Living In My Head (Drarry)

Draco POV 1 (chap 62-64)

A.N.

Chapter song: Too Close by Alex Clare

This takes place after Harry leaves the manor until the point Harry goes to meet Lupin.
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I find hateful tears sting my eyes. Why did Harry have to say that? To rake up the darkest parts of myself and force my hand to lash out at him. No, I was not forced, but I was given ammunition and that's all it takes for me.

I pick up the pillow he slept on and threw it at the glass door, willing it to shatter the glass, but the pillow just flopped to the ground uselessly. This was avoidable. My father invited the Zabinis on purpose. He knew this would happen. That Blaise would get territorial over me like I'm his property. Bet my father wouldn't mind me hooking up with Blaise. In fact, he would undoubtedly be ecstatic.

I move to the room we'd kept Zorro and Castiel, and I watch through the window at Harry's fleeting back. I find myself wishing I'd given him a warm coat, then I glance back at the beds. Looks like I will be sleeping alone tonight. I was so used to him, it seemed as though he was tethered to me but now that cord is severed. Here I am left with the long end of a broken lifeline, Harry has the short end. It wan't supposed to turn out this way, or maybe I just was blind to the inevitable.

My hands are shaking and I take a shaky breath, picking up the pillow from the floor and tossing it back onto the bed. I catch a glimpse of a shirt peeking from under the far side of the bed. It's Harry's... I bring the material to my face. It still smells like him. I didn't buy him the shirt. It has a few small holes at the hem and the material is thinned in spots, and I have to choke back another wave of tears.

I clutch the shirt in my hand and lock myself in my library. I find Sheep Corpses and War Drums lying on the table. It's the last thing he read here. I can see slight bends on pages where he'd marked the page with his fingers for long periods of time when the book was closed. The anger subsides.

Harry is impressionable. I figured that out when I first met him. Maybe this book will tell me what he's thinking. Maybe it will make me understand what just happened, and why I made him leave.

...

I manage to finish the book in a couple of hours. I hate the thought of defacing a book, so I choose the alternative. I grab a new pack of post-its from my shelf and unwrap them. Maybe if I dissect the book, I'll see my mistakes. His mistakes. The book seemed to parallel us in some ways, and the thought of picking apart a book soothed my nerves. Anything to think of except the boy with mussed hair and beautiful eyes. The shirt of his sits in my lap, untouched, as I pull off the first post-it, write a quick message, and put it on the first page.

The yellow note, stark against the white pages, reads:

Pg 1: Ln 6 & 7- words to remember

The line read:

"Laika, you must understand. There are many paths to walk in this life, and choices must be made, but some paths end in the same clearing. Some ways may be a harder trek, but the journey is sometimes worth the destination."

....

Long before I am ready, I see Harry. He has walked into the restroom and I feel the muscles in my legs quiver. My first reaction is to run. I can see him standing there, trying to find it in him to say something, but I can't do this. I can't do this now. So I pin my eyes straight ahead of me and walk past him. From the quick breeze, I can smell the familiar scents I always attributed to him. It makes my hands shake, so I rush out as quickly as I can manage so I can go to the locker rooms to change and make my way back to class. I'd been skipping in favor of practicing soccer, hoping to get my mind off of the one person in the world I wasn't ready to meet. I hear the door lock, then his quiet sobs. I leave him behind, ready to get back to the pretense that everything is normal. Otherwise, I will fall apart again- and I don't want to do drugs again, but my fear may drive me to. My worst fear is relapse, so I run to the locker rooms, my throat swelled from unshed tears. Pretending is all I know that will keep me safe. Pretending is safe, it's familiar.

...

I waited for Professor Snape in the library, for the meeting I planned with him a while before. Back then, I had wanted counsel with him to how I should proceed with Harry and possibly go about dating him. However, all of that is different now. That has come and gone beyond my reach. Searching through the stacks, I see if I can find something to glance through while I wait.

The only thing I find even mildly interesting is a copy of The Bell Jar and my stomach turns. I read the book before for a project, and the book was crudely formatted at best but had a way of perfectly portraying a faltering mind. Takes one to describe one, I always supposed. The book always left me with a bad taste in my mouth when I thought of it. It felt so earnest but so lacking in terms of feeling, as though Esther was wracking her brain every second to make every word mean exactly what she wanted-- yet every word she spoke felt too distant for a first-person narrative. I flip through the pages, watching the words quickly speed past my sight and reach the end. I stare hard at the cover, calligraphic title and wilting rose on the front, and it makes me feel a strange sense of confusion. It had been so long, I couldn't remember if roses were even relevant to the story.

I looked up, and there Harry stood, directly in line with the sparsely-stocked shelf in front of my face. I couldn't tell if we made eye contact or not, but I suddenly remembered something. Roses were really of no consequence to the story, so much as figs were. Figs were important to the book. I smiled to myself, putting the book away. I never liked figs.

"Must not sit under such a tree," I whispered to myself, looking up.

Harry was gone, Hermione and what looked like Viktor Krum left behind. For several minutes I watched Hermione show Krum whatever was in the book she was reading, explaining it to him. So wrapped up in eavesdropping, I didn't notice Snape skirt up behind me.

"Hello, Draco. You wished to speak to me?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted, "but now for a different reason."

"Do tell."

"I wanted to tell you my side about what happened, everything. In case something were to come up."

"Come up?" he asked.

"The details of our relationship are a moot point-- however, the importance is that I tell you why things ended the way they did. I don't expect you to tell him, but you can if you wish to." I took a deep breath, "I knew about his parents' deaths after receiving a blow to my cheek by my father." I indicated the bruise peeking through the makeup I used to cover it.

"Draco, you can't let that keep-"

"I know, but let me finish." I sighed heavily, taking a deep breath. "Father told me that his group... club... whatever it is-- he said that they were backing Voldemort when they killed the Potters, but you probably already knew that. I was devastated, I couldn't tell Harry because he would know the truth and never want to see me again. My father refuses Harry and I to be together because 'the boy is an enemy of our former Leader' and he didn't want me to get any foolish ideas. So he beat me in front of his colleagues, as a warning, that he would hurt anyone who did not comply- even his own son. So I didn't tell Harry... but he found out about Blaise."

Snape winces in response, "Does he know everything?"

"He thinks he does, but that doesn't matter now. I just wanted you to know I loved him and my intentions were pure. He and I have parted ways and I think we will stay that way." I tell him, he nods.

"Probably for the best." He pats me on the shoulder before waving goodbye.

I wave back dumbly, best for Harry, I guess that's what matters. I return in the direction of my room, time for another reading of Sheep Corpses and War Drums.

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A.N.

I know... I was supposed to upload this last Sunday but if you guys didn't know, I'm moving across the country and shit is crazy right now. The next time this story updates will most likely be once it's finished. There is more than one chapter left to go (obviously) but I want to be sure all is well with the ending before I upload the rest.

Thank you for your continued support. Please continue to leave comments, they keep me motivated and inspired.

With love,
~deathbyinsomnia