It was strange how the simplest things could unravel ones' mind.
For some it was the dripping of a leaky faucet in the middle of the night, for others it was the winds and eerie creaking late at night. But for Harry, his undoing had started with glances.
Those steely grey eyes that had always seemed so cold and calculating - igniting in anger when clashed with Harry's emerald eyes – now avoided him.
But from that occasional glance Draco gave him now, his eyes were completely different. It was as if they held a whole new meaning. As if they had seen a whole new world. Draco's eyes held confusion, as if he was always lost, and a sort of loneliness Harry couldn't quite decipher.
He looked sick, Harry noticed. He had dark bags under his eyes, his hair was unkempt, he was paler and slighter than before, and he barely talked to anyone anymore. Harry couldn't remember the last time Malfoy had gone out of his way to bother him about something.
He just seemed so… pathetic.
But Malfoy was a Death Eater. It was a trap, it had to be.
Harry had searched those eyes every chance he got, looking for any hint of deceitfulness, but found nothing other than a sense of pleading.
What really unhinged his mind was the dream.
The night after Dumbledore died Harry slept restlessly, plagued by this dream.
He had been alone in the dark of night, wandering the corridors of Hogwarts in this dream until he found himself at the astronomy tower. He wasn't alone.
Draco stood a fair distance away on the ledge of the tower outside of the railing, precariously leaning over the edge.
"Of course you, of all people, would show up…" The blond boy spoke, turning to face Harry.
"How ironic," Draco whispered solemnly, "I thought that maybe Harry Potter, the 'Chosen One,' could read the signs. I thought maybe he would save me…" He took a step back, closer to the edge, "But I was wrong. Even if you had the opportunity to help me, you wouldn't. You don't care to save. No one does."
His stormy eyes were clouded with emotions and a glistening tear slid down his cheek.
To Harry's shock, Draco's eyes slid shut as he leaned back to fall to his death. More shocking still, Harry hadn't lifted a hand to save him.
Harry had woken in a sweat that night, his mind reeling from this discovery. He wouldn't do that, would he? Would he really let Draco Malfoy, his school enemy, fall to his death?
He wouldn't have liked to think so.
Harry had never been arrogant about his 'Golden Boy' title, but you didn't have to be 'golden' to save someone's life, despite their history and their faults.
No matter what, Harry vowed, he wouldn't let that dream come true.