A/N
Trigger: Self-harm
Something scrambles in the bed beside him and Draco mumbles to himself, pulling a nearby pillow over his head. The mattress shifts and he growls.
"Master Draco, sir! You must come. Oh, dear, you must come!" Tovo is crying, shrieking, almost wailing as she claws at her own garment.
"What do you want, Tovo?" He obliges her, just this once.
"Master Draco, sir. You been asleep for so long. I couldn't wake you. There's so much blood. I can't stop it. He won't let Tovo near. Oh, dear. Please help him, Master Draco!" As she continues tugging at the fabric of her little gown, Draco casts a Lumos and sees the dark stains on her fingers and toes. He sits up quickly, grabbing Tovo by the shoulders and shaking her once. Her eyes widen and she stills except for the sniffling she cannot control.
"My mother?" The words barely make it out of his throat before he tosses her aside and moves to the door.
"No, Master Draco, sir. It is mister Harry Potter!"
Draco looks back to the little, bedraggled thing lying crumpled on his bed and snarls as he rushes out his door. The steps to cross the hall seem to take longer than he's used to, but when the door opens, his hand shakes—just long enough for him to take a deep breath and push through. Upon entering, there is silence. Nothing moves in the darkness of Harry's rooms, but he can smell the foulness of an unbathed body and his nose automatically crinkles in disgust.
Ignoring what his instincts are telling him, Draco moves forward. Wand out and walking slowly, he finds Harry in the bathroom. It is not what he expected.
Harry stands before the broken mirror, staring at himself, yet not seeing. He grips a piece of glass in one palm, blood dripping from the tips of his fingers. There is splatter across the floor. Drops create a pattern of movement in which Harry is the centerpiece. Draco tries to trace everything in a quick glance, but the cold seeping into his silk pajamas through the lifeblood on the floor is sickening. He pales, looks closer.
There are gashes across Harry's arms, wrists, and opposite shoulder. This is not something that happened suddenly. The cuts are clean, precise. Each was done slowly and with some bizarre bit of care. As Draco looks upon his body, he can tell that this is not the first time he's done this. A skilled wizard such as Harry should have healed any injuries he's received, but Draco's breath falters as his eyes outline the many interwoven lines on Harry's skin.
"Harry. I need you to put down the glass." No response. No movement—only emptiness. "Harry, please put it down." Draco's voice is soft, yet demanding. He steps toward the man carefully. "Harry, you're only hurting yourself more by holding it like that. Put it down." He moves around to Harry's side, and still, there is no movement. Draco decides to risk it. His wand slips into the pocket of his pajamas.
Porcelain hands frame either side of Harry's jaw and there is the slightest shift of an eye. "Harry." A breath. A deep, shuddering breath invades Harry's entire body. It brings him to life, as if he's been somewhere else entirely and has just now returned. His fingers clench, then loosen. Draco reaches down and uses one hand to peel gouged flesh away from the weaponized glass, while the other tosses it in the sink. It is slight, but Draco feels the magic as Tovo vanishes the mirror, broken pieces and all.
In the process of healing Harry's wounds, Draco continues looking up at him to see if he's gone away again. "Are you okay?" At this, Harry looks up. He does not look at Draco, but through him.
"Everything was still." Draco did not expect a response, and the quiet words are almost too soft to hear. He leans forward a bit as he continues healing Harry's wounds. "That's the only time I can hear. When I'm bleeding, I know he's gone. I need to know he's gone, Draco."
Then he is crying and all Draco can do is look him in the eye and say, "You made sure he was gone. He cannot come back. I felt him leave the moment you killed him." He pauses. "But you are alive, Harry. You need to remember that. You need to want that."
There is a breath; then— "Why?" Harry demands. "What reason do I have to live now? Ginny's gone. She tried to… I don't even know if we were ever… I have to stay here because none of my friends will have me. I can't be on my own, or…" His face contorts into some semblance of confused anger and Draco does his best to intervene.
"What reason do you have to die?" The words are exasperated, but there is genuine concern showing on his face before he turns back to picking glass out of Harry's fingers.
For the broken man, there is no good answer to that question. He continues to let tears fall unabashedly down his face, shoulders lifting and jerking with the uneven cadence of his breathing. At some point, Harry's legs give out and Draco guides him to the floor, allowing the exhausted man to grab hold of his waist. Draco embraces him, awkward though it is, until Harry has nothing left to give.
Tovo comes immediately to Draco's summons and whispers softly in reply when Draco asks her to levitate Harry to bed. Rather than return to his own rooms, Draco seeks the couch just beyond Harry's reach. Tovo covers him with a blanket and the young Malfoy groans before burrowing deep into the cushions. Draco stays awake until the sun falls across the tortured man in front of him.