Blinded by the Walls | Dramione

Warmth Cures Losses

"I know this might seem a bit personal, but somehow I don't feel weird sharing this with you," he paused, while inhaling some smoke, "I've never felt warmth... It's stupid."

"I don't think it is," Malfoy paused, "You can tell me."

"I feel like nobody really likes me, and usually I don't mind. I always find things to do to distract myself from it, but sometimes I feel it so strongly. For instance, today. Even if nobody directly told me that they hated me or don't like having me around, I can feel it," Neville passed him the joint, "I noticed that people never really listen to me when I talk. They're always occupied with something else. They're either drawing, looking elsewhere, or seem distracted. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe talking about plants or astrology isn't interesting and that it's not about them not listening but more of what I'm talking about...but, it's just... Can I have a hit?" Malfoy passed him the joint, "I usually always try to talk about things I know others are interested in, but then I feel like I'm only living to please others, and it's fucked up when they still don't listen so I don't know what to do."

Our Slytherin knew that feeling all too well, even though his situation was worse. Even the simple gesture of smiling earned him death threats or was enough to get him kicked out of class. Draco walked around feeling constantly limited. He had an ocean's worth of thoughts but could only express them to the degree where they could fill a tiny plastic cup's worth. If he spilled even an extra drop, the world would go ballistic on him. The only person he could share at least half of the cruel ocean of thoughts in him was Theo and Granger, a quarter. There was his mother too of course, but he never really shared anything with her through words. They always had a more distinct connection, where a simple exchange of looks could share the entirety of their inner conflict with each other.

But everyone had their limit of how much they could take from the outside world and he could see that this was Neville's, "I'll listen."

Two very simple words, but they meant so much to our lost Gryffindor. It's always the ones we least expect, "You don't have to. I know you have bigger worries than my stupid feelings."

Draco looked at the sky, "What could be said of a person's character if Venus is in Gemini?"

Neville smiled at him. Draco certainly became good at making people go on their lengthy tirades.

...

Theo nervously waited in front of Harry's door. He didn't know how to present the cookies to him. All the ways he had come up with seemed cringe to death. Like how was he going to hand him the cookies? It seemed impossible. He wished that grown-ups still believed in Santa so that he could just leave it in front of his door and write "from Santa" on the packaging. He also thought of just leaving it there in a box, but he knew that Harry would be suspicious about it and probably not eat it since he faced quite an amount of people wanting to kill or poison him. It would be rather funny if after avoiding every possible killing machine sent his way, the 'Boy Who Lived' died by an innocent poisoned cookie. Now that would be a fucking tragedy. But why was it also the only way Theo could imagine Harry dying? Even in most of history the greatest warriors always died because of the dumbest reasons.

Fuck it.

He knocked on that damn door.

He could feel sweat trickle down his forehead as he waited those ten seconds that felt like fifty-five lifetimes.

"Theo?" Harry opened the door, with wet hair, only a pair of shorts, and a naked upper body. Theo quickly looked at the side and threw the cookies at his chest before walking out of there like a mom who was trying to shed a couple of pounds by walking as if she was running, "Theo, where are you going?"