CHAPTER 63 - THE BALL

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TW: anorexia, suicidal ideation

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Harry was numb the night of the ball. While all the students surrounding him expressed excitement and joy, Harry remained along the wall, watching.

Ron and Hermione danced in the middle of the room, holding each other. It was a wonderful thing to see his friends happy together. I'll be able to laugh like you soon.

Harry gazed over the magnificently decorated room, which was covered in pumpkins and bats and orange lights. The candles floated lower than usual as the others were dim.

Drink and food tables were filled with sweets and treats beyond any Halloween feast they'd had before.

Fancy music played as everyone danced in the middle of the Great Hall.

Malfoy had Astoria in his embrace, his arm dangerously low on her back. Jealousy had never found its way to Harry until right in that moment because he swore if he looked into the mirror, his face would be a deep, passionate green. He watched Malfoy twirl to the music, his eyes completely locked onto hers.

Harry had to admit, she was gorgeous. Long, dark hair curled into a bun, golden earrings and a black, silk dress accessorized a perfect body... for a girl. She was graceful as she moved her feet, and so was he. Malfoy wore dress robes, of course. He looked beautiful, except for his silver eyes. Harry would have had such a fun time taking it off of him.

Malfoy leaned in closer, only for Astoria to whisper something in his ear, which he laughed at. A fake laugh, Harry categorized. He knew Malfoy. He knew Malfoy like the back of his hand. He knew Malfoy like the love of his life, simply because he was.

Maybe they'll be happy enough together, he thought.

Harry sat back against the food table as a way to torture himself.

Look, he won't dance with you because you're over here eating.

Shut up, he called back.

So maybe he hadn't eaten the past few days while he was out of the hospital. He was busy figuring out how to burn an entire relationship into ash. It was the last time he wouldn't eat ever again; he swore.

As a result, his heart weakly beat. There was a stabbing pain above his sternum, which Harry contributed to the heartbreak.

All he needed to do was make it through tonight and then he'd forget Malfoy. And then he'd be free. All this pain would go away.

He held a glass in his hand and occasionally pressed his lips to it to give the disguise of his normalcy, which he didn't know who he was fooling. Sure, his Bruno Moreno button-up fit him perfectly (don't worry, he'll burn his clothes tomorrow morning), but it also hid the fact he was so sick, he was just a pile of bones.

Pansy walked up to him and took a glass of punch, sipping it. Harry flattened his lips to her and directed his attention to the dance floor. "You know, I've always admired you."

"That's kind." He continued searching.

"I mean it. I do admire you. Your strength and bravery. Your determination. I always hoped you'd change Malfoy, too."

"It only worked the first time. Maybe it was an accident."

"You haven't failed yet. He's just stubborn and confused. And the old Malfoy would never ask for help. He'd just sulk."

Harry spoke plainly. "I have an appointment with a memory specialist tomorrow."

"Wow, you got him to go?"

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