
Warm tears fell down his cheek, flowing without his consent.
Ron and Ginny moved closer to Harry, worrying.
Green eyes met with the siblings as Harry turned to face them. He stood up, pushed past them, and walked away.
Again they looked at each other, confused, neither saying a word about what had just happened.
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Present Day
He noticed the room was freezing as he went over that moment in his head, but he didn't care. Harry laid in the bed, covered heavily by his blankets. Alone for now, all Harry could do was think. The coldness in the air reminding him of something long ago...
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Hogwarts
7th Year
(December 15th, Christmas Holidays)
The halls gleamed with green streamers and red lights. You could almost hear christmas music in the halls, following the groups of laughing friends.
But...
Harry wasn't laughing, neither was Draco.
The train had been boarded hours ago, leaving Harry alone for almost two full weeks.
Draco, like Harry, was stuck within the walls of Hogwarts for the holiday. His reason was much different, however, than that of the Gryffindor. He had somewhere to go, but the question was did anyone want him home?
He'd received the letter last weekend.
"Draco, dear, you're father has some extended time off and we're going away during the holidays and for a week after. So sorry you couldn't come with us, you're father wants some time. Enjoy your gifts, love."
His mother, so sweet and innocent sounding... did she know what her husband was?
Sometimes Draco had the feeling his mother was under a spell, trapped by Lucius Malfoy. She was sweet and kind to her little boy, protecting him from Lucius when she wasn't to afraid of him. Draco would go far enough to say she was nothing like them, but more like her fool of a cousin had been.
The Slytherin common room was cold and empty, only Draco, three sixth years, and three other kids Draco didn't really care to know, were left.
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Hogwarts
7th Year
(December 24th, Eve of Christmas)
It was safe to say that boredem was seeping in by dinner time on Christmas Eve among most of the students.
The hall was quiet, only the chatter of small groups could be heard.
Kids gathered at the ends of house tables, ravenclaws with hufflepuffs, gryffindors with ravenclaws, all sorts of combinations.
Harry spent only ten minutes in the hall, barely touching his food. Colin and Dennis were conversing on his left, their words drowning into his ear.
Draco, his table behind Harry, was sitting with his head against the wall, his eyes half open. To his left was a Christmas tree, the warm glow of the lights shining over him.
"STOP IT DENNIS!"
Slowly opening his eyes, curiously, Draco looked across his own table to the Gryffindors.
Harry was on his feet, looking at the two brothers in anger. Dennis, as Draco knew, was the younger one and he was staring at Potter, horrified. Muttering something under his breath, to quiet for Draco to catch, the siblings stared at him, mouths hung open.
Then Harry was gone, leaving a confused Colin Creevey trying to comfort his hurt little brother. Dennis let it be known that he was hurt, you could see the tears welling in his eyes.
Draco, noticing he'd paid to much attention to the Gryffindor's outburst, turned his eyes away, looking down the length of the table to the other Slytherins. No one was watching, they'd gone back to picking at their food, and he was grateful for that. He didn't want people to think he actually cared for what problems were going on over there, especially bettween that idiot Potter and the lowely 5th year.
In the midst of watching the drama, Draco's plates had been cleared. It was then he decided to return to the common room, though he didn't know what he'd do once he got there.
But, walking out of the hall, Draco didn't go towards the dungeones. Instead he headed up through the castle. He walked past hallways he'd never been down and through doors he'd never even noticed before. He wandered aimlessly, never finding a locked door in his way.
Then, suddenly, there it was... a dead end. A room.
It had three walls, simple enough, and an open balcony. It was dark, except for the candles lining the walls on all sides. The candles weren't ordinary... they had to be enchanted. But not with the sort of enchantment the other candles of the castle held, a whole 'nother kind. The flames were a brilliant blue and white, shimmering with a sparkle to them.
Across the room from where Draco stood, near the balcony, was a large grey bench.
Snow blew in from the outside, it sparkled around the bench... and yet none of it actually touched its surface. Like the flames on the walls... it was enchanted.
For what reason was it under any kind of spell? Draco hadn't a clue. He wasn't even sure where he was.
Making his way across the small room, he watched the blizzard through the window. The snowblown sky was dark, mystical with the white snow. Sitting on the bench, the room silent as if it absorbed all sound, his boots made no crunch on the snow. Pulling his arms up under his head and bending his knees, Draco lay on the bench confortably. He straightened his robes out under him, still without a sound, and stared at the ceiling.
That's when he saw it- the painting. A painting that he'd never believed existed. Why would he believe in something no one had ever shown him?
The blacks, reds, golds, blues, and greens all blended together perfectly. Though it must have been a couple hundred years old... Draco noticed that it looked freshly painted.
The faces from a thousand years ago stared down, firmly, on him. Questioning him, as if they were wondering why he'd intruded their space.
Though, wanting to look away from the painting, he couldn't. Each time he searched over at it... there was something new to see. As if some of the painting uncovered itself as the minutes went by.
"Captivating, isn't it?
Draco shot up, nearly falling from the smooth surface of the bench, and watched a snow covered Harry Potter stroll in from the balcony. He hadn't seen him there...
"Following me, are you Potter?" Draco sneered at him, as he always did, and stood up from the bench.
"No. I was here before you, and long before that." Harry replied, calmly, shaking snow flakes from his black hair. "So you've been watching me then?" He squinted his eyes, spitting out the sentence with hate.
"Yes."
He searched Harry's blank face, an unnerving feeling coming over him. Potter had been watching him the whole time. "Then why didn't you say something you bloody freak!" He cried out, angry.
"Because you looked like you wanted to be alone."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Why didn't I what?"
"Leave me the fuck alone."
It was more of a suggestion than a question. "Because sometimes we don't know what we really want." Harry sat down on the bench, deliberately walking past Draco and looking him straight into the eye. Draco backed away from the bench, his back to the balcony.
"The real question is... have you been following me Draco?"
It seemed to take the blonde by surprise, "Why would I be following you Potter?"
This wasn't the only time the two had run into each other. They both knew that they'd talked more than they ever had in the past 6 years.
"In the owlery, again on the pitch... and right now. What are you doing here Malfoy? How did you find this room?"
Harry took a breath, talking again, "How did you find this room? The painting... did you noticed how it looked so fresh? So new? How everytime you look back into you see more and more?" With feeling, he went on and on with his questions.
Draco became nervous. "I don't know, I don't care, and I'm leaving." He walked past the bench and away from Harry.
Hoping never to find himself in that room again, Draco made his way toward the dungeons and through doors he didn't remember.
Harry didn't follow him, didn't say anything. He lay on the bench, as Draco had been doing, and brought his gaze up on the painting. Eventually his vision began to blur with sleep.
With that he fell into blackness, the cold not touching him.
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Good thing I remembered most of it...
Please review! Much appreciated. :D