Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters and I will not make any money out of this!
A/N: First HP Fanfic, hope you enjoy ^^. M for content later on, Slash DM/HP. Contains references to Self-Harm/Eating Disorders *could be triggering* Please keep yourself safe while reading, or skip if something is too much :)
This is Harry's POV :)


I wasn't going to take no for an answer, Malfoy was so pale that he looked like death warmed up. No, more accurately, he looked like a corpse – the papery skin stretched so tightly over his prominent bones was doing nothing to help this image. He didn't seem to be in the mood for arguing, or maybe he didn't have the energy – either way he got shakily to his feet. I watched him, taking in every minute detail; the way he was shaking, the way every footstep seemed to take the greatest effort, the way his eyes were completely glazed over.

When we reached the top of the stairs I noticed that Malfoy was lagging behind, at first I thought it was a reluctance to go back onto the ward, but then all of a sudden he stopped and leaned heavily against the hallway wall.

"Malfoy?" I asked quietly, moving towards him. "Malfoy, do you need any help?"

"No, just give me a second." He answered, closing his eyes. He looked strange; his face was such a stark contrast to the dark material of his suit. I hesitated for a second and reached out my hand, gripping his shoulder. Unsurprisingly all I could feel was Draco's collar bone and shoulder blade. "Wait, wait… I don't feel so good." His voice sounded peculiar, and when he opened his eyes his pupils were huge.

"How not feeling good?" I asked, I could feel him trembling violently.

"My… my heart feels… weird." He was rubbing his chest with his bony hand. "Ah…fuck." He was still leaning against the wall.

"Come on, lean on me, I'll help you back to the ward." I told him, putting my arm around Draco's skinny chest so I was supporting him under his shoulder. I could feel his ribs sticking painfully into my arm as I pulled him towards me so I was taking his full weight – which really didn't feel like much at all. "Come on, just a few steps." I encouraged him, watching as he put one foot in front of the other tentatively. "Nearly there… nearly there." The ward was in sight now, Draco's hand was still at his chest, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that Draco might be dying. I was pretty much carrying him now and the healer saw me and came running towards me.

"What's happened?" He asked quickly, grabbing Draco's other side and helping me carry him down to his bed.

"He was outside having a cigarette and he nearly fainted, then when we got inside he said he wasn't feeling too good and his chest felt weird." The words gushed out of my mouth like blood from a wound.

"Right," He began moving quickly around Draco's bedside, muttering spells under his breath. I stood at the end of the bed, staring down at the barely conscious man in front of me, but he didn't look like a man… he looked like a little boy, despite his height. Was he scared? Did he know what he was doing to himself? Did he honestly not care at all if he lived or died?

"Should I go…?" I asked quietly, still watching the healer busying himself.

"That would probably be best, Mr. Potter." The healer said, not even looking at me, so I turned round and moved as quick as I could out of the ward. My stomach turned over as I left, I wanted to stop and turn back – I had a bad feeling that I wasn't going to see Draco again…

My heart was pounding unbelievably hard in my chest as my feet made contact with the ground in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Ron and Hermione were both in the kitchen sitting at the table, they both turned to look at me. I must have been pale or something, because both of them jumped to their feet.

"Harry, you okay mate? Has something happened?" Ron asked. My brain was reeling, the image of Malfoy lying so completely weak and defenceless on that bed in the ward, I wondered whether he was dying… whether I would see him again, or whether he would die and I hadn't told him how I felt… I wished I had listened to Hermione. Ron was still staring at me, waiting for an answer.

"I think I'm going to throw up…" I said, putting effort into making my feet move as I bolted from the kitchen into the downstairs bathroom. Hermione and Ron had obviously followed me because as my lunch made a disgusting reappearance someone was knocking on the door. My whole body was heaving; I couldn't understand why I was having such a fierce reaction at today's events… I was kneeling on the laminated floorboards, clinging onto the porcelain toilet bowl when I heard the lock of the bathroom door click; Hermione must have unlocked it from the outside. They both came into the bathroom as I was desperately trying to stop retching.

"Harry! What's wrong?" Hermione sounded scared now; she was kneeling beside me as I flushed the toilet. "Are you ill?" I shook my head, I didn't want to open my mouth again, I was fearful about what might come out. "Ron, grab a glass of water for Harry will you?" She spoke to Ron, smiling sympathetically at me. Ron turned around and I heard his footsteps echoing down towards the kitchen. The moment Ron was out of earshot Hermione spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Did you go and see him?" I nodded, "Did you tell him?" I shook my head, my stomach clenching all over again as I fought to keep the picture of Malfoy out of my head. "Did something bad happen?" I nodded again, closing my eyes and damning myself for the hot tears burning at the corners of my eyes. Ron was back with a glass of water, and I sipped very slowly at the liquid, worrying if I drunk it too fast that it would come straight up again. "Let's go back into the kitchen." My knees were trembling and Ron gripped his hand around my upper arm to support me, both actions reminded me of Malfoy. I was steered into a seat at the kitchen table; I placed both arms on the wood and laid my forehead on them. This felt weird – this reaction felt akin to the one after the dream where I had seen Mr. Weasley be attacked by the snake. I didn't want to talk; I didn't feel like I could talk, my brain was in too much of a spasm. Was Draco dying right now? I was shaking my head without realising, trying to rid the thoughts from my mind, not caring that Ron and Hermione were watching me. "Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked as I continued to shake my head.

"I…. I can't… I just…. I can't…" The words were stilted and difficult to get out. I stood up, I needed to get out.


A/N: Sorry it's taken me longer than usual to upload this chapter... I hope you enjoy it! R&R :)