𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐈𝐗

"Glasses. Darling, why the long face?"

"Just tired, Ophiuchus."

I hadn't spoken with Ophiuchus in a long while, not for at least a week. She didn't bother me about it—being around the Slytherins for so long probably taught her not to butt in to people's business—but it seemed to lower her mood every time I walked by without saying hello.

"You're pale. Are you ill?"

"Nope. Just tired out."

"Thin too. Go eat. Breakfast's ending soon."

I sighed, but didn't move. To be honest, I hadn't really spoken with anyone since my nightmare last week. To say I was a deprived of interaction (human or not) would be an understatement.

"Seen anything interesting lately?" I asked, trying to start up some friendly conversation.

She flowed with excitement and dove into a tangent of everything she had witness in the past while.

"Oh, heavens yes! First of all, do you know that little Irish boy? The clumsy one?" I said that I did, "Well, I saw him and that darker boy snogging all the way down the hall on Monday. A Monday! And it was only seven in the morning! Also, I think that black haired girl might have a thing for your bushy hair'd friend. My knee? is it? Anyways, she's always following her around and trying to get her attention.

"And then of course, that hideous blond boy. He has been acting awful suspicious. Leaves early in the morning, comes back late at night, never see him throughout the day. He cries a lot too. I've seen him cry like, six times. It's only been what? Four weeks? Five? I don't know. He tries to hide it though. He told the cat lady once that he has a severe paint allergy. Can you believe it? That utter door knob blames his bruised ego on me!"

I chuckled at that part. Not at him crying, but him blaming it on Ophiuchus. To me, that was such a Draco-thing to do.

"Also, Harry, I know I'm not suppose to, and you cannot tell anyone, but I've been visiting one of the portraits in the Gryffindor common room recently, and he says he knew you. He says hi by the way."

This part caught my attention. I figured that since the portraits of Lavender and Crabbe were hung in our common room, the other students who died in the war must've had theirs in their designated commons too.

I had known many of them, so I wasn't sure who exactly she was speaking of. Colin Creevey, maybe. He was awfully clingy in his time.

I asked her who it was.

"Umm," she said with a finger on her chin, "Well, he's got the fieriest mop of red hair I've ever seen, just like Ronny! And lots of freckles. He's funny too, made me laugh even harder than watching the black hair'd girl fondle over My knee!"

I felt my blood run cold. The walls began to close in on me as they twisted and turned in a spiral motion. My head stared to spin with the room, but I kept myself upright.

"Er–" I stuttered, my voice hoarse and slurred, "Fred? Was that his name?"

Her eyes grew wide and she wagged her index finger at no one in particular.

"Fred! Yes! That's it! I've been calling him Francis!" she laughed, "I remember, the first day I found him, he told me a story about you and the Babbling Beverage, that you went on a rant about brown cows! Goodness, Harry! Do you really think that they poop chocolate milk?"

Wow. So Fred had a portrait in the Gryffindor common room. I thought that because he had graduated before the war, that they wouldn't include him.

Ginny never said anything about his portrait. She never really talked about him at all. I saw Hermione try asking her a few times if she ever wanted to talk about him, but it was useless. Did Ron know about Fred? Did Mrs Weasley?

I left for Transfiguration in a trance. I missed breakfast, and spent the rest of the day in my head.

***

Draco never spoke about the night of my nightmare. I think he might have been embarrassed: either about helping me, or the fact that he knew how.

I remembered when he had his, and I hugged him. He didn't like it. I started to wonder if it was because he was scared of me or because he was scared of his nightmares.

He confused me like that. I never knew what he was thinking, never. He made it impossible for anyone to get to know him on a personal level—not that I'd ever tried. But I heard Blaise, Theodore and Pansy talk a lot in the common room when I would study and they would think no one was listening. Most of their conversations revolved around Draco.

A year ago, if you had asked me then, I would've said that Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle were one of the tightest knit friend groups at Hogwarts. But the way I heard them speak of each other now, you would've thought they were enemies.

Now, maybe enemies is an exaggeration. Voldemort and I were enemies. Snape and my father were enemies. But they certainly had a tendency to speak ill of one another.

Theodore would often bash Draco for betraying the Death Eaters when he tossed me his wand. Pansy was bitter that he never payed her any attention and Blaise enjoyed insulting his desire for solitude. I didn't see Goyle too much. People say that he's been around, but I think he spends most of his time in detention.

The loss of Crabbe hit him the hardest.

But the thing about Draco's old friends, was that they could never agree on what his worst quality was, and would end their conversations in huffs and storming out of rooms and slammed doors.

There had only been one occasion that I witnessed Draco talk to one of them, in which Draco asked Theodore if he could borrow some ink. Theodore slid it across the table to where Draco stood, and I hadn't seen him speak a word to them since.

Watching the Slytherins became a hobby of mine, per say. And I couldn't help but wonder what I would do if me and my friends ended up like that.

I can handle being by myself, yes. In fact during these times I enjoyed it most definitely. But when it came to the big picture, I am nothing without Ron and Hermione.

How would they fair off? Could they live without me? Ron probably could, he had a big family, plus Neville, Seamus and Dean. But Hermione? Apart from Ron and maybe Luna, she really didn't have many friends. Even Ron didn't technically count, because they were an item.

I hadn't really thought of this that night of the Battle, when I left them to sacrifice myself to Voldemort without even saying a real goodbye (Hermione still scolded me for how selfish that was of me).

I remember distinctly when I woke up after my final chat with Dumbledore, I was rather disappointed to see the solid ground and trees that made up the setting in front of me.

I had fully prepared myself to never return, and spend the rest of eternity with my mom and dad, Sirius, Remus, Fred, Cedric and everyone else. I had even come to terms with seeing Snape from time to time up there in the afterlife.

What would he think of me now?

To be honest, I don't really want to think about that.