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Draco stared at Harry, eyebrow raised disbelievingly.
“A rage room? Really?”
Harry smirked, blue green eyes dancing mischievously.
“I thought this might be a good way to let your anger out… legally.”
His eyes flicked up to Draco’s, meeting them briefly, before looking away. He didn’t want to bring up what had happened a couple of nights ago.
“This,”
Harry gestured to the room around him, compiled with hundreds of breakable things.
“Was my solution”
Draco crossed his arms, unimpressed. His hair was ruffled, and unkept, his robes ragged and torn from running through the woods under Harry’s invisibility cloak. Harry was no better, but somehow, he seemed able to pull off the disheveled look.
That only made Draco even more angry, as Harry cocked a grin at him, striding over to the edge of the room where a variety of weapons were laid out.
He grabbed a golf club, (usually used in the game of golf-something Draco thought a pitiful waste of time to satisfy the needs of puny mortal desires)
Draco rolled his eyes, but made his way over to where Harry stood. He surveyed his options briefly before snatching the Baseball bat propped against the wall, twirling it around in his hand.
Satisfied, he turned to Harry, who stepped forward boldly and picked up a small ceramic plate. He smiled at Draco, then turned swiftly, chucking the metallic plate at the far wall. It shattered the second it made contact, showering the two boys with ceramic shards.
Drago sighed, still not impressed, but reached forward and grabbed a bottle from the top of a large pile. He tossed it half heartedly at the far wall. It too, shattered, making a satisfying splintering sound that echoes around the tiled walls.
Draco picked up the bat now, placing a ceramic teacup on the log provided for them, and swung, hitting the teacup with such force it imploded on impact. Draco smiled conspiratorially, before grabbing three more bottles and pitching them towards the far wall.
He grabbed two wine glasses and smashed them without hesitation, eyes gleaming. Harry stepped away from him, leaving room for Draco to go all out, transforming into a pale tornado of fury, swiping and jabbing with anger even Draco didn’t realize he had in him.
Harry leaned against the wall, watching the chaos unfold before him, a smug grin etched into his face.
Draco discovered the jackhammers next. Draco swung the hammer down at lightning speed, fracturing the toilet in front of him. He swung again. And again. Each time cracking the ceramic appliance further.
Harry edged away along the wall and snatched the safety googles that were wedged between two piles. He had assumed that they would be unnecessary, as Harry himself had cast protection charms over the two of them, but now he was beginning to doubt just how much abuse the Protego shield could take.
Harry turned back to Draco, who had now succeeded in smashing the Toilet to smithereens, and gestured for him to take a swing at the large T.V in the center of the room. Draco let out a laugh, something disturbing,y close to a cackle, and let loose, swinging madly at the TV.
It buckled under the force of Draco’s blows, sagging toward the ground. Draco dropped the sledgehammer and seized the hilt of what looked to be a broadsword, and took to stabbing its gleaming point into the screen of the TV. When he finally moved on, the glass was a spider web of cracks, spanning the whole frontside of the muggle TV.
Harry noticed that Draco’s cheeks were stained with tears, and he reached out a hand to comfort his boyfriend. The look on Draco’s face stopped him.
It was one of fury and pain. Draco’s eyes were ringed red, but in them were the telltale signs of trauma.
People say that the eyes are a gateway to one’s soul.
If that’s true, then anyone who studied Draco’s eyes in that moment would have gotten a glimpse into the soul of a tortured young boy, haunted by ghosts of the past.
Draco took one last swing at the TV, but it was weak and limp.
He crumpled to the ground, suddenly the scared little boy, trembling at the feet of his father
once again.