Title: Now that you're here, I know that you're the one to pull me through
Disclaimer:I can only take credit for this particular story; the rest belongs to J.K.R.
Summery:Sequel to "And when it hurts too bad…" Harry knows Draco's secret. He wants to help. Draco almost wants to let him.
i.
"Malfoy."
The pale blonde turned slowly, his features expressionless. "What do you want, Potter?" he said coolly.
Harry glanced nervously at the two hulking figures on either side of Malfoy. "Can I talk to you alone for a moment?" he finally asked.
Crabb and Goyle tensed their muscles simultaneously. Malfoy's jaw tightened.
"Fine," he replied tersely. "After all, it's not like you're much of a threat," he added with a sidelong sneer.
They silently entered an empty classroom, leaving Crabb and Goyle outside as guards.
"So, what do you want?" Draco repeated as soon as the door closed. He pretended to examine the desks, not daring to look at Potter.
"Have you been doing it again?" came the abrupt reply.
"Do what, exactly?"
"You know what I mean, Draco. Have you been hurting yourself?"
Draco risked a glance, but couldn't hold Potter's intense stare. "What's it to you, anyway?" he mumbled.
"Because I'm not going to let you anymore, that's what."
Draco laughed humourlessly. "And how do you plan to stop me? Sneak into the Slytherin chambers and tie my hands to the bedposts every night? Follow me around all day? I think all you'd end up doing is to start some very interesting, and tasteless, rumours about your…preferences."
"I'm going to help you, Draco, like it or not."
"Is that supposed to be a threat?"
"This isn't a joke!"
"What else could it possibly be, Potter?" Draco whispered. "Do you even know what it's like to have nothing else in the world to make you happy?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I just had something besides self-injury."
That made Draco pause. He looked at Potter again, and suddenly he didn't see another enemy or liability. He saw understanding. And something inside him broke a little more. He lowered his eyes and dropped into a chair.
"I…I haven't done…that…since you found out," Draco confessed, his voice cracking a little as he fought for self-control. "I…wanted to, but somehow…I couldn't let myself. I suppose I always thought there wasn't anything wrong with it. As long as no one else knew, it was nothing to be ashamed of. But now…it felt bad. I felt guilty. And it's your fault!"
"I don't--" Harry started, then stopped and tried again, picking his words carefully. "I don't blame you for it. You did what you had to in order to get by and survive. But now you don't have to. Now you can change. I want to give you that opportunity. There are other ways to deal with what you're feeling. We can find something else that will work for you, something that's less damaging. And slowly, you'll get better. You'll get stronger. You'll be able to handle everything better…" He trailed off.
Malfoy was hunched over in his chair. He rocked back and forth slightly, unconsciously, his arms resting on his legs and his back slumped over. He stared at the floor. He gave no outward sign of having heard anything that'd been said.
Harry swallowed nervously and took a step closer. There was no response. He reached out his hand. Slowly, he lowered it gently on Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy flinched automatically from the touch, but didn't move away. Harry ventured another step.
"I suppose you would know, wouldn't you," Malfoy said flatly, making Harry jump.
"What'd' you mean?"
"Well, I have heard the rumours about your aunt and uncle…" Malfoy attempted a smile, and glanced up.
Harry realised it was the first time he had seen Malfoy have a genuine expression of something other than pain or fear. It made him look completely different, Harry decided. It made him look nice, and a bit lonely. He looked normal, like any other teenage boy.
Harry smiled back, and said: "Yeah, they're not exactly a treat. You're welcome to try them anytime, though."
Malfoy almost laughed. And then his face went blank as they heard pounding on the door. "Crabb and Goyle," he said dully. "They'll be wondering what's keeping me. I have to go."
"Draco," Harry said as Malfoy rose. "Anytime. I mean it. Really."
Malfoy paused, and then gave Harry a small nod and an almost-smile. "Thanks," he said, and left.
Harry sat on the edge of a desk. He thought about what had just happened, and about how different Malfoy was when he let his guard down. He wondered what Malfoy would have been like if he had been an orphan as well. Then he left his breath out with a whoosh, pushed off the desk, and tried to remember what his next class was.
ii.
The entirety note at Saturday's lunch was: Tonight. Room of Requirement. Wait.
Even so, Harry suspected he knew exactly who sent it.
And so, after spending all afternoon avoiding Ron's and Hermione's persistent questioning about the note, and waiting for hours in bed until everyone fell asleep, he stood in his invisibility cloak, staring at the blank wall, smothering yawns.
Then the door appeared, opening slightly. Harry quickly shed his cloak, folding it under one arm.
"Come on in, then," was Malfoy's whispered request, said with notable lack of enthusiasm.
The Room of Requirement was remarkably bare. Harry noticed a fireplace, with a roaring blaze chasing off the damp, and a couple of used-looking sofas. That was it: everything else was just bare flagstone.
Malfoy was occupying the left-hand sofa, curled up and staring at the fire. He looked like he hadn't moved in hours. One hand was dangling over the edge; it waved limply towards the other sofa. Harry took it as an invitation to sit down.
They remained silent for quite a while, both watching the fire. Harry sensed that he should wait for Malfoy to speak first. He kept almost dropping off, though, and would catch his eyelids trying to close over and over. Malfoy on the other hand, Harry noticed, looked like he couldn't sleep even if he tried. Malfoy's fingers kept twitching, and whenever he noticed he scowled and stopped. After Harry finally realised he'd been staring at Malfoy's hand for an hour instead of the fire, he also put together what he was actually seeing.
When he did, Harry went over to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Malfoy, who jumped when Harry moved. Malfoy looked uncertain and worried, but Harry just took hold of Malfoy's hand and kept it immobile. He watched Malfoy's expression carefully, wanting to be sure he didn't startle the other boy. After a moment, Malfoy visibly forced himself to relax.
"Thanks," he muttered, turning his head the other way, burying it in the cushions.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Since the next day had no classes or Hogsmeade trips, no one but their friends noticed they were missing in the morning.
When Harry finally woke up, the first thing he noticed was how uncomfortable he was, including the fact he couldn't feel his legs. Then he remembered he was sitting on the floor of the Room of Requirement. His head had been resting on the edge of the sofa, and he was still holding Malfoy's hand.
He looked over at the other boy, who was still asleep. Malfoy was sprawled along the sofa, in a most undignified position. His mouth was open slightly, and his eyelids were flittering with dreams. His fingers were twitching again. Harry heard him mumble something about 'Slytherin's snake' and 'get it out', and his arm jerked back like he was trying to tear at something.
Harry frowned, and kept his hold on Malfoy's hand. He awkwardly made a stab at running his free hand through Malfoy's hair, to try and sooth the nightmares away. Malfoy flinched at the touch, drawing a breath sharply, but he didn't wake and it seemed to calm him a little. Harry kept at it, noticing in the back of his mind how strangely comfortable it felt.
After a while, Malfoy sighed in his sleep and wriggled about a bit, and Harry quickly took his hand away. Then he noticed that the movement had exposited quite a lot of the skin on Malfoy's arm. And there it was, all those moments of loneliness and pain and desperation and no way out. Every sad bit of Malfoy's miserable life was on display in dark scars across pale skin. Harry felt sick, and horrified, and white-hot anger. He couldn't look away, but he didn't want to see it. He wondered at his own arrogance in thinking he could help, that he could make any sort of difference. Then slowly he realised that they were all old scars. The newest was at least two weeks healed. Which would have been right about the time he'd caught Malfoy in the Library… He'd only seen a glimpse that time. He'd had no idea how much there really was.
Draco woke slowly, by degrees, clinging to each stage for as long as possible. The dreams were bad, but reality was much worse, he thought. He became aware of pressure around his hand before he'd managed to open his eyes. He realised someone was holding it. Then he remembered Potter. Habit aroused dislike, but it only lasted a moment. No one had ever been kind to Draco before. That changed a lot.
Finally he couldn't put it off anymore. He opened his eyes.
Potter was staring at his arm, which, Draco realised too late, wasn't covered up. He hurriedly pulled down his sleeve, yanking his hand free of Potter's and sitting up. Potter was slow to react, and Draco was already halfway to the door when he heard: "Wait, Draco, stop. Please, don't run away from me."
He did wait, stock-still and almost quivering with tension, refusing to turn round, not daring to speak.
"I'm sorry that I saw," Potter said at last. "I didn't…I wasn't trying to. I didn't do it on purpose. I would have waited until you were ready. I'm sorry that it happened like this. Just…please don't be mad about it. I still want to help. I'll still support you, no matter…no matter what, okay?"
"No one else has ever seen that," Draco replied, his voice sounding tight and reflective and forced all at the same time. "No one. Ever. I…don't…want people to see. It's…these scars are mine. They're…mine. Not for anyone else. Even if I stop, even if I ever tell someone about it, no one would ever see them. I'd wait for them all to heal and fade before I let someone see. It's…they're private. Understand? You are never to look at my scars again, no matter what."
"I--I promise," said Potter, looking a bit alarmed and confused.
"Fine," said Draco, and turned around, walked straight back to the sofa and threw himself upon it. He looked expectantly at Potter, who, bemused, also sat down again.
After a while Draco said, in a much more normal voice: "That was the first time I managed to get to sleep before morning."
Potter smiled, relieved that the tense moment had passed. "What, ever?" he joked.
Draco just gave him a look, and said: "Yes."
iii.
A number of months passed in the following manner: Draco and Harry would meet late every Saturday night in the Room of Requirement and leave sometime before lunch on Sunday, as long as it wasn't a weekend with a Hogsmeade trip or a Quidditch tournament scheduled. Outside these times they would avoid one another, unless absolutely necessary, in order to throw off suspicion.
The only exception to this that Draco allowed was when he was at his most low and desperate, unable to talk himself out of scratching down to the blood. When this happened, he discreetly sought out Harry instead, and they would hide somewhere in the castle or the grounds, and together they would get Draco through it.
Sometimes during their nights in the Room they would talk, or practice distraction exercises that Draco could do later when he felt the urge to scratch. Sometimes they wouldn't say anything, just sit together and watch the fire.
As time passed and Draco slowly built up his strength against hurting himself, the Room started to take on more comfortable qualities: thick soft rugs, reddish wood panelling on the walls, extra cushions; but it always remained the same old sofas and burning fire. It began to feel like home; or rather, it began to feel like what Draco had always imagined what a home should be like. They started telling each other jokes instead of talking about the horror stories of their youths. Draco even started calling Harry by his first name.
Draco felt more and more like he was acting out someone else's life whenever he wasn't in the Room of Requirement. He felt like he was finally starting to discover what Lucius had tried so hard to stamp out of him from birth. He became more and more distant and withdrawn from school life. When he was questioned about it, he would tell people the excuses that he and Harry had come up with the Saturday before, and secretly laugh when they were accepted without question. One of them was so brilliant that it got reported to his father somehow, and he received a letter from Lucius a week after praising him for his new philosophy against mixing with those who were 'unworthy of his attentions'. He showed it to Harry that very night.
iv.
"I'm scared." Draco confessed.
"Of going home?"
"Of Father. Of not being able to have you around. I'm going to leave him when I turn of age. He can't legally stop me then. I'll disappear, at least as far as he's concerned. He can disown me, if he like. Maybe I'll tell him I've falling in love with a Muggle first; that ought to do it, eh?" Draco picked bitterly at a loose thread in the sofa's arm. Harry dropped down next to him and nudged him in the side.
"Hey, it doesn't have to be that bad," said Harry softly. "I mean, you can still write me at least. I'll probably get the letters if my aunt and uncle don't go mad again, and we can arrange somehow so I can write back without your father knowing. You've done so well this whole time; I'm sure you can make it through the summer. It's already been longer than that now, anyway. I know that you can do it."
"It's not that," Draco said uncomfortably. "I've gone through the summer before without…you know. I just…I don't want to go that long without…" his voice dropped to a whisper that Harry could barely hear, "…without you." He added with a rush, in a more normal voice: "I mean, I've never had a friend before. I've never had anybody care at all. I don't want to go through the whole summer in that place knowing that there really is something better. I always thought there was, but I never knew it before. You know what I mean?" He glanced up, looking so comically worried that Harry burst out laughing.
"It's not funny," Draco complained, hitting him lightly on the side.
"I know, I'm sorry," Harry gasped out. Draco just glared at him. "Really, I'm very sorry," Harry repeated, trying to pull himself together a bit and catch his breath. "I'm really going to miss you too, you know," he added.
"But you have your other friends," Draco pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Harry declared. "I don't have anyone else like you. You're a special case."
"Oh, really. That's so flattering," Draco said, dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't be like that, Draco. You know what I mean."
"Maybe I don't. It's not like I have loads of friends to compare you with. Maybe you're actually rubbish, and I just don't know any better."
"You know that's not true."
"Prove it."
"How?"
Draco paused. He gave Harry a sidelong look, almost spoke, and then seemed to change his mind. Finally he said, his voice oddly tight: "What makes me a special case?"
Harry appeared vaguely uncomfortable. "I don't know," he said. "I suppose because…it's because everyone else has it in the back of their minds all the time that I'm some kind of hero, and I hate it. I know Ron and Hermione don't mean to, but I can always tell it's there, just under the surface. I'm always going to be the Boy Who Lived to everyone in the wizarding world. Except you. With you, I know I'm always just going to be me. No one else. No expectations or demands or anything. Just…me. So that's part of it."
"What else is there?" Draco asked quietly.
"You hated me, or at least you thought you should, but you still trusted me to help you. You still let me butt in and try, anyway. That says a lot about you, a lot I like. And… I like you. I just…like you. That's all."
"Is it?"
"No…yes! Of course it is. What else would there be?" Harry looked alarmed and guilty.
Draco didn't answer. He was lost in thought, staring at the fire. Then he looked up, looked right into Harry's eyes. His face was set and determined.
"I've decided to tell you something," Draco said.
"Y--yes?" responded Harry, hesitant, when Draco didn't continue right away.
"I've spent all my life pretending to be something I'm not. Except for this time with you. I want that to mean something, because there's a good chance what I'm going to say now will make it impossible to happen again, and if I have to go back to pretending all the time, I'd rather know I did everything I could. Realistically, we won't be friends after Hogwarts lets out. It'll be too difficult to keep in touch over the summer, things will come up, and by the time we're back in these halls it'll all just be a memory. So I want to make it one worth holding on to when everything else in my life is hell."
"Now hang on a minuet, it doesn't have to be like that--" Harry started to protest.
"Shut up," Draco interrupted. "It probably will, and if it isn't, it'll be a pleasant surprise. But it probably will. That's not important right now. There's something I wanted to tell you, and I may lose my nerve if you interrupt me again, so don't." He paused for breath, and courage, then plunged on: "I love you. I think. I mean, I do, it's just…" Draco looked away, losing his momentum but still trying to get it all out. "I've never felt like this, so scared and happy all at once, but I care about you like no one else, and I want…more. I want every moment to be these Saturday nights, and every place to be this Room. I want…to kiss you, and to feel what it's like to be held by someone…who loves me back. I…" But here he lost it completely and jumped up from the sofa to pace in silence before the fire, not daring to look over.
Harry hadn't made a noise, or moved an inch, the whole time. "I love you, too," he finally whispered.
Draco froze mid-step, uncertain if he really heard what he had been hoping for so desperately.
Harry continued, almost in a daze: "I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to scare you off. I knew there were more important things than how I felt. I think I probably started to fall in love with you since the moment I discovered you were more than just…Malfoy." He glanced up at Draco, and smiled, and almost laughed. "I love you, too," he repeated, bemused.
Draco felt relief and unadulterated joy flood through him. "You sodding bastard," he growled playfully. "You couldn't have mentioned this earlier, when we had more than a fortnight to summer?"
Harry could only shake his head in apology, silent laughter shaking his body and tears streaming down his face.
"You know," added Draco thoughtfully, "This would probably be more than enough to make Father disown me."
v.
The first time, Harry wore a blindfold because Draco still adamantly refused to let him see the scars again. Draco would give little nips as he kissed, but his touches were hesitant and both the boys were too nervous to actually do much else.
The second time, they were already comfortable with the feel of each other's clothed bodies, and the taste of the other's mouth was familiar though still exciting. Naked, Harry slowly undressed Draco: just a bit at a time, and Draco let him. Harry covered each scar with a kiss, and Draco shuddered and sighed. They fell asleep clinging to one another.
After that, they stopped keeping track.