𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐈𝐈

The next morning when I stumbled into the common room, the sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains in the distance.

The blue hour light reflected perfectly off of the mess of blond hair tucked neatly into a pillow on the sofa, making it look like white glass.

He too looked as if he'd just woken up. He noticed me standing in the doorway and gave me a curt nod.

I walked closer to him. "You left your bed just to sleep in here?"

He shrugged lazily.

"You know you don't have to avoid me, right?" I asked.

"Who said I was avoiding you?" he grumbled.

"Well, you never seem to want to be in the same room as me, ever," I said, "I came up to the room and you left immediately. Whenever I get within ten feet of you, you try to run away."

I sat down on the armchair across from him. I had healed up his boils a couple days ago now, however he still didn't look to great.

He was pale—too pale—and shaky, like he'd been swimming in the black lake in the middle of January. 

At the start of the term, I would've told anyone that he looked no worse than myself, but seemed to be declining rapidly.

"That's just a coincidence. It's not about you," he folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, simultaneously hiding his hands from me.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Pardon me?"

I didn't mean to say it like that. I was nervous again, I had to be careful about what I said around him now.

"Sorry," I apologized, "I meant your hands. It came out wrong."

"My hands?" he raised an eyebrow.

"They're shaking. They always are. It's not cold in here." I said matter of factly.

"Nerves," he said, but looked surprised with himself as he spoke.

"Really?"

"Yeah...l Just– the crowds. You know? Stresses me out,"

The crowds? Was this the same thing as the paint allergy? An excuse? Draco always hated being alone, though he tended to stick to being by himself nowadays, he doesn't seem to like it.

Anyone can change, yes, but nevertheless,
Draco always felt safer within the crowd.

I didn't want to push him, his temper was so fragile these days, I had to be careful about what I said to him. But I needed to know. If Draco was really in trouble, I had to know.

What if this was Ginny's doing? Or Dennis'? Or anyone else?

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Malfoy, please. If someone's hurt you..."

"No, Potter. It's fine," he looked to his lap, "It's rude to pry."

I sighed. Clearly, he wasn't budging.

I was desperate for his kindness, he despised mine. For someone who was evidently trying to change his ways, he wasn't open to others doing the same.

Perhaps, he was like me. Hating pity, the wrong kind of attention?

Pity always made me uncomfortable, in a weird, sort of trivial way. I hated letting myself show my pain for the same reason.

He's a little too much like me.

"Fine then. We should go to breakfast," I said finally.

Draco didn't move. He continued to stare at his lap.

"I'm not going," he said insistently.

"You really should," I was trying not to sound too persistent, "When was the last time you ate?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. That sent me into a dizzy spiral of nostalgia.

"I could ask you the same."

"Hermione had me in her clutches," I smirked, "I know you don't have anyone."

He glared at me in disdain. His eyes piercing like a dagger.

"I have people, now go away."

I stood behind the couch he was sat on and put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged me off instantly.

"I didn't mean it like that, I only meant that you don't have anyone watching your every move as they shove food down your throat."

"Seems a little like you're doing right now," he sneered over his shoulder at me.

Despite his cold expression, I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Just come?"

"No."

***

"Mate, we missed you last night!" Ron told me with a mouth full of food as I entered the Great Hall.

I was really starting to hate being in there. I thought at first that I would be okay, that I could thrust those horrid memories from my mind and remember all the good years I spent in that hall.

But what if I was sitting directly where someone else had laid? Or worse, where someone died?

"Sorry, I was just really tired, I crashed early," I apologized, but I didn't really mean it.

"You're always tired now, Harry. I'm worried about you."

"I'm okay, Ron. Really."

He gave me a sorry smile and turned back to his food.

"Did you finish your Defence Against the Dark Arts paper yet, Harry?"

I hadn't. I meant to the day that I found Draco by the lake. Obviously, I was a little distracted that day.

"Uh, yeah. Last night," I lied. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

"I thought you said you went to bed?"

Shit. I was falling apart.

"Oh, no– I did it in the library, before I even came into the common room."

"No, Harry. You weren't. Neville and I were in the library from dinner until nightfall. We arrived in the common room only a few minutes before you did."

"Look, Hermione–"

"Harry, if something's going on with you or you need help, just ask! I promise you we'll do everything in our power to make you feel okay... Just please. Don't shut us out."

"Yeah, we'll take good care of you," Ron joined.

I stared down at my plate. I wasn't going to get angry with them. I wasn't. I can save that for sometime when it was needed, but not now.

They're only trying to be my good friends. I can't blame them for being so overprotective. But they've helped me enough. Hell, I almost got them killed multiple times by letting them help me.

"I can take care of myself."

Nicer.

"Thank you, but really, I'm okay."