When The Smoke Clears

Enter the Tempest

Waiting hurt like hell.

For the rest of Saturday, Harry paced the corridors of the castle, muttering under his breath, trying to convince himself that his friends would eventually take his side. He did his best to avoid other students, which became more difficult once it began to rain. Voices, footsteps, and drips upon the flagstones echoed throughout the castle. Harry found sanctuary in the Owlery, listening to the flapping wings and feeling the drops splash his face like tears. He stayed there for hours, watching night descend, until curfew when he slipped into the dark dormitory. Ron's emerald hangings had been drawn tight around his bed - Harry avoided looking in his direction and undressed quietly.

Though he felt exhausted from the day's trials, Harry stayed awake long after midnight, replaying the failed conversation in his mind, wondering what he could have done differently. In the eternally long silence, Harry tried to get angry at Ron and Hermione, wanted to curse them for abandoning him so quickly over the pretext of pretending to care about his safety...but he found that he couldn't. That was the issue with unconditional love, Harry thought, he couldn't stop feeling it for them no matter how illogical it was. Still, their betrayal pained him to no end - it coursed through his veins like slow-acting snake venom, squeezing tears from his eyes, and making his stomach twist in anxiety. Why couldn't they just accept Draco for the fact that he made Harry happy?

That question and others tumbled around in his mind for a long time that night. To distract himself, Harry strained his ears against the dull roar of the rained-upon lake for a creak of the floorboards, a sigh, anything that would signal Draco's return. But he never did, and Harry fell into a brief, fitful slumber, dreading the next morning.

On Sunday, Harry recounted his conversation with Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, to an attentive audience of two. Luna patted Harry's shoulder, offering him soft words of comfort. Ginny pursed her lips and grew a bit miffed that Harry had outed her to Ron, and soon left the room, girlfriend at her side, leaving Harry feeling more alone than ever.

Waiting for Draco hurt like hell, but the pain faded immediately when Harry saw him. Poised and postured as usual, though the shadows beneath his eyes and slightly mussed hair implied he hadn't been sleeping well. Draco caught his boyfriend's attention from across the hallway before Defense class, his silver eyes gleaming, wearing a meaningful look that made it clear he had much to talk about.

The effort gave Harry a headache, but he treated Draco with the barest geniality during class, talking to him only if he was required to. He hoped it would appease Ron and Hermione slightly, but they still avoided him like dragon pox, not sparing Harry nor Draco a single malicious glare. Draco himself seemed to know that Harry's chilliness was a fake front and kept up the unfriendly classmate charade with acting skills and patience that Harry was envious of.

During the last class of the day, Harry opened his textbook as McGonagall lectured about Featuristic Transfiguration. As he flipped through the pages, a loose bit of parchment sticking out from behind the front cover caught his notice. Harry placed the scrap onto his notes, immediately recognizing the cramped cursive: Room of Requirement. Resisting the urge to turn around and face Draco, who dutifully took notes a few seats away, Harry folded the parchment and slipped it back between the pages. He tried to squash his grin as he copied the diagram for transfigurative wrist movements.

One good thing about Ron and Hermione ignoring him, Harry reflected, shoving his books into his bag as the bell rang, they wouldn't ask where he rushed off to. He climbed up six flights of stairs in quite a hurry, leaving him panting slightly once he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy demonstrating a pirouette to a group of trolls.

I need a place to talk to Draco Malfoy in private. Harry repeated the phrase in his head while he paced back and forth with his eyes closed. On the third recitation, he opened his eyes to a polished wooden door set in the cobblestone.