The moon was hovering in the sky, as it tends to do at night, and everyone was already deep in their dreams. Well, everyone but Harry Potter, who was always tired and always awake. He was cold, and no amount of the thick blankets he had piled onto his bed could change that. Harry looked all around the dark room and could see the faces of his sleeping peers illuminated by the full moon. He was spending yet another night alone with no one but his own thoughts.
A new year at Hogwarts had just started, and it was the first year Harry didn't have to worry about the monstrous minds who had in the past always been just around the corner. Harry could finally go to school in tranquility; his mortal enemy and the constant war that he'd brought had finally died during the now famous battle the year before. Harry, the Chosen One, had finally overcome the one man who plagued the entire wizarding world, and he was supposed to finally be at peace. But beneath his skull everything was a swirling nonstop conflict.
Slowly, so that no one would be disturbed, Harry slipped out from beneath the covers, abandoning the mess of a mattress that had never felt warm. Yet again he frantically gazed around the room, and when he was confident that no one had awoken, Harry paced lightly towards the door and out of the dorm. When he exited the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was pleased to note that the Fat Lady wasn't in her frame, so he would not be scolded by her because of his increasingly frequent midnight strolls.
As quietly as he could, Harry walked through the castle and made his way towards the Astronomy Tower. Tonight's the night I'm gonna do it, Harry thought. Step by step, he felt his resolve strengthen and when he finally made it to the top, he was alone, just as he expected. He walked to the window with the best view of the stars, and slowly climbed to stand on its very edge, his toes poking over the end and dangling into the sky. Yet again, the chill bothered him.
I can do this, Harry thought. I've walked so many steps just to come here, so what's one more? He wanted with all his heart to go the extra few inches. But as he glanced down to the ground far below, he knew something was holding him back. Every night was the same. How could I be so cowardly that I can't take the one leap? Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to finally jump, to banish whatever small part of himself that was keeping him in the window, but he just couldn't do it. His eyes burned, but no tears would come. He sighed softly to himself, and after what seemed like ages, climbed back down from the window.
Defeated, Harry sat down, his back against the wall under the window that called out to him each and every night. Quickly, Harry removed one of the floorboards next to where he sat after not quite being ready to jump each and every night. Underneath was what he was looking for: a jagged and stained piece of glass that Harry had hidden out of everyone's sight. Harry pushed the sleeve covering his left arm all the way up to his elbow, and then picked up his favorite shard of destruction. He pressed the dull glass into his arm until his favorite shade of red appeared and leaked all over. Harry loved the pain; it meant he could feel something. It meant that the reason he couldn't jump wasn't because he was already dead and didn't know it.
Shortly before the sun rose, Harry used his wand to clean the dark blood off of the glass and off of where it had fallen to the floor. He sealed and cleaned his arm too, because he knew that if someone saw evidence of his midnight journeys, he wouldn't be able to come here anymore. After putting everything back in its place to maintain the illusion of calm in the room, Harry left the tower and went back into his common room. When he finally entered, he was still the only one awake.
The next night was the same. Every night was just part of the routine. Yet again Harry fled the quiet of night to his favorite window. Yet again he couldn't jump. Yet again he grabbed his little shard of destruction that he was beginning to become so acquainted with that he could name it. Yet again he penetrated his arm with it to see the formation of his favorite blood red droplets. Yet again he was plagued by not wanting to live but unable to take the last step and die. However, something different happened tonight.
Harry sat, absorbed in the sight of his own blood. He was so absorbed that he almost didn't hear the creaking of the door. In a panic, Harry tried to cover what he had done, but it was already too late. Fuck was all the only word that managed to cross his mind as a familiar face gaped at Harry. Fuck. As his longtime rival Draco Malfoy entered into Harry's private mess, Harry swiftly prepared for the ridicule he had come to expect from Malfoy. Fuck. But something was off.
Draco, who was standing in the doorway, looking at Harry with a look of sheer horror, had tears in his eyes. Neither moved, and it seemed as though they were permanently stuck gaping at each other in distress. Minutes ticked by, and neither had moved until Draco suddenly jerked in Harry's direction and slowly walked towards him. Wordlessly, Draco exposed the arm that Harry had unsuccessfully tried to hide. Draco seized Harry's wand from his pocket and used it to seal the self-inflicted wound in Harry's arm. He cleaned and treated Harry's grand mess without any sign of hostility, and threw Harry's favorite shard to its death out of Harry's favorite window. Just toss me out with it, Malfoy, Harry thought bitterly.
After he finished, Draco dropped down next to his long time nemesis, and awkwardly hugged him and continuously whispered the same nothings that to Harry meant everything. You're stronger than you think. It's going to get better. You are not alone. Harry's eyes screamed, and the tears that couldn't come before finally fell in a downpour. And so Draco and Harry sat against the astronomy tower entwined together, forming a puddle of tears that could easily create an ocean. And for once, Harry didn't feel the cold.
After awhile, long after their tears stopped flowing, long after Draco stopped whispering his little segments of support, Draco, with a lot more compassion than his usual tone, finally broke the silence. "I need you to tell me why you came here, Harry."
Harry groaned. "I could ask you the same thing."
Draco instantly stiffened. Mostly holding back what seemed like his usual anger, he cautiously responded "That's not your business, Potter. You're up here cutting yourself in the middle of the night and I need to know why. You need to tell me."
Harry snatched his arms away from Draco. "I don't need to tell you anything, Malfoy. I didn't ask you to come here. Just leave me be!" Harry's voice got progressively louder and he was nearly shouting at this point.
Draco's eyes narrowed at this, but still he clung to Harry, afraid of what could happen if he left him now. "I'm not leaving you!" he said determinedly.
Both knew that they would stubbornly keep this up until the other stopped. Harry kept resisting Draco, and Draco kept holding on to his broken rival. Harry eventually gave up and accepted that Draco was staying, so they sat there, Draco stubbornly holding onto Harry, in an unbroken silence that wasn't nearly as comforting as before.
A little before sunrise, Draco wearily let go of Harry and got up onto his feet. Harry still sat there brooding, and refused to acknowledge that Draco had even moved. Sighing, Draco reached his hand out for Harry to grab, but it still seemed like Harry wanted to forget that Draco was there. Growing even more impatient, Draco ordered, "Harry, the sun's almost up. Come on, people are going to wake up soon. It's time to go."
"Then leave," Harry responded bitterly. What's so hard to understand about how you need to leave me alone?
"I'm not leaving you here alone. Not after tonight. And don't think for a second that I'm just going to forget about this, Potter."
They both angrily glared at each other, but Harry finally started moving. He got up on his own, silently refusing the hand Draco has offering him. Much to Harry's disdain, Draco locked his arm together with Harry's and started leading the pair out the door.
"Just what exactly are you doing Malfoy?!" Harry questioned agitatedly.
"Making sure that you make it to your common room. What else would I be doing, Potter?" Draco replied impatiently.
Harry frowned, but gave up fighting against Draco. He allowed Draco to lead him to the Gryffindor Common Room, walking in forced silence. Nobody was awake, and the only ones to notice their morning walk to their respective common rooms were the portraits decorating Hogwarts' halls, and none of them said anything. Eventually, Draco and Harry made it to the door of the Gryffindor Common Room, where the Fat Lady insistently asked for the password.
"Shut up; we need a moment," Draco told her angrily. "Harry, this isn't over. Whether you like it or not I'm not letting you be."
"Damn it Malfoy, why can you never keep yourself out of my business, which you shouldn't even be a part of?" Harry spat out. "Giant's breathe," he said, and the door to the common room swung open.
"This isn't over."
"Yes. It is."
Harry walked into the common room and the door shut firmly behind him. Yet again, Harry had walked into an empty room and had to wait for others to wake up. He was completely angry about how his night had gone. All of his thoughts were directed at Draco, who had the audacity to interrupt what he shouldn't have.
What does the bloody git even think he's doing? He had no right to do what he did. How did Malfoy even find out where I was? Is he that obsessed with me or something?
All morning Harry continued to have irrationally angry thoughts concerning Draco Malfoy. Harry couldn't think of anything else.
As Draco walked to the Slytherin Common Room, thoughts of Harry flooded his mind. Why is Harry doing this? How long has this been happening? Just why won't the bleeding git talk to me?
All morning Draco continued to have angry thoughts concerning Harry Potter. Draco couldn't think of anything else.
