My dear readers, I am so sorry for taking so long to update. It's been like two weeks and I thought I could do this in four days. That was very foolish to think. I've been too fatigued to do much of anything. Hopefully my illnesses will be under control soon or at the very least, I'll power through and update this story once a week. This chapter was a bit difficult to get out because I want to stay true to the original plot to some extent. Thank you for sticking by, despite my slow update. Hope you enjoy!

ღღ Chapter Four ღღ

For the second morning in a row, Harry was using one of the school's owls to write Draco. The blonde had sunk even further away from him and into his own shadows— unreadable, intangible, and distant.

Sure, he had been in bad shape when they first found each other, but the Gryffindor had never seen him so far gone... And why? He had broken the proud Malfoy's walls before and he would do it again. This would not come between them. He would see that beautiful smile reserved only for him. He would have his Draco back.

Harry remembered their joy at first being together. So much more than either boys could have dreamt of.

"Oi, Malfoy," Harry sneered in the locker room after a Quidditch match. The other boys that had remained, quickly moved on, knowing there was going to be a petty conflict, awkward to witness and lacking the excitement of a real row.

Unlike the other students, Harry's comment made Draco whip around, "Gonna rub it in my face, Potter? We may have lost this time, but I'd still beat your arse in a seeker's match."

"Is that so?" The brunette spoke in a snarl but turned to see if everyone was really gone before softening his voice, "Sorry, Dray... about you losing that is." He opened up his arms to the Slytherin only to be turned down. "Oh don't be like this. Wipe that little pout off your face," Harry cooed, matching the look with dramatized doe eyes, grabbing a stiff, unwilling Draco anyway.

Harry rubbed circles into his back, relaxing the reluctant boy. "Hmph," the Malfoy exhaled.

"Now, now, what was that about beating my arse," Harry goaded in a strong air, then began tickling his love. "What were you saying? Just tell me, Dray, tell me." But it would have been impossible for Draco was gasping and wriggling and laughing musically.

"Stooop," the blonde was trying to gulp air and squirm, to no avail, out of the tickling grasps of his offender. Harry released him once tears flowed down his face and he had dropped to the floor, holding his sides. "I hate you," he puffed, brooding up at Harry.

"No you don't," Harry sat beside the blonde and pulled him onto his lap, nuzzling his nose into the sweet, floral scented locks of gold. It was his favourite fragrance as of late. At night, he would procure the scent from memory and remember the soft plains of the blonde's skin under his fingers and think of what he'd like to do to the boy. It was thrilling to be enticed in that aroma, a privilege to be wrapped in those arms. Harry cherished the graceful, dizzying beauty of receiving the blonde's selective care and attention.

He kissed the still pouting boys forehead. "I love you, Dray." He kissed again and again, laying back and pulling the Slytherin's warm body against him. Without thought, Draco curled his fingers in the fabric of Harry's shirt. As much as he hated appearing vulnerable, Harry brought it out in him.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The brunette's heart beat steadily in the ear that was pressed to its home. 'This is the only place I'll ever want to be,' Draco thought, pressing closer to Harry's chest. Mind drifting, eyelashes fluttering somnolently. 'Is this falling in love?' He wished he was wrong, he thought he was right. And also thought, maybe that it was okay.

"Harry... Harry!" Hermione shaking his shoulder, snapped him out of his reverie. "I asked who you were sending a letter to, but apparently no one because you're not even here."

"Oh yeah," Harry murmured, not really answering Hermione.

The bushy haired girl rolled her eyes, "Harry, who are you sending a letter to?"

She could see the panic in his eyes and knew that what ever he spouted was going to be a lie. "The Weasleys," he answered. But as she had so many time since her brilliant mind started realizing something more was going on, she dropped the subject, trusting that Harry would tell her when he was ready.

...

"I can't believe you said that in front of everyone," Draco groaned exasperated, "It was obvious that you were talking about me."

Snape rolled his eyes at the dramatic display. "Just be grateful I taught you how to make the potion... Besides, it's Harry you're concerned about knowing and he wasn't even in the room."

Draco's stomach rolled at the thought of the secret. It seemed like Snape knew everything about him. Excluding Harry and himself, the potion's professor was the only person to know about the relationship, even though it was because of Occlumency and not choice. The blonde had to admit that it was nice for his godfather to know everything. He had someone to talk to since the incident. However, at the moment, he just wanted to break down. He was tired to the point of wobbly knees and numb to the point of insanity. Every negative memory from summer that crept back into his mind was like a shard of glass piercing him, which had prompted his decision to just try not to feel... But then there was Harry— sweet, unknowing Harry who made it feel okay, but also invited in feelings. Everytime he went around him, the icy freeze of heart would start to melt and he had to feel the pain of the memories and feel the guilt of his lover not knowing, and yet, at the same time, Harry calmed the monsters; at exactly the right height of intensity and passion, Harry also made him forget and the explicable joy from that was better than constant numbness. He just wished escaping into their love didn't cause him to crash afterwards.

"He's trying so hard to take ca—" Draco's voice broke as he choked back tears.

Snape waited for him to continue on, but the blonde was too afraid to speak because he knew it would come out as sobs. His final seams that had kept him stitched together had split open like those of an old teddy bear and now he couldn't hold anything inside.

"Have you secured the cursed pearls from Borgin and Burkes?" Snape inquired wearily.

Draco could tell that he was trying to calm him by changing the subject but it wasn't enough, nothing could console him now, especially mentioning more secrets he was keeping from Harry. 'He doesn't deserve all of these lies,' Draco thought mournfully, 'He doesn't deserve to be with someone so ruined. He should have just let me die and made this easier on everyone involved.'

Through the heavy silence, the blonde walked out. No one could help him now. Not Snape. Not even Harry.