My Paper Heart

MY PAPER HEART

Chapter Two:

Unexpected Sympathy

Draco tried to smooth his already impeccably smooth platinum hair as he watched Harry move about the table, his face still morbidly unhappy. Everything was ruined for Harry . . . and Draco was the cause of it. Something that Draco didn't feel very often crept into his system: remorse. But he looked away from the pained Harry, and he grimaced.

The feelings had been getting much too strong for Draco. It was like he couldn't breathe for the thought of Harry. Just the whisper of Harry's name and Draco would be peaceful, a mere glance from Harry and Draco would be happy. And Draco didn't like to be in love, anything past lust was too involved for Draco. Because he was afraid. Afraid of something true and pure.

As he sat there reminiscing, Draco felt something stir inside his chest, and it was as if he had decided on something. As the decision came to a conclusion, feelings of renewed possible joy were starting to infiltrate the teenage misery that had nestled so comfortably but painfully inside his heart. As Draco stood, his brain called out objections, as did his heart. Not wanting to be humiliated or rejected.

He stopped in the middle of straightening up and pulling his other leg out from under the table. And his head reeled and whirred. What to do, how to do it, when. The only thing that he was absolutely sure of was that it just needed to be done. Soon. Receiving odd looks from fellow Slytherins; half standing, half sitting, undecided and self shocked, Draco tried to concentrate.

Straddling the bench to think clearly, Draco noticed his peers trying to discreetly look at him but failing miserably at the cost of a half concentrated glare. His fear of rejection could plausibly prevent himself from doing what needed to be done. Somehow, he needed to beat his fear down, needed to control it.

"Draco, hey Draco!"

Looking up from the bench, Draco looked around for the owner of the voice and sitting on the opposite side of the table from him was Pansy Parkinson. He tried to sneer but he couldn't manage his maximum disgust.

"What'd you want, Parkinson?"

"Well, Draco," she stated primly, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he had used her surname, "I've noticed that you've seemed a bit preoccupied lately. And quite often, I've seen you look towards what I believe is the Gryffindor table. You know, I don't want you to get exiled from the other Slytherins and I know that you are aware that they, unlike me, aren't as accepting of people in love with mudbloods. Even though the thought of anyone being attracted to that smart arse Granger is vile."

Draco glanced over at the Gryffindors where Hermione was sitting with one of her textbooks propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice. In love with Granger? Ha.

Turning around again, he saw Pansy sitting with a smug look upon her face, waiting for Draco's reaction. His face twisted violently and disgustingly.

"Get out of here, Parkinson. You don't know what you're talking about and don't try to sound like you do."

Meaning for that to be her dismissal, Draco stared back down at grain of the bench, hoping to see the flurry of her leaving out of the edges of his eyes. But, sadly, his hopes were not granted and Pansy remained unfalteringly in her seat.

"Draco," she said, her voice brittle. "Listen, don't lose the . . . the Slytherin in you that has ruled your body since birth."

Giving Pansy a full glare, he turned his back on her, knowing that now she would definitely know that he wanted her gone from his sight. And she better leave. Pansy huffed irritably and stood, flouncing away. Draco heaved a great sigh of relief at her absence; the air always cleared when she was gone.

And so, Draco set about to make his plan to get back the one person he may really ever have loved.

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As the months passed, Draco plotted and Draco planned. Every single day, he feared that never again would he see Harry. Never again would Harry be glad to see him. All summer, he wallowed in depression and despair, thoughts of hopelessness constantly flitting across his brain, not a happy thought ever surfaced. Not that Draco could think of, anyway.

At the end of July all of his confidence had flown the coop, and that was another first sensation for Draco; Harry must bring all of the new emotions to him. But, as new emotions were brought round to a front, so were new thoughts, ideas and possible, plausible courses of actions. The gears begin to turn.

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Harry's final year at Hogwarts loomed up unexpectedly and his first thoughts upon entering the enchanting building were sadly thoughts of despair, still continued over from summer vacation. But, even as despair reigned his mind, the memories floated through the sickly and smothering fog to surface inside. All the way from the beginning of his very first year at Hogwarts until the disappointing end of his sixth. But, the recent year only brought the pain of Draco upon Harry again, no matter how he tried to prevent it.

He thought that being away with memories of Draco were the peak of pain that could ever exist, but being at Hogwarts, in the same exact building as him, merely increased the bar by leaps and bounds. And Harry was afraid that the pain would kill him, starting at his heart.

Catching the end of his foot upon the heel of his other, he flew to the floor. People felt Harry's force bump into them and they all stumbled forward, momentum carrying them to a painful fall upon the floor. Ron grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him up from the stone flooring of the old building.

"Watch it," he muttered inconspicuously into Harry's ear, as the confused and surprised young man brushed himself off.

People were looking around for the cause of the obstruction in the hallway, and Harry received several murderous, painful glances all around. He searched all their faces, afraid of what they were thinking. From one face to the next, they all looked at him with the air of surprised malevolence. Starting to panic, he scanned the crowd quickly, fearing. He'd never experience THIS before! But one face held sympathy and Harry's flitting eyes did a double take.

Draco.

Just seeming to be lost in the so-seemed apparition of Harry Potter, he smiled slightly, maybe reminiscently, at the chaos. Harry sputtered, trying to say Draco's name, but he couldn't; he lost himself in looking.

After almost three months of being constricted to memories and thoughts, Draco in reality himself, seemed unrealistic.

Moving away from the crowd, Draco slunk into the Great Hall, his once straight and high shoulders hung, sagging and low, and as he disappeared, Harry followed with his eyes. Now oblivious to the crowd, which had ceased the traffic jam, continuing once more in an unceasingly direct path to the Great Hall.

"Harry," Hermione said, nudging Harry, pushing him forward. "Let's go sit down. Go on, move."

Surging forward with the crowd, Ron and Hermione flanking his sides, Harry reached the Gryffindor table and sank into the seat. Sharing possibly exasperated glances, Ron and Hermione sat as well, Ron next to Harry, Hermione on his other side.

"He didn't even say anything to me."

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