6
Harry opens his eyes.
He's less enthusiastic about it today, but he picks up the paper at the foot of his bed.
"I do not keep a hidden catalog,
Of wrong deeds done unto me.
Nor an album of people who hurt me;
So, remind me why I feel a twinge of ache
Whenever I see a picture of your face,
Or hear a whisper of your name."
-Diwa
He wants to skip again, but he knows he shouldn't. So he shoves the note under the pillow, drags himself up, sighing heavily as his feet touch the cold ground, and finds that his roommates are still in the room.
Sleeping.
Harry casts a Tempus, and sighs when he is notified that it is five in the morning.
He throws on some clothes, not really caring what he's wearing, and heads down to the Great Hall.
When he enters the room, he finds that only two other people are in there.
Ron and Draco.
Draco is sitting at the Slytherin table, and Ron is leaning against it, spitting bitter words that Harry can't hear.
"What's going on?" he asks cautiously.
Ron spins around with a bright grin. "Hey, Harry!"
"Hi," Harry responds shortly. "What's going on? Why are you yelling at Draco?"
Ron's smile drops. "Why are you calling him Draco?"
"Isn't that his name?" Harry turns, worriedly, to the blonde boy. "Draco is your name, right? I don't want to be saying the wrong thing."
"Draco is my name," the blonde says with a sort of smirk.
Ron glares. "No matter. Harry, you eating?"
"Erm. Yeah." Confused, Harry follows Ron to the Gryffindor table.
Is it his imagination, or does Draco look disappointed?
*************************
When Harry sits down in Potions, Draco holds out a piece of paper without a word.
"What is this?" Harry asks, taking the paper and scanning it.
"The Potions essay you missed yesterday," Draco responds shortly, turning to his Potion.
"Thank you."
Draco nods once, and they don't talk anymore for the rest of class.
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