Bound by Pages | larry

five

It was a Saturday when Harry woke up. Not that it was weird or anything since yesterday was a Friday. He heard a loud bang coming from the lower floor of his house. It must have been his parents again. 

Harry covered his face when he realized that he hadn't made contact with his parents since skipping the day at school. Harry wanted to smother himself with his own pillow before going downstairs and seeing the disappointed looks in their eyes. Coming up with excuses was hard, especially when his parents don't really care about what he has to say.

Harry swung his legs out of bed. There was no point delaying what was inevitably going to happen. He felt a cool breeze on his legs, a huge contrast from his warm cosy bed. He spotted two pillows lying across the room that didn't survive the night. Harry likes pillows.

He slowly opened his bedroom door, cursing the loud squeak that it produced. One summer it just appeared, and he assumed it would go away in the winter. It never did.

Harry stayed as still as possible, hoping that not breathing would help his case. Just when he thought he was in the clear, he heard a shrill voice yelling his name from upstairs.

"Harry! Did I hear you up there? Come down, it's already almost noon!" His mother's voice echoed through the stairwell as it resonated through the house. Harry followed the source of the voice, reluctantly heading down to where his parents were waiting for him.

Harry managed to keep up his relationship with the bottom step. This time, it was not a graceful fall. He tripped on the last step, and it sent him flying into a glass decorative table across from the stairs. The corner of a table is quite painful.

"Harry stop fooling around. Come sit down." His father was in his place at the head of the marble table. He had a neatly folded newspaper sitting in front of him and wore an obvious frown on his face. Harry could see the wrinkles on his lips as he stressed the frown further. The fingers tapping on the table indicated a deep impatience for his son.

The scared boy felt a lump in his throat. That was never a good expression, yet, that was one of the only ones he ever saw in his father. Harry nervously slid into the wooden chair to the side of the table. He wouldn't dare ever sitting at the other end. He was afraid his father would take it as a challenge or some other twisted up theory. 

His fingers were shaking as he tried to twiddle them. It was really an excuse to not look at his father. Harry didn't understand why he was so nervous, this was his father. This was the man he had known for his entire life. Harry gave himself a short pep talk to ease the frightened emotions in his mind.

"I heard you missed most of the day yesterday." His father said, eerily calm. The fear was back. The pep talk he had given himself probably lasted all of five seconds. 

"Yea dad." Harry gulped. "Something came up in English."

"Harry this is not acceptable and you know this. I don't care if the teacher showed up without a head. There are no reasons that explain this behaviour." His voice was quiet. It was calm. somehow, it was terrifying.

People with arthritis say they can feel the rain coming. Harry could feel a bad situation brewing up.

"I know dad, I'm sorry... I really am."

"Who caused you to do this?" It was a demand.

"No one. It was just me, I don't know what I was thin-"

"Was it Louis?" Harry didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before his father's words sent ice down his spine. Harry could hear his mother, who he didn't even notice, slip out of the room discreetly.