Harry
On the Hogwarts Express I saw Malfoy sitting with Crab and Goyle but he seemed distant, empty. Like he was in a different place. Maybe he was remembering how he had a family. The thought was bitter and cruel, it wasn’t Draco’s fault that Lord Voldemort killed my family, it was his dad’s fault for helping him. I shouldn’t blame Draco for what his father did. But, he was so awful to Hermione, Ron, and I. He hates Hermione because of her parents, he hates me because I rejected his help, and Ron either because of his parents, because he’s friends with us, or because he’s a Gryffindor. “Pottah what’re you staying at?” Draco asks, suddenly in front of me.
“Oh, nothing much.” I responded.
I could see the way his jaw tightened, his hands turning into fists, and then in his eyes resignation and something dangerously close to hurt. As quickly as his reactions showed they disappeared turning back into his cold detached stare. “I could say the same Potter.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked back to his friends.
“Harry where have you been?!” Hermione asked me.
“Having a heart to heart with Draco.” I say sarcastically.
Distantly I could hear Hermione and Ron asking me questions but I couldn’t focus on the words. The rest of the way to Hogwarts I was distracted. My thoughts circling back to the way Draco had looked so empty, like he didn’t even have an ounce of emotion. It bothered me more than I’d like to admit. I’d seen that look on too many faces on the news, people accused of terrible things, people who had lost someone, people who didn’t have hope left in humanity. The cycle just kept repeating taking lives constantly, consuming them, and making people into shells of themselves until its insatiable hunger claimed another life. Fuck, I’d felt its cold claws dig into my chest, I still do but not as deep as they used to be. But the look on Draco’s face was different from depression it was just unfeeling like he didn’t even have any more pain, sadness, hope, joy, or fear left. He was just empty. Draco Malfoy was like a puzzle I couldn’t figure out, and it was driving me insane.
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At midnight I found myself sneaking out of the Slytherin common room and into one of my quiet places. This one was my favorite. It was hidden behind a stone wall no one thought to look behind, except me, I’d thought to look behind it. I knew that only one other person knew about this spot and that was Dumbledore. Dumbledore had walked in while I was lying on the stone bench. He told me about when he was seventeen and found this alcove and how it had become his refuge from the world, a little like how it is for me. The memory makes me smile but it quickly fades. The silence I had so carefully crafted by blocking the thoughts that roared in my head when I was alone, broke after ten minutes, the thoughts spilling in drowning me in the tidal waves they brought. His father’s voice being the loudest “You’ll never be anything. You’re a pathetic waste of space. You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Disgusting. Dumb. You’ll never be loved. Never be happy. Everyone hates you. You’re not worth the time and effort to be with someone who loves you. Your mother and I regret you. Face the music Draco you’ll be a death eater just like me.” And then Potter’s voice cut in “Oh, nothing much.” My fathers and Potter’s words ring in my head everything I feared, everything that was true. I would never be loved, I was a disgrace to the Malfoy name, a waste of space, I was everything my thoughts had just told me. Everything except me being a death eater. I would do everything I could to stop it from happening.
I felt the tears on my face they were warm and almost comforting, almost human, but my emotions still felt distant, like they were clouds, there and gone in a matter of seconds or minutes, sometimes If I got lucky hours. This was not the case. It was a quick surge but then gone. Back to practically not existing. While the feelings were gone I couldn’t stop crying, my shoulders shaking. “You’ll never be anything. You’re a pathetic waste of space. You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Disgusting. Dumb. You’ll never be loved. Never be happy. Everyone hates you. You’re not worth the time and effort to be with someone who loves you. Your mother and I regret you. You’re not allowed to feel. You’ll always be alone. Your feelings are wrong. Face the music Draco you’ll be a death eater just like me.” Then Potter’s voice cuts in “Oh, nothing much.” The thoughts echoed in My mind. My father’s voice becoming even crueler each time I heard it in my head. My father and my mother had actually said the second to last thought. That my feelings are wrong. The tears poured faster now the ache in my chest amplifying with each second that goes by.
“Shut up, You’re wrong. I’ll never be like you.” I hissed into the quiet of the alcove. Still crying, still hurting, still broken, still unfeeling.
Harry
I couldn’t sleep. I kept picturing Draco’s face from the train, the way it was so empty, unfeeling, like he didn’t have emotions. So this is how I found myself wondering in the courtyard and sitting on a tree branch. Even though I’m fifteen I still felt safer, calmer, and more peaceful when I was high above people, where I could let the mask I so carefully crafted slip even if it was just for a few minutes. Everyone wanted me to be perfect. The boy who lived, a golden boy, a poster child, the kid who never gets angry, Harry Potter the boy with the perfect life, a family who loved him and kept him safe, who fed him regularly. If only they knew. I let out a mirthless laugh and whispered “If anyone here could see what really happened at home they would insist that I stay at Hogwarts all year long.” Another mirthless laugh escaped me louder this time but still so quiet, so… broken. No one was on my side now. The only people who might give two shits about my wellbeing were too busy secretly loving two Slytherins.
Then I heard it, deep ragged breaths, the wrestling of a cloak, so soft I thought it was my imagination. But then, I heard the crying and the whisper “Shut up, you’re wrong. I’ll never be like you.” My head snapped up. Someone else was there. My mask slipped back on instantly. I listened intently trying to find where the voice came from, then it came again “Shut up, you’re wrong. I’ll never be like you.” Then I found it. The voice was coming from behind a stone wall covered in flowering vines. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t be sure it sounded so broken, maybe that’s why it was so familiar. I was used to hearing people talk in broken voices. I climbed down the tree walking over to the wall, looking for hand and foot holds. When I found a path up the wall I started climbing. Focusing on what was in front of me, what I could reach, not what lay beneath me. Without the moon it was dark I couldn’t see very well but I didn’t die. When I reached the top I jumped down landing with a grace I didn’t know I could manage. When I looked around there was a small weeping willow and next to that there was a stone bench, but no one was around. I swore the voice came from this alcove.
Draco
Harry Potter of all people was the one who scaled and jumped over the wall. When I heard him climbing I scrambled into the branches of the willow hidden in the dark he couldn’t see me. At least I hoped he couldn’t see me. Then his voice called out, “Hey, are you okay?” Then he whispered “Are you even here?”
“Hi.” I whispered voice broken and shaking. “I’m fine thanks for asking you can go now.”
“Are you one of the new students?” He asks, giving me an out.
“Yeah, goodbye mystery boy.” I said.
“Goodbye, broken boy.” He called back as he scaled back up and over. I climbed out of the tree and walked back to the bench. Lying down I stared up at the moonless sky I noticed how the stars looked like specks of paint flicked onto a black backdrop. So small, insignificant, most of them nameless. Like me. Most unwanted, just there for people to tell stories about.
Harry
I hadn’t jumped back down I hid beneath the lip of the wall waiting for broken boy to come out from the tree. Then I heard it the shuffling of his cloak as he laid down on the bench. Then I jumped over again. In the dark broken boy looked like he had dark hair and was about five inches taller than me. He jumped when I landed on the ground again. “Hey, do you want to talk?” I ask him gently. Before I could process what was happening I was lying on the ground. Broken boy had ran past me, nocking into my shoulder and sending me tumbling.
By the time I was able to stand up he was already at the top of the wall and he looked back and called “Goodbye, mystery boy.” Then he was gone. I didn’t get a good look at him but something was vaguely familiar about him.
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