Looking Beyond The Lies (Drarry) (Boyxboy)

Chapter 13

In front of the fireplace, Harry was seated in his green armchair, looking ever so dejected. His cold demeanour was nowhere to be seen. It was only in private that he was like this. Hence the reason he was in his room. His butt was on the edge of the seat, and he had leant back into the back rest, his chin resting on his chest.

There wasn't really a reason as to why Harry was so dejected, he just was. Sometimes, that's the way he was. But perhaps it had to do with Draco. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the blonde had him feeling some type of way.

And if that wasn't enough, he felt disheartened by the fact that they possibly couldn't ever be together. Why, he was a Potter, and Draco was a Malfoy. The two didn't associate. Ever. Harry was sure he liked Draco very much, only, he wasn't sure if the blonde reciprocated his feelings. But he wouldn't let that deter him. He would love Draco enough for the both of them, or at least until Draco loved him back. Or even like him. That was something he could work with.

Today was Sunday. And you'd think that students would be outside enjoying the sun, or corrugating in the courtyard. But no. It was raining. And instead, everyone was milling about in the great hall and the common rooms of the respective houses.

And it was just any rain. It was like sleet almost. It was grey and cold. A horrible day to be outside. The sky's were dark, menacing thunder rolling in every few seconds. It wasn't loud, per say, just annoying. Harry wasn't much a fan of storms, but he could tolerate them. Which made him wonder about Draco. Did the blonde like them? Could he tolerate them? Or was he huddled up in his blankets, scared out of his very wits?

He could imagine the two of them cozied up on a couch, a thick wool blanket covering the two of them, as they hunkered down in front of a roaring fire whilst it stormed. He thought about how Draco would look in an oversized sweater, curled up into his side as the storm raged outside.

It was only in that moment did he remember when he rescued Draco a few weeks ago from a savage storm. He remembered how afraid the boy had been, reduced to whimpering and shaking as he clung to Harry's neck. He thought it was kind of cute that Draco was so afraid of storms.

Deciding that the fire needed another log, Harry spelled one over to the fire and watched as the flames licked the wood, spitting sparks out in return. He spelled the fire poker and prodded at the log, urging it further into the fire. It was then that the log made a splitting sound as the searing flames surrounded it.

Getting up, Harry wandered over to the window and gazed out. He couldn't see more than a few meters away, as the sleet like rain was coming down hard and fast.

Chills ran up Harry's spine and he shivered in the cold room. He stalked to his cupboard and pulled out a black sweater, tailored with the finest wool around. It was soft and warm. The sweater also had a hood on it, which Harry rather liked. He slipped it on over his grey long sleeved shirt and instantly felt a little better.

In the comfort of his own presence, Harry was wearing a pair of thick grey sweat pants, although, that was something he would never admit to. As far as anyone else knew, he didn't wear muggle clothes. But he did, only in his own presence.

But Harry wanted to wander about the school. He'd had enough of sitting by himself in his room and decided that some company would be good for him. He reached into his closet a second time and pulled out a fitting pair of grey jeans. They also happened to be finely tailored. By witches. Nothing muggle about that.

As Harry headed down the stairs from his room, Pansy found him. "Hi Harry." Today, she was bright and enthusiastic, something she normally never was. He replied in his own fashion with a grunt, heading further down the stairs and to the common room. Pansy followed at his heels, but he didn't mind. He was used to Pansy following him around since first year.