AHR2
I pulled back the covers, sliding my legs over to the side of the bed. I grimaced as I sat up, the blood rushing to my head. It had been a few weeks since my last breakdown, for which I was very thankful. I slipped my feet into a pair of slippers, standing up and stretching a bit, getting the kinks out of my back.
I walked over to the door of the infirmary, opening it and turning to the right, walking up a staircase. There was a balcony above the infirmary that had a bench and a few plants. Pomfrey had allowed me to go there to get some fresh air once or twice a day. I liked sitting there and closing my eyes, allowing the security of a false peace wash over me. I never went outside when it was raining or storming. I hated that sort of weather. It reminded me of my past too much.
Some people are quite upset that I am cooped up in Hogwarts even though classes had resumed. It made me happy though, because I didn't have to deal with people asking me so many questions. It's also strangely funny when these little first years pretend to be sick just so that they might catch a glimpse of me. I didn't mind it here; it's the only home I had ever none.
Sometimes Snape caught me in the hall when I was going to my balcony. He always stiffened slightly, and when I looked into his black eyes, they weren't as empty anymore. He would nod politely and resume his dramatic gate, moving away from me as soon as possible, which was easily done with his long legs. Sometimes I thought I was his 'bad weather'.
It's been exactly three months since the last storm. I was trapped in the infirmary and it was dinner time, so everyone, including Pomfrey was down in the Great Hall. The curtains were green. I hated the color green. The lightning that illuminated the green curtains had reminded me all too much of the curse. I could never say the words again. I wouldn't allow anyone to say it either.
The first few months of my so-called healing were painful. There was not a day that I didn't spend crying. I hated talking, but they gave me Veritaserum and some other kind of potion to make me talk. I couldn't stop my words. Even when I was clawing at my hair and whimpering, when I cried like a child, they wouldn't let me stop talking about everything.
After that, things got a bit easier, they were finished with my therapy. Now, I could pretty much fend after myself. Pomfrey would check on me every once in a while; taking my temperature, looking down my throat, and taking me pulse. Other than that I was free to do what I wanted, inside of the infirmary and on my balcony that is.
I was sitting on my bench on the balcony, and I was looking over the familiar grounds. A breeze flew through my thin shirt and I looked up at the sky. I saw clouds. These were not like normal, fluffy white cloud. These were deep grey. I swallowed, my body immediately tensing. A flash of a pale face and grey eyes passed over my eyes. I panicked, hyperventilating as I raced to the door, pulling the handle to open the door. It stuck; the door was locked. My eyes widened and I flew at the door, pounding frantically at it.
"Someone let me in!" I cried out, my heart racing.
My vision became blurry and I scratched at the wooden door, the rough wood splintering into the soft tender skin under my nails. I hissed at the sharp pain and withdrew from the door. Blood dripped out from underneath my fingernails. I whimpered, huddling under one of the bigger plants, covering my ears with my hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and rocked back and forth; the only thing I was focused on was the bad weather I knew was brewing above my head.
I felt something wet fall against my neck. Rain. I cringed, whipping away at the droplet of water. It was bad enough when I could see bad weather, it was worse when it rained. Then I i knew /i that it was bad weather, there was no way to block it out just by closing my eyes.
The rain soon rushed down, splashing against the castle. I cried out, racing at the door again, my body shoving against it. My clothes were getting soaked, my skin wet with the precipitation. I soon drew into a rage, running at the door and throwing my body against it. I winced, holding my shoulder. I was running at the door again when I heard it,
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter!" a sharp, aristocratic voice asked.
My eyes widened and I screamed again, "LEAVE ME ALONE, MALFOY!"
I grimaced, wrapping my arms around my arms, smiling wryly, "Oh wait, I destroyed him. He couldn't be talking to me." I said in an almost singsong voice.
I sank to the ground, my wild, animalistic laughter ringing out over the tinkering of the raindrops on the roof. I covered my face, wet blood from my hands smearing across my forehead, and laughed. The utterly mad laughter turned to sobbing and I cried into my arms as I hadn't cried in months. I didn't hear the door open behind me as I struggled with my inner demons.
Two strong arms came around me and pulled me up, off the floor. I looked up; my face still streaked with tears. It was Snape. I struggled to stand up, not wanting the bitter man to see me at my lowest. He let me go as soon as I stood up and I looked up at him, my eyes were red and puffy and there was blood on my hands and face.
I was soaked to the bone and he sighed deeply, beckoning me to follow him. I swallowed, taking a small step inside, sighing in relief as soon as I was out of the rain. He turned on a dime, walking down the empty hall. I walked after him as fast as I could, my legs weren't as long as his and I was cold and wet. He was soon quite a distance ahead of me. He glanced back seeing how far behind I was and I flushed with embarrassment, ducking my head.
Leading me through the lighted halls down the dank dungeons, he had slowed down quite a bit and for that I was grateful. He stopped at a portrait and said his password in a low tone so that I was unable to catch the words. He held the portrait open and let me in.
I moved over to the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable and sat down. Mainly the fireplace and a few candles lighted the living room dimly. It was actually quite nice. He muttered a few spells and a tray of tea appearing on the coffee table in front of me. Snape hung his robes up and disregarding me, he walked into another room. He came out with a pair of silk black sleeping clothes that were obviously way too big for me and handed them to me.
"The bathroom is the second door down the hall." He motioned for me to go change out of my clothes.
I smiled gratefully and rushed to the bathroom, anxious to get dry. I walked into the bathroom expecting it to be cramped and badly decorated, which was the complete opposite. If I had liked showers he had one of the nicest bathtubs I had ever seen. It was white and sparkling clean.
I slipped my pants and shirt off, shivering a bit, and I stepped back in shock as a towel appeared before me out of nowhere. I dried off quickly, changing into the pajamas. I folded my clothes and walked out of the bathroom, back to the almost cozy living room of Snape's quarters.
The pants almost covered my entire feet, the extra length of fabric dragging against the floor. I sat down on the green plush couch and looked at the fire. Snape had disappeared again. The flickering tongues of the fire entranced my eyes. My vision went out of focus as I stared and the sound of a clearing throat brought me to startled attention.
Snape sat down across from me and looked me over, "Are you better now, Mr. Potter?" He asked in his deep silky voice.
I nodded, and then rubbed my hands over my legs covered by the borrowed pants, grimacing. I had forgotten about the splinters in my hands, the throbbing pain now returning to my nerves.
"What did you do here, Potter?" He asked, walking over and kneeling before me, taking my hands in his own. They were rough and callused against my smooth skin. I flushed, not having been touched in this way since right after the war.
He gently removed the splinters in his concentrated manner. He charmed the dried blood away and put a spell on my hands, making the fresh pain disappear almost instantly. I swallowed and pulled my hands away quickly. He glanced up at me, his coal eyes searching mine until I looked away. He stood up moving over to a bookshelf full of textbooks and random novels. He ran his long fingers over a few books before pulling out a small, though thick book. He frowned in consideration before handing it to me.
"I don't know if this would be of any use, but you can have it anyway." He said simply, handing me the book.
I frowned, looking down at it. On the cover was a name. My eyes widened as I read it. My hands began to shake and I opened up the first few pages, turning the now stiff sheets of paper. My trembling fingers slipped causing the book to fall to the floor.
"Draco Malfoy's journal." I stated in a frozen voice.
I picked up the diary quickly and bowed clumsily in a silent thank you. I practically ran out of the room, opened the portrait and I raced back to the infirmary, for once feeling alive again. I ignored Pomfrey's scolding for being so late and her questions about my new attire. I sat on my bed and carefully turned the first page.
i Dear Diary,
This seems to be a bit pointless, having a journal. I have had too many thoughts running around in my head that would be dangerous if shared with my so-called friends. I really need to express these feelings and this is the only way.
Well, it's been a few years since I graduated from Hogwarts, but it seems like decades have passed. /i
I trembled, swallowing thickly as I scanned the page, reading at the bottom of the page.
i I have been cursed I guess... I'm in love with him. I have realized that denying it just causes me inner grief. I suppose Harry is beautiful. Well it's no supposition. It's obviously fact. He is beautiful on the inside, reasonably intelligent, caring, and loyal. He is no doubt very handsome, though some might find (as I used to) that his hair is quite messy. I think it's gloriously adorable, if I may use such a word. I would love to see what it would look like after he had been thoroughly shagging, but that is sidetracking.
Of course, I know I will have to face him in battle some time sooner or later. Hopefully later, for that matter. I will not be able to kill me, even if it was ordered of me, but I don't know if would feel the same. I would feel honored to die by his hand. /i
I closed the journal, his words shocking me to my soul. I closed my eyes tightly, shaking. i He...loved me. /i I turned over on my side, clutching my written salvation to my chest, salty tears falling down my cheeks silently. My killing him honored him. I swallowed, rummaging through the pages, frowning. Almost all the entries were about the same kind of stuff, but the last entry. It was two days, and it was almost like a will. i It's as if he knew he would die. /i I thought, frowning and closing the book. That night was my first peaceful night of sleep in over a year.
