Hate You || Drarry

3 An Incident

The weekend had quickly passed by and Harry did his best to distract himself from all the silliest of things that happened to him last Saturday night. He did all his homework, surprisingly, without the constant blabbering of Hermione's usual orders, he brewed his failed concoction for Potion's class over and over again until Snape was satisfied and had read his test reviewers for Charms and Transfiguration until he fell asleep on his desk in the dormitory at three am.

Tuesday morning arrived and his face could already match the paleness of a pasty-skinned vampire, the bags under his eyes were comparable to the size of Hagrid's thumbprint. He walked down the Great Hall with tired, snail-like footsteps, looked for Ron and Hermione's usual spot and sat between them, burying his face on the table like his body was the heaviest thing he was carrying. Ron, who was first to greet him, nudged him his breakfast bowl and Hermione next, pouring him a glass of choco milk.

"Harry – " Hermione started but Harry stopped her sentence immediately by raising his index finger. He knew what she has about to say about what happened last Saturday night, and he didn't want to hear any of it, from anyone at all who attempts to remind him.

"'Mione, I'm honestly fine," said Harry, but truth be told in his mind that he was not remotely close to being fine. His Quidditch teammates were outright being too overly-worried of him and offered him to sit down as he guides their practice at the Pitch. Harry found that insulting as their captain.

"We don't think you're fine. You skipped dinner last night again, and I found you studying past bed time, that's so not you, Harry," said Ron who was carefully adding extra sugar to his croissant. Of course, Harry wasn't able to cover himself under the scrutiny of his best friends. They were always the one who found out everything first whenever something was bothering him.

Harry felt himself redden. He couldn't say that he skipped dinner because he wanted to avoid Malfoy and think of ways to cope from his usually-occuring nightmares, by all means not eating.

"Can't I study once in awhile?" defended Harry.

"Of course you can, mate – but you just exceeded Hermione's three hours of study time and that's not normal. I didn't think you fell asleep too. I think you passed out from hunger!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and swallowed a spoonful of his morning porridge, his other hand grasping his croissant nimbly. His stomach ached once the porridge reached his digestive system, growling for more food. He just realized he really was hungry he could eat a cow.

Ron and Hermione seemed to had gotten that Harry didn't want to be talked to for a while, so they didn't bother him further, minding their own food instead. Satisfied and thankful for the small consideration, Harry looked around for a second, guiltily – left and right, and saw no blond wandering about the hall to antagonize him or Hex him.

He suppose that was good, no student would be harmed by random Hexes that were originally meant for him. But knowing Malfoy, he never misses one of his breakfasts. He was strict with everything that he does, rules and Slytherin codes, and Harry found it odd. He really shouldn't be concerned about this, but he felt some uneasiness hanging on his stomach. Malfoy was prone to trouble, as much as Harry was he admits, and who knows if he might have been – or currently, in one again. There was a time he saved Malfoy from a couple of Ravenclaws who played with his breathing pattern to torture him in fifth year. That was too much, and so he acted about it immediately, and not because he had some serious Savior Complex. He didn't receive any thanks from Malfoy that time, but it was completely understandable since Harry was aware how much that helping affected Draco's ego.

Harry drew in a deep breath, shook his head and ate the rest of his porridge silently with a disconcerted chest.

***