Harry thought about the question with a conflicted sense of guilt and indignity.
"I never even thought to consider it," he confessed. "You always seemed so passionately invested in all of it." A look of disgust crossed Draco's face, shortly, and he said,
"I guess I played the part too well." Harry looked him over, regarding him out of the context of everything in their past. Here was Draco, away from the castle, and the handsome robes, and Crabbe and Goyle and Snape. Here he was, removed from the hatred and bigotry with which Harry had always connected him. The most noticeable change, however was that the sour, arrogant attitude that he had always carried with him, had vanished entirely into nothingness. The boy it had left behind was someone, but it was certainly not the Draco Malfoy had thought he had always known.
"I guess so." Agreed Harry, quietly.
"But if you knew." Pressed Draco, and Harry saw that he was looking at him desperately. "What would have done?" Harry frowned.
"Well, this, I guess." He sputtered, feeling off guard. "As long as you didn't treat me like vermin." Draco quieted with this, and Harry thought – incorrectly – that he had finished with his line of questioning. He wasn't going to say it out loud, but when they had come here, Harry had expected to be the one to ask questions.
"But," said Draco after awhile. "I wasn't nice to you here, either…" He was staring down at his feet, where he was tracing lines in the sand with his trainers. Harry sighed.
"Look, Draco. There's no use dwelling on what would have been. The point is, we're here now. And if I ever did anything to cause any of those scars, I'm sorry. I genuinely didn't know." Harry held his breath. It felt somehow important that Draco didn't hold him responsible for this.
"I know you didn't." Draco mumbled, and Harry exhaled. "It just would have been nice, you know?" Before Harry could open his mouth to respond, Draco kept going. "I guess you wouldn't." he said, miserably. "You had Potter and Granger and Dumbledore at least." Guilt began to regrow inside of him.
"You had Crabbe and Goyle," he reasoned. "And Pansy Parkinson." Draco's head snapped up, his eyebrows furrowed as though he, Harry, had just said something very stupid.
"Every single one of them is going to drop me the instant they find out what I did. They were never my friends. Just connections." Beyond Draco, a few children were playing on the Merry-Go-Round, shouting gleefully over their sober conversation.
"I'm sorry." Replied Harry, sincerely. It was the only thing he could think of to say. Draco went quiet again. When Harry felt confident that he was finished, he said, "Does anyone else know about this?" Draco shook his head.
"No." He said, and Harry had to strain to hear him beneath the children.
"Have you been making yourself throw up on purpose?" Draco stiffened, and Harry felt his stomach vanish. Slowly, the other boy shook his head again.
"N-not really." He answered.
"What does that mean?" asked Harry, a little firmly. Draco seemed to think about this.
"I guess I have, before." He said, carefully, adding "only a few times!" in an effort to calm Harry's look of horror. "But I'm not now," he finished quickly. "I-It's stress, I think." Harry frowned.
"Why would you do it in the first place, Draco?" On the swing beside him, the other boy seemed to shrink, pulling into himself as if to create protection against a predator.
"I don't know. O-or, I can't explain it. Just… just know I'm not doing it anymore, okay?"
"Well, would you be?" Harry found himself asking.
"What?" The look on Draco's face was distressed, and yet Harry pushed forward.
"If you weren't…" He looked for the words. "Stress sick, I mean. Would you still be doing it?" Draco stared down at the sand beneath his feet.
"I don't know." He mumbled, and Harry could tell that he meant it. There were a few moments where neither of them said anything. "I'm sorry." Said Draco, finally. Harry gazed at him mildly, feeling a little confused.
"What are you sorry for?" He asked, when the other boy didn't elaborate. Draco's cheeks grew a tinge of pink, and his response was mumbled so that Harry could barely hear him.
"For crying all over you." He answered. "Until they dropped me off here I used to never do that." He seemed afraid to make eye contact, and Harry found himself overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. "I've got to stop doing it."
"Draco," Said Harry with conviction, "As far as I'm concerned you can cry as much as you damn well please. You've been through hell. It would be unusual not to be affected." Draco blushed ever deeper.
"Yeah, well, I know you weren't pleased about me coming here either." He answered, miserably. "I doubt you wanted to spend your summer trying to keep me from killing myself." Harry felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Silence hung heavily in the summer air, emphasizing the gravity of what Draco had just said.
"So… you've thought about it, then." Stated Harry, quietly. Draco nodded, and blinked a few times in rapid succession. Harry stared. He wasn't sure what to say, and anxiety rode up inside of him as the length of the silence extended. He needed to say something. He was thankful when Draco spared him the trouble.
"Don't look at me like that." He said, finally looking up to gaze at Harry's face. "I'm not going to try anything. I know better than to call your bluff about the hospital. I'm not about to explain to a bunch of muggles about You Know Who." He seemed to mean this well enough, and some of Harry's breath began to return.
"I'm serious, Draco. If you ever feel like –" He caught the look on Draco's face, and decided not to finish. "Sorry." He said instead.
"Look," said Draco after some thought, "It's not easy for me to do this. Everything about my upbringing has taught me that I should avoid conversations like this at all costs. Especially with you." Then maybe you shouldn't have threatened to kill yourself, thought Harry, with a little irritation.
"Then forget this conversation," said Harry. "You know, there's a perk to living with muggles." He waited for Draco to look at him in intrigue, and continued, "no one has a damn clue who you are. They don't know that I'm 'The Chosen One,' they don't give a flying fuck about blood status, and if you and I walked into this park together, there's not a person here who gives a damn that we're supposed to be enemies. Relax. No one has to know a thing." With these words, Draco's posture seemed to relax. Harry could see tension release in his shoulders and neck. He felt himself smile, slightly.
"I've never had that before." Said Draco with a tone that suggested he was realizing this for the first time. This time, Harry smiled widely.
"Anonymity can be nice, sometimes. Come on, let's go." Harry stood from the swing, and offered out a hand to Draco. Draco took it, though with a look of slight confusion.
"Where are we going now?" He asked. Some of the misery had begun to disappear from his voice, replaced now with a curiosity that Harry had never seen in him before.
"We're going to go get some ice cream." Said Harry. "There's a nice little shop on the corner near here."
