It Started With Letters - Drarry

Purple Ink

And graduation did come way to fast.

The boys had spent their final weeks skipping most classes and instead spending a lot of time smoking weed by the great lake, taking advantage of the empty dorm room, returning books that were overdue by months to the library and laughing by Cassie's bedside, whom they had become rather close to (or as close as you could get to a five year old.)

And it had all built up to this, one final train ride. One he had assumed he would take, heavy with happy memories, loud with the echoing laughter of his friends. Instead however he sat alone, in an empty rumbling carriage, tears burning his cheeks and disfiguring his sight. He threw his head back as his chin quivered again.

Only hours earlier Harry had sat on the end of his bed in the Gryffindor dorm. The floor that was once littered with socks and missing homework was empty and clean. Posters had been removed from the walls and stuffed trunks sat in an unusual, orderly row by the door.

Draco had finally decided he needed to leave to pack his stuff and go to his last few classes, so ignoring Harry's complaints, he left the raven haired boy alone in his dorm.

Harry's mind drifted to graduation as he lay languidly in the stuffy bedroom. The warm, summer air was heavy with languor and the whimsical smell of freshly bloomed lavender as it filtered through the dorm window, which had been propped open a quarter of the way by an old book of unread hogwarts rules.

Although, even on this fine summers day he couldn't keep the weight of panic from building as his mind continued to travel through unrealistic conjectures of life after school.

He let his head loll to the side so he could stare at the abyss of cloudless sky. It seemed almost surreal, what could there be out there for him. A troubled, truculent boy, lionized by the press constantly and now dating a death eater and raising a goddamn child.

"For the love of merlin," he grunted to himself as he sat up to rip off his sweat soaked top, which he flung to the side before flopping back onto his bed, only to sit up again and flip over his pillow and then again to readjust his position.

"Fuck sake," He huffed slightly louder now as he ripped open his bedside table draw, ruffling past the many drawing of him, that Draco had drawn, and eventually pulling out an old mint tin full of rolled joints.

He lit one by clicking his fingers, something he had mastered easily with his wandless magic.

Long wisps of smoke drifted up past his face as he continued his thoughts in a slightly more tranquil manner.

With a nonchalant wave of the hand he opened the window further to let the smoke out, knowing the other boys would have a go at him if they came back to the room smelling of dope.

He found himself so enraptured by his own thoughts that he didn't notice the owl on the windowsill until it pecked him.

He sat upright quickly with such a fright that magic jolted from his hand and hit the owl square.

It shot backwards across the room and landed on Rons bed, out cold.

"Merlin help me," he said stubbing out his joint on his bedside table, and rubbing his eyes before standing up and walking around to Ron's bed.

After a closer glance he could tell the owl was just stupefied and with a simple, "Rennervate", it was awake, although looking quite dazed.

He dropped multiple of Ron's owl treats down in front of it and hurriedly filled up a cup with water from the windowsill jug (merlin knows who decided to leave it in the sun as now it was almost bloody boiling) before stroking the owl on the head, hoping it might ease his own conscience for his unnecessary explosion of wandless magic.