Misunderstood love {a Drarry story}

5~ The Beginning

⚠️ Warning ⚠️
There will be some triggering things in this particular chapter. Just be aware.

Harry's POV:
"Of corse the fucking passcode is something that Fred created! What else would I expect from a woman who is supposed to be the equivalent to a motherly figure for the next nine months of my life. And OF CORSE that fucking sorting hat separated us in to three different fucking sHITTY BITCH ASS HOUSES. OF. FUCKING. COURSE." Ron shouts, attempting to take his anger and confusion out on his vocal cords as he flings himself into Hermione. She quickly embraces the red head and starts to whisper little things into his ear while rocking him back and forth, trying to calm the poor boy down.

We are sitting alone (thankfully) in the eighth year common room, listening to Ron break down for the fifth time this week. If anything remotely related to Fred, or even George is mentioned around the Gryffindor, then all hell breaks loose. I do feel bad for the guy, but there is only so much sympathy you can feel for a person while trying to work through your own emotional shit.

At this point in my life I don't even know if I will be able to experience any strong emotions again. Sense the war ended, most people would have assumed that I would be grieving or an emotional mess like Ron. Nothing could be further from the truth. Most days, I don't feel anything. Yes, there is no sadness or underlying anger trying to make its way to the surface, but there is also no happiness or hope to full up my chest either. I just feel empty. Like I'm missing a part of me that was never there to begin with. At least when I used to be sad or angry I always knew there was another end to the spectrum of emotions I was feeling, but now it's like I've fallen off the spectrum entirely. I'm falling into a black hole, never to return, and doomed to feel this way forever. The scary part is, is that this doesn't scare me. I feel like I could murder without a feeling of guilt overriding my being. And after looking around, I've come to find that that's not normal.

"I-I'm going to check out my room" I quickly excuse myself. I need to do something to get away from my thoughts.
"What so you can go make new friends with Malfoy of all people? Come ON Harry are me and Hermione not good enough for you?" Ron says as he sends me an accusatory glare. I look to Hermione for support but the only thing she mumbles is "Hermione and I" as she avoids my eye contact.

With that, I storm out of the common room and into 'Malfoy's and Is' (I think with emphasis as if I was shoving the grammatically correct sentence into Hermione's face) shared room. I open the door and slam it, mostly out of frustration but also a little for dramatic effect. I turn my back and close my eyes as I slide down the door and pull my knees to my chest.

"Um, tough day, or are you always that dramatic?" I hear a voice ask me from the right side of the room.
"Shove off Malfoy" I mumble back as I stand up, mentally preparing myself for yet another argument. But instead all I got in response was a weak 'sorry.' This remark brought about a long silence. If I've learned anything in the past, it's that silence always leads to pain. So I took it upon myself to break it.

"So, uh it looks like you don't have to meet me in the kitchens anymore" I say, forcing a fake chuckle after the comment.
"Guess not" is the only thing that the Slytherin responded with. I sit and watch Malfoy unpack his trunk while contemplating whether or not to bring up the conversation I've been wanting to have with the boy sense we've gotten to Hogwarts.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me or are you going to unpack your things" The blond remarks as he leans against one of the two desks he has clearly claimed as his own.
"Not right now. Thought I would leave myself with something to do tonight when I inevitably give up on trying to go to sleep" I respond in a fake sarcastic tone, hoping he thought that I was joking.
"Oh, thats actually smart" he says as he throws the shirt he was about to hang up back in his trunk. He flopped down on one of the beds, and assuming he claimed that one I walk over to make myself at home on the other. We lay in silence for a bit before I have to break it.