Golden Thread Of Trust

Golden Thread Of Trust

Chapter 9: A Soul Is Crying Out

'I wonder if Harry is avoiding me on purpose?' Draco thought when he sat in the library on Sunday evening. He and Harry usually spent the Sundays together, but he hadn't seen Harry, except in the Great Hall at meals, since that peculiar incident by the lake. He was rather hurt by Harry's strange behaviour; just running off like that and then avoiding him. Was it something he had said? Well, it was getting late, and he had lessons in the morning. Disappointed, he gathered his things and left.

They didn't have any lessons together on Mondays, and Draco spent all day trying to ignore that sinking feeling in his stomach. He missed Harry. He missed Harry like hell, not that he would admit that, of course. He was beginning to worry now. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

When Draco left the Great Hall after dinner, he bumped into Harry, who was dressed in his scarlet Quidditch robes. Harry didn't look at him, and he acted as if he was going to pass Draco by without even acknowledging him.

"Harry?" asked Draco incredulously.

Harry turned around with a strange expression on his face.

"Oh. Hi. Listen, I've got to go. I'm already late for Quidditch practice."

And with that he was gone. Draco suppressed a sudden urge to swear. Harry clearly didn't want to spend time with him, Quidditch practice or not. Harry seemed almost... nervous. Draco felt a flash of panic. He couldn't have found out, could he? No, that was impossible. Draco was very good at hiding his true feelings. He started to walk back to his dormitory. True, he was good at hiding his feelings, but that didn't mean he didn't have any. On the contrary, his feelings were often very intense. When he was happy he was almost giddy. When he was sad he was miserable. Those he disliked he despised, and those he respected had his undying loyalty, until the truth was cruelly facing him, as in the case of his father. He was loyal until it was obvious that he'd rather die than do what his father expected of him. He had changed his loyalties then. But not until then. Contrary to popular belief, he was no turncoat, and had never been one. What can a child do but trust his own father? He had put his trust in the wrong person then. Did he just do the same mistake with Harry? He suddenly felt very cold.

Next morning in Double Potions, Draco sat in the back of the classroom, waiting for Harry. He had a suspicion that Harry would choose another seat, but Draco still hoped that he was just imagining things. Watching the door anxiously, he saw that Harry was the last person to enter. He didn't look in Draco's direction, but chose a seat next to Longbottom in the front. Draco flinched. 'He's choosing Longbottom over me as a Potions partner?' That stung. He stared intently at Harry's back.

'What the hell is going on in his head?'

Harry was sweating, and his heart was beating faster in his chest. Just being in the same room as Draco did this to him. He really had to restrain himself from staring at the boy he was so attracted to. He really missed Draco, but being near him was unbearable. All the time he had to fight urges to jump the blond Slytherin and kiss him, and... He abruptly put an end to that train of thought. He simply had to stay away until this passed. There was no other option. Draco must never know.

Draco thought he was going mad. He couldn’t figure it out, it didn’t matter how many times he tried. Why did Harry push him away? There was just one way to find out; he had to ask Harry. They were friends, and friends were supposed to be able to talk about anything, right? He started to gather courage.

Harry sat in the back of the library with his back to the door, and didn't see when Draco entered. He jumped when the lithe blond slid into a chair opposite him, and cursed under his breath.

'Why won't he just stay away from me? This will be so difficult...'

He braced himself.

"What do you want?" he asked acidly.

"Harry, why are you avoiding me?"

"None of your business, Malfoy. Just leave me alone, will you?"

He saw the look of hurt and rejection on Draco's face before he concealed his emotions. His face was now an impenetrable mask, showing nothing but indifference. Harry stood up and left, fighting back tears, and feeling his heart breaking.

'I'm so sorry, Draco,' he thought. 'I'm so sorry!'

But Draco would never know. He would never know.

The cold words echoed in Draco's mind, as he lay on his bed. Just leave me alone, will you? Leave me alone... Leave me alone... He still didn't understand.

'What did I do, Harry? Why won't you be my friend anymore? After everything we've gone through, after everything we know about each other... Why?'

They had been so close. Draco had been so happy, and now he was lonelier than he'd ever been in his entire life. He was miserable. Tears started to trickle down his pale cheeks. He rarely allowed himself to cry, but tonight his body couldn't contain all the sadness. They had shared so much. Draco had told him everything. Everything! Was Harry going to betray him now? He couldn't bear that.

'Please, not Harry. Anyone, but not Harry!'

Afterwards, Draco didn't remember much of the following week. He stumbled through it in a haze, concentrating on his studies and only that. He knew that he must have had Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Advanced Charms together with Harry, but he didn't remember seeing him. He firmly shut out any thoughts of his former friend. Only in the night he would think of Harry, bitterly realising that his infatuation with him was only growing stronger when he'd wanted it to end. He looked up at the night sky outside his window. A single star was visible. Draco allowed himself to be a little pathetic.

Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may,

I wish I might

Have the wish I wish tonight.

"Please give me Harry back," he whispered.

He could almost hear a mocking reply, in Harry's voice.

The stars won't grant your wishes,

Even though they shine so bright.

A million souls are crying out tonight.

But my heart is an ocean untouched by the wind,

I don't feel what you feel when I touch your skin...

It was Tuesday morning, and Harry's steps were reluctant as he approached the dungeons. He'd forgotten what his life used to be like before he and Draco became friends. He'd been so empty. It was the same way now, except that the emptiness was filled up with thoughts of one special person, someone he wanted, but couldn't have. Life was meaningless, classes were a waste of time, and Potions was a real nightmare. Snape was more vicious than ever. The last Potions lesson, when Harry had sat down next to Neville for the second time, Snape had been forced to pair Draco and Blaise Zabini together, and he didn't look too happy about that. He blamed Harry, of course, and punished him by taking points for the most ridiculous things. Harry didn't enjoy sitting next to Neville either. Neville was nice enough, but Harry had twice as much work trying to stop Neville from making fatal mistakes. But the most important reason was that Draco was there. Draco never even noticed him anymore. This was getting more complicated than Harry had originally planned.

He sat down next to Neville, trying to concentrate on the Potions Master, but his eyes were drawn to Draco. He watched the other boy for a while. Draco seemed to be completely absorbed by Snape's, in Harry's opinion boring lecture, but somehow he noticed that someone was watching him, and turned around. Their eyes met, and Harry's heart leaped. Suddenly he realised that he was staring and wrenched his gaze away. The exchange didn't go unnoticed. Hermione observed Harry's facial expression closely, his emotions clearly displayed for everyone to see. This confirmed that Harry actually was attracted to Malfoy, but it didn't explain why they'd stopped talking to each other, or why Harry was in such a bad mood. She frowned. If Malfoy was hurting Harry, she would...

She wasn't the only one who could put two and two together, though. When Draco turned around Blaise followed his gaze and saw the looks they gave each other. Disgusted, he turned away, and no one knew that he had seen anything. He didn't forget it, though.

Harry sat in Divination, coughing slightly from the heavy incense in the air, and feeling more and more desperate. Professor Trelawney had decided to surprise them with a small test on Astrology today, and Harry didn't feel very inspired. They were supposed to make a detailed horoscope for the following day, and then write a journal tomorrow evening to see if their predictions were correct. He had to try, guessing wouldn't do, not on a test. What was it that Draco had said? Just use your intuition. How does one do that, exactly? Crap. Everyone's got intuition. Well, it was worth a try. He finished the star chart and started the interpretations.

'Hmm... Mercury... Could it be...? Yes, maybe, I'll write that down.'

He was actually having quite fun when he finished and looked down on what he had written.

'Seems like there will be loneliness – hah, that figures, I'm always lonely – someone will prove to be loyal – hey, doesn't that contradict the loneliness thing? – I will have a realisation, something connected to a previous decision. And... someone dear to me will have a serious accident. I don't like the sound of that. Argh, what am I thinking? I don't actually believe in this rubbish!'

He handed in his test to Professor Trelawney.

"Very good, Harry!" she said, quickly reading through his horoscope.

'Well, I bet she liked that accident stuff,' Harry thought.

"I expect a journal from you on Thursday, then," she said.

"Do I have to write down everything?" Harry asked. He sure didn't want to tell a professor everything that happened in his life.

"Try to write as much as you can, Harry. Sometimes you don't realise until afterwards what the stars tried to tell you."

In spite of Harry's own reassurances that he didn't believe in his own prediction, he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive, and he didn't look forward to tomorrow. He tried to shake off the feeling when Ron climbed down the ladder, complaining about the test.

"I can't believe it! Giving us a test, just like that! Blimey, if any of my predictions come true it's a bloody miracle!"

Harry smiled at the redhead.

"What did you write?"

Ron recounted a long list of completely ridiculous things that he clearly had made up. Harry tried to restrain himself from laughing out loud.

"You know, Ron; you could have written something easy, like 'My day will be very romantic, and I will be working very hard in classes' or something. It will be much harder for you to be the winner of Witch Weekly's Cutest Redhead Award, especially since you're not nominated."

"Harry, don't be so reasonable!"

That fateful day, Draco walked down a corridor on the second floor, trying hard to concentrate on his Transfigurations essay that was due next week. He was not thinking of someone with untidy, jet-black hair, full lips, strong jaw and amazing green eyes. Not officially, anyway. He was quite absent-minded. If he had been in full possession of all his faculties, he would have turned around when he heard footsteps approaching quickly from behind. He wouldn't have walked so close to the staircase; he had learned that lesson years ago. But unfortunately he did. He barely had the time to register a hard shove in the back and feel a flash of panic as he fell, before he mercifully passed out, his body protecting him from the pain.

At the same time Harry approached that very staircase from the other direction. He ran across Blaise Zabini who looked suspiciously smug. Harry ignored him, but when the Slytherin had walked past Harry he said something that gave Harry a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Hey, Potter! There's a lot of commotion in the hall downstairs. Maybe you should go and have a look?"

Harry reached the staircase and looked down. A crowd had gathered at the foot of the stairs, and they mumbled excitedly among themselves.

'Oh gods! I don't want to know. I really don't want to know,' Harry thought, trying to see what they were looking at. He reached the middle of the staircase and he thought he could see someone lying sprawled on the floor. Harry could hardly breathe by now. He could hear fragments of what people were saying.

"Is he dead?"

"No, look, he's breathing..."

"...anyone see it happen?"

"That looks pretty nasty, wonder how he..."

"Oh my God!"

And then Harry saw him, and it felt like he was struck by lightning.

'Oh no, not him. Gods, not him!'

He knew that thinking like that was useless, and he hurried forward, looking for a way to help. He knelt beside Draco and saw with his own eyes that he was indeed breathing, even though the rise and fall of his chest was barely visible. Draco looked even paler than usual, and his neck lay in an unnatural angle. It really pained Harry to see him hurt like that. Someone reached out for Draco.

"No, don't touch him!" Harry interrupted. "I think his neck might be broken, don't move him. Has anyone summoned Madam Pomfrey?"

The question answered itself as the medi-witch pushed through the crowd and proceeded to work. With a simple fixating charm on Draco's neck she solved that particular problem. She conjured a stretcher, put Draco on it and levitated him to Hospital Wing. Harry considered following her, but decided that he would only be in her way. Glancing up at the marble staircase he thought about that smug look on Zabini's face.

'He's responsible for this!' Harry thought. 'He almost killed Draco! He's...' The world suddenly came to a halt as Harry realised the full implications of this.

'It's my fault! Zabini did this to him because of his friendship with me, and I wasn't even there to protect him when he needed me! What have I done!'

Suddenly he realised how stupid he had been.

'Pushing him away, when all that meant something was his friendship! His friendship, and... Oh no, don't even think about it. How could I do that to him? I have to go and make up with him, but he will want to know why I did it, and what do I tell him? "I fell in love with you, but never mind; let's just be friends, all right?" '

He frowned, and at the same time he felt like crying, because now he knew what a terrible mistake he had made.