Love hurts - Drarry

15. Recover

That brought us to today, sitting in my white suit, waiting for it to hit 12.
A person should feel happy and nervous  not sad and depressed.
I should be thinking about Blaise, not Draco.

He fucking hurt me.
I hate him. I hate him because I love him.

He still remembered how broke he was when all he thought about was how the love of his life was dead.
A week had passed when he suddenly felt a small tug in his chest
A tug similar to th ones he felt when he felt when Draco was alive... If he was feeling it right now... That meant Draco was alive. And that meant, the bond didn't break beacause he was dead... It broke beacause Draco purposely broke it.
He broke it.
He practically broke up with Harry IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE.

Harry had went to a nearby bar that day, full of sadness and anger.
That's when he met Blaise.

He and Blaise drank together that night and fucked.

As much as Harry wanted to feel something? He didnt.
Blaise was good in bed, no doubt.
But that was all he was... And all he could be.

A distraction.
A toy which you get when you don't get the real one.
But Harry didn't want to see Dracos face again. But he kind of knew that he did.
He hated Draco as strongly as h loved Draco.

Harry brokedown often whenever he thought about him.
About how he- nevermind.

He never liked thinking about that night. That week or even that year.

It. Was. Ugly.

"Harry! Its time!" Hermione called, pulling Harry out of his trip to memory lane.
"Oh it's time alright." Harryimbled under his breath knowing he was going to dread this.

He didn't love Blaise.
But when he'd spent so many nights with Harry and as days had turned into weeks and then into months? Harry realised that Blaise was the best kind of distraction.

So when after almost a year, Blaise had proposed? He said yes.
Even though he never wanted to.

Harry wiped his tears that had escaped , he stood tall, and walked himself down the isle.

It was safe to say that Harry didn't feel even a shutter of butterflies.
How could he? The person he wanted was the person he hated and the person he loved.
How is someone supposed to go through that?
The kind of heartache you feel when you believe the person you love died only to realise later that not only he didn't die, but he left.
Left because he didn't love you.

Harry hadn't realised how clouded his mind was until he heard a loud voice.

"I OBJECT!"
He knew that voice.
He fucking knew it.
He know who that voice belonged to, but he didn't want to believe it.
Just as Harry mustered the courage of looking in the direction of where the voice came from, one of the two kids who had been fighting over a stuffed toy, threw the toy towers the torch that had been lit, which was close to the courtans and nets that qasused to decorate the atlar, a fire started.

No one had realised at first but when Harry had almost turned his head, someone shouted, "Fire!"
Harry's eyes had instantly darted towards the fire that was right behind Blaise.
Harry being the martyr he was, pushed Blaise out of the way, and h help the priest too, but when he tried to run, the smoke had been too much, Harry started coughing he tried running but the boards and decorations had fallen from the top and he was stuck.
Harry was encircled in fire.
And he could feel the oxygen running out.

The last thing he felt were strong arms chanting his name as he fell unconcious.

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Ten minutes before.
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Draco had not believed it when he saw the daliy prophet.