He gently eased his eyes open before closing them again as the light burned into his skull. His fists clenched in their leather bindings and he felt the carefully stitched slices on his arms pull dangerously.

"You fucking bastard." His words came out in a seething whisper before he ripped violently at the bindings.

Suddenly there was movement all around him as the person seated next to his bed dropped their book in shock.

"Madame Pomfrey!"

He felt cold hands pulling at his wrists, trying to hold him in place.

"Draco, stop it, you'll tear them!" With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend that was said with emotion behind it. But, the second he opened them; he saw the blank face of his lover staring back at him passively.

The medi-witch came ambling up and hit him with a whispered curse. All his muscles seemed to have lost the will to fight and he instantly fell still. The brown haired man nodded at the witch, and she left with only a piteous smile at the two.

Harry knelt to pull his book up from the ground before gingerly sitting back in his chair. Not a word was uttered about the previous moment's attack before he went back to reading a rather large tome.

Millions of thoughts ran through Draco's head as he stared at his lover. He supposed they should have been about how he came to be so silent and cold, but they weren't. Nothing was about Harry anymore. At least, nothing was supposed to be. But, ever the hero…

"I suppose you're just going to sit there and pretend I didn't hear you before."

The words from Harry startled him. It had been…years.

"Mind explaining why I'm a bastard, today?" He was looking up at him expectantly with those huge green eyes, his book forgotten. And, for a moment, it actually felt like before. Quickly he shook his head to rid himself of the traitorous thoughts. No use in pretending anymore. It had only gotten him in a hospital bed.

"If you don't know, Potter, why should I spell it out for you? You'll never learn, then." Yes, that was good. Now, if he could only manage…there. Smirk firmly in place, albeit a strained one, he glared over at his dispassionate lover.

Harry sighed before placing a marker in his book and depositing it on the bedside table. His eyes held weariness and it suddenly hit him that Harry had probably not slept in the past couple of days, if his rumpled appearance and blood shot eyes stood for anything.

"Draco, you've been out for three days and the first thing I hear from you is that I'm a bastard. The least you can do is tell me why." He learned forward in his chair and stared intently at his lover. It was almost enough to make him cry. He couldn't do this to him. Not now. Not after he had finally gotten used to…well maybe not used to but, resigned to the new Harry. The colder Harry.

The damaged Harry.

He just could NOT go back and forth like that. It made his fists clench all over again.

"The least I can do for YOU? I'm sorry if my attempted suicide inconvenienced you, Potter. I did try to be quick about it."

"Draco-" he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"No, you asked, and you're going to fucking listen! I love you, Harry. You know that. I've said it; Merlin knows I've shown it. But, I cannot do this!" His words were coming out in breaths of air and he knew he sounded like a desperate man.

"I cannot just pretend that everything is all right. Call it the motivation of a already twice damned man if you will, but I'm so tired of this all, Harry." He sighed. "I cannot sit and pretend that you are the same person from before the war."

Harry gave him the look. Patented look no. 16, The Exasperated Hero; Tired of saving people, if only from themselves. The all-knowing look that he used when he wanted to make someone feel three inches tall. "Draco you don't…"

Just those three words were enough to make his already fragile patience snap.

"Shut up!" He was probably spitting, but his pride wouldn't let him worry about that. "How dare you come in here and look at me like I'm some vermin for daring to do what I wanted! Don't you think that if I wanted to die, I should have been given the right?!"

He'd never wished more that he had his hands free, if only to smack the incredulous look off the other man's face. "But you and your fucking hero complex couldn't let me even have that little bit of peace! Even after all you-" He paused. No sense in hiding it all now. There was nowhere for them to go after this anyways. "Even after how you ended up being."

Somewhere along his speech, Harry had actually moved off his chair and on to the bed. It was the closest they had been in years. His hands were in his lap and his head was drawn so close to his chest that Draco couldn't even make out if his eyes were open.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" It was barely a whisper, but he'd heard it all the same. Years of tainted whispers had taught him that.

"Because, Harry, you didn't want anything to do with me after the war. You just took all your things and moved into a room halfway across the manor! What do you suppose that made me think? That you still loved me and desperately wanted to be with me? If it was such a chore for you, why didn't you just leave?!" His disgust was almost tangible.

"Draco…I thought…I…" A sob broke him off from his rant and he looked up to see tears in his eyes. "I thought that's what you wanted. I didn't mean to…I would NEVER try to make you…. oh god…" His head fell into his hands, and suddenly Draco understood.

He wasn't damaged or cruel…he was hurt. He was hiding. He was a stupid scared little boy.

"Harry, you dolt." He looked up and his eyes flashed with…confusion. It had been so long since Draco had seen anything in those eyes that it astounded him. "You have always been slow to the uptake. What made you think that would have made any difference?"

And then Harry's face crumpled. "Draco, I know you don't want to be here …with me…but I just…call me selfish but I can't…won't let you go. Not now."

Draco smiled, and clicked his tongue. Always the ever pessimistic Griffindor, thinking the worst is about to happen; even as everything fell back into place.

"Harry." He whispered, and leaned forward the little he could. "I didn't mean about us. I meant about you."

"But, I…"

"And you can undo these bindings." He smiled and leaned back to lie on the pillows. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

Harry just smiled back. So there was hope for the Griffindor stupidity, yet. Thank God. He would have hated to spend out the rest of his years with an utter moron.