yule ball

empty

 It was empty.

Harry Potter was not sitting on his bed. He was nowhere to be found.

While making his way up to the dormitory, Draco had pictured this in many ways, most of them involving him sweeping Harry off his feet and then (maybe) kissing him again.

None of them involved him, alone in the Gryffindor common room.

Alone again.

He leaned against the wall, sinking down until his knees were pressing against his chest and his head rested against his chin.

What to do now?

Of course, Potter had to come back eventually, so Draco could just stay where he was. However, this would also mean that Finnegan, Thomas, Longbottom, and Weasley would be back.

So he couldn't wait in the dormitory.

He pushed himself up. Tiredness was beginning to settle into his bones, and he had to force his legs to move, one foot in front of the other.

He could hardly keep his eyes open as he left the Gryffindor dorm. He didn't remember passing by Neville, couldn't remember passing by anyone on the way back to his room, and couldn't remember collapsing in his bed and falling asleep instantly.

- - -

Draco woke up to the sun rising, casting long, honey-colored shadows across the dorm.

He jumped out of his bed, glancing around the room. No one else was awake yet. They were all exhausted from last night. Of course, so was Draco, but he had too much on his mind to go back to sleep.

He decided to head down to the great hall early. It was almost deserted, but Draco was glad.

When he sat down, he looked around the room, but the few students who were having breakfast as early as he was were busy laughing and gossiping about last night's events.

Without meaning to, he scanned the Gryffindor table, but Harry, Ron and Hermione's spots were empty.

Not that he expected them to be there, of course.

Not that he was hoping.

The food tasted indescribably dull today. Draco wasn't sure why, as hogwarts food was typically good, almost better than the food from the cooks at home. Just another addition to his great day.

He wandered aimlessly around the school for about an hour, not particularly in any sort of rush.

He wondered if Harry was in his room. He considered going up to try and see him again. He did a lot of sighing and scowling at first years.

Eventually, he decided that enough was enough and headed out to the quidditch pitch.

It always calmed him to fly. Even if he wasn't as good as Harry, it helped him to rise above his problems, both literally and figuratively.

Draco crossed the grounds quickly, grabbed his broom, and stood in the center of the pitch. He stopped for a moment and let the wind push his hair out of his face. He tilted his face upwards and let his eyelashes flutter closed, breathing deeply. And he was calm.

Up until he opened his eyes.

High up, skimming the clouds, was a tiny dot darting across the sky. He dived and swerved and did moves Draco only dreamed of being able to achieve.

He squinted, shielding his eyes with one hand. At first, Draco thought it was Viktor Krum, the durmstrang champion and quidditch star, but as the figure began to swoop to the ground, he recognized him.

It was Harry Potter.