December, 2nd
Harry was up early for a Saturday morning, but actually it wasn’t so unusual for him. While he never had been one for sleeping in, ever since they had gone hunting horcruxes, almost one and a half years ago, Harry got used to waking up in the early hours of the morning. Regular sleep became a rare luxury, even if his rest wasn’t disturbed by unsettling memories or cruel made up images from his subconscious.
Even now, seven month after they’ve won the war and his personal reassurance of no hurting scar since then, his sleeping schedule was nowhere near normalising itself. The young adult did feel fatigued as of late, but he contributed it more to the teacher’s and Hermione’s homework slavery, than to the lack of proper sleep. At least, thanks to his friend, he managed to keep up with the workload. Mostly.
So, whenever he woke up while his dorm-mates still enjoyed the sleep of the righteous, he used the extra time to take a long hot shower, go for a walk or laze in front of the fire in the common room. As ‘eighth’ years, they had been moved to an extra dorm, but were still part of Gryffindor tower which had been magically extended for the time being.
Dressed for the day the ravenette made his way down the stairs. Entering the common room he saw blithely dancing flames already occupying the fireplace, courtesy to the hardworking houseelves, but other than that, he was the only one there.
Flopping down in the comfortable armchair he sat in the night before, when he’d been losing phenomenally in chess against Ron, he noticed his school bag next to it and was promptly reminded of the unfinished potions essay he’s stuffed in it when they lost motivation and decided to start a game, or five. Groaning internally, Harry decided to ignore it for now and instead stared into the warming, comforting fire, letting his mind wander to what he remembered of the dream he had.
Malfoy had been in it. They were on a broom, Harry piloting it and the blond sat behind him with his arms wrapped tightly around Harry’s waist. Malfoy had been shouting something, but Harry couldn’t understand a word because they were caught in a raging storm, though he didn’t remember to hear the howling wind that rendered them unable to move forward either. He just knew he couldn’t fall back, couldn’t give up fighting through the storm, because there was something terrible and dark behind them. Then, suddenly they were on a tower, standing at opposite walls and the blond was talking, but Harry still wasn’t able to hear anything, or didn’t remember what Malfoy had said in this dream. What had eventually woken him was the urging look in the Slytherin’s piercing silver eyes. The image still was in his head which Harry shook slightly, as if he could throw it out this way.
To distract himself he rummaged around in his bag and got the potions essay out. He reread the half-hearted beginning he’d written, but wasn’t in the mood to continue this now, so put the parchment away again. With a sigh he fell back into the chair, letting his arms fall over the arms rests.
In a few hours the last Quidditch game for this year was going to be played; Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. If Gryffindor would be playing the team probably would have gotten up early and Harry could at least have someone to start a discussion about the upcoming game with, but as it was he decided to not get his hopes up. Though his spirits lifted when he thought that after the match the teams probably will put a hold on training for this year and the quidditch pitch could be free tomorrow for him to fly a few rounds with his firebolt. Those were his only opportunities, since he wasn’t on the team himself anymore. He’d started this at the beginning of term when he needed space or to clear his head, but once the quidditch season began the pitch was constantly booked for training when he had time left to fly.
After approximately another half hour of sitting around Harry came to the conclusion that Gryffindor tower indeed planned on sleeping in and got up to go to the great hall for breakfast.
As expected, there were already students sitting at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, even some at the Hufflepuff’s and Harry felt kind of singled out as the only Gryffindor at the long table. He sat down facing the other students, so he could see when someone entered the hall. Some of the other’s waved to him in greeting, amongst them Luna, before she continued to engage one of her fellow housemates in a discussion that probably had nothing to do with quidditch. His eyes automatically scanned the Slytherin table, but Malfoy wasn’t there
Harry took his time with eating some porridge, while the hall slowly started to fill with more students and some of the teachers and eventually he saw Ron and Hermione come through the door and head towards him.
“Good morning, Harry.” His female best friend said in greeting as she said down across from him, while her male counterpart took a seat next to her and only yawned widely. “How long have you been up already?”
Harry shrugged. “Not sure. An hour?” Probably longer. Hermione only nodded while Ron poured some pumpkin juice for his girlfriend and himself.
“You two gonna see the game later?” Harry asked.
“’course we are.” Ron finally decided to join the conversation. Apparently the mention of anything referring to quidditch was enough to get his spirits up. “Now we don’t play ourselves anymore it’s the next best thing, right? You’re coming too, aren’t you?”
“Sure.” Harry replied with a short smile and a nod, but actually didn’t feel much like watching quidditch today.
When Ron loaded his toast with ham and bacon Hermione and he started bickering about his eating habits, as has become their habit. And as it has become Harry’s habit during those moments, he started to tune them out. Realising they were in a kind of ‘couple-mood’ and starting to feel like an intruder, Harry quickly excused himself, since he had already finished his breakfast.
Maybe now someone would be in the common room to talk too, without having a privacy bubble around them. Harry felt really happy for his two best friends, granted, it took them long enough, but that didn’t change his impression of suddenly being a third wheel. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, so he rather left them alone when they acted all couple-like, even if it meant he’d end up alone.
On second thought he preferred this at the very moment and wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone, so he quickly changed his route and took the long walk back to the common room that led him past the room of requirement. He wouldn’t visit the room though, hadn’t tried since the war and didn’t plan on it anytime soon.
As he walked past the west tower that led up to the owlery, he saw something white-blond flash out of the corner of his eyes that let him pause. From where he stood he could see the beginning of the up going staircase, but nobody was there. Maybe it had just been a ghost who passed through the next wall? But it looked like…
Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he ever resisted his curiosity. With careful steps, unconsciously deciding to walk as silently as possible, he made his way over to the stairs. There he stopped for a moment and looked up, but since it was a spiral stair case, he couldn’t see further than the next turn.
Harry hadn’t been to the owlery since he returned to Hogwarts. He had not bought a new owl, because he still missed Hedwig and thought not even the best owl in the world could ever replace her. Also, he felt like sullying her sacrifice if he would get another one.
It wasn’t like he had many people to write to left anyway.
Even at the foot of the stairs it was already chilly from the cold winter wind that heedlessly blew through the windowless owlery. Harry hardly was dressed to venture outside during these temperatures, but he also wasn’t a wizard for nothing. Taking his wand out, he silently cast a warming charm and started to climb the stairs.
The image of an Auror on a secret mission flashed through his mind as Harry crept stealthily along the wall. Before he reached the top of the stairs he stopped, since he already could peer over the topmost step and indeed saw someone standing in the owlery with their back turned to him. Not daring to go further, in fear he could be seen if the person with the long black robe and white-blond hair would just turn around, he stood on the points of his toes and held his breath.
Of course he didn’t imagine Malfoy going to the owlery. The young man really stood there, apparently petting and silently talking to one of the birds that sat on a windowsill, while his hair and clothes were toyed with by the chilling winter air. Harry could see from his place that the bird, which was probably Malfoy’s eagle owl, took off, concluding that the Slytherin had sent a letter.
Then it suddenly happened; Malfoy turned around and Harry reacted instantly.
Throwing all attempts to be silent and unnoticed to the icy wind he turned and sprinted down the stairs, ran along the west corridor, past the room of requirement, but once he reached the corridor leading to Gryffindor tower he stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly feeling utterly foolish for running.
