Do not skip this please. There are warnings for this chapter, and the rest of the story.

Warning 1: This chapter contains mentions of self-harm. It's not graphic at this point, but it could get graphic on next chapters, so if you're easily triggered, do not read further more into this story!

Warning 2: In the third/fourth chapter there is going to be a lot of triggering things, such as mentions of attempted suicide and self-harm, so again, if you think this story may trigger you, do not read it.

A/N: So, I finally brought myself to writing this. I was awfully busy, I needed to get my head in a specific mindset to write this, and I've just been avoiding it because I was genuinely feeling happy. But, it just so happened that last night I got the perfect amount of bad mood to be able to put it into words, so I wrote. But then editing, and I didn't think it was good enough to put out and I kept adding up and editing things out and fixing everything because I've become a perfectionist and I want this to be a good story. So yeah, sorry for the delay :/

Many many thanks to the awesome DeiStarr for her Beta help, she helped me a lot to understand the situation better and be able to realize what Depression actually can be for a person. So, thanks a bunch to her, even though I bugged her a lot of the times and she couldn't quite help with the editing because of personal reasons, which I totally understand.

Again, my loves, really sorry for not posting this sooner, life just got to me and it was all weird. BUT, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, ENJOY THE CHAPTER, DUDES AND GALS AND CREATURES OF ALL TYPES OF SPECIES AND GENDERS WHO ARE READING THIS. :D

Please do enjoy, and if you decide you want to read this, just know that YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
Ratings and disclaimers were given in the first chapter. Warnings are there as well.

Thanks for reading, leave a review if you wish to do so. :3

~Chapter 2~

A week had passed after the welcoming feast and everything had gotten into place faster than expected.

Draco, however, had been spending his days by figuring how he'd ended up being roommates with Potter. Oh right, the bloody hero had given a speech on being friends with him, and then McGonagall had called them in her office, telling them that they're going to couple up people from opposite houses to raise house unity. And it just so happened that Potter was so pleased with this room arrangement that as soon as they'd shown them their rooms, he had taken his place on the bed, dragged the curtains and haven't said a word to Draco all week.

Yes, because putting them in the same room together would make them the best of friends. Surely McGonagall was up to something when she arranged it.

"Professor, just because he stood up for me doesn't mean I want him as a roommate!" Draco protested.

"Mr Malfoy, that's enough. You're well aware that the rooms have to be shared since there aren't many students around and there aren't many common rooms left in place either. We did our best to make Hogwarts able to sustain classes and students within it, but we cannot give students separate rooms." She insisted.

Potter had been silent throughout the whole thing, not saying anything useful. Typical Potter.

Draco wasn't happy at all. Sharing a room with Potter was the worst idea, even though he'd agreed to being friends with him. He didn't mean that he wanted to become that close to him. He needed his privacy, but he couldn't have it because the stupid Scarhead would be sharing a room with him. Plus, how was he to know that Potter wouldn't hex him in the night and that was part of a plan to capture him and hand him to the Ministry all along? He mentally slapped himself for the stupid idea that came into his mind. There was no way he was able to be at school for that long without being dragged into the Ministry.

What bugged Draco the most was Harry's determination to become friends. Harry had been constantly trying to include him in things. Draco remembered all those times very clearly, even though in most cases he was more surprised by the sincerity of his actions than he was bothered by it.

"Hey Malfoy!" Potter's voice rang through the corridor as Draco had been walking to get to his next class.

"Potter. I thought you had class?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah, I do. Look, I was wondering, since we're kind of friends now, maybe you'd like to come with me and Hermione to Hogsmeade this weekend? We'll grab some butterbeer and-" Potter was saying, rambling quietly before Draco stopped him.

"Thanks for the offer but I doubt they'd like my presence there. You know, since I'm the Death Eater scum and all." Draco sighed.

"I know, but I was saying we could go towards the forest and sit there..." Potter mumbled.

"Potter, I... I know I said I'd be friends, and your attempts so far have been very polite, but everything's too sore still. I'm surprised you even want to talk to me anymore, much more be friends. Besides, to be friends we need to know things about each other. I know nothing about you and I don't wish to mingle with things of the past that probably hurt you." He said honestly, looking at the Gryffindor. "Perhaps, if you give me some time, then we can work towards being friends. I've changed, and so have you, and whilst trying to find myself it's hard to find people who will tolerate me." He admitted.

Potter nodded. "Right, I understand, yeah. The offer's still there, Malfoy." He said and waved, rushing off with his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder, his hair the usual mess that Draco had grown accustomed too. Draco thought that it was worse in the mornings, before Potter had the ability to tame it into a least messy version of it.

Draco had been constantly trying to avoid Potter until he could get his own head right, but the Gryffindor wouldn't leave him in peace. He wasn't going to admit it, but having those times where Harry would ask for his attention instead of Draco doing so was really making him feel more comfortable around him.

Draco was sitting on the Slytherin table, eating silently on his own, when someone said his name and a hand started waving in front of his face.

"What is it that you want this time, Potter?" Draco sighed. He'd grown accustomed to Potter calling for him or coming up to him, but he'd never admit the way his heart clutched every time he heard his surname instead of his given name.

"Hermione and I were wondering; Want to join us for lunch?" Potter asked, pushing in place the bridge of his glasses with his hand as he looked at Draco, a hint of nervousness in his movements.

Draco noticed something was off with Potter, but shrugged it off. He always noticed it when something was off with him, but he never had an explanation as to why. 'The war leaves wounds that cannot be healed, Dragon.' His mother had told him upon returning to the school, making him realize that he was going back with everyone who hated him. He'd tried to keep the arrogant act up, his mask securely in place for the world to see, but he couldn't stand hearing all those insults every day. He pushed away as many feelings as he could, and now finding himself talking to Potter like they were friends from a young age and noticing when Potter wasn't okay made Draco wonder what the hell was wrong in his head and why he felt sympathy for the green eyed git.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sure, I've got nothing to lose, right?" he said with a smirk.

Potter smiled at him and backed away for him to stand up. He'd smiled at Draco. Draco had no idea what came over him, but he returned the smile, the first genuine smile that he'd given without feeling sick to his stomach. He decided that Potter wasn't such a git after all, and maybe his smile suited him.

"Well, come on then, we don't have all day." Potter told him impatiently.

"Alright, alright, you impatient brat, I'm coming." Draco sighed and picked up his plate and utensils, following him to the Gryffindor table.

He would straight up deny it to anyone who found out, but Potter was an interesting type of friend. He was stubborn to maintain what was just beginning.

Draco snorted. "Potter's smile doesn't suit him, he's a git." He sneered, rolling his eyes as he talked to himself. There were tons of incidents like that one, but he just couldn't wrap his head around why Potter made it so easy to be friends and why he had been insisting that they kept this bizarre friendship going. Draco was merely showing any interest at all, and even though he'd never admit it, he quite liked having Potter struggling to be his friend.

Draco sighed and stared at the ceiling of the dorm he shared with Potter. He never quite was happy, if he thought of it better. He never remembered being happy. He was always expected to be someone perfect, someone who he never wanted to be and that he'd never be. Deep down, only he himself knew how he felt. He was only eleven when he found out about Voldemort and what he could do, yet he'd recently become so aware of death and the consequences of the ongoing war, that eventually he wasn't even sure if he was allowed to be happy.

He had also stopped hoping that his life would turn out simple. It just wasn't happening with him. He had seen all those articles about death; he had seen all those posters that showed even his family were being hunted down. He never said anything about everything that was going on without his own will. He never spoke up for himself. If he did, he'd get hurt, tortured. He just knew he'd end up bleeding in his bedroom floor, so he remained quiet. Death Eater meetings, Voldemort living in his house; all of it involved him ending up in a horrible state of fear and pain.

He often found himself hating the only thing that kept him alive; Hogwarts. He was pretty much useless. That was until Voldemort himself had told him he needed him for a "special task" as he'd called it. He wanted Draco to murder someone; and not just anyone. He wanted him to murder Dumbledore. Being a student at Hogwarts had its perks, really. At least to Voldemort it did. He would use Draco to get rid of the only wizard that Voldemort himself couldn't defeat; as if Draco would ever dream of being capable of killing Dumbledore.

Draco always hated the idea that he was no use for anything. His parents always cared to provide him with basic pureblood knowledge, to raise him to be a worthy heir to their family, to marry a pureblood girl from sixteen and make pureblood babies that would carry his name.

Draco would always laugh at the idea of marrying a girl; or being with a girl, for the record. He knew he was different from the start, he always knew. He would never marry a girl because he always dreamt of the same prince that five year old girls dreamed. He would never have a girlfriend because each girl that ever showed interest in him would make him feel like his personal space was invaded. He knew something was up when during puberty he dreamt of dark haired figures, often without a specified gender. But he knew. He knew he was gay, and he knew it wasn't good.

It meant he was weak. It meant he'd failed the only thing he'd ever be good use for; their baby-making heir. It meant that whoever made decisions for him for all his life would be severely disappointed once they found out there was a flaw in their plans. It meant his parents would be dissapointed.

Draco never took decisions of his own. He always followed orders. He always got told what to wear, what to eat, who to be, to be good at school, to be polite at Death Eater gatherings, to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and let the Death Eaters in after he failed to do the one thing he could not do, which was to take another person's life with his own magic, and the list went on and on.

Draco shook his head, clearing the sudden wave of memories that he'd been caught in. He felt sick to his stomach when he remembered those types of things. The only thing that had made him smile was Potter, and it was worrying him a lot. It didn't mean he was attracted to him, no. Potter was Potter, boy or not. He could not like Potter, simply because he was Potter, right? He shouldn't like him. No matter how wrong it felt when he noticed the fire leaving Potter's eyes and no matter how many times he noticed Potter taking over the conversation and then dismissing himself quickly, leaving all of his food behind. But he always explained it as Potter being his weird, usual self, nothing more.

Groaning loudly, Draco pulled himself up from his prior lying position, rubbing his temples. He'd been giving himself a headache with all this thinking. And the thinking was about Potter, mostly, and a bit about the past. It didn't do him any good to linger on things he could no longer change, right? The end of the war should've felt more relaxing, but it was turning out more confusing that he'd expected.

Soon, Draco moved so he was sitting by the edge of his bed, looking at his lap. He glanced at the clock and sighed. It was way past midnight, and the only thing in his mind was that classes were over, so where in the world was Potter at this hour? The room remained empty, besides for himself. So, where was the silly Gryffindor again?

Draco had gone to his classes normally that day, but it felt strange not to have anyone to make decisions for him anymore. He was free from all of them, and it scared him so much to be free to decide what he wanted to do with his life. Not having a war, a maniac murderer or his parents above his head, yelling at him what to do, ordering him to make possible everything that seemed impossible, made Draco feel strange with this change of events. After the war, he became truly free. He was free to decide, free to be happy again. He smiled to himself.

His head snapped as the door opened suddenly, seeing Potter shuffling in, his sleeves tugged into his fists and his eyes red and bloodshot, as if he'd been crying. Draco found it odd.

"You seem like you need some sleep, Potter. Did you get dragged through the forest by a vicious monster again?" Draco said, looking out for a way to insult him but only failing; he had to admit, it felt weird trying to be rude again. They always hated each other though, but Draco had stopped insulting him, it felt almost wrong to do so. Besides, Potter made it impossible to be alone without him or Granger trying to drag him into their activities. He didn't mind that much anymore, though.

"B-Bugger off, Malfoy. Please..." Potter sniffled and sat on his own bed, turning his back to Draco; this time not closing the curtains.

"What's wrong?" Draco muttered under his breath, hoping Potter wouldn't hear his concern.

"Not in the mood..." Potter mumbled as he fell on the bed and curled on his side.

"Goodnight then." Draco said and fell back against his bed, looking at the curtains that hung from his bed and eventually drifting off to sleep.

The next day, Draco found himself sitting alone at breakfast. The reason being was that Potter hadn't woken up and hadn't spoken to him or Granger. Sure, Granger was much more polite and contained, while as Potter would act like a five year old when he was having breakfast and then quiet down during classes, but Draco still felt his presence missing somehow.

But it wasn't happening today, and Draco was awfully worried. He understood that Harry may have had something happen last night, but he didn't understand why Potter had insisted on sleeping through Draco's callings in the morning.

"So, did Harry really decide to skip today?" Granger said in a hushed voice when they were both sitting together in their joined class, hours after breakfast.

"It definitely seems like it. He was sleeping and when I tried to wake him up, he just wouldn't respond." Draco said, opening his books to take notes for their class.

"That's really strange of him, though." She insisted.

"Yes, well, Potter could as well be sick and we wouldn't know. He's kind of bipolar." Draco huffed. It did piss him off extremely when Potter would go from happy to extremely silent and then back to happy. It happened quite often during the past week, and it was messing with Draco's head. He just didn't know what was wrong, and it definitely did worry him but also anger him.

"Alright, but when you get back to the dorm, check up on him for me? I'd be grateful." Granger pleaded.

"I'll do my best." Draco said. "But no promises." He warned.

"You're not so bad, Malfoy." Granger said, nodding in appreciation.

"You can call me Draco, if you want. You're not that bad yourself." He said, nodding at her in acknowledgement.

"And you can call me Hermione then. And I think it'd be best if you called Harry by his first name as well, he would like that." She said with a sympathetic smile.

"I'll see what I can do about that as well." He replied and scribbled down on his notebook what the professor had just started saying about powerful charms.

After a long and exhausting day of classes, Draco returned to his room, expecting to find Harry there. He didn't check in the bed, heading for the bathroom to take a shower; eighth year privileges.

He stepped under the warm shower head, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He started washing himself, feeling his body relax under the warmth, his worries fading away with the help of his surroundings.

Feeling utterly relaxed, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and passing his fingers through his hair, walking out in the room again.

"Eighth year privileges." He said to himself, loving the en suite bathroom that had come along with their dorm room.

Only then he noticed that Harry's bed was empty. The curtains were drawn back halfway, as if he had pushed them open hurriedly. The bed was messy, and the pillows were scattered around, tangled up with the bed sheets and covers.

"Seems like he was in a rush..." He mumbled.

He went towards his own bed, sitting down and drying off his hair by grabbing his wand and spelling it dry.

He took a moment to look at his wand and smiled absently. He had missed using his own wand.

After the war, Harry had had the decency to mail him his wand back as soon as the war ended. Maybe that was also another reason that Harry was so interested in becoming friends with him. Draco hoped that this sudden need for Harry to befriend him wasn't due to his hero complex that he just couldn't get rid of. Honestly, Draco could hear him saying it in his own words. "What's done is done, I saved your life and I actually don't think you're bad. I think you'll need your wand back."

The letter he'd included was short, and explaining how he didn't blame him for what he'd done, saying he thought he wanted his wand back. Draco had actually been grateful but never told Potter a single thank you. Maybe he'd do that sometime.

Draco snapped at himself. "Stop thinking about him." He told himself, cursing his brain for starting to care so much for Potter.

He groaned and shoved the towel at the end of his bed, accio'ing a pair of boxers and wearing them, soon falling asleep.

It wasn't a few hours later that Draco woke up in a heap of sweat, panting and feeling incredibly cold.

He had just experienced one of the worst nightmares he could ever possibly have.

Voldemort was leaning over him, asking him questions. Draco was lying on a wooden floor, tears on his cheeks. His body was jerking on the ground, shaking with the shock of the previous curse that had been thrown at him.

"Why is it that you fail to find a way to kill him? Why do you have to be such a disgrace to your family, Draco? You know your mother will die if you don't take this task seriously."

"I'm s-sorry, my lord.." Draco was crying but all he got was a glare from Voldemort before he shook his head at another person, nodding lightly.

"Crucio!" a female voice screamed, and Draco's body was set on fire, feeling as if all of his organs were going to get ripped out, wanting to curl into a ball from the immense pain that the curse sent to his body.

"P-Please!" he was gasping. "Please let me try again!" he was begging with tears.

"You're weak, boy. You still haven't repaired the Vanishing Cabinet, and your attempts of killing him are useless. You only got other meaningless people to suffer for your mistakes. How does that feel?" Voldemort said in a cold voice, not caring at all for the people that had taken Draco's curses by accident.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll fix it, I'll kill him, I will!" Draco sobbed, and trashed on the floor as another curse hit him, sending him over his pain tolerance and making him scream and cry harder than before.

"Bella, that's enough." Voldemort warned.

The woman gave a pout and lowered her wand. "You're a disgrace to our family, nephew." She hissed and left.

Draco had woken up almost screaming from that nightmare. It still haunted him, to this day. It wasn't just a dream. It had happened when Draco's cursed necklace sent Katie Bell to the hospital wing and when the poisoned drink sent Ron Weasley also to the hospital wing. He'd spend days feeling horrible about what he was doing, and when the Death Eaters found out, they tortured him; threatened to kill his mother, and him as well, if he dared to fail them again. They had used so many dark magic on him that Draco's spells felt weak in comparison.

Draco shuddered and hugged his knees to his chest, sobbing quietly. His whole body was shaking. He didn't know whether he'd gotten cursed, or whether the Dark Lord himself had decided to torture his mind by playing the same nightmare, over and over, adding more to it as it went, or if his mind was just being paranoid.

He decided he needed to walk it off, take a stroll around the castle.

He hung his legs on the side of his bed, slowly lifting himself and tiptoeing to his drawer, searching for some of his few muggle clothes. He put on a t-shirt and some sweatpants, praying to Merlin that nobody saw him dressed like that.

He left the room quietly and started walking around the corridors, keeping his eyes and ears open. He needed a safe place to sit and think. He thought of the Astronomy Tower but it was just too much for him to go back to; yet.

He walked around many corridors, until at one turn he heard keys, and footsteps. Draco panicked. It was Filch and if he found him outside, he'd send him to McGonagall and get him in detention.

Draco cursed under his breath and ducked into the first bathroom he found.

He closed the door behind him, backing up against it. He covered his mouth with his hand, listening to the footsteps as they got more distant and then vanished in the silence of the night, a faint echo bouncing off the walls. He sighed and slid down on the floor, releasing his mouth with a soft puff of breath forming in front of him. He looked around him, examining the bathroom.

He was in one of the old bathrooms that weren't used as much. He scrambled up to his feet again and walked around a bit, soon noticing a trail of blood coming out from under one of the stalls.

"Hello?" he called, his heartbeat increasing. He got no answer.

He prepared himself mentally for what could possibly be in the stall as he stalked towards it. Taking a deep breath, he got his wand out and forced himself into the stall, only to find what he wouldn't have expected to find even in a million years.

In front of him was none other than Harry Potter, lying unconscious on the floor, blood coming out from somewhere on him.

"Fucking hell." Draco gasped and searched for Harry's neck, checking his pulse; he was still alive.

Draco plucked up the courage to wrap his arms around the male's small figure, lifting him in his arms and taking him out of there. He started walking fast, heading to the hospital wing as fast as he could. Midway through it he used a spell to make Potter weigh less in his arms so that he could run easily; his feet moved faster as he ran to Madam Pomfrey.

"Madam Pomfrey, help! Open up! There's an emergency!" he yelled, banging on the door mercilessly, not caring if it was five am in the morning.

"Alright, what's the fuss?" a sleepy female voice greeted him as soon as the door opened. "Oh dear!" she gasped as soon as she realized what happened and who Draco was holding.

"Do something, he's bleeding!" Draco barked at her, only realising he'd been shaking.

"Alright, alright, put him on a bed, I'll get someone." she said, stepping aside for him.

Draco nodded, following her instructions and placing Potter gently on the bed. He watched the witch going off, probably to send a message to wake up the headmistress.

"Step away, I've called for help. I'll see what I can do." She said as she returned back to the room a few minutes later.

Draco was told to leave, but he stayed. He'd pretended to walk off but actually hid behind one of the closest beds, watching as they drew the curtains around Potter's bed. McGonagall and some other nurses arrived, making a fuss over Harry, mumbling and talking in hushed voices. Soon the mediwitch was left alone with the headmistress.

"Poppy, have you checked what caused it? Did he get attacked by something?" McGonagall was asking.

"It was self-inflicted. There seems to be a lot of scarring and healing up with magic. His arms and his thighs show repetitive slashes of the flesh that were then healed up with dittany. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he stole some from Severus's apothecary or had help from Mrs. Sprout." She muttered.

"You mean Potter has been self-harming? For how long?" McGonagall said quietly, her voice filled with worry.

"I'd say it's been happening for months now. I can't be sure, though. But he definitely caused this to himself." She confirmed.

"Oh dear... That poor boy..." McGonagall mumbled.

"If Mr. Malfoy hadn't brought him in, Mr. Potter would've been dead. He opened up a lot of wounds, probably unaware that he would lose control of the blood flow because of the dittany's powers. He would've bled to death if he hadn't been found."

"Poppy, can you help him?" McGonagall asked.

"I'll do my best to heal all of his wounds and renew his skin on the areas he hurt. The dittany has already done most of the work, but a few potions will help him gain his strength back as well. He's been terribly undernourished as well, he'll need proper food to get back on track. We'll leave him to rest for a few days, and see how he'll do. I'll give him some potions as soon as he wakes up, as well as food." She promised.

"He's in good hands." McGonagall said, placing her hand on the witch's shoulder, nodding in gratefulness.

Draco had heard enough of them. He leaned back against the wall, shaking. His clothes had blood on them, and he finally realized what he couldn't have seen all along, simply because he never was friends with Harry.

Potter wasn't just too eager to make Draco feel wanted after all the hate towards Slytherin.

"Malfoy, want to join us for lunch?"

Potter just wanted to feel wanted and accepted after his purpose as the saviour had ended.

"I just thought you just needed some company, or someone to be friends with."

For all Draco knew he was probably blaming himself for what happened, for letting Voldemort kill all those people as well.

"What's done is done, I saved your life and I actually don't think you're bad."

Draco suddenly felt the urge to vomit and so he ran out, searching for a bathroom. He made it just in time, vomiting loudly into a sink and feeling his insides burning. He just couldn't believe it.

To be continued...

Ooh, a lot of mystery there, hmm? Sorry if this was too much to take in, I promise it will eventually lighten up, at some point.

Also, note: Undernourished = not getting adequate food. I didn't want to use Anorexic seeing as I don't know much about this certain illness and my knowledge of it wouldn't be enough to add up to Harry's part that I'm writing for the next chapter, plus I feel like Depression is enough for him and there's different types of anorexia, so I wouldn't want to offend anybody by stating it that way. I could've used malnourished as well, but at the time I couldn't remember the word, so apologies. If it bugs you, I can change it.

Thanks for reading x Again, sorry for the delay.

~Venustus