Scared Potter? (Sequel - a Drarry Fanfiction)

Chapter 4 - 3:00 AM

Hi everyone. You know what I'm going to say. I want to apologize. Apologize for the wait, again. Lately my life has been quite messy. I lost my job months ago, and ever since I've been struggling with money. I also moved places, lost two pets short term, and decided to work on my mental health. I've been wanting to write, all the time, yet find it hard to write since my head is so clogged with shitty, random thoughts. So I'm sorry in advance if this chapter sucks. I promise, again, to make more. I'll try my hardest to update as fast as possible. I already have a third book in my head, and this one isn't even finished (barely started) yet xD Plz, someone give me a chill pill. Enjoy my babies. I took 348721946894621 hours to find a fitting giff again, yet couldn't find it. Darnit. Love you.

Wear a mask, wash your hands, be yourself, love yourself <3 You are worthy

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The rain was gushing through the trees of the forbidden forest. The sound, marvelous, breaking through the gaps of the walls - entering the castle. The wind, fighting to get through, bringing in a fresh breeze that curled Harry's brittle toes sticking out from under his bed sheets. Ronald was snoring wildly like a boar - seemingly shaking each and every bed inside their dorm. Harry couldn't sleep that night. His mind was clouded. Since Professor McGonagall threatened to expel Draco - if he wouldn't stop bullying the crap out of Harry - the platinum blonde appeared to have eased off. The familiar smirk had fade into absent glancing, and the snickering laughter distinguished into silenced words behind the back of a hand. Any contact between the two was now minimized, nearly down to zero, and it left Harry restless. Hungry. A mere, withering look was given today, and it did not ease the pain. It did not satisfy his needs.

Harry scooped his glasses off his cabinet and kicked off the sheets, crawling up to sit with his legs crossed - hands folding around his wrists. He wanted to feel again. His eyes drew towards the condensed window, following the drops of rain trailing down the glass on the other side. Did he feel it too? The pain? The miserable feeling of losing something that was never really there? He narrowed his eyes, snorting softly as his eyes filled up with water. Was it really never there? He got up from his bed, skipping the floorboards that tend to squeak, and tiptoed towards the door - placing his ear against the chilly surface. Would Hermione be up yet? He glanced over his shoulder, squeezing his eyes to check the time, but couldn't see.

"Fucking hell," he cursed under his breath - placing his hand on the doorhandle, yet couldn't find the strength to press it down. "Alright," he muttered to himself. "If I go out, what will I do?" He pressed his lips together, staring at the door as if it was supposed to answer him. "What will I do?"

He groaned softly, placing his head against the door as he closed his eyes. What was he going to do? It was about three in the morning. Everyone was asleep. His hand dropped after a while and he allowed his body to rest against the door, his fingertips running down the cold, iron nails that held the door into place. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, his voice breaking as he turned his body - his back sliding down against the door. His eyes boiled up with tears while he dug his nails into the flesh of his arms, scratching his skin to ease the pain - tears starting to gush down his cheeks.

"If I could tell you..."

Soft cries and gasps of breathe came and nausea began to rumble his stomach. Hogwarts no longer felt like home.

"Harry?"

Harry's lungs seemed to shut down. His hands sought for the edges of the wall - afraid he would fall; no matter the fact he was sitting. He looked up, wide-eyed, meeting hazy, blue eyes in the dark. "Ma-"

"Mad?" It was Ronald, sitting straight in his bed with his bushy red hair tangled up like a birds nest. "What are you mad about? Are you okay?"

Harry quickly got up on his feet, brushing the tears off his cheeks and wiping the dirt from under his nose. He meant to say Malfoy. Mad, alright.

"I-" he stammered, trying to make his way back to his bed- his legs barely cooperating. "I'm alright."

"You're not sleepwalking again, are you?"

Ron sat to the side of his bed, looking worried as Harry sat down on the bed as well. "Were you crying?" An awkward vibe drew around the ginger's face. You could see he wished he didn't just ask that.

"No, no I'm fine. I choked on some bertie bott's. I wanted to grab some water." Harry waved his hands around his face, shaking his head aggressively to sell his lies. "I wanted to grab some water, and then I tripped."

Ron raised his brows, ready to ask another question, but realized he wasn't really in for an answer. He was tired and he wanted to go back to bed. Harry knew whether he was fine or not. He was bloody Harry, for heaven's sake.

"Well," Ronald yawned as he got back to his own crib, nuzzling himself below his mother's-knitted bedspread. "Don't do that. You woke me up. Who the fuck eats them at midnight?"

Harry simply gaped at him, squinting his eyes, wondering how the fuck he could sell him this bullshit.

"Me?" he replied, questioning his own answer. What was he supposed to say?

"Lucky Neville didn't wake up. He's been humming himself to sleep ever since you fell..."

Harry was dumbfounded, still trying to gather his shit back together - knowing he'd just cried his eyes out.

"Mm," Ron mumbled as he turned onto his belly. "Breakfast..."

A soft, growling snore was produced - muffled by Ronald's pillow - and grew stronger at the minute. Harry still sat there, his eyes red and his arms folded around his body. He sighed, staring outside the window. 

"Fuck, I'm alone..."