Harry

I hold Draco in my arms for nearly an hour, watching him watch the stars. This whole concept is so strange to me. Who would have ever thought that it would come to this? The breeze is soft and the moon is bright, and for once everything seems content.

Still,

I refuse to let him within three feet of the edge. The idea scares me, and as wonderful as this moment has been, the concept of having him at a height like this in his emotional state worries me a little. It feels dangerous, and I'm almost sure, that a while ago, when he was crying, I saw the thought flash through his eyes. So I'm not letting go of him.

We've been silent most of the time we've been here, and the look on Draco's face is more serene and calm than I've ever seen. I make a mental note to take him up here more often. Then again, it feels reckless of me to do so.... What if.... one of these days... I bring him up here when I shouldn't... and lose him?

His death would be my fault. I can't lose him. I can't.

So it's at this moment that I decide that whether or not I allow him on the tower should depend on his emotional state at the time. If he's upset, we keep our feel firmly on the ground. I glance at my watch. It's getting late.

"Draco," I say softly. "We need to get going now." He just snuggles up against me closer, sending shivers up my spine.

"I don't want to." He says, sounding similar to a stubborn child. "I'm perfectly happy right here." I sigh. I should've known extraction from the tower was going to be difficult. "Besides," he says, "I saw Crabbe and Goyle laughing at me in potions today. I don't want to go back there..." Suddenly he sounds distressed.

"If they give you any trouble, let me know right away. I'll hex them into the next century and you know I'm not lying about that."

"I know..." He says. "But... I just... I like it out here. It's the only place I feel completely free. The Slytherin dorms are dark and cold and it reminds me of father."

"I know, Draco. But we can't stay out here forever," I tell him. "It's just for the night. I'll meet you in front of your common room in the morning. I'll be right there." Once again, I catch myself talking to him as though he were three years old. He doesn't seem to mind it though.

Draco

I nod, pretending to be strong about this. Harry doesn't understand. I have nightmares. Horrible, horrible nightmares that are only gone when he's with me. Sometimes, they're about You Know Who. Sometimes, they're about something father would do to me. Sometimes, they're memories. I don't want to go back to the Slytherin dorms because I'm tired of waking up in tears. I just want to stay with him forever...

And the thought that I can't brings tears to my eyes. I sniff and embarrassingly wipe at my eyes (I don't care what Harry says, I cry too much and I know it,) and then turn away from the silver stars.

"Let's go then," I mumble.

He takes my hand and we head back down toward the stairs.

"As long as you don't give me reason to not trust you up here, we can come back." He tells me softly, and I suddenly realise that I actually like it when he talks to me like he would a small child. "I know you need fresh air," he says, "but, just being honest with you, it makes me uncomfortable to have you up so high right after..." he stops speaking.

"Right after I tried to kill myself." I finish for him. He nods gravely. "It's sort of like you're babysitting me..." I say. "But... I guess... you should." It's hard for me to admit this, but it's true. And although Harry's lack of mistrust is slightly irking, I know that if it were a Saint Mungos Healer following me around instead, I wouldn't be allowed up here at all. My wand would have also been modified, and I would probably be escorted to the loo as well. I'd much rather have Harry as my babysitter. At least he cares about me. Harry doesn't say anything, seemingly lost in thought as we make our way down the staircase. A heavy feeling inserts itself further and further into my stomach with each step, and by the time we're nearing the common room, I feel sick.

Harry

As we get closer to the Slytherin dorms, I glance at Draco. He's biting his lower lip, which is a tell tale sign that something's bothering him.

"What's wrong?" I ask him, slowing our pace. He shakes his head.

"Nothing. I'm fine." His eyes stare at the floor as he says this, and I know he's lying.

"Something's bothering you, Draco. What is it?" He stays silent. "Come on, I can tell when something is upsetting you, tell me what's the matter." I'm careful to not let impatience slip into my voice.

"I'm afraid to go to sleep." Draco suddenly whispers. I stop walking and look closely at Draco, who does, in fact, look afraid, and a little sick.

"Why would you be afraid of sleeping, Draco?" I ask him gently.

"Nightmares," I hear him mumble. He seems embarrassed by this but I fully understand.

"Look at me," I say softly. "If you wake up and you need someone to talk to," I tell him, knowing from experience that the hardest thing is to wake up with no one to confide in, "send me an owl. I can come meet you, alright?" I stroke his cheek. He shies away and shakes his head.

"I don't want to wake you up." He says.

"Listen to me," I say firmly, "if you need me, I want you to wake me up."

Draco

I just nod my head. I shouldn't have told him. I can't wake him up. Even though he says it wouldn't, it would probably still annoy him, and I don't want to be annoying.

"Okay." I say, although I've made an agreement in my mind that I won't write to him. I've woken up from nightmares every night for a year now. I can handle it, as long as I remember to cry quietly.

"I'm serious, Draco." He says. I guess my 'okay' wasn't convincing enough for him. "If you have one of those nightmares, and it's really upsetting you, instead of cutting yourself, I want to write to me." I stare at him, bewildered.

"How did you know...?" I ask him. There's no way he could know that I usually end up cutting after these dreams.

"Let's just say I have hunch." He says. He fingers his own wrist for a moment, and, although confused, I don't mention it.

"Fine." I whisper. I still won't write to him. But now I can't even cut to calm myself down. Not at night anyway. Harry will check my wrists, I know this. If I cut after a dream Harry will know in the morning, and he'll know I haven't written to him when I should have. So I'll just have to work extra hard at dealing with these terrors. Which means a lot of crying. Alone. At night.

Without Harry.

My lip trembles and I shake my head. I don't want to be strong. I don't want to do this. If I were dead this wouldn't be a problem... With each second I find myself wishing more and more that I'd cut deeper in the bathroom yesterday. In a split second, Harry's arms are wrapped tightly and securely around me.

"It'll be okay." He whispers, his breath warm on my ear. "Everything will be fine. Just give it time. Shh... don't cry. It's alright." I'm so afraid of being alone... I haven't fully been away from him since I tried to end it, and even though it was only yesterday afternoon, it seems like a lifetime. I don't want to ever be away from him again. It would hurt too badly.

What if I went to bed in the dungeons, and when I woke up, Harry wasn't there like he said? What would I do then? How am I supposed to sleep knowing that I'm alone again?

Oh god. Listen to me. Will I be like this forever? Seeming to read my thoughts, Harry speaks.

"It's the hardest in the beginning." He says. "You've just got to get through the beginning. It will get easier. I promise." I'm crying. I can't help it.

"How do you know?" I ask him, wondering if his promises are only empty words. He pulls away and I nearly panic. Why is he letting go of me? Don't let go... I need you...

Harry

I never wanted to show him this, but he needs to know. I roll up my sleeve, making a silent note of the panicked look on his face when I let go of him. This only reinforces my thoughts on showing him.

"Because, Draco," I tell him, "I've been through it too." I point at my scars. "Last year." Understanding graces his features, and thankfully, he's starting to stop crying.

"That's why Weasley said it was familiar..." He says. I nod, and pull him back into my arms, to which he seems immensely grateful. He buries his face in my shoulder.

"It's always the worst right after you've tried it." I say. "It's absolutely terrifying to be alone at all." I don't mention that it wasn't nearly as hard for me as it most likely is for him. I had someone right away, and I'd always had someone there for me, even before it started.

But Draco, has been alone his whole life and I'm just now giving him comfort. I can't even imagine how much it scares him to have to go back into the dungeons without warmth and caring. So even though I never actually clung to anyone like he has for me, I'm going to pretend I did. So he doesn't feel like he's gone insane. I leave out the part that when it was me, I'd wanted to be alone.

"So I've not lost it?" He asks, seeming slightly mollified by this. I shake my head.

"Of course not, Draco. I was a bit needy too." I tell him. "It won't stay that way. It will take some time before its better, but it's always the worst in the beginning. You just need to remember that no matter what, I will always be here when you need me." I see determination shine in his eyes and he nods. He wipes at his tear-streaked face and allows me to release him.

"Okay." He says, although his voice is trembling. "I'll try to get through this." There's still anguish on his features.

"You don't have to do it alone," I whisper, grabbing his hand. He grips me tightly back, and when we get to the Slytherin dorms, he looks at me, suddenly, the determination's gone, and he's just looks afraid.

"Can't I just stay with you for one more night?" He asks timidly. I'm tempted to say yes, but I know I need to be firm with him. I shake my head.

"No, you can't. You need to keep your independence. You can't rely on me for everything." Seeing the look on his face, I add, "I know it's hard, but it's better this way." He sighs, and whispers the password. He looks at me.

"Goodnight Harry." I shiver at how final his words sound. I kiss him softly on the mouth.

"Goodnight, Draco." I reply. "I'll see you in the morning. I promise." I know that he won't believe my promise until he sees me tomorrow. He has some severe trust issues, and it's something I plan to work through with him. That's why it's so hard for him to let go of me. He thinks that every goodbye is final. He doesn't believe that I'll come back and he's holding so desperately to what he has at that moment.

Draco

Taking a deep breath, I enter through the door into the Slytherin common room. The instant I do, I feel alone. I know that Harry will be there in the morning, I do, but it makes me uneasy being without him. I tell myself to get over it. I'm not a child. Though, admittedly, I've been acting quite like one lately.

I pause outside the entrance to the dorm, not wanting to face my dorm mates. But I need to go in. I need to sleep. I open the door, and go in.

Blaise smirks at me upon seeing me, but doesn't say anything. I ignore him, grab a shirt and pyjama pants, and unlock the bathroom door. Its only when I've already changed that I realise my shirt has short sleeves. I look at myself in the mirror. My arms are mauled by scars, up and down, and the ones from yesterday, barely healed stand out, bright, piercing red. I stare, shocked at what I've done to myself, terrified that it's come this far. My eyes are bloodshot and lined with dark shadows. I sigh, and knowing that I'd be getting hell for walking out with my robes on over my pyjamas, leave my arms bare.

My dorms mates stare, smirking, sniggering under their breaths. Anger fills me, unable to understand how any of this can be considered funny. I glare over at Blaise, whose whispering to Crabbe.

"If you have something to say to me, say it to my face." He laughs.

"I would, but you'll just run crying to Potter." I feel my cheeks flush. "But whatever, Malfoy. A Slytherin doesn't slash themselves up. You have some major problems." I almost laugh. As if I don't know that already. I don't say anything, but crawl into my bed, and close the curtains around me, wishing already that Harry was here. I close my eyes, knowing what nightmares are in store. Eventually, I drift off.

"Draco, come here, please."

Father's voice is deadly calm. I shiver. I'm twelve years old, and by now I know better than to think anything good will come out of this. I approach with caution. I don't know what I've done wrong... It's the Christmas holidays, and I want nothing more than to go back to Hogwarts.

"I hear you've been being rude to the Parkinson girl." His eyebrows raise and my stomach drops to my feet. I start shaking; I know there's a beating in my future.

"She's insufferable, father." I say, hoping this will help my case. Instead, he hits me. I don't back away when he does, knowing it will make it worse. Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. I'll cry later when I'm alone. Right now my goal is to hold it back as long as father can see me, which I've gotten quite good at.

"I don't care if she is insufferable, Draco. You've been arranged to marry her since birth. You are not going to mess it up by making her unwilling of the engagement."

"I apologise, father." I say quietly, though inwardly, I'm fuming. I don't want to marry her. This year, I've discovered that I don't want any girl at all. I'm gay. Father can never know this.

"You little, brat. You better be sorry." He advances on me. "I will not have you ruining our pureblood line by chasing your little fantasies." My fantasies involve escaping him. Some prince to come and save me. These fantasies will never be spoken out loud.

"Yes sir." I'm trembling now. I can feel him breathing on me. Suddenly he grabs my arms and I flinch away...

I jump awake. Gasping. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hug myself, taking deep, even breaths. I calm down rather quickly, having had much, much worse before. Still, I'm shaking, and I wish Harry was here. I have no arms to run in to right now, and it leaves me with a sense of sickening loneliness. I don't know what I'm going to do this summer. Three months locked in the manor. If father was upset about Parkinson before... oh god. Suddenly the dream seems much worse.

By the time summer arrives, father will hear that I've finally messed it up with Pansy. In fact, I don't know how I'm going to get through the summer months with a secret boyfriend and.... a supposed fiancé who now hates me. I feel sick. Nauseous, and now, I'm crying. I can't do this. I can't. I feel so hopeless. I'll just have to find a way to finish myself off before summer. Surely, Harry will have loosened his reigns on me by June. I can probably escape...

But until then, I'll try to be strong. Wiping tears from my cheeks, I curl up in a tight ball under my sheets. I clench my eyes shut, trying to block out images of what's probably going to happen this summer. I can't do this. I sit upright, and search through my bag. I find a quill, which seems to be the only sharp object I can find. I can't risk transfiguring anything in here. Blaise is a light sleeper and I don't want to risk waking him by speaking the incantation. So instead, I'll improvise.

I test the point of the quill with my finger. It's sharp. I sigh in relief and hold out my arm. Careful to avoid the lacerations from my suicide attempt, I start scratching at the skin. It doesn't slice cleanly like my razorblade, but with a small amount of effort, I'm able to draw blood. I marvel at the crimson river that flows down my marred skin, and I realise how much of an addict I've become.

I will use anything and everything I can get my hands on. And the anxiety that's filled me is finally beginning to ebb away, as I scratch at myself again and again. Harry will be so disappointed in me...