Cliché

Chapter 27: Quiet

As soon as Draco reached the front gates of Hogwarts, he made a beeline for the Library. He couldn't explain why, but all he could think about was the softness of the place he had just been and the sharpness of the colors there. What would he even refer to the place as? Utopia? Home? What was it? It was already past midnight, and the Library was closed, but it didn't matter.

Draco found the big index book about where the different genres were located and marched to the shelves that he thought to be his best chance. Another wizard or witch, or someone had to of been where he had, right? He couldn't be the only one, no way!

His fingers traced the books on the shelves but he couldn't find what he was looking for. But... what was he looking for? What would the title be called? How would he know? There were thousands of books, in this section alone! Draco's head was aching, and he was having a hard time remembering things. Memories seemed fuzzy, but the place he had just discovered burned like an ember inside his memory.

How would he explain it? Who could help him? All the blonde wanted to do was go back. Back to that place that made him feel okay again. That place that made him feel light, and that washed away his worries...

But how?

{}

When Harry woke up, he realized that Draco wasn't by his side. He had tried to wait up for him, but he was just so tired. And where on earth was his boyfriend? Troubled thoughts entered his mind. Was Draco hurt? Was he okay? Was he with someone else?

No, the Slytherin would never cheat on him, so he could rule out that one. To get his mind off of his disappearance, Hermione dragged Harry down to the Library.

"He's alright, Harry. I may not like Draco, but he could hold his own in a fight. You know that..."

Her words did not bring comfort. They worried him even more.

That's when he saw Draco, passed out in a chair, slumped forward, with his head on the table. The blonde snored softly.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, and a small smile played at his lips, 'He must've fallen asleep while studying for his N.E.W.T final.'

The darker boy went over, and gently ran his hand through the platinum locks, brushing strands out of his face, "Morning, sunshine."

When Draco opened his eyes, his gaze met that of Harry's.

"H-Harry? Why does-" He stopped himself as he clutched his head. It was pounding. That damn alcohol. He hated hangovers.

"You look... are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Draco replied, bluntly.

"Are you sure? You look a little woozy."

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, scowling at the boy in front of him.

"Well you're moody." Huffed the Gryffindor, as he plopped down next to the boy he cared for, "What's got your wand in a knot?"

Draco blinked, 'Why is he talking so loud? Why is the lighting in here so bright?'

"I, uh, got drunk last night."

"Yeah, I can smell it on your breath. Smells like vomit." The Chosen One pinched his nose, "Personally I like your cologne better."

"I'm sorry, love, I'm just really angry right now." He confessed.

"It's alright. Everyone can get grumpy sometimes." The smaller boy's bottom lip stuck out, morphing his face into a pout.