Chapter 22: Back to the Lie

Harry made it to breakfast before Ron and Hermione. He decided it would give him more time to come up with a reasonable lie.

"Hey mate," Ron said as the two approached. Hermione nodded.

"Morning."

"Where were you last night?" He asked as they sat.

"I was out late in the library. Studying." Harry had to fight to keep a straight face. The time he thought he would be coming up with a plan was spent thinking about how to see Draco again. We need to be more careful.

"You never want to study, Harry. And it's the fourth day of classes, even I'm not staying up all night," Hermione remarked with skepticism in her voice.

"Well, I started thinking… If I do defeat Voldemort, I'm going to have to possess some skills. 'Defeating a dark wizard' can't exactly be my only accomplishment." Lie, lie, lie… but it holds truth. Shit, maybe I really should study.

"Technically you would have defeated him more than once," Ron added with a small smile.

Her eyes lingered on Harry's for a few seconds. They studied his face, as though searching for something. "He has a point," she said at last.

"Are you looking forward to Quidditch practice tonight?" The ginger inquired, changing the subject.

Harry had to resist breathing a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I am. Are you?"

"Of course! And try-outs are Sunday; which gives the fresh meat two more days to practice."

Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust as the boys laughed.

The day passed slowly. Harry's thoughts continuously drifted to Draco. It didn't help that the two had numerous classes together. The blonde hair dared him to reach up and stroke it every time the two passed by each other. By the time the Gryffindors were on the Quidditch pitch, the morning felt like weeks ago. Harry sighed as he surveyed the new-comers. There were a few open spots, but he found he didn't much care who got in.

Finally, after three hours of intense practice, and drilling prospective teammates, Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room. The two of them flopped down into the comfortable, red chairs with relieved sighs.

"How was it?" Hermione asked.

"Brutal. I'll be sore for weeks," Ron complained.

"We've got a match in two," Harry remarked breathily. He didn't realize how out of practice he truly was. Quite a few of the team members had the opportunity to fly over the summer. After all his time with the Dursleys, he had never considered that to be an option with Snape. Next summer, maybe. He gingerly pressed the inside of his leg where the broomstick made the most contact. He hissed. "That's a bruise."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile before her brows furrowed. "Why do they have a game so close to the time the teams select new players?"

"Well, it gives everyone a chance to see what the other teams have," Ron answered.

"It doesn't seem fair."

"Quidditch isn't fair," he replied absentmindedly.

Harry stopped listening and started thinking about his blonde angel. He wanted to see him again, badly; but he knew the consequences. Last night could have ended horribly if Ron or Hermione asked more questions, he thought. His desire to see Draco was killing him. It seemed cruel that the one person he wanted to see was literally just out of reach. We're in the same bloody castle for Merlin's sake! Harry tried to push the anger from his mind, fearing one of his friends would notice. But Ron had dozed off and Hermione was furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment. His thoughts flicked to how well Draco had been doing with respect to cutting and his heart swelled with pride. He wondered, momentarily, if the blonde was eating. Then he was crushed with his own realization of how horribly he was failing at their goal. He'd made six small slits in his arms throughout the day and couldn't really recall eating much other than dinner. Baby steps, he told himself in an effort to remain calm.

Ron snored loudly and woke himself up. "'M, sorry. Guess I'm tired."

Harry and Hermione erupted into laughter as the ginger smiled. "Oh, I guess it is late," she said, checking the time.

The three gathered their things and started to go to their own dormitories. Harry was just about to climb the stairs when Hermione's stare bored into his emerald eyes. "I'll meet you there," he called to Ron, who was nearly through the dorm door.

He responded with incoherent mumbling.

Harry suppressed a smile as he turned back to his other friend. He saw concern in her eyes. "Er, is something wrong?" He inquired awkwardly.

She bit her lip and contemplated how to answer. "I know you weren't at the library last night."

"Oh?" Was his only response.

"You don't have to tell me where you were," Hermione said quickly in an attempt to prevent more worry. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

Harry was confused when she didn't press for more information, but he was eternally grateful. He heard the genuine concern in her voice and guilt gnawed at his heart. "I won't get hurt. I promise."

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

The motion startled him, but he put his arms around her comfortingly. "I will be okay," he assured her. Will you? A voice asked in the back of his mind. He thought about the cuts on his body and his lack of eating. Slowly he pulled out of the hug and flashed her a smile.

She smiled back and started up the stairs.

Harry followed suit and made his way to his bed. Once he was within the closed curtains of his four-poster bed, he allowed himself to cry. His tears streamed down his cheeks as he thought about how lonely he felt. He let himself feel the fear of never having someone, even though he had Draco. His mind swirled deeper into the inky void. His chest constricted at the thought of losing Draco. He bitterly realized that the only way they could be honest about their relationship, was for him to defeat Voldemort. At least that's the only way for now, he decided before sleep took him.