I Don't Care

Chapter 13

As the world around him was slowly crumbling, Draco missed the feeling of warmth that embodied him when he woke up on Harry's shoulder. The rest of the weekend had been wonderful. Another storm had rolled in, so they spent their time until they needed to return to Hogwarts in their pyjamas, Draco finally feeling comfortable enough to lounge around Harry. Half of his long limbs were hanging off of the couch, but Harry still thought he looked regal, and teased him for it. Until Draco pushed him off the couch, accidentally of course.

Everything took a turn when Draco followed through and wrote that essay for muggle studies. Somehow, someone had gotten a hold of it, and soon copies of it were being distributed like fiendfyre. Of course, Draco would find out about it at breakfast, with Harry nowhere in sight. The muffin in his hand quickly dropped to the floor as he recognized his own handwriting being circulated, and snickers and stares were directed towards him.

Face burning, he glared at his professor, who cowered in fear.

"I-," she began.

"I'm dropping your foolish course," Draco spat through gritted teeth, turning on his heel and silencing the room with a look that would make both his father and Snape proud.

"Malfoy?," Harry asked, almost running into him outside of the portrait.

"Don't," Draco spat, elbowing his way inside, immediately locking himself up in his room, and cursing himself for feeling like he could open up like that without repercussions.

Harry knew the only place to get answers was the Great Hall. Steeling himself, shoulders set back, he walked into one of the last places he wanted to be. Wordlessly, Hermione slid him the copy of the parchment Draco had submitted.

"The Muggle Experience, by Draco Malfoy.

As someone who has always been fully immersed in pureblood culture and has rarely left the wizarding world, I wasn't sure what to expect when I received the offer to 'spend a weekend living like muggles.' I have always prided myself on hard work, but after a wrestling match with a fitted sheet on the first night, I found myself very humbled. I understand how pretentious this makes me sound, but we had house elves, so I never had to worry about cooking, cleaning, laundry, or even shopping for groceries. I hadn't given any thought to how people without access to house elves or magic would have to do all of these tasks themselves.

The highlight of my weekend, perhaps the highlight of the past few years, was taking my first trip to the cinema. As someone who's past few years can be easily classified under the horror genre, I was skeptical at first by the suggestion of watching a horror film as my first exposure to this part of the muggle world. Of course, I hid behind sarcasm and snarky remarks about snacks to hide my discomfort, and off we went. It's a nice tradition that the muggles have, watching new films together in the same room as strangers and sharing their reactions.

Who would have known that I would be finding comfort in a movie called 'A Nightmare on Elm Street'? Freddy Krueger is a force to be reckoned with, as seen throughout his franchise, but as someone who lived with a psychopath in both their home and in their head, I was reminded that things can always be worse by the things pictured in the film. When all else fails, we have the luxury of dreamless sleep to keep our own personal horrors from seeping into our dreams. Others are not so lucky.

Freddy invades the dreams of children, making their parents pay for their crimes against him by killing and torturing their children. He becomes more powerful as word of his name and his actions spread, feeding off of the fear of those weaker than him. Adults are too afraid to speak of him and his actions, and I couldn't help but to make connections to my own experiences with t̶h̶e̶ ̶D̶a̶r̶k̶ ̶L̶o̶r̶d̶ Voldemort living in my own home.