When the door to the study begins to open, slowly, I'm sitting sideways on the couch with my arms wraps loosely around one knee. Harry pokes his head through the doorway and I pretend not to notice, too ashamed to really look at him.
"Draco?" he says gently. "Draco, are you alright? What happened?" He crosses the study and I move my feet to allow room for him on the couch. There's a part of me, somewhere, that feels relieved. He came. He actually came looking for me. I stare down at my knees.
"I…" I don't want to continue. The prospect of saying it out loud, it's humiliating. And yet, I know I must. "I started crying." I say, flatly. "I couldn't stop it. I needed to leave." I'm silent for a moment, but Harry doesn't speak, seeming to sense that I haven't finished. "Pathetic, isn't it?" Harry regards me with caution, seeming to be unsure how to handle me. From the looks of his expression, the simplest touch could cause me to disintegrate, and it's not an assessment that I can entirely disagree with.
"I don't think it's pathetic, Draco." Says Harry in an unbearably serious tone. "I think it's terrible." I think he senses the indignation that I begin to work myself into because he adds "it's terrible that any person would feel that miserable, for any reason." I don't respond. "Please, talk to me. What happened last night? How did you break your hand?" I fold my arms across my chest in a defensive fashion. I know I'll have to tell him. If I want any hope at allowing him to save me, I know I'll have to tell him.
"I punched something." I say simply, not wanting to elaborate. "The mirror." Harry's not stupid. He knows that I'm withholding information.
"Why would you do something like that, Draco?" Unable to face him, I bury my face in my hands.
"Because I looked." I mumble, almost inaudibly. Though I've given him almost nothing to go on, Harry seems to understand.
"Draco…" He starts, but doesn't finish. We sit in silence for a moment while we both consider how continue. I remove my hands from my face and stare up at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry," I tell the ceiling.
"Sorry?" Asks Harry, bewildered. "What are you sorry for?" I turn to face him, for the first time since came to find me.
"After everything you did last night… and I still couldn't keep myself together."
"You don't have anything to apologize for, Draco." Harry says, sincerely. "If anything, I shouldn't have left you alone." I shake my head, staring down at my knees again.
"I wouldn't have let you stay." We're quiet again. "There's more." I finally say, and he looks at me attentively. "It might be best to just show you…" I shrug my robe from my shoulders. From the expression on Harry's face, I can tell what he expects. "I guess… you already know about the cutting." Harry nods.
"I had my suspicions, yes. But I figured that you'd tell me when you were ready." I sigh.
"I didn't want you to know so I wouldn't have to stop." I say, honestly. "But yes. I cut myself. A lot. Every day. I've been doing it since way before I started throwing up. But… last night…" I roll up one sleeve and try to ignore Harry as he winces at the cuts. He's able to discern the difference immediately between the normal cuts and the mirror slashes because he takes my hand and gently points to the three of them.
"What are these from, Draco?" I close my eyes.
"Those are from the mirror… I decided it was some kind of poetic justice." I open my eyes and see that Harry looks confused. "To harm myself... with pieces of my own reflection." I wince at how dramatic it sounds. The darkened expression on Harry's face scares me. He doesn't say anything for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Harry…?" I finally say.
"I'm sorry," he stammers out. "I'm just not sure what to say." I feel my insides plummet to the ground. This is it. I've scared him off.
"You're disgusted with me." I say plainly, feeling self-hatred begin to seep into my voice. "I shouldn't have shown you." I pull my sleeves back down, covering the evidence of my crazy. I know, though, the damage is done.
"No!" Harry scrambles to say. "No, Draco, I'm not disgusted with you. I'm just… I'm sad. I think it's terrible that anyone should ever have to feel that way…" I stare at him, silently. "I just wish there was anything I could do to make you see that none of this is necessary."
"Harry, I." He cuts me off, seeming to work himself into a rant.
"I wish I could stand you in front of a mirror and make you see that all these imperfections… they aren't there." I stare. I might be wrong, but it seems almost like Harry is on the edge of tears. "You don't need to starve yourself, Draco. You don't need to make yourself vomit to be good enough for anyone!" I give a watery laugh, and fight not to start crying again.
"It must be so nice," I whisper. "To be in Gryffindor." Harry looks at me quizzically and I continue. "I don't blame you." I tell him. "I don't blame you because you don't understand." I feel a tear slide down my face and I wipe it away. "Slytherin, the Malfoy house. They're NOTHING like you're familiar with… Even with my eating habits, I'm still not enough." A wave a fear flows through me. "I'll never be enough…"
"Then why try, Draco? Why bother with them? If it were me, I'd tell them to fuck off and move on with my life. With the people who care about me…" I wring my hands in my lap.
"You at least HAVE people who care about you…" I mumble beneath my breath. I look up at him. "I've lived my entire live with a certain expectation. My entire future has been planned out from the moment I was born. Every time I turn around, all I do is disappoint everyone around me. I've grown up being punished for the slightest transgression. And now…" I stop a swallow, thickly. "Now that we're about to graduate, I have the entire pureblood society to answer to." I shake my head. "I can't just tell them to fuck off, Harry. They control everything. My income, my ability to get a job, where I'm allowed to live. I've spent 17 years fucking up every task they give me and now…" I break off.
"It's not true." Harry says quietly, and I look up at him, confused.
"What's not true?"
"I care." He tells me. As he says it, his emerald green eyes make direct contact with my grey ones, and I know that he's being sincere. "I care very much about what happens to you, and the fact that you feel miserable." I offer him as much of a smile as I can manage.
"Thank you." I choke out.
"Now," Harry continues. "Why don't we just relax for a little bit? You've had a rough couple of days. I want you to just breathe, and try to remember that right now, it's just you and me."
"Y-you're not gonna yell at me? Or try to take my razor away?" Harry sighs and offers me a frown.
"Honestly, Draco. I know better than to think that confiscating your razorblade is going to make you stop cutting. I'm sure you have about 10 others hidden god knows where." I wrap my arms around myself, feeling guilty. "I absolutely want you to stop." He says. "But right here, and right now. This isn't the place for it. I'm not your babysitter. We'll take it slowly." I nod, and I fight with myself for a moment not to lean against him. "What I would like, however, is for you to come find me. Write me, whatever, the next time that you're thinking about doing it. At least give me the chance to try, okay?" I nod.
For the next thirty minutes or so, we sit in the study as I try to calm my nerves. Every few minutes or so, I get the overwhelming urge to blurt out the fact that right now, I'm considering suicide more strongly than I ever have before. To tell Harry that if he leaves me alone tonight, I can't be sure that I'll be alive by morning. But I don't. I don't tell him that. Firstly, because Harry is right and I really do need to relax. Secondly… well…
Telling Harry that might mean I don't get to go through with it.
After some silence, Harry speaks.
"I know you're trying to keep up appearances," He tells me. "But how would you feel about spending mealtimes with me, instead of your housemates?" I look at him, wearily.
"In the Great Hall…?" I ask. "I don't know, Harry… What about the Gryffindors?"
"They won't give you any trouble." He tells me, resolutely. "Only if you're okay with it," he answers. "I just want you to be comfortable." I shake my head.
"No, Harry, I'm sorry. It'll only make my housemates mad, and I have to live with them…" Harry nods. "But…" I tell him, "I need you to be around. D-don't… don't skip out like today…" Harry smiles.
"I can do that." He tells me. "And if for some reason I can't, I'll be sure to let you know." I nod. "So," he tells me, smiling, "Tell me about yourself. What do you like?" I smile, and flush, realizing for the first time that we skipped over all the traditional getting-to-know-you crap.
"Let's go for a walk," I tell him, surprised at myself for saying it. "We'll get some air, and I'll tell you all about why I'm not at all like my father." And, I think privately, tell you why you shouldn't let me out of your sight.
Okay guys, I know it's been a very long time since I've updated, and I'm sorry. If any of you are still following this, thank you, and I'd appreciate a review. The next chapter won't be so short. I just wanted to get this up so you know I'm still around. Thanks!
