After I had left the Three Broomsticks I ran all the way up to the Shrieking Shack, not stopping until I had found a way inside. Once there I made my way up the crumbling staircase and into one of the bedrooms upstairs. I lay down on the big four-poster bed, not at all concerned that the hangings were dusty and that the bed linen could do with a wash, if not five. This was the room in which I'd first met Sirius, and somehow I felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in the house. I felt safer.
Lying on the bed and staring up into the dark green canopy, I let the anger surge through me. I'd figured out early on that unless I spent some time by myself and let the anger run its course, I would blow up and someone would get hurt. So every time I got overly angry, I ran. My friends were used to it by now, and they knew that if they made me really angry, they would just have to leave me alone for a couple of hours until I cooled down, and then everything could be discussed and resolved. It had of course taken a while for them to get it, and Hermione had often made things worse by running after me when I tried to escape, but after a while I managed to stop her from worrying and since she left me alone with my anger she had ended up in the hospital a lot less.
Of course, that just makes me sound like some abusive husband, but it really wasn't my fault! When I was angry my magic coursed through me like balefire and I was often unable to control it. Things around me would explode and people would get hurt. That was in fact one of the reasons I ran in the first place, but when we were younger Hermione never understood that, so she went after me to do what she called 'some damage control'. It was a nice notion, but utterly futile. Which luckily, she soon came to see.
As my thoughts drifted from one thing to another, I soon felt the anger subside and I was left with a feeling of emptiness. I knew I should still be furious with Draco, but I couldn't manage to gather enough strength to care. Next to all the other problems in my life, Draco thinking me a girl really seemed rather trivial. What worried me more was that I had left him like I did. By telling him to 'fuck off', as I so eloquently had put it, had I rejected him? I didn't think so, but who knew with Veela? Would I ever be able to get truly angry with him at all, or would he see everything as a rejection? Hopefully he would understand that I didn't mean it, and if he didn't, I would have to go look for him. But not yet. I still wasn't quite finished being angry with him, and I had some crying left to do.
It was weird really, I'd never been one for tears, but since my birthday I had lost count of all the times I'd cried. Not for the first time, I wondered if maybe the transformation I'd gone though didn't only affect the physical side of me. I didn't know for sure of course, but that didn't change the facts; by hook or by crook, I'd changed over the last month. And not for the better either.
I was emotional, lovesick, soppy, insecure, and prone to blushing. A lot. It was no wonder Draco saw me as a girl, I bloody well acted like one! Soon I'd be wearing make-up and gushing over fashion magazines.
Oh Merlin, banish the though!
I hoped for the sake of wizardkind that if I ever went that far, someone would have the decency to kill me. Swiftly. It couldn't be good for the world to have a Harry Potter wearing pink nail polish prancing around. Pink nail polish with a matching purse, of course. Oh, the mental image!
Shuddering, I slipped down deeper into the cocoon I'd made of the covers and I almost didn't hear it when the door silently opened. Of course, the appearance of one blond Veela was a lot harder to miss than a door opening, especially when said Veela sat down next to me at the edge of the bed.
"Go'way." My voice sounded muffled even to my ears. The minute I'd seen him I had been so relieved he hadn't died from rejection that I'd started crying all over again. Which of course also made me angry with him again. Who was he to make me cry? So I'd buried myself even deeper down into the covers, something that made my voice almost inaudible.
"Not until you tell me what's wrong so that we can discuss it and you can stop being angry with me." Draco said softly, reaching out to stroke the top of my head, which was the only thing visible over the top of the covers. "Come on, love, tell me what's wrong."
"You treating me like a bloody girl, that's what's wrong!" I growled, abruptly sitting up to glare at the blond.
"You think I treat you like a girl?"
"Yes! You wouldn't even let me pay for myself!"
"Oh, Harry. Is that all? If it's so very important to you, then of course I will let you pay for yourself, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with treating you like a girl. It's just my Veela side wanting to prove to you that I can provide for you. I guess its instinct or something, but I want you to have everything you could ever wish for in the world, and I want to be the one to give it to you. A bit silly, I know, but that's the way it is." Draco smiled sheepishly, and I couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed myself over the anger I'd felt previously.
"It's not silly, it's sort of, well, very sweet," I mumbled, blushing lightly.
Grinning, Draco leaned over to muss up my hair. "So, will you let me buy you things if I promise to never think of you as a girl?"
"Yeah, I guess so," I said, smiling back.
"Good! Because I got you something." He rummaged through a bag I hadn't noticed he had, before pulling out a large box of chocolates. "It's an I'm-so-sorry-for-whatever-it-was-I-did-and-it-was-probably-all-my-fault gift." He said and smirked when I shook my head exasperatedly and hit him lightly on the arm. I know I should have been affronted that he bought me chocolate in hopes of making up, but at that precise moment in time, I didn't really care. I was too fond of chocolate for that.