Hate You || Drarry

4 Stuck

Harry had never felt so agitated in his life like this before. There are several factors that make him nervous or have the urge to walk around in circles. First, when he's waiting for his grades and receives lower than Exceeds Expectations where he would make Hermione disappointed of him and force him to add an extra hour to his study time. And second, when a witch or wizard is in trouble, no matter who they were, as long as Harry saw the trouble himself or whatever-it-is, he wouldn't be able to stop seeking for a long-term solution.

And Draco Malfoy's case wasn't any different from the second factor he just mentioned. The need for Harry to talk to him about what he witnessed in the Wing filled his mind and couldn't stop thinking of it. It wasn't his business, somehow, but then – what was that? Why was Draco Malfoy drenched in his own blood? Was his theory right about the suicide attempt or not? Harry wanted to find out, but not exactly knowing the method to use since this is a very sensitive topic to touch – very, very personal. Harry wasn't exactly a complete sod to harass Malfoy for answers about that ("Malfoy, did you just attempted suicide?" he tried imagining but that would probably lead to a battle better than what happened between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald in 1945). But in any way, he knew Malfoy wouldn't tolerate him, if ever he knew Harry was creating an idea to find him out. 

Yesterday he had told all of the story of finding Malfoy to Ron and Hermione without blinking out of panic once he got out of the Wing. They listened intently, gasping in the right moment, and just like him, they were as curious and suspicious as he was, and Harry supposed that him being not the only one thinking of it indicated he was perfectly normal to think and feel in such a way.

Sighing, Harry continued to focus on his A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration book in the library with Ron and Hermione, solemnly having their head down as if praying in their own books. Harry hoped he could do the same, but the twists and turns of his stomach prevented him from doing so. He was hungry, that is, but then again, he skipped his lunch thirty minutes ago and went with his friends to use their remaining lunch time in the library for their fourth period's test. Annoyingly, his stomach made a loud noise, resulting in numerous heads turning his way, getting soft chuckles by it.

"Oh no…" said startled Ron. "Bloody hell I didn't notice you didn't eat at all."

It was understandable. Ron has his own grades to worry about. Harry felt like a bother rather than important. "I'm just not in the mood," said Harry.

"What? When was eating not making anyone in the mood?" gasped Ron. He was right.

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Go to the Hall, Harry. We'll be waiting for you here," Hermione drew without breaking eye contact with the book. "And please, it's obvious who you're thinking of. We have a test in a few minutes, tut tut! Let's talk about him later."

Harry reddened and snapped, "It's – it's not Malfoy!" then carried on gaping to his chair. It wasn't a shocking news that he was easy to read by her with just a scan of her eyes. "It's… something – but – but not Draco Malfoy. Plus I'm not hungry." 

He was bad at lying too.

"You better be not thinking Malfoy!" said Ron. "Pointy git's been nothing but trouble to you lately. He wouldn't be able to Hex you now – 'cause, you know, he'd feel indebted about you helping him in the bathroom."

Hermione shushed them quietly, and they returned a hundred percent to their books and not anymore in the mood to talk of personal things in the vicinity of the library aside from exchange of whispered questions about their book. Harry thought that was fine since it was a public place where students could hide behind a shelf and overhear everything without effort.