No, this absolutely is not happening. Snap out of it. Eat something. Throw a tantrum. Get on your bloody broom and catch the snitch like a good little boy. Sneak out after hours and get caught in the Restricted Section. Act like the prat they expect you to be so this won't happen. I will do anything you want if you make this not happen. Anything.

Snape, Snape, pulled me aside and asked me what's wrong with you. As if I had some power to make you care about anything. That somehow the weeks of begging you to speak to me, look at me, react in any way were somehow shirking my duty to shore up the morale of the Saviour of the Wizarding World. What am I supposed to do, take off my clothes and flop up and down on your body until you come back to reality like I'm some kind of prostitute? You are not my job, you never were, and you certainly aren't now.

I am not going to a meeting with you in Dumbledor's office to discuss your behaviour. I just, I can't do it. I won't. I can't believe you would humiliate me like this. He owled my father, you self-centred little twit. Lucius bloody Malfoy summoned to school to discuss the Boy Who Lived's mental health like he cares if you waste away and die from starving yourself. Do you hate me that much?

I will never forgive you for this.

oOo

I can't believe you put me through that. Have I degraded myself enough for you today, or do you need more? What would make the shining Prince Potter happy? A bed time story, perhaps?

Do you want to hear about my conversation with my father after you left? How he is so proud of me, not for the fact that I've managed to beat Granger in marks or finally defeat you at Quiddich, because, really Draco, it's not much of an accomplishment if he doesn't even try, is it, now? No, my father is proud of me for breaking your spirit.

All I've wanted since I was eleven years old was to beat you and make my father proud. And he is. I should be happy. I should be ecstatic. I should be throwing a party right now. But what am I doing? Sitting in Snape's office writing you a letter.

Why aren't I happy, you ask? Is it because I care about your pathetic excuse of an existence? Do I feel remorse? No. I wouldn't waste an ounce of pity on you. I'm not happy because I didn't do it. It isn't my victory. I'm not the reason you've been walking around like a zombie for weeks, but you let them think it was all about me anyway.

You never loved me. If you loved me, you'd tell them their expectations and adulation and constant need to watch every little thing you do has gotten the better of you. You'd tell them I didn't do anything to you. But no, you can't just tell them you aren't their perfect Golden Boy, capable of taking on the weight of the world every moment since you found out who you were. You couldn't just be bitter for having your childhood stolen.

No, you indulged yourself in depression, let yourself slip away, and let them blame it all on me. Your love is a burden I never asked for, and everyone thinks it's mine to bear, expects me to pull the weight, but I can't because none of it is real. You just let me go around throwing myself at your mercy, humiliating myself, killing myself over a pretty lie to hide your dirty secret.

You have them all fooled, but you can't fool me. I know you too well. I've watched you since we were children. I know everything about you and I know you don't love me. I know you don't love me because I love you, and I'd never let anything like this happen to you. I'd protect you from anything if I could. And that's why I won't tell.

I'll let them go on blaming me for everything that's wrong with you, even though it's their fault, because it would break you to tell them the truth. I'll be the villain for you, so you can be the tragic hero. They can hate me all they want, they can punish me and I won't complain, because there's nothing they could ever do to hurt me more than you've already done.

But when you finally get tired of playing the victim, and get back to saving the world and all the other rubbish they've made you think you have to do, remember that I loved you, and you broke me for it.