Chapter 1
It was unusual for him to walk alone at night, wandering the halls, but here he was. He didn't even bother to change in his pyjamas when he arrived in the Slytherin common room. What was the purpose of it anyway? He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.
It was still haunting him. All the people who were killed right in front of him…Tortured, in ways he didn't even think possible until then. He was marked. People would never look at him the same way. Maybe they could forgive him given enough time, but for now, he knew he was still their enemy. Even if he was forced into this, he still felt guilty. He knew, deep down, that it had nothing to do with loyalty to the Dark Lord. It was just a sign of the coward he was. Hell, you didn't have to dig too deep to find all of his self-hate for what he had done. It was right on the damn surface.
So here he was, pitying himself and looking down on the Hogwarts grounds. The astronomy tower was still peaceful and it helped him think, even with all the memories attached to it. He wanted nothing more than to jump from where he was standing on the cold, grey rock that the tower was made of. And yet he couldn't. He wasn't even capable of ending his own life, and that thought made him even more miserable.
For a second, he thought of his body splayed on the cement down below. It would be easy. Just a fall, he told himself. And yet that didn't help either. His mind was racing and quite suddenly, he remembered Dumbledore leaping from the edge and falling down until he was laying still on the pavement. He knew that he was already dead by the time he touched the ground, but he couldn't keep his mind from feeling absolute dread, like someone was going to come and do the same thing to him.
And it didn't even make sense. Five seconds ago he wanted to end his life, and now was scared by the prospect. Coward…. You can't do anything properly…, the voice in his head said. Of course he thought it was right, but acknowledging it didn't make him want to leap off of the roof.
He sighed, tired, and stepped up on the edge of the tower, closing his eyes and rising his arms so they were level with his shoulders. He inhaled, enjoying the fresh air and the breeze hitting his face. Letting out a shaky breath and opening his eyes, he started looking at the sight before him. The lake, the forbidden forest and a tiny bit of Hogsmeade. Some thestrals were walking around the skirt of the forest, every now and then shuffling their wings and looking around, as if they were expecting someone.
That someone never came though, and even if they did, Draco would have no idea. He was startled by someone clearing their throat loudly behind him.
He almost fell at the sound and cursed his luck with a few very creative words. After he regained his balance, he spun around and saw, before anything else, the mop of red hair that could only be described as Weasley. Great, he tought. Then he squinted a little because he couldn't really make out which of the seven, no wait, six, Weasley's he encountered. Then, the mysterious redhead came into view as he was saying:
"Wait, don't let me interrupt you, by all means, I came to see the show." Ron said, walking closer to the blonde and wearing a pleased smirk on his face.
"Sod off, Weasley."he said, but instead of resuming his earlier activity, he jumped off the edge and came closer to his so-said "arch enemy". What a childish term it is, though. He didn't really know what an enemy was, not even after the war. He was confused and, if he thought about it, no side was ever the opposite side for him. It was strange, really. Voldemort was scary, okay, more like bone-chilling and nightmare-inducing, but you got the point. The idea was… well, he never really thought he was wrong before now. It was an interesting concept, at first, that he may have been wrong, but, after a while, it was just making him feel guilty. And the guilt was eating him alive these days.
"I don't think so, Draco." His name rolled out of his mouth like it was full of venom, and suddenly, the only thing Draco wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. He really wanted to. The last weeks at school were horrible to say the least. Everyone hated him and absolutely no one was talking to him. Not even his friends before the war. What loyal friends indeed.
"And why not ?"he asked, barely containing a set of tears that were threatening to spill over. It may have shown, because after he said it, Weasley's mouth curled into a very unpleasant sneer.
"Are you going to cry, Malfoy? Do you want me to get your mommy here ?"He said in a mocking voice.
One of Draco's tears leaked and he started wiping at it furiously, looking like he would very much like to punch the nearest wall. He didn't even know why he was so sensitive over people's criticism, even if it was stupid, like Weasley's. A year ago he would have laughed in his face or hex him. Now, though, he felt like a two year old. Everything hurt. Even looking at the school pavement made him want to take a knife and sever one of his limbs. Yes, it was unhealthy to be so depressed, but he couldn't control it.
And what if he cried in front of him? What good would it do to control himself? He had no dignity left anyway. He might as well get on his knees in front of him and beg for forgiveness while kissing his shoes; his reputation was in bits and pieces so small that you could barely see them with a metaphorical eye. They were so small that they practically didn't exist.
He let out a heavy sigh and started moving towards the stone steps when something very hard hit him squarely in the face. It took him a few seconds to realize that 1) Weasley punched him;2) He was on the floor;3) His nose was bleeding and 4) He wasn't even angry. He knew he deserved it.
Weasley started moving towards him again, having moved away when he collapsed on the floor, when they heard something like panting coming from behind them. Some long moments after they first heard it, it came closer and closer until they saw the figure of Harry Potter coming into view, pressing one hand on his side and the other clutching the Marauders Map. Obviously, Draco didn't know what it was, but he didn't really care at that point.
His lip was trembling and he was half-sobbing by the time Harry registered what was going on.
"What's happening ?" he asked, clearly waiting for an answer that never came.
"Were you two fighting again ?"he asked rather dumbly, seeing that Malfoy was a heap on the floor with blood coming out of his nose.
He sighed, ran a hair through his hair, irritated, and stated in a voice that left no room for arguments:
"Ron, go back to the dorms, I'm going to take Malfoy to the hospital wing. " He waited several seconds in which Ron didn't budge. After seeing his friend hesitating, he added threateningly a "Now." He surely knew what he was doing, because Ron lowered his head and walked down the stone steps, his feet making loud noises in the silent night.
"Get up, Malfoy." he said, trying to sound a little less harsh than he did with Ron. At this point, Draco started sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at his robes and making little, pathetic sounds that made Harry feel incredibly uncomfortable.
He took a step back. Wrong move, apparently. Draco was soon crawling at his feet again, standing in a position that made his head level with Harry's knees.
Harry decided he had had enough and put his hands on Malfoy's shoulders, helping him up and holding him for a few seconds before he regained his center of gravity. Malfoy, seeing for the first time who was holding him, jumped back and stopped crying abruptly. He was eyeing Harry as though he grew a second head. He also looked like shit, in Harry's opinion.
He had bags under his red, puffy, bloodshot eyes that he gained from the crying session and was even paler than usual. You could see the veins under his skin and the red tinge in his cheeks that was rather closer to purple than red, if Harry was to be honest. Also, the trail of blood running down from his nose had dried and had reached his chin.
The truth was, he didn't like how people treated Malfoy at all. They were cruel and he didn't deserve that, truth be told. He tried defending him, saying that he was raised that way and that he had changed, but people were not listening. Instead, they were doing horrible things to him saying that they were defending Harry's honor, like he was made of bloody porcelain and needed assistance not to break himself. They also told him that Malfoy insulted him, which he knew to be a lie because he never talked to anyone. He was isolated. Harry felt sorry for him.
Malfoy gasped some two seconds later, breaking Harry's train of thought. After that, he started hyperventilating and stammered some incomprehensible words that Harry was sure didn't even make sense in his head.
"I…I'm sorry, I…I d-didn't mean t-to…"he said, still sobbing a little every two or three words, trying to regain his composure, but failing miserably. Not that it mattered anyway, after what he had done a few minutes earlier.
"It's nothing. Let's go to the hospital wing, you should be checked by Madam Pomfrey. I think you'll have a black eye if we don't go, by the way." He tried, he really tried to sound casual, but the little tremor in his voice was proof enough for Draco that he was not unaffected by his little "show". Draco hated being so weak in front of everyone, but he felt as if he didn't have a choice, his body was having a mind of its own.
"I…I'll go alone. Thanks for helping me." he said. He sounded like a wounded puppy. That was really not like Malfoy at all.
"No problem, but I think I should walk you there, It would be safer."
Harry had no idea what he was doing, but he did it anyway. He took hold of Malfoy's hand and started walking in the direction of the stairs, dragging the perplexed blonde after him.
They walked in silence, still holding hands when they arrived at the infirmary door and letting go abruptly when realizing it. They said their goodbyes, then Harry started heading back to the dormitories.
He didn't see Malfoy sneaking off and he didn't notice that the hospital wing's door had remained tightly shut. He also didn't notice the Slytherin running off in the opposite direction until he arrived in the dungeons and was oblivious to the fact that he cried himself to sleep that night. If he knew, maybe he would have done something, but as it was, the only thing he was not oblivious about was that he didn't show up at breakfast the next day. Or at the shared classes Gryffindor had with Slytherin. Or at lunch. Or at dinner.
Same thing happened for the next few days and he was not sure if he should feel worried or not. Malfoy could have just been too ashamed to come, or he could have ended his life, for what he knew. Or for what Ron told him, anyway. Surely someone would realize he's been missing and go check on him. It wasn't his job to do that, after all.
As the fourth day ended and no one has seen or heard anything about Malfoy, Harry decided it was time to take the matter in his own hands. If he didn't show up the next day, Harry would go check on him and make sure he was okay. Some people once told him that he had a hero complex and now he felt inclined to believe them. It was like he was drawn to people with problems and felt obliged to help them. He didn't like knowing people had unpleasant things to deal with and just standing there doing nothing about it, because he just knew he could help.
Maybe that didn't make sense for anyone else, but for him one thing was certain:
He wanted to help Draco Malfoy.
And damn it all if he wasn't going to succeed.