AN: Thanks Isi, JettHead, Lady Knight and Isi! I'm glad you enjoyed that last chapter. And Isi, just read / you'll find out what happens to Harry now...

Chapter Ten - Withdrawal

Christmas morning dawned, the Hogwarts grounds blanketed heavily by the thick white snow that swirled violently outside the boy's dorm. Harry had awoke early, even for Christmas morning, and the rest of the boys were still asleep, Neville muttering softly and Ron snoring loudly. Harry watched the snowflakes fall outside his window as he pulled on a pair of bright green socks from Dobby, ones with a star pattern, and one of the only normal, or matching, pair of socks he's ever received from the house-elf. He looked around the room, making sure he hadn't waken any of the others, and slowly made his way to the common room. He passed a snoozing Crookshanks, who was curled up in front of the stairway towards the girls dorm, and Harry wondered why Hermione had not taken him up to her room. The notion that she had not been in her room didn't come upon him until he crept through the portrait door, the Fat Lady grumbling about students being up at all hours, waking her here and there. The chilly halls got even colder as he made his way down to the dungeons, and he stopped before the hallway to the Slytherin common room. He didn't know why he was there; maybe to see Draco again, maybe to try and get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach that he couldn't seem to shake. The feeling that he knew what he was doing was wrong. Or the feeling that he actually felt anything towards Draco.

He shivered, pulling his robes tighter around him, when he noticed something on the ground, in the corner. Curiosity got the best of him, though he knew better than to pick up stray objects around the castle, like Tom Riddle's diary, or the stray piece from a chess set he found a week ago, which promptly set sire to his pocket and escaped through the hole. But when he picked up the object, he was surprised at what it was. It was a wand, sleek and black, shining dully in the candlelight. But it was also broken in half. Harry wondered why someone would just toss aside their wand, even if it was a bit bent. He moved out of the dungeon hall and into the better lit corridor. The wand looked expensive and well taken care of, and Harry pondered as to why a well kept wand would be snapped so carelessly, when he heard a small sound. Harry froze, his head jerking up to listen. It sounded like sharp footsteps along the ground, coming around the corner, straight towards…him. Harry dove behind a large statue of a tall, slender man with a snake around his neck. He dared himself to breath as the footsteps got louder, eventually ending up in the hall. He stayed perfectly still as the footsteps seemed to take forever just to walk down the corridor. They stopped, in front of the statue, and the person let out an angry growl, then walked past. Harry peered around the statue, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was walking by. But no one appeared. Puzzled, Harry stood and made his way around the statue.
"Potter." a voice hissed, and Harry found himself being dragged by his hair into the dungeons again. Harry only saw the silvery wisps of hair float above his head and right away he knew who it was.
"Gerroff, Malfoy! Dumbledore will have you for thi-"
"Dumbledore will do no such thing. He will not know of this. You want to know why I'm so sure, Potter?" Lucius stopped dragging Harry and pulled him into the corner, bending over to come face to face with Harry, his gloved hand still grasping Harry's hair. Harry gasped in pain, running his hand up to his head, trying to pry the strong fingers off, but to no avail. He hung there limply as Lucius got closer towards him, his breath hot on Harry's face. "Because Draco won't tell him. No he won't say or do anything if he wants to come home this year." Harry's eyes went wide at the mention of Draco's name.
"Did you hurt him?" he asked, pleadingly. Lucius replied with a sharp shake of Harry's head, Harry would feel some hairs being pulled out of his scalp.
"And you, my boy, you won't say anything, because dead men…can't…speak." Lucius's hand went down slowly to Harry's mouth, and Harry squirmed again, trying to free himself. Harry finally got his mouth free enough to speak, and choked out,
"He's nothing to me!" Lucius stopped at this, and looked down at Harry through squinted eyes.
"What?"
"He means nothing! I don't feel a thing for that faggot!" Harry struggled again to get our of Lucius's grip, and he finally was able to slide from his grasp. Lucius looked down at him and grimaced.
"Then what's this I hear of you being with my son? You filthy little things romping around the castle doing Lord knows what."
"Rumours. Or, most of them. I have been getting closer to your son. But who wouldn't? You're one of the most powerful wizarding families, are you not? There's much you know that others would die for. Secrets, information."
"You're a spy?"
"You can call me that." Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Since you seem to let any type of information float about into your son's head, it'd be easy enough to snuggle up and see if I can work it out of him." Harry suppressed giggling in spite of himself at the use of this analogy.
"You mean to tell me you'll give any information, not that I doubt you have any, to Dumbledore?"
"Yes, sir." Harry nodded and smirked slightly. "You're rethinking what you spill around your boy now, eh?" Lucius gave him a dreadful look and spat at his feet. Harry stood slowly, shakily, and Lucius followed his moves, every twitch of a muscle, every blink of his eyes. He scoffed,
"You know nothing, Potter. Now, if you're through using my son, I suggest you stay away from him. You'll learn nothing, and tell that to your sick Headmaster as well." And with that, Lucius strode out of the hall, leaving Harry to himself. What neither he nor Lucius knew was that someone was listening in to what Harry was saying. Draco and Hermione had slowly made their way down to the dungeons to get Draco to his dorm, and the two were frozen on the spot at the sound of Lucius's voice. But Draco felt his knees weaken, and his body slumped onto the floor as he heard Harry reveal his secret to his father. Hermione watched helplessly as the poor boy sank to his knees and stared at the floor, the night's action still slowly sucking the energy from him.
Harry made his way out of the dungeons, still rubbing his head, and saw the sight of the weeping boy. Harry ran to the boy's side and lifted his chin up, softly kissing his forehead, then his pale lips, which were trembling. He put and arm around him and held him close, whispering it would be ok in his ear.
This was Harry's first reaction when he saw Draco on the floor, crying. But it's not what he did. He had realised that Draco and Hermione, who was giving him a steely gaze, had heard his conversation with Lucius. Harry could only watch as the small boy cried gently into his hands, and Hermione shot disgusted looks from his side. Harry watched helplessly as Hermione went to pick Draco up, finally standing with him, her arm wrapped around his. Draco had stopped crying, and now was staring at Harry with daggers in his eyes. Harry's mouth gaped, not knowing what to say. As Hermione slowly walked Draco down into the dungeons, he looked back at Harry once more and Harry felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Whatever hatred he had, vanished, as with the lies he had told Lucius just moments before. All of the feeling he never had for Draco came flooding back into his head, and he felt the knot in his stomach tighten, as the one thing that meant anything to him in the whole world, looked back and walked away.

The day went by slowly, Hermione spent the morning with Draco in the dorm, both of them calloused to the strange looks they got from other Slytherins who walked by Draco's bed. Hermione sat in front of Draco, who was staring blankly out the window.
"Look, Draco, a gift from," Hermione glanced down at the package she had picked up from the end of the bed, which was wrapped in green paper and tied with a silver bow, "your mother!"
"It means nothing now. He doesn't want me." Draco said sadly, still staring out the window.
"I was talking about your mother, not your father, Draco."
"I was talking about Harry, not my father, Hermione." Draco hit her name with a singe in his voice, and Hermione looked down at her shoes. "Nothing means a thing now. He doesn't want me. He never did."
"It's not reason to stop everything." Hermione said slowly, trying to catch Draco's eye. "Or maybe it is." Hermione took Draco's hand and put it in her own, squeezing it tightly. "We'd be so much happier if shadows didn't hang over our heads, Draco." This time, Hermione touched Draco's chin, lifting it to look at her. "We can do this, together. We don't need this."
At first, Draco was confused, but then he realised what Hermione meant. She slowly moved her hand to her pocked, pulling out her razor, and Draco reached over to his desk, doing the same. The razor's lay on the bed, shining in the new mornings sun and the snow's windowsill's glare. Draco's hand had not left Hermione's and he squeezed tightly, receiving it back even tighter. Hermione took out her wand, (for Draco was lacking one) and waved it over the two razors, which vanished into thin air. Draoc let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
"We'll do it," Hermione whispered, pulling him into a hug, "together."

Hermione cursed those words that came out of her mouth that next night. She was huddled up in her bed, shaking like mad. Her hands trembled as she pulled her sheets up high, wiping tears from her eyes, some stray tears leaking out and falling softly into her hair. She had never felt such pain in her life, her body was convulsing, her chest hurt from sobbing into her pillow. She repeated over and over that it was all in her mind, but her body wouldn't let go. She spent a sleepless night in her own self, but not a shining razor touched her skin.

Harry spent his sleepless night alone as well, laying on his bed, fully clothes. His heart ached after seeing Draco break like that, and he closed his eyes only to find images of Draco in his mind, the words he said to Lucius, the lies that spilled out of him. Though of course, they weren't lies at first, the only lie was him and Draco. But as time went on, Harry felt his heart grown fond of the blonde haired boy. Now it killed him to know that he had hurt him badly. And that Lucius had hurt Draco more because of him. Harry suddenly felt a tear run down his cheek, and he wiped it away angrily, shrugging a blanket onto his shoulders, and wishing that the warmth from the blanket, which was oddly cold, was from that same boy whom he had broken that very day.