The bathroom on the third floor was the one place he went to when his friends, or Quidditch, or his entire life became too much. It was a sanctuary of sorts, to him at least.
He swung the large wooden door open, prepared to go and sit on one of the porcelain sinks and think. It was, after all, the perfect place to do so. Not many people came up since Moaning Myrtle had invaded this floor's boy's lavatory. In fact, he was the only one he knew who had actually kept using the room like normal, but that was probably because Myrtle usually left him alone if he explained why he wanted to be left. So, he was good and ready to have a long thinking session.
What he wasn't prepared for, however, was to hear another boy in the bathroom. Another boy crying. Perplexed and stunned, he willed himself to round the corner so he could get a better view of the boy who was obviously trying to stop his tears. From the back, he could only make out two things, but those details paired with the tone of the sobs gave away the mysterious character, even without him having to speak.
He had a thin, delicate, yet muscular Quidditch build paired with platinum blond hair. It was none other than-
"Potter?!" he stuttered, his voice cracking and alarmed. The boy quickly swept the back of his hand across his tear-stained face, poorly attempting to hide the evidence that he'd cried. It took a mere moment for the boy to bounce back.
"What, you've resorted to following me round now, Potter?" The tone was harsh, like usual, but Harry could still sense the previous anguish and despair the boy expressed. Instead of retaliating, he felt his features melt into a more sympathetic expression.
"Why were you crying?" he murmured softly. As this was not what the other was expecting, he blinked his cold steel eyes before realizing that he was showing an emotion other than superiority.
"Yeah, right Potter," he growled, pushing past the raven haired teen, "Like you would care." And with that the bathroom door swung open, leaving a baffled Harry Potter with even MORE to think about.
"Harry, where've you been?" asked Hermione, looking over the top of her newest text. The Great Hall was filled with the happy buzzing chatter of the students who occupied the long wooden benches. Harry sank onto the seat next to Ron, who sat across from Hermione.
"Actually, 'Mione, I've just seen the most peculiar thing I think I'll ever see in my life," he stated airily, thinking more about the topic. The brunette arched a brow curiously, but after seeing Harry off in dream land she spoke once more.
"Oh? Care to deliberate, Harry?" Snapping out of his concentration, he smiled sheepishly.
"Yeah, Harry, you seem awful put off. What's the matter with you?" questioned Ron, around a mouth full of food.
"Well," Harry took a deep breath here, creating suspense for his companions, "I just witnessed Draco Malfoy, crying in the third floor bathroom. " Time seemed to freeze as Ron and Hermione stared, opened mouthed at their friend.
Suddenly, as if someone had hit the play button on their lives', Ron cackled loudly while Hermione was desperately trying to hide her giggles.
"Oh my GOD, mate! What smoke are you cracking?" The red head was now clutching his stomach while previously orange pumpkin juice poured from his nose. Harry arched an eyebrow, but Hermione responded for him through her giggles.
"M-muggle expression, H-harry," she snorted, "Honestly though, you could have just said you didn't want to talk about it. You didn't have to lie." Her smile was stretched out across her face, cheeks flushed red from her restrained laughter.
"No-but, I- oh, never mind…." Harry stuttered. He knew that neither of them would believe him, so he gave up before he wasted his breath. But he knew, that sometime tonight, the very fact that he'd seen Malfoy show any emotion would keep him up.