Harry had dug out the Marauder's Map a few days later, and he found himself subconsciously looking at it extremely often, his eyes following the footsteps labeled 'Draco Malfoy'. He seemed to spend a great deal of time alone in the Slytherin dorms while he was not in class, and he was never present at breakfast or dinner.

One morning Harry had slipped out the map while Hermione was reading the paper and Ron busy shoving bacon down his throat. Malfoy had been in the hall briefly before, standing over the Slytherin table whispering something to Blaise Zabini. Harry hadn't seen him sit down to eat, however. His heart fluttered as he searched the parchment, then stopped for a moment when he found what he was looking for.

Draco Malfoy was alone in the boys' bathrooms, and it seemed as if he had locked himself in the end cubicle, sitting against the wall. Harry looked up nervously. Hermione flipped the page of the newspaper, Ron started on his scrambled eggs, and Ginny was engaged in conversation with Luna Lovegood in the walkway. Looking down again, Harry saw that Malfoy had moved and was now standing or sitting in front of the toilet. Could he? It was ridiculous, but it made sense. Malfoy, looking deathly pale and skinny, not being able to be around food, now – purging, possibly?

"Ron, Hermione, I've got to go. I'll see you later," Harry said quickly, standing up and running out of the hall.

As he made his way to the bathrooms, he worried about what he was going to say and do. Tell his supposed worst enemy that he loved him? Tell him to eat something; that he was scared he was going to die? Was scared even the right word? No, Harry was terrified. It was irrational, feeling this way about someone he was so distant from.

Malfoy sat in front of the toilet, only bile coming out of his mouth. There was nothing to purge. He hadn't eaten a proper meal in months. For two or three years now he had been eating very little, trying to lose weight and hoping it would impress Harry.

He gave up on trying to get anything more out and turned his attention to the blade beside him. Only small, but it would do. He held it to his wrist, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slashed it across his skin. Again and again, blood pouring out all over his left forearm.

Harry meanwhile had been caught up with Hagrid in the corridor.

"Hiya 'Arry, what're yeh doin', rushin' outta breakfast?" he asked, curiously but still as cheerful as he would normally be.

"Oh, um, nothing. Just some homework I've forgotten to do," replied Harry.

"Ah well, yeh better get to it then, 'ave a good day."

Harry managed a smile and darted off once more.

So much blood, so many scars to come, so beautiful, so morbid. Yes, one day, I will die, and then that's when he will notice me.

Draco's thoughts were just as insane as his actions. He began to feel dizzy and he started to shake. He had lost too much blood.

Harry rushed into the bathrooms and banged on the door of the cubicle Draco sat in.

"Malfoy! Please open the door!" begged Harry.

"What do you care?" was Draco's quiet reply.

"Open it!" Harry shouted, frantic with worry.

"Never."

"Alohomora," Harry cast, and the door opened slowly.

Harry's eyes were first drawn to Draco's face. His eyes full of tears, his skin so pale. The goosebumps on his right arm, and the blood and cuts all over the Dark Mark on his left. He was shivering, and Harry didn't know whether it was because he was crazy and crying, or if he was cold.

He knelt down and wrapped his arms around Draco carefully, trying not to hurt his mutilated arm.

"No, Potter… I'll get blood all over you," winced Draco.

Harry ignored him. "Dra - Er, Malfoy, please, don't worry. You… You're… fuck… oh shit."

Harry could feel how cold Draco was, and he felt so light in his arms as he pulled him onto his lap. He could feel his ribs and spine as he held him close.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked almost inaudibly.

"I don't want you to die," Harry said without thinking.

"What? What makes you think I'm going to die?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I've seen you, you're so… so… I don't know. You can't play Quidditch properly because you have no energy, you're so tiny and skinny and pale and sick, and it upsets me. Draco, I know I've been a complete asshole since the day we met, but believe me, it was only because I couldn't tell anyone what I really felt. When you offered to be my friend, believe me, I wanted to, I just wanted to wait. But then soon after I got the impression you hated me… Well I don't know. But I heard you and Snape the other night. Fuck, Draco, I had no idea. I love you. I always have. I want you, I want to be with you and I want you to be okay. I love you."

Harry thought he heard Draco laugh quietly. "You don't mean it. Don't try to hurt me even more," he said quietly, still crying.

"I never meant to hurt you, I was just so angry and upset and I couldn't control myself, believe me, Draco. Please! I love you, you are beautiful…" Harry replied, crying too now.

"Harry," whispered Draco.

It was the first time Draco had ever addressed him by his first name.

"Harry, I'm sorry."

Draco took a shallow breath in and out. He was still shaking in Harry's arms; scared and confused.

Harry decided to take a chance. He brought Draco closer to him and kissed him softly. Draco tasted of vomit and tears, but it was beautiful nevertheless.

"I love you," Harry said softly.

"I love you too," replied Draco before he fainted.