SECRETS

Chapter Seven

"Maybe we should head out now. We have class soon," Hermione said from where she was curled up on the couch.

Harry sighed, perfectly content where he was. He sat in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, which was currently unlit, in his favorite chair.

Ron, who was seemingly comfortable at his end of the couch, let out an over dramatic groan. "Do we have to, 'Mione?" he pleaded.

"Don't be silly. Of course we do."

"If I never have to see that potions room again, I will die a very, very happy person."

Harry chuckled as Hermione frowned. "Ron, yes, we know. You hate the Slytherins, but need you remind us every time?"

Ron looked directly at Harry. "Somebody has to."

"Ron, please don't start..." Harry pleaded.

Ron put his arms up in a surrendering motion. "I'm not starting anything. I was just saying..."

Hermione sighed, "Please, you two, could you just stop? Everything has been kind of tense, and it's really starting to bother me."

"I'm sorry," Ron muttered, having the decency to look embarrassed.

"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry."

"Good. Now let's go. We wouldn't want to be late for potions."

"Bloody Slytherins..." Ron muttered as he headed out of the common room.

Hermione threw her hands up in defeat.

As Harry sat in potions, completely tuned out from the professor's lecture, he thought about the marks covering Draco's arm.

Did Lucius physically do that himself or did he use magic? Most likely he used magic. I can't picture him taking the muggle way for anything. Not even abuse.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was staring at the professor, but subconsciously holding his hand on his arm with the evidence of his father's abuse. The other boy looked down, reading over his notes; his platinum blonde hair spilling into his face. The sight reminded Harry of the day he confronted Draco in the library.

With that thought, a realization hit Harry.

Malfoy went home AFTER that. I thought his father did that to his arm. If so, then why was he holding his arm that day in the library?

As if sensing that he was being watched, Draco glanced up. He met Harry's eyes a moment before looking back at the teacher. After a moment, Draco looked back. He gave him a questioning look, confused at why Harry was looking at him so intently.

Harry looked away, but the frown didn't leave his face.

At the end of class Harry leaned over to his friends and told them that he'd meet up with them later; that he had something he needed to do first.

Harry quickly left the room and leaned against the wall outside of the potions room.

"See you, Harry," Hermione called out as she and Ron walked by.

Harry ignored them and kept his eyes fastened on the door, looking for the blonde head that he would recognize anywhere.

When he finally came out, Harry grabbed his arm. He jumped in surprise but didn't protest when he started being led to an unused classroom.

"You know, asking would have worked just as well," Draco drawled as soon as the door was closed.

"I need to know something..."

"Well, get on with it. I do have another class I need to go to soon."

"I was wondering about the cuts on your arm."

Draco's eyes grew a shade darker. "What about them?" he snapped, growing agitated.

"You said your father did them, right?"

"Yes, that is correct. Potter, what is this all about?"

"I was thinking about the day I ran into you in the library. I clearly remember you holding your arm. You sounded hurt too."

Harry could see Draco was growing impatient with the conversation.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"That was before you went home. And you hadn't been home for a while before that."

Draco's eyes widened slightly. He paled. Harry took a step closer.

"Malfoy...did you do that to yourself?"

He bit his lower lip, as if he was trying to stop his answer from slipping through.

"How could you do that? Why?"

"I don't need to explain my actions to you," he crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

"You will if you want my help."

"Are you threatening me?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry crossed his arms and stared at him.

"I can't believe this. Get out of my way," Draco said, trying to get past him so he could get to the door.

Harry stepped to the side, blocking his exit. "I don't think so. I want an answer."

"This sure as fuck isn't the way to get one out of me. I have nothing to say to you. Now get out of the goddamn way!"

"No."

Draco pushed the taller boy.

"Move!"

Harry stumbled at the unexpected act of violence. Draco stormed by him, throwing open the door and leaving Harry in the classroom to watch his retreating form.

I guess that didn't work...

We just never seem to get along. Maybe it would be better just to leave things the way they are. I'll just not talk to him anymore. That might fix things. Who am I kidding? Not talking to him won't make his father any less of an asshole. Him talking to me doesn't hurt anyone. As long as his father doesn't find out, anyway. Okay, so I guess I should apologize. Again. I don't think he'd agree to see me, though. He seemed really pissed. So how can I talk to him? I could stop him in the halls. No, he'd probably just walk away. Or I could write him a letter. There's always the possibility that he won't read it, but I think it's my best option.

Harry took out a piece of parchment. He absentmindedly rubbed the end of his quill against his cheek as he sat thinking of how to start the letter. After a few moments he began writing.

I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, but I just wanted to say, I really am sorry. You must understand that I'm only trying to help you. I'm concerned. I know you don't want to hear this, but I know you're harming yourself. However, I will respect that you don't want to talk about it. It's not really any of my business anyway. I just don't understand how someone could do that.

If you still refuse to talk to me, I'll understand. I wont try to contact you after this, if that is what you want. I wish you the best of luck.

-Harry

He chewed on his lip, wondering if he should have said the last part. He didn't really want to just leave him alone, but he didn't want to push him. If Draco wanted to talk to him, then he would when he wanted to.

Harry sighed, standing up from the couch in the middle of the long, deserted common room. He decided he would send out the letter the next morning.

As he walked towards the boys' dormitory, he had a strange feeling of foreboding.

Why do I feel like this is the end of me and Malfoy communicating?

Two weeks later and Harry had still not heard from Draco. Even though he had said he wouldn't bother him anymore, he just had to find out if he had received his letter. He had to know if Draco really wanted nothing to do with him.

As Harry stood waiting for Hagrid to show up for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, he spotted Draco standing off to the side of all the others.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the lonesome-looking boy. As he stepped next to him, Draco ignored Harry's presence.

After a moment, when neither boy said anything, Draco finally turned to look at Harry.

"What is it, Potter?"

"I just wanted to know if you got the owl I sent."

Draco stared at Harry with eyes void of all emotion.

"Yes. I did."

Harry frowned, feeling as if he had just been punched in the stomach.

"Fine," he muttered, walking away from him, just as Hagrid began his lecturing.

Well, I guess that's it then.