In the next few days, it was the same game of cat and mouse. Sometimes, Draco slipped past him, disappearing from the map, and Harry knew he was in the Room, working on his project.

Other days, he grabbed Draco as he tried to slip into the Room. When they entered together, there was always the comfortable setting of the chairs, the fire, the food. And the bed.

Draco was usually the one pushing Harry down on to it, kissing him like they haven't seen each other in weeks, when it was rarely more than a couple days. He could easily distract Harry from his persistent questions.

Harry didn't mind too much, knowing he was keeping Draco from his project as well.

This time, he tried a different approach.

Draco was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling on his clothes. They had progressed to stripping down, exploring each other. Draco, naked, spread out, writhing underneath Harry's touch, was a beautiful sight.

Harry ran a lazy hand down his naked back. "Talk to me. Maybe I can help."

Draco stilled, and then finished doing up his trousers. But he laid back down beside Harry, who rolled on to his side. A sheet covered his naked body.

"It's hopeless. I can't do it. And my father will die if he's in prison much longer," Draco sighed, sounding small and defeated.

Harry knew it was true. Sirius only survived as long as he did in Azkaban by transfiguring into a dog. Not knowing what to say, he took Draco's hand.

Draco glanced at Harry, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Harry's heart went out to him. "My mother is a mess. She spends days in bed, crying. Or at the Ministry, fighting to get my father released. In court battles. Bribing and cajoling people. I went home at Christmas and she was an empty shell. Barely spoke. Looked haunted."

Harry can hardly imagine that beautiful, proud woman like that. He gathered Draco in a hug, stroking his back. "So, what are you trying to do? I heard you and Snape at Slughorn's party. You saying it was your chance. He chose you. Chose you for what?"

But Draco didn't answer, just tucking his face into Harry's neck, and holding him close. Not willing to say more.

Harry pulled back, frustrated. "Come on. Your family is already dirt to Voldemort. No matter what you do, you can't go back to how it was before. Would you want it to? Your father doing horrible things? He almost killed Ginny Weasley in our second year, slipping that diary into her basket. Voldemort's horcrux possessed her, you know. Made her open the Chamber of Secrets."

Maybe it was too much, too far. Draco rolled on to his side, facing away from Harry. He was silently shaking, crying. Feeling awful, Harry wrapped around him, hugging him from behind. Eventually, Draco calmed down, limp in Harry's arms.

"Let me help please. Draco. It's got to be better than this," Harry whispered softly to him.

Draco didn't reply. After a couple more minutes, he moved away and pulled on the rest of his clothes. He left without another word.

He avoided Harry for the next week. Evading him at the Room, not meeting his eyes in their classes or the Great Hall.

Harry watched him more obsessively than ever. Draco seemed even thinner, and looked like he wasn't sleeping much. He wasn't on the map very often, and Harry knew he was working on his project. The end of the year was approaching, and Harry sensed it was the deadline.

He barely went to classes, and skipped meals often. Ron and Hermione gave him frequent concerned looks.

"Look, Harry," Ron finally said one night, as they are getting ready for bed. "I know you've been involved… with something."

Harry stopped hanging up his clothes to look at his friend. He felt a bit numb, a bit detached. "What?"

Ron looked uncomfortable, but pushed on. "You were there when I split up with Lavender. I'm here for you now."

The words sunk in. Harry had thought it was all a secret. But Ron and likely Hermione had noticed. Had anyone else? Somehow having whatever they had acknowledged made it feel more real. Made it hurt even more. Because it was really over now.

…

-A/N: Poor boys