𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐈𝐕

I ended up agreeing with her. I told myself I wasn't crazy, that time will solve all my problems, but now I just couldn't believe it anymore.

I don't need help, I'm fine. I'm okay. I survived, didn't I?

But that was just the thing. That was always the thing.

I survived.

Mum didn't. Dad didn't. Sirius didn't. Remus and Tonks didn't. Dumbledore. Snape. Fred. Colin. Moody. Lavender. None of them did.

Poor Teddy. He was just like me now. Too much like me. I hated the thought that he would have to grow up like I did: lost, scared,
lonely. He was slightly more fortunate, he had his grandmother. But he would never know a mother's embrace, or a father's shoulders. No one would ever be able to call him their son.

And I just couldn't get rid of that daunting voice in my head that told me I should've been able to take their place.

***

Draco never came to breakfast. Me, Ron, Hermione and Neville stayed almost the whole time. They were catching up and laughing about their own dorm experiences and how strange it was to share with the other houses, while I sat quietly to their left, making no noise and pretending I don't exist.

I did choke down some tea, but I just couldn't eat anything. I thought for sure that anything I put in my body would be immediately regurgitated along with all the horrid memories and experiences.

Hermione dragged us to the library directly after lunch. I didn't want to go, but they wanted me to.

My stomach was gurgling. I thought at first that it was the lack of food, but I really want sure anymore. My head was pounding against my skull like a raging party's drum beat, steady and persistent and ever so agonizingly loud.
My lungs felt sick from the distant stench of death that was now replaced with old parchment and dusty books.

I tried many times to understand why Hermione liked it here so much, I found it rather boring and irksome, being surrounded by knowledge I knew I would never have the energy to absorb. Sure, it was quiet and soothing and probably reminded her of home, but there will always be things I will never understand.

Draco Malfoy was one of those things. He always had been. Why he did the things he did, the reason behind the choices he made,
the willingness to listen to anyone with power over him.

And now, there he was. Hunched over at a faraway table, holding his head in his hands while a book lay open on the table. He had been sitting there, motionless, for a while now. I wasn't sure if he was actually reading, or just staring aimlessly at the ink.

"God, that's pathetic," said Ron. I noticed that he was glaring in the same direction I was.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh, not looking up from her book. "Leave it alone, Ronald."

"Oh, please. He's been acting all sad and hurt ever sense we got here. I bet anything he's doing it for pity."

She gave him a withering glare before briefly moving her eyes to me as if to say: not while he's here.

We were all quiet for a long time after that. Neville was flipping through his Herbology textbook, Ron was twirling his wand from finger to finger in a hypnotic spin, Hermione was still engrossed in whatever monstrous book she had been reading. Draco still wasn't moving. I don't even think he'd turned a page. His head was dipped so low that his ungeled hair flopped over his eyes. He might've been sleeping for all I knew.

That would make sense, considering him leaving so early this morning. Who's to say he didn't stay here all night? Distance wasn't something I remembered about him. He always had one of his cronies by his side, whether it be Crabbe or Goyle, Blaise, Nott, Parkinson. He was never alone. Clingy, he was.

"Harry? Where are you?" Neville.

I looked up finally. "Anywhere."

"Anywhere? You don't want to be here?"

"I'm not sure. I think so."

"You think so?"

"I just... I'm not sure."

"It's okay, Harry," he said, "that you don't know. To be honest with you, I'm finding it really hard to adjust. Just keep smiling."

I hummed in response. I didn't really feel like talking. Or smiling. I just wanted to be left alone.

It was a weird feeling, wanting to be alone. I grew up alone. Never once did I think that I would ever want to be alone again. I had friends. Not family, but I had friends. Friends should be enough right? Someone to tell me that's it's all okay, someone to stand beside me when it's not?

Funny, what war can do to someone.