𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐈𝐈𝐈

"The password is Unitatem," said McGonagall, once we reached the fourth floor corridor. The entrance was a painting of a little girl, no older than seven. She didn't seem to talk much, but was looking at each of us with the same intrigue and excitement. "Do try to keep most of your limbs in tact." And with that, she left us on our own.

The eighth years and I all started to pile into the small entryway, all of us eager to see what the new common room looked like.

I was at the back, everyone was in already when the little girl in the painting stopped me.

"Hey! You!" she said, her voice bright and airy.

"Me?" I replied.

"Uh huh!" but she didn't continue after that, so I just stood there awkwardly.

"Er– what is it?" I asked apprehensively. I had no idea who this girl was after all, and from past experience, the paintings at Hogwarts weren't always the best things to talk to.

I thought that maybe she would start gushing and telling me how amazing I was for defeating Voldemort and how ever so grateful she was that he was gone. Just like everyone else.

"I like your glasses," she said finally. I was taken aback slightly, but grateful. "I've always wanted glasses, funny that! I wish my artist had painted me with big round glasses, just like yours! Oh! And your hair! I like how fun it is, lots of character."

I blushed slightly at her words out of embarrassment. I never really did too well with compliments, but when she started talking about my hair it made me a little uncomfortable. I used to be shamed for my hair at the Dursley's.

"Would you just look at my hair, so plain and boring," she continued, "And white! White of all colours! A whole rainbow of beautiful colours and my artist painted my hair white." She crossed her brush stroked arms over her torso.

"My hair's black," I said plainly, "That's just as boring."

"Oh no! But it's not! You see, black is deep and mysterious. Like it could go on forever and ever!"

I looked through the archway where her painting had swung open, longing to go inside, go to sleep and be done with this conversation.

"Yeah, well white's good too," I tried to appease her, hoping she would let me go in soon, "It's got all the colours. Every one."

Her eyes widened in shock. Then she smiled one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen to this day. "Oh my, I never knew that before! All of them? The whole rainbow?"

"Yep. The whole rainbow and more. They're all in there."

She smiled once again. When she didn't say anything else I took that as my cue to finally head in.

When I looked around, I was pleased, if only a little. There was no designated colour to the room as I had seen in the Gryffindor and Slytherin commons, but it sort of looked like the rest of the school. Brown tones with plenty of leather couches that looked like old books, mahogany coffee tables with Wizard Chess boards on one them. In the centre was a large stone fireplace with wood already burning. The ceiling was high with a grand chandelier that had what looked like just under forty candles burning.

One for each of us, I realized.

Overall, the room vaguely reminded me of The Burrow.

On the far wall, in between two hallways that lead to the girl's and boy's dormitories, were a couple of portraits of people I recognized. They weren't like the girl in the paining outside, no, they looked to be stuck in a loop doing the same actions and facial expressions over and over.

There, looking right at me, was Lavender Brown and Vincent Crabbe.

Guilt began to rise inside of me, taking me over, making itself well known. I could've saved them, I thought. Even if Crabbe was on Voldemort's side, even if Lavender was clingy and annoying.

Everyone else was still looking around the room at all the knick-knacks and other entities. I thought it a good time to find my dorm.

Hermione said we were only sharing with one person this year, as there weren't many of us. Along the wall in the hallway of the boy's dorms, there were plaques on every door with the names of the occupants.

Zabini, Blaise — Weasley, Ronald
Finnegan, Seamus — Thomas, Dean
Nott, Theodore — Longbottom, Neville
Potter, Harry — Malfoy, Draco

On first glance, I thought it had to be some sort of joke. A prank. That was all it was. Ron had come up here before me and charmed the plaques to give me a scare. He was trying to make me laugh.

I did. I started laughing hysterically. The whole of this situation was just so laughable. Gryffindors and Slytherins, living together for a whole year. The brave and chivalrous with the cunning and ambitious. Hilarious.

Inside, it was dark. My eyes adjusted to see a circular room with two four-poster beds, a bathroom, and a large curtained window looking out at the school grounds.

I walked over to the farthest bed first, anything for Draco not to blow his cool at me tonight. But I noticed that someone was already sound asleep in it. The curtains were left open and he wasn't under the sheets. I could see now that he was still fully clothed in his black turtleneck and pleated trousers, blazer hung neatly on one of the posts. It looked as if he had ran in here, flopped on his bed and fell asleep within near seconds.

He did look rather exhausted on the train, I thought.

I sat down on the empty bed on near the door. Quick for escaping if I needed it. I wasn't scared of Draco, but living with him worried me. After what I'd seen on the train and at the feast, I had no idea what to expect from his anymore.

He looked like a ghost. Like a shell of everything he used to be. Like everything that once made up Draco Malfoy had died along with the war. Just like I should have.

The strangest thing to me was not his appearance, or his expression, or even his tears, but the fact that we both had been in the same place for almost twelve hours straight and he had not said one thing—snarky or cruel—to me at all.