It wasn't obvious initially: the fact that Malfoy couldn't meet his eyes any more, or that the once-daily exchange of insults were becoming few and far between. It's like the spark in the blond had gone out, but everyone was too busy panicking about the inevitable future to notice. Harry did, however. How could he not? Draco Malfoy had been a constant presence in his life since their first meeting in Madam Malkin's robe shop almost six years ago. The simple enmity between them had been exhilarating and, at times, even comforting. The unexpected loss of it roused suspicion in the green-eyed boy. After all, what could possibly have happened to the blond to make him forget old foes?
Months passed and the shadows beneath Malfoy's eyes deepened. His once-bright eyes were dark and intense with unspoken anguish and Harry found himself entranced. He knew that look: he saw it in the mirror sometimes. So he took action. Every night, he would keep a silent vigil over the Marauder's Map, ranting to his friends about baseless suspicions and pretending that the Slytherin was still his worst enemy, despite knowing better. One night, he observed the other boy disappearing on the corridor where he knew the Room of Requirement was situated. He sighed quietly; knowing a trip out into the cold-floored castle was in order and, picking up his Invisibility Cloak, he left the boy's dormitory and Gryffindor Tower with the near-silence developed by constant practice. After all, the only useful thing he had ever learned from the Dursleys was how to pretend that he didn't exist.
He slipped silently through the corridors and walked three times in front of the wall between himself and the Room, wishing desperately to talk to the blond Slytherin…it didn't work, and Harry realised that he hadn't really expected it to. If Malfoy hadn't learned how to protect whatever secrets he had from the rest of the world, the Gryffindor would have lost all respect for him. All he could do was wait, and so he settled himself cross-legged on the floor and leaned against the wall, determined to not fall asleep before he got some answers.
An hour passed, and then two. Harry had nearly lost hope and come to his senses, but then the door finally appeared and Malfoy stepped out. The Gryffindor stood quickly and pulled the Cloak off, hoping the other boy wouldn't panic. However, he didn't really expect what happened next: instead of shrieking or spelling or scarpering when the blond noticed the Gryffindor, he simply stared resignedly at him and slumped against the wall that had now re-appeared.
"What do you want, Potter?" It was a good question, Harry supposed. One that he didn't quite know the answer to, but he decided to at least communicate a little of what was bothering him.
"I want to know what you're doing in there." He spoke so quietly and firmly that the Slytherin was at a loss for a moment: this didn't feel like a confrontation, it sounded more like curiousity and was that…concern? He decided he would ignore that idea completely; since it was obviously ridiculous and possibly caused by lack of sleep.
"I'm taking a walk. Not that it's any of your business," Malfoy spat, although it was less convincing than his usual Oscar-worthy depiction of the Arrogant Prat. Harry simply rolled his eyes.
"Right, you decided to take a stroll to the Room of Requirement in the middle of the night for no particular reason. Did the stench of the dungeons get too much for you? Or does the sound of Crabbe and Goyle snoring irritate you that much?" Malfoy's glare intensified and Harry fought the urge to shiver.
"What's it to you?" Another good question.
"I…" I'm worried. Are you okay? "I think you're up to something." Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he moved to leave but something in Harry went to stop him. He placed a restraining arm on the Slytherin's bicep and sighed. "I don't know what you're doing, Malfoy, but it can't be good. You look like you died three weeks ago." The other boy's eyes met his green ones and the dark-haired boy nearly gasped at the inifinite sadness he could see there.
"Harry…I don't think I've ever been alive." He left then, his shoulders slumped and his words echoing through the Gryffindor's mind and finally, Harry understood why he'd come.