All the eighth years received their schedules the next morning, as they appeared on their beds when the students awoke. Harry looked at his schedule, eyes still bleary from sleep.
He had chosen to focus on becoming a teacher, not an auror, like Ron. He couldn't stand the violence, the battles, even if it was to save people. He was too weak.
Harry looked over his schedule again:
Monday: Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Charms
Tuesday: History of Magic, Transfiguration, Study of Magic Runes
Wednesday: Transfiguration, Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts
Thursday: Advanced Potions, Arithmancy
Friday: Charms, Study of Magic Runes, History of Magic
Harry was trying to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts, as he had always been great at the subject and loved it as well.
Harry got up from his bed slowly, glancing over at Malfoy to make sure he was still asleep. Seeing that he was, Harry let his arms come out from under the covers, purposely looking away from his scared arms.
Quickly grabbing his robes, he jogged to the bathroom to change. He rushed to put on his robes, pretending the mirror didn't exist. When he walked back into the room, Malfoy was awake, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, blond hair sticking up in a variety of directions.
"Nice hair, Malfoy," Harry mocked, reaching to grab his schedule.
Yelping, Malfoy scrambled to cover his head, finding only a pillow. "Bugger off," Malfoy snarked in reply as he grabbed his robes, dropped the pillow, placed the robes on his head and ran to the bathroom.
Harry glanced up at the ceiling ,which was cloudy and grey, before entering the common room. The ceiling of the common room was bright but cloudy, shining soft light on the students below. Harry spotted Hermione, reading on one of the chair with her legs pulled up close to her, making her seem small. Harry debated whether he should wait with Hermione for Ron and head down to breakfast with them, or if he should quickly grab something in the kitchen and go to the astronomy tower to be alone.
He continued to stare at Hermione, running the two options through his mind. Hermione was oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil as she was so sucked into her book. When he saw Ron lumber out of his room, Seamus following behind, he made had his decision. Just as Ron had reached Hermione, Harry had quietly escaped from the common room.
He rushed down to the kitchens, staring around to make sure nobody was coming while he tickled the pear. Upon entering the kitchens, a bunch of house elves who had previously been making breakfast, turned to look at him simultaneously. Dobby should be here.
"Master Harry!" One called, rushing to Harry's knees and hugging them graciously. The other elves called out a variety of thing similar to what the first elf had said.
"What can we do for you, sir?" A short, stumpy elf asked.
"I'll just have a treacle tart, please," requested Harry. All at once the elves rushed to get Harry a tart. Soon a pile of about twenty tarts had been made, on the table near the middle of the kitchen.
"Sir, there you go, sir," The elves said, bumbling over each other while speaking.
"Thanks," Harry mumbled, placing the tarts in a basket.
The elves practically glowed as they rushed about, "Oh! Master has said thank you! Master is so kind."
Harry awkwardly stumbled out of the room, bumping into Kreacher along the way, who gruffly muttered, "Filthy blood traitor," good naturally.
Harry sprinted up the moving staircases, nearly falling when one moved suddenly away from a ledge. He jumped to the ledge before hurrying on. When he reached the tower, he felt a sense of peace he never felt when around other people. The feeling soon disappeared when he saw he was not alone in the tower. Sitting right on the edge of the window sill was none other then Draco Malfoy, Harry's sworn enemy.
Malfoy was staring out at the sky, his back to Harry, and his hair ruffled in the wind. He almost looked beautiful, but Harry was totally not thinking that. As if sensing his presence, Malfoy turned around sharply and spotted Harry with the basket of tarts. Noticing Malfoy's puffy eyes and tearstained face, Harry realised Malfoy had been crying.
This is your fault. His mind said, even though no logic pointed to it. Had it been two years before, Harry would have been glad that he was crying, overjoyed even. But know, after knowing all Malfoy had been through, how Malfoy had quite literally saved his life, Harry wasn't sure what to think.
Malfoy stared at him, his pale face empty of all things but shock. Harry and Malfoy seemed to be stuck in time. They stared nonmoving at each other, each stone still for completely different reasons. Harry gripped the basket tightly, unsure what to do when suddenly Malfoy screeched, "GET OUT!" Harry jumped automatically reaching for his wand and pointing it at Malfoy.
Malfoy took all this in, and knowing that Harry could quite literally kill him, stepped forwards, "GET OUT YOU STUPID SCARHEAD!" Malfoy's usually pale face was red with anger and disgust. He pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Harry. The two now stood against each other, one seething with anger, the other not quite knowing what to do.
Harry's thoughts went to the logical part of his brain, "YOU ABSOLUTE PRAT!" He screamed back. It seemed, when it came to Malfoy, Harry never thought logically. "WHAT GIVES YOU A RIGHT TO TELL ME TO GET OUT!? I DON'T SEE YOUR NAME WRITTEN ANYWHERE!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot I was speaking TO THE BLOODY SAVIOUR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD!" Malfoy shook his hands aggressively, wand hand included. Harry moved to speak, but, "OH RIGHT! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"
"You, Draco Malfoy, are an ASSHOLE!"
"AND YOU AREN'T?!"
"NO MALFOY! I'M THE SAVIOUR OF THE BLOODY WIZARDING WORLD!"
"LET ME BOW BEFORE YOUR GREATNESS THEN!" Malfoy lowered himself onto his knees, lowering his wand in the process. Harry lowered his wand too, and dropped the basket of tarts, feeling quite ridiculous to have been holding it like that the entire time.
"I thought Malfoy's were the ones bowed to, the great and powerful INBREDS!"
"What did you just say?" Malfoy hissed, deadly quiet, standing up and glaring at Harry.
"I said you're inbred. What? You didn't kno-"
Malfoy in Harry's face, hand gripping Harry's ropes, "Say. One. More. Word. -"
"Word," whispered Harry mockingly. Malfoy screamed in frustration, before letting go of Harry's shirt and sprinting out of the door, knocking over the basket of tarts in the process. When the glow of Malfoy's hair disappeared from behind the door, Harry found himself almost missing the absence of Malfoy's heat. Looking over the conversation, if you could call it that, Harry noticed how intimate the situation had been. Malfoy had quite literally been inches away from, their lips even closer. Not that Harry cared. He didn't.
Harry stared at the basket of knocked over treats, with the contents spilled over the floor and the basket turned onto its side. It was almost a cheesy representation of his mental state. Harry continued to stare until his eyes hurt, unable to move. His arms hung by his side, and he was still breathing heavily.
Suddenly he bolted, nearly tripping over the spilled tarts. He just ran and ran, running into a few students leaving early from breakfast. They stared at him in confusion but he just kept running until he couldn't breath.
Harry found himself in a unfamiliar corridor, "Tempus," he muttered. "Shit!" It 10 minutes after his first class had started. He pulled out his schedule and then sprinted to the Defence Against the Arts Room.
/*/*/*/*/*/*
When he arrived outside the door, he had started to sweat, so he rubbed his face with his sleeve, before opening the door. The class inside consisted of both seventh and eighth, Ron, Hermione and a couple other eighth years were in the class, as well as Ginny. Harry looked up at the professor, who was an old man who looked like he could collapse at any moment.
"You must be Harry Potter?" The professor asked, his voice croaky with age. Harry nodded. "I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, William Johnson, I was just explaining to the class who I am," He croaked. "Please sit down, Mr. Potter, and do try to be on time next time."
Ron was sitting next to Hermione, and he saw no one else he knew that was available, so he quickly sat next to some random 7th year who nearly fainted when she saw Harry had sat next to her.
Suddenly the door opened and in rushed another 7th year, "Sorry, I'm late, I jus-"
"No excuses," Professor Johnson grunted, "Five points from?"
"Hufflepuff," Mumbled the poor seventh year. Harry felt a burst of anger, he had been late too! He hated receiving special treatment, absolutely despised it.
He saw Ron looking at him, shaking his head, as Ron knew what Harry was about to do. "Professor?" Harry called.
"Yes?" replied Professor Johnson, surprised.
"How come you took off points from him, and you didn't from me?" Harry didn't mean to sound accusing, it just came out that way.
"Well... um..."
"Could you please continue?" Asked Hermione suddenly.
The professor leapt on the opportunity, "As I was saying," the old man started, "I was top auror in my day, back in the 40s, I helped take care of the whole Grindelwald situation..." Harry zoned out the professor, knowing this was going to be another boring year of acing the class, but this time because of no reason but the fact that he was Harry Potter.
The rest of the class passed in a blur, the entire lesson dedicated to the Professor's past and what they were going to be doing in the following year. When the time to leave finally arrived, Harry was so relieved that he near sprinted out of the room.
"Harry!" he heard from behind him. Turning around, he saw that the voice belonged to the 7th year he had to sit next to. Christy? "I just..." she blushed, "Thank you! For... you know..."
Harry nodded, jaw clenched, "Er... You're welcome?"
She blushed again, "Well... um... Bye!" She stuttered before sprinting back to her giggling friends. Harry turned away in disgust, he hated thanks. Can't they see how he failed them. At least thanks was better then pity, at least.
"Harry!" No, not again. "Do you like her?" Hermione nodded to Kirsty (Christy? Christina?). The trio started to walk back to the common room, as they had a half hour break. "You know, it wouldn't be bad to like someone, after Ginny-"
"Hermione!"
"I'm just saying,"
"Ron! Back me up!"
"Hermione, leave him alone, he's been through enough," Ron scolded.
Harry scowled, he didn't need Ron's pity.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione sighed, before saying, "Bagums," to open the common room door.
"Accepted," said the lilac lady, who was in the portrait that guarded the entry way.
"Thanks," Hermione murmured, pushing her way through the entryway.
"Oh by Merlin!" the lilac lady screeched, her dress swishing around her ankles, "Someone noticed me! And said THANK YOU!" Ron stifled a laugh, however Harry thought it was quite sad. "It's a miracle!"
The Lilac Lady continued her sarcastic speech of gratitude, as the two boys followed after Hermione.
Harry clenched his jaw. He loved his friends, he really did, he just hated their pity. He hated how guilty they made him feel, if he had been faster, Ron's brother would still be alive, and Hermione would still have her parents.
/*/*/*/*/*/*
Later in Arithmancy, Harry couldn't stop staring at Malfoy, thinking of their last 'conversation'. Malfoy deserved it, maybe? However, he couldn't help but think of last year, when he had been a prisoner at the Malfoy Manor, and Malfoy hadn't identified him.
Or later that year when Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy had tried to kill him (Well Malfoy had tried to prevent it, but he certainly wasn't innocent) and then Crabbe set the fire. Harry had (and did) hated Malfoy, and yet, he saved Malfoy's life, while putting his own life at risk.
Malfoy and him had a complicated relationship. He hated Malfoy more then he hated anyone, even Voldemort. He never used a curse more powerful then a defensive curse on him, and yet on Malfoy, he used an unknown curse that could had done anything. And Malfoy nearly died because of it, he only lived because Snape saved him.
Malfoy got underneath his skin like no one else, and Harry had no idea why.
Harry payed no attention in the next two classes, doing nothing but zoning out or staring at Malfoy. The blond would scamper away after every class, never giving Harry a chance to yell at him.
Hermione and Ron tried to talk to him, before giving up, as Harry did nothing but nod or grunt in return.
Right before lunch had finished, Harry rushed to the eighth dorms, wanting to do nothing but sleep. And doing, it. But he had promised himself. The brunet felt miserable, his throat burned with desperation and his hands trembled. The pain made it better, for a little while, but then it would go away, and he would feel nothing but worthless, for having to hurt himself to make his guilt go away.
He wouldn't.
No.
No.
"Bagums," Harry muttered.
The portrait swung open, but not before the Lilac Lady spluttered, "You could say thank you!"
"Thank you!" Harry practically growled. He sprinted to he and Malfoy's room, before slamming the door behind himself.
The brunet felt the bed slam into his face, and relished in the pain. He inhaled the smell of sheets, before dozing off to sleep.
Hot.
Burning.
FIRE!
The room was on fire, but no ordinary fire, hellifire. It destroyed everything it came across, and Harry, Hermione and Ron were soon to be destroyed. Then Harry saw the solution.
Brooms!
"Ron!" He yelled, "The brooms!" Ron looked to him and nodded, screaming something Harry couldn't hear. Ron grabbed a broom, as did Harry.
The ginger grabbed Hermione and flew out of the room, Harry following quickly behind.
Then Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle desperately climbing up a stack of things.
"Ron! We need to get them!" Harry screamed, but he was unable to find Ron. The crackle of the fire was becoming unbearable. The heat.
Harry turned back, ever the hero. The blond was on top of the pile, reaching out to Harry. Harry saw Crabbe fall, he saw Crabbe being burned alive. He heard the screams.
The brunet reached Malfoy, and Malfoy grabbed on to him, holding him so tightly it hurt. Harry's hands were hot and sweaty on the broom and he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.
And then his hands slipped as a huge burst of flames erupted. The slytherin who had been gripping him hard, fell too. And they both fell, holding each other in a fiery embrace.
Harry looked at Malfoy's tearstained face and his bloodshot eyes and his messed up hair and thought he was lucky to be able to die with Malfoy.
Harry thought, in his last seconds, how glad he was that Ron and Hermione were going to survive, and how sorry he was that he couldn't finish the war.
"I'm sorry," he thought, "I'm so sorry," and he must have said it out loud, because he heard Malfoy respond, "Me too."
And then they finally reached the fire. It was pure agony. Every inch of his body was burning, fiery pain. He screamed, as did Malfoy, so loud everyone must of heard it.
The pain went on and on.
And then everything went dar-
Harry woke up screaming. This was a regular occurrence, and he was used no one comforting him when he woke. But for some reason, he wished Malfoy was here. Even though Harry knew Malfoy would probably ignore him, or insult him, for some reason, Harry craved his presence.
Ron and Hermione were filled with nothing but pity, the others a mixture of awe and gratitude. He hated it. But Malfoy. Malfoy was normal. Malfoy treated him the same he always treated him, like dirt.
Harry hated it, but relished it.
Harry also hated himself for thinking such thoughts. He would not be having such thoughts about Malfoy.
In fact he shouldn't even be thinking about Malfoy.
He would not be having these thoughts again, especially about Malfoy. The last time he did, the boy had died.
Kill the spare.
/*/*/*/*/*/*
After charms, which he shared with both Ron and Hermione and most of the other 8th years, the brunet hurried up to the Astronomy tower, hoping Malfoy wouldn't be there.
When Harry reached the door to the entrance of the tower, he couldn't help but laugh. On the door, printed in large blocky letters, was the name DRACO.
Harry remembered their 'conversation' when he said (yelled) "WHAT GIVES YOU A RIGHT TO TELL ME TO GET OUT!? I DON'T SEE YOUR NAME WRITTEN ANYWHERE!"
Malfoy had taken him quite literally apparently, or maybe it was a joke, Harry couldn't tell, and had written his name on the tower. Harry practically collapsed from laughing so hard. He found the situation absolutely hilarious for some odd reason.
Harry kept the letters up and walked into the tower, feeling peaceful once more. And for the first time in a long time, he was smiling.