Ch 2 – A Positive Side
Morning came for Draco like a hangover for most others. He woke up with a searing headache and a desperate wish to be dead. A quick wave of the wand and the headache disappeared. The feeling stayed however. Placing his wand back on his bedside table, Draco tucked his hair behind his ears and blinked the sleepy glaze from his eyes. Standing up and moving towards the showers, Draco smirked. There would be no queue today, what with there being seven showers and only four Slytherins left.
I suppose there's a positive side to everything. He thought sarcastically.
An early morning walk round the grounds – a new ritual for Harry. It meant he never had to be there when the others woke up. They were so happy and he was so… unfulfilled. He was a human floating through space and time, lost to the void. There was no purpose to a successful hero. You don't need saving if the enemy is gone. The hero becomes useless. Aimless. And eventually, unwanted. Harry smiled sadly, almost longing for the days when Voldermort had been strong. At least then he had something to do. Something to fear. Now, even Malfoy had gone good on him. Malcontent yes, but good all the same.
For a few minutes Harry's line of thought strayed away before reaching back and pointing out to the very Gryffindor part of his heart that Draco must be very much alone and worried at this time. Yes, he forsook the darkness, but his house had vanished into the lining. It was hard to tell where the wall ended and the Slytherin common room began. With a stab of guilt, Harry glanced across at the Dungeons and frowned. It could have been his house. He was, after all, part Slytherin. Voldermort had made sure of that. His eyes were certain that they belonged underground, as was a small part of his heart and his soul.
A shock of thought. Overwhelming unhappiness. Willingness to die. Wand to chest. Poised to kill.
Eyes snapping open, Harry saw a flash of impossibly blond hair. Draco. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. With no Ravenclaw examination, Hufflepuff worry or Slytherin concern for self, Harry charged off and into the school with only a Gryffindor's bravery. Through the Entrance Hall, down the stairs, past Snape's room and through the corridor, past statues of grotesque things no one should ever ask about and down yet another flight of stairs until Harry finally found the Slytherin common room entrance. A stately looking rather thin and gaunt woman turned and surveyed Harry through small glasses perched on her nose. She had about as much of the Fat Lady's kindness as she had weight. She wrinkled her nose as if Harry smelt bad and said
"Password?" in a voice as cold as the stone she was entombed in, sneering when Harry faltered.
"Oh, Fuck!" He said, kicking the wall in frustration, amazed when the portrait swung open.
Fuck? He said to himself Fuck? Their password is Fuck? Figures…
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've never done a long one before, but if you think it's worth me carrying on, then please R/R. I love you!
