Thank you all who reviewed trying to help me get my butt in year. I was having a very hard time of school and for awhile a severe case of writer's block. I will NOT abandon the story. Especially not when I have it all planned out. :) Is anyone even still there? I really am sorry, I hope you guys are still reading.

Eclipse

XxXxX - serperations between parts of the stories or points of view

blahblahblahblah - thoughts

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Harry was busy actually enjoying his food for once, and staring off into space, thinking about his twit of a boyfriend. When Neville began speaking to him, Harry was thrown completely off guard. Normally, he'd attempt to mask his lapse in concentration but by now he was so confused as to what Neville was on about it would be no use.

"What was that, Nev? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"I said that Malfoy looks rather pique-y. I hope he's alright."

Spluttering and coughing, Harry tried to hide his surprise (not to mention the fact that he had almost choked on his pumpkin juice). If it had been Hermione, or maybe even Ron, Harry wouldn't have been so struck, but Neville?

"What?" Neville responded indignantly. "Is it so strange for me to make a concerned comment about someone when they look as if they were hit by a bus?"

Composing himself, Harry looked Neville in the eyes. "When your concern is for my very Slytherin boyfriend who happened to invoke your hatred every chance he got for the better part of six years? Yes, it is quite strange."

Neville turned a delicate shade of pink and ducked his head. Harry smiled, remembering just how cute the boy could be at times. Pausing in his thoughts, Harry realized that Neville was now giving him a muttered apology.

"It's okay Nev, don't be sorry for being nice."

"But I'm not being nice, you're right. I don't really care how Malfoy is."

"Then why..." That flush was gracing Neville's features again.

"Seamus told me to ask."

This time Harry really did laugh aloud. So, Draco was growing on his once-enemies. Granted, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the blond was ill, and had been for longer than strictly possible. Countless times, Harry had tried to pry an answer out of the blond as to why he wouldn't just go and see Madame Pomphrey. Surely she wasn't as bad as all that, Harry ought to know! The Slytherin must have realized he'd have to explain himself eventually. However, it seemed that until he had no other choice, Draco was going to uphold the ancient practice of his house and reveal nothing.

To say that Harry was worried would be a massive understatement. He was so anxious over his lover he could hardly stand to look at him. As if on cue, Draco entered, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry immediately frowned. The two bigger boys were standing closer to the blond then was usual. Judging by the attempted facades of indifference that leaked worry, it looked as if the two were so near Draco in case he fell. Was the blond truly that weak? He could fall over at any moment?

Parkinson's look of disapproval and concern when her supposed fuck buddy sat down wasn't lost on Harry. For Slytherins, self proclaimed emotionless aristocrats, so many of them openly worrying about Draco surely mean the sky was falling.

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Later, Harry was glaring at his boyfriend, having just barely caught him before he disappeared into the Slytherin common rooms.

"Harry!" Draco looked genuinely shocked. Stepping back away from the now closing entrance, the blond looked Harry up and down.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Are you alright?!"

Draco began prodding the brunette gently, as if there was some sort of physical injury. Impatiently, Harry batted Draco's probing hands away.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay. It's you who is seriously not. Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"You mean like how you always tell me, eh?"

"No!- it isn't - I mean - Draco! I'm worried, EVERYONE is worried about you. See Madame Pomphrey. She's confidential if... if you don't want me to know, she won't spill your secret." The Gryffindor couldn't help but stutter over the last part, the hurt creeping into his voice. Draco sighed heavily before wrapping his arms around the pregnant boy's waist and locking their eyes.

"Never, NEVER, think I am keeping something from you to upset you. It isn't that I don't want to tell you, it just isn't important. I don't need to see Madame Pomphrey. I'm just peachy, really."

"Now You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Harry, I'm okay."

"A)If you were fine then you wouldn't feel the need to keep reassuring me of said good health. B)If you're perfectly dandy, then why are all your Slytherin chums so openly concerned?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? The anxious looks. The awkward pats on the back. The standing too close, as if you're going to collapse. The raised eyebrow. The unusual emotions your whole house seems to start exhibiting when they see you. People coming up to me and asking me what unsightly potion my boyfriend swallowed. Me not being able to answer. Draco, THAT is what I'm talking about." He took a breath, realizing his rant had just turned into a bit of a tirade.

For a few seconds, Draco didn't say anything, just stared, wide eyed. It seemed the blond hadn't anticipated such an upheaval of accusation. After all, when faced with hard core observation there isn't much you can dispute without point-blank lying.

"I-I-I-fuck." Wearily, Draco placed a quivering hand over his eyes.

"Fuck indeed." Harry's tone was harsh, until he took in his boyfriend's state. Gently, the Gryffindor took both of Draco's hands within his own, rubbing his thumbs over the clammy palms.

"Draco, love, you're SHAKING. Tell me what it is."

"I can't."

"You can."

"No," the blond sounded honestly sincere. "I really can't. You'll do something positively stupid and repulsively Gryffindor. It'll be okay, that I can promise."

Harry still looked unconvinced but seemed to decide it was better to let the issue drop for the time being. A few more words were exchanged and with a light kiss on the lips, Harry left. To the Gryffindor's credit, he only cast one concerned look over his shoulder.

"You can come out now Blaise, I know you're there." Draco seemed to crumple in on himself, shoulders slumping and head hanging.

Blaise pushed off from the pillar he had been leaning on, the desire to lecture evident in every line of his face and the set position of his arms.

"You can't lie to him forever, you know." The boy said. "This is one of the most moronic things I think you've ever done, the least you can do is tell Potter what's what so he can stop his blasted worrying. He harassed a Slytherin first year half to tears the other day, trying to get the kid to spill on what ails you."

"If I tell him, he won't let it go on." Draco's head whipped up, grey eyes a hailstorm of emotion. "I won't loose him. I can't." Blaise uncrossed his arms and placed an uncharacteristically gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

"So you're willing to allow him to endure losing you? That's pure idiocy mate, I'm not going to lie to you."

"Blaise? Shut it."

The blond attempted to shrug out from his fellow Slytherin's light hold but stumbled, almost falling. Reflexes sharpened in a way that only years of training in the Dark Arts under paranoid parents could breed, Blaise managed to get his opposite arm around the blond's waist and clasp Draco to his chest. Blaise gave the blond a squeeze, before disentangling them from such an unmanly position.

"I love 'ya mate. Just be careful. You know what I think on the matter, I won't harp at you any more." Draco's relief at that statement was practically tangible, that is until Blaise chuckled evilly at him.

"I didn't say anything about stopping Pansy." Draco's groan of dismay was swallowed up as the two Slytherins entered the snake pit, Blaise allowing his housemate to lean heavily on his shoulder.