Harry did not handle rejection well. He figured he should be better at it by now, having endured every possible form of disdain and apathy from the Dursleys, but the clawing pain in his chest persisted even hours after settling into his dorm for the night. He hadn't cried yet. He assumed he would eventually get to that part, but for now, a hollowness settled into his ribs, and he waited for the sorrow to collapse in on itself.
If Harry was honest—something hard to escape when one's world crumbles around them— he didn't know what he'd expected. Draco had all but dumped him months ago. Why would confronting him in person change anything? Did he think Draco was the type of person to fold under the pressure of his green eyes?
Well, yes.
Harry took Draco's reluctance and mixed signals for symptoms of embarrassment over their shared history. He assumed the problem was Draco's proud nature, not anything real. But even with Harry confessing his feelings for Draco and not D, it wasn't enough to convince him they could work. Harry wasn't sure what to do with that.
When he thought about it, was it even a rejection? Draco had admitted to missing him. He'd called him 'perfect.' He hadn't said how he felt about Harry; he just said that Harry shouldn't feel that way about him. Maybe that meant-
Harry put a stop to the desparate rationalizations whizzing through his mind and rolled over on his side. Whether or not Draco meant it or not, the result was the same: Draco wanted nothing to do with him. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything.
Deep rumbling snores broke through the silence of the shared dorm and Harry desperately wished he could fall asleep or cry or something. Anything but reliving the same moments again and again as he agonized over what he could have said wrong. Was there something he could have done differently to keep Draco from pulling his hand away? Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the pain in Draco's face when Harry said he loved him. He hadn't even meant to say it, but it was true and now it was out there and Draco didn't want that love. Harry rubbed his eyes, muffling a groan. He just wanted to cry so he wouldn't have to deal with any of that because he didn't know how to.
Out of desperation or force of habit—he couldn't be sure—he reached for the little glass jar he kept in his bedside cabinet but stopped himself before his fingers could touch the handle. Draco gave that to him. Should he throw it away? Isn't that what people do after breakups? Purge the existence of the other person? Hadn't that been what Draco did to their letters?
Harry's chest ached. He didn't particularly want to purge Draco yet. He had so little left of him anyway: a single book and this little jar of magic. There were so many empty spaces in his life already where people used to be and the thought of creating another made him feel heavy. Besides, he'd grown so accustomed to having the firelights on nights when he couldn't deal with the nightmares and sleep was hard to find. It seemed a waste to throw them away over something trivial like a broken heart.
He made up his mind to decide later and opened the jar, watching with a sad smile as the butterflies took shape above him. They were still just as vivid as the day Draco had gifted them. Pulling the covers up, he let his eyes glaze over to the sight of the magic. Eventually, the fluttering wings drifted him to sleep, memories of a smiling boy bathed in pink light greeting him like an old friend.
—
Sleep did very little to fill the Draco-shaped hole in his chest. He woke before Ron and spent twenty minutes watching Draco's footprints on the map in an attempt to make himself feel better. It didn't work because it was a bad plan and it essentially meant watching nothing as Draco appeared to be asleep in his dorm or standing very still. Harry watched anyway with such intensity that he feared he'd bore a hole through the Slytherin Dorms if he didn't blink.
It hurt to read his name over and over, but he couldn't seem to put the map away. It was a fresh wound, and Harry was relentless in aggravating it. Maybe if he read Draco's name enough times, the novelty would wear off; Maybe he would finally get himself to cry so he could move on and forget about the whole thing. Get on with all the standard healing stuff Hermione always talked about.
A muffled groan and a familiar thump of feet sounded from across the room. People were awake and he resigned himself to another day of pretending nothing had happened. Maybe friends could fill the hollow space he couldn't escape. It couldn't hurt to try.
"Yikes, you look like shit," Ron said immediately, and Harry winced, fighting the urge to retreat into his bed to resume watching Malfoy stand still.
"Good morning to you, too."
"You party a little too hard last night or what?" Neville helpfully chipped in from across the room.
"You could certainly say that," Harry grumbled.
The boys changed quickly and joined Hermione in the common room. She shot Harry a curious look but didn't mention his shambled appearance. At least some of his friends could leave him to his impending breakdown in peace.
The group meandered to the Great Hall, Ron and Neville chattering happily about a quidditch match they'd attended over the Summer. Harry's muscles were tight as he listened, and considerable effort was put into containing an indignant sneer. He was in a foul mood and couldn't see the point of dragging himself out of it. So he allowed the bitter thoughts and stewed on what else his friends had done without him. It was easier than thinking about Draco, at least.
Hermione pursed her lips at the distance between Harry and the group and fell back to walk with him. "Everything alright, Harry?" She wore her bushy brown hair in a ponytail today and it bobbed when she walked, giving her an animated sense of motion. She perched three large textbooks against her hip in preparation for exams and she just looked so Hermione. Harry wondered if, years from now, when he thought about her, this would be the image that came to mind.
"Not really." He frowned at his own honesty.
"Anything I can do? Wanna talk about it?"
He shook his head. He wasn't ready to tell her about last night, and maybe he never would be. But it was comforting to know she'd be there if he ever was. Maybe he would tell her after he managed to cry.
Hermione linked their elbows and walked in silence for the rest of the way to the Great Hall, occasionally bumping into his shoulder to avoid running into the first years as they raced each other through the corridor. They separated when the group reached the usual table, and Harry stretched his arms behind his back, determined not to worry anyone else. Hermione took her seat next to Ron and Harry gave Neville a shit-eating grin, joining in on their conversation about the best methods for adding doxies to a certain professor's pantries. He tried not to notice a certain blonde boy missing from the Slytherin table.
The note was delivered just as Harry decided, regardless of his stomach's protests, to eat his third helping of treacle tart. Harry considered burning it but knew another would just replace it. Dumbledore had his methods when he wanted to get someone's attention.
Harry,
Please visit my office after your classes are over for the day. I would like to chat with you over some pumpkin pasties.
A. Dumbledore
Harry sighed, already knowing the meeting couldn't be about anything good. It didn't feel like a day fit to be the 'Chosen One', and Harry vaguely wondered if Dumbledore would ever speak to him about something other than saving the world.
Draco wasn't in DADA and Harry's resolve to ignore his sour mood slowly crumbled apart as the day went on. In theory, not having to face him so soon was ideal, but the apparent avoidance only made him angry. Which was strange; Harry was sad. Or at least, he was supposed to be. He was sure of that, but with how empty he felt, annoyance just naturally filled the available space.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose as the class filtered out, wondering when he got so screwed up in the head. He wasn't angry at Draco. Or at least he didn't want to be. Draco was going through something, and Harry didn't want to make it worse, but he didn't know how to make it better, so he was just angry and frustrated with nowhere to aim all the negative energy. He couldn't just leave Draco to wither away, but he felt powerless to change anything.
"Harry, thank you for coming," Dumbledore said, looking up from his desk as Harry entered the cluttered office.
Giving a friendly nod to Fawkes, Harry returned the greeting. "Of course."
"Please take a seat."
"Dumbledore—" Harry paused, unsure how to phrase his next request. There was no question whether he would ask, but he needed to be understood. "I know it's not why you invited me here, but I'm concerned about a student's well-being."
"Go on."
"Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore raised a bushy white eyebrow. "Something's going on with him… I'm not sure what, but he always looks ill, and he's skipping classes."
"You're worried about him?"
"I don't think he's eating, Headmaster. Something's wrong." Harry said it quietly, unable to make eye contact with the older man. He didn't want to betray just how worried he was, and if Harry looked up, Dumbledore would probably be able to parse through every feeling Harry had ever had about the boy.
"The professors have expressed similar concerns. I assumed it was just a result of his father's predicament. It must be hard for such a proud child to withstand a public scandal."
Harry's hands twitched, and his eyes followed the wood grain of Dumbledore's desk to keep from saying something he regretted. Draco wasn't some pompous kid too embarrassed to eat in the Great Hall. The change had only started at the end of the Summer; something had happened. Something was wrong, and Draco needed help. Harry swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't come out as sharp as he felt.
"Please, Headmaster. He's not okay. I know it." Harry looked up then, meeting Dumbledore's knowing gaze.
"Very well. I will inquire into the issue. Try not to concern yourself too much with this." Dumbledore gave him a weary smile. "Now, we have many matters to discuss and I'm afraid I must ask a favor of you, Harry."
—
The first conversation with Slughorn did not go as well as Harry had wanted. The Professor shut down at the first mention of Tom Riddle, and regardless of his teacher's pet status, he couldn't keep the conversation going after that. Dumbledore had asked for the memory, and it seemed Slughorn was determined to make it as difficult as possible because nothing could ever be simple for Harry.
To make matters worse, it seemed that Dumbledore had no intention of helping Draco. A week after their discussion, he still looked dead on his feet and barely showed his face in the Great Hall. His ghostly appearance and exhausted posture haunted Harry and he wondered how things had gotten this bad. He'd continued avoiding Harry of course but that was okay because Harry no longer bothered to try. Draco didn't want to talk to him, and he couldn't imagine forcing the issue would solve anything.
But Harry had never been the type to rely on others to fix things that were so evidently going wrong. This was far from the first time Harry's concerns were brushed aside. Sitting by and waiting for someone else to address it wasn't what he did, regardless of how much the professors asked him to.
It was with that mindset that Harry set off to the kitchens after not seeing Draco at dinner for the third night in a row.
"Hello!" Harry greeted as he stepped through the portrait hole. The house elves let out delighted yelps at his entry but were too wrapped up in bustling preparation and cleanup to pause their work for him. He didn't mind. Not wanting to interrupt, Harry nodded to them and made his way to the long table at the back where leftovers waited to be stored and kept for later.
It was strange to realize that he knew exactly what Draco liked to eat. He hadn't been consciously taking notes, but as he packed a plate full of dinner rolls and stew, the decisions of what to include and leave behind were clear and automatic. He placed a stasis charm over the food and conjured a small basket to make delivery easier. He'd already gathered more than enough, but he added an eclair to satisfy Draco's insatiable sweet tooth before leaving.
He wasn't totally sure what he was doing as he made his way up to the seventh floor. Getting Draco food had been his only real plan at that point. How he would actually deliver the food was still up for debate. He couldn't exactly knock at the Room of Requirement, could he?
He could, and he would. The hallway was dark and deserted, and ten minutes of standing in front of the blank wall did nothing to jostle any better ideas out of his brain. So he set the basket down and cast a simple knocking charm on the stone before ducking out of the corridor. While determined to help, his fragile emotional state couldn't handle Draco's reaction to him showing up. Another rejection seemed too real a possibility for him to spend any longer in the halls than he had to.
They hadn't spoken to each other since Harry's confession, and maybe that was for the best. The silence that permeated the cold night air after Draco told him to go still clung to him like a wet blanket a week later. The pit that formed when Draco shrank away from his touch gnawed at him and Harry suspected it was the source of the hollow feeling. Draco didn't want him. A reminder of that fact might very well do permanent damage.
Harry didn't realize he'd broken into a run until he arrived outside the Gryffindor tower, panting for air. Draco wouldn't try to follow him, but he felt exposed in the empty halls like he was being watched and judged for how useless his efforts were—how little difference any of it would make for someone he cared about.
For once, there was no Dark Lord to battle, no basilisk to defeat. There was just Draco, withering away in slow motion; And Harry was useless to save him. It wasn't like with Cedric or Sirius. They were both gone before Harry could even react. Draco was slipping through his fingers in full view, and he didn't want to be caught. Or maybe he just didn't want Harry to be the one to catch him.
The common room assaulted him with sound as he entered through the portrait hole. Three games of exploding snap simultaneously ran along the table as people ran back and forth to cheer on their friends. Crackles and bangs shot out from the staircase with what could only be WWW contraband. It was too much, even for Harry, but Gryffindors couldn't seem to help themselves days before their exams. Loud was in their nature; it was a thought that would have made Draco laugh.
Harry flexed his fingers and weaved his way to the couch where Hermione and Ron were sitting, surrounded on all sides by textbooks and loose notes. Among the sea of chaos, they were the only two focused intently on their revisions, though Ron looked to be in a great deal of pain resisting the urge to join Seamus Finnigan's table.
"Welcome back! Would you quiz Ron on charms while I finish this essay? I'm almost done with it, but I can't seem to focus." She looked back at her parchment and continued chewing on the tip of her quill— a nervous habit Harry had always been too afraid to point out. Ron's shoulders slumped a little, and he shrugged. Hermione had entered her pre-exam phase of stress and nerves if her messy ponytail and tired eyes were any indicators. Harry and Ron could hardly complain, though. They would probably be stuck in remedial classes if not for Hermione's consistent pestering over the years.
He plopped down next to Ron and opened the charms textbook, intent to quiz and memorize until there was no space left in his brain to think of rejection and all the empty spaces in his life.
"I heard from Fred today. Him and George have a new line of prank sun hats coming out next year, and he wants us to help test them out while we're home for Christmas." Ron grinned at Harry over his textbook, nudging him with his shoe. They'd been studying for about an hour and had only made it through the first semester's notes on theory. Ron was getting antsy. "He seemed really excited. Bet you it's gonna be bloody brilliant."
Harry's expression wavered a bit. He hadn't thought about Christmas yet. Exams started in a few days, then the feast at the end of the week, and then they would leave. Three weeks seemed like a long time to be away- a long time not to see Draco. Harry was so useless in the situation, but the nagging fear that Draco wouldn't be here when he came back was apparently very concerning. Concerning enough to make him say, "About Christmas-"
"Yeah, mate?"
Harry gulped, realizing he should have rehearsed this conversation instead of blundering into it like usual. "I was thinking" What was he thinking? "I might stay here for the Holiday break…" His words petered out, decidedly losing any conviction they might have started with.
"What?" It was Hermione who scoffed at the idea first. "You can't stay here. By yourself?" Ron nodded his agreement, his mouth turning slowly but steadily into a scowl. "What on earth for, Harry?"
Good question. Harry thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure that out for himself. "Um. Well, I kind of want to keep an eye on something." Someone, he corrected mentally, but Harry didn't think Ron would be sympathetic to Malfoy's plight.
He didn't seem very sympathetic to Harry's situation as it was. "That's rubbish. The whole family's gonna be there."
"I just- It's important to me."
"Charlie's even portkeying in for Christmas day!"
"It's important," Harry repeated for lack of anything better to say.
Ron sneered. "Oh, right. C'mon, Mate. What could be more important than spending Christmas with your family?"
Ron's tone of voice grated on Harry's last nerve and his hands rested on his knees to keep them from fidgeting. "I'm not saying it's more important; I just think I need to be here this time around."
Hermione cut in before Ron could say anything else. "Harry, is this about Summer? Because-"
"No." Harry said at the same time that Ron said: "You're still on about that?"
Harry's nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath. The common room was hardly the place to get into a shouting match with Ron and he spoke calmly. "Ron, I know family is important, but I just need to be here right now." He gave him a stern look. "I'm asking you to respect that."
Ron chewed the inside of his cheek, looking between Harry and Hermione with a wary expression. "Ya know, I haven't actually heard a reason." He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It's complicated. You guys don't need to worry about it, though." His confidence wavered, even to his ears, and he flinched as Ron arched a skeptical brow.
"Is it about…" Hermione's voice quieted to a whisper. "Your pen pal?"
"Your what now?" Ron interrupted.
Harry groaned, and Hermione huffed. "Harry's been writing letters back and forth with someone from school all Summer." Harry had not given permission to share that information, but the relief that she had left out the minor detail of Draco's identity was enough to keep Harry from snapping at her.
"First I'm hearing of it." He had the audacity to sound slighted, and Harry paused to take another deep breath.
Hermione took that as a sign to continue speaking, which it was not. "Well, he didn't want to tell us. I only found out a few weeks before classes started."
Ron furrowed his brow as if Harry personally betrayed him, and Harry thought with mild desperation that the whole conversation had entirely escaped his control. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"
Harry shot Hermione a vicious look as she opened her mouth to speak again. "Ron-" He looked at the ceiling, running his tongue along the back of his teeth. "I've been writing letters to a guy."
Ron stared at him, unimpressed with the explanation and waved his hand for Harry to continue.
"And I… like him." It sounded like a question. Harry straightened his posture with a steady resolve. "I like like him.
"Oh." Ron's expression remained blank, and Hermione nudged him with her elbow. "Oh, right! Well, that's fine. Great!" He looked everywhere but at Harry, a blush reddening his cheeks even more than his natural hue. "So… you're gay?"
Harry shrugged. "Something like that."
"You could have told me, mate." Ron resolutely stared at Harry's shoes as he rambled, nervous fingers pulling at a lose thread in the couch. I mean, I don't really get it—honestly, I thought you and Ginny would end up together—but being gay is fine, too. Charlie is gay!"
Harry punched him in the shoulder, attempting to knock him out of his spiral. "Sorry, Ron. I just didn't want anything to be weird."
"Nah. You do you." Ron gave him an awkward smile. "Shame about Ginny, though. Maybe I'll set you up with Charlie."
"Isn't he way older than us?"
"Yeah, but I've always liked the idea of being brothers-in-law, so I need to set you up with someone, and I don't think Fred or George would go for it. Merlin knows I would never inflict Percy on you."
Harry laughed, and the tension disappeared from their conversation. Hermione grinned at the pair and looked back at her essay.
"So you're staying for a bloke, eh?"
"Yeah."
"Do I know him? I could put in a good word for you. Though if you've been chatting all Summer, you probably don't need a wingman." Harry laughed again; the image of Ron talking to Draco Malfoy about him was possibly the funniest thing Ron had ever unintentionally suggested.
"That… is confidential information." He said, his shoulders shaking from repressed snickers.
"Does she know?" Ron nodded towards Hermione, who was doing her best to stay out of it after Harry's glare. He would apologize for that later.
"Kind of. I just-" Harry scrubbed his face. "I just need some time to work things out with him." He held his hands out as if trying to read his fortune in the lines. "Before I tell everyone."
"Fair enough." Ron shrugged, taking the news relatively easy. Harry supposed he was still wrapping his head around the whole gay thing; the identity probably wasn't super important to him right now.
"Let's all go to Hogsmeade after exams, though. I'll send presents for everyone with you guys."
"Including Charlie?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione snorted.
"Not if you're gonna be weird about it."
They laughed, and the conversation moved back to their exams. Hermione shoved their textbooks back at them, giving Harry an encouraging smile. It had gone better than Harry could have imagined, and he felt himself smiling more than he had in some time as they chatted and studied and fell back into their friendship dynamic that had held Harry up since his first year. It was so comforting that it took Harry a full hour to realize he didn't know whether or not Draco was actually staying for Christmas.
—
Luckily, the signup sheet made its way to him the evening before the Christmas feast. Not many students stayed for the holidays, but Draco's name was written in his elegant script near the top. Harry stared at the familiar handwriting for a moment before writing his own name at the bottom. He scanned the list again; there wasn't a single other Gryffindor staying; It seemed he really would be alone this year.
He had been thinking of it as spending Christmas with Draco, but that wasn't an accurate depiction of what would happen. Draco and Harry would be alone, separate, and in different parts of the castle. If they said a single word to each other, Harry would be shocked. He tried not to let the aching loneliness settle over him before it even began.
He expected it wouldn't be much better at home anyway with the way Ron and Hermione latched themselves now that exams were over. Hermione was going to the Burrow for the holidays and it seemed the excitement over the trip broke down any pretense of courtesy around him. Chats turned into make-outs and usually, they didn't even bother to sit in separate chairs. His daily excursions to deliver Draco food quickly became the highlight of his entire day because it meant a brief respite from rotting onto the sofa while his friends giggled and teased each other. He wouldn't go so far as to say they were ignoring him. Merlin knew he did not want to be involved in their activities, but the seclusion settled into his bones, and Harry often wished he were anywhere else.
The trip to Hogsmeade arrived quickly and Harry was relieved to escape the stifling walls of the castle behind for a day. They'd woken up to a fresh blanket of snow, and with exams finished and the feast looming in the evening, there was no escaping the holiday spirit. The new snow muted the sounds of their footsteps, and the energy of the student body seemed almost tamed by the pristine, untouched landscape.
They started towards The Three Broomsticks and revised their original plan of butterbeers to cinnamon-spiced hot chocolate, deeming it only appropriate for the weather. A short but violent snowball fight broke out on the way, and Ron quickly settled it by wrestling Neville to the ground. Harry chatted with Dean and Seamus about their shared family trip and assured Luna that he was more than happy to be left behind at the castle. She gave him an odd look that he couldn't quite interpret, but then again, when could he interpret anything coming from Luna?
The trip was pleasant, and they returned to the castle laden with gift bags and enough treats to throw an entirely separate feast in the common room. Harry had expected the day to wear on him, but spending time with friends who weren't all over each other was the perfect distraction. By the time they were clean and warm again, Dumbledore had begun his speech, and they bustled down to the Great Hall, the excitement about the time away only seeming to grow with every minute. The food was delicious, and for once, Harry didn't have to try very hard to ignore Draco's presence at the Slytherin table. He only stared a little bit, but he figured that was allowed; It was almost Christmas, after all.
By noon the next day, every Gryffindor except Harry had boarded the train, taking with them all the festive energy from the night before. Harry stood alone in the common room, feeling the full force of the ache that had become so familiar to him since the night in Slughorn's office. It hadn't gone away or lessened at all like he'd expected it to, but with his friends around, he could almost ignore it. Faced with empty couches and a cold hearth, the ache intensified and he needed to move.
Harry pulled on his winter jacket, stuffing the map and cloak into his pocket-these were necessities regardless of whether he planned to use them-and left the cramped common room behind. Having the cloak on would probably make no difference right now as he walked through the halls and didn't run into anyone on the way. Only about eight students were staying behind, and he supposed with the winding corridors and labyrinthian staircases he could explore freely without running into anyone outside of mealtimes. His mind started to wander to how Draco was spending his time devoid of fellow Slytherins, but he quickly pushed the thought away. It wouldn't make a difference.
Harry stepped into the snow and took a long draw of frigid air. The pristine snow from the morning before had long since been trampled under the footfalls of hundreds of Hogwarts children, but Harry still thought it was quite pretty anyway. He'd never spent much time in the snow as a kid -the Dursleys never bothered to get him decent winter clothes, so being outside was always more of a punishment than anything- but Harry had admired the clean, ethereal atmosphere it gave everything. It was probably why he liked Hedwig's coat so much. Maybe it was also why he liked Draco's hair.
He didn't go far from the castle gate before he spotted an untouched area and let his body pull him to the ground, arms outstretched. He hadn't planned to make snow angels, but he hadn't particularly planned much these days, so he supposed this would do. After a minute, his arms grew tired, and he let himself rest there, staring up at the cloudy sky.
Why had he stayed? He couldn't wrap his mind around it now that everyone was gone, and the reality of his decision was hitting him. Three weeks alone had sounded fine to him in theory—maybe even a reprieve. Now that it was happening, it was more tangible as a lousy idea. Draco didn't even want him here. Surely, Harry wasn't so deluded as to think staying would affect the cold wall Draco had built between them. He'd been so preoccupied with worry for the other boy's wellness that he hadn't even considered how three weeks alone would affect his own well-being. Harry had willingly given up Christmas with his friends and family for someone who blatantly didn't give a shit about him.
Forget Malfoy; what did that say about Harry?
He pressed his palms into his eyes and let out a loud groan, too bothered to care if someone heard him. No one around to hear him anyway. Maybe now would be a good time to cry. He might as well.
The footsteps didn't register as anything but snow falling from the trees until a familiar posh accent said, "Are you alright?"
Harry jolted to a sitting position, the harsh glare of the snow making him squint against the reflected sunlight. For a fleeting second, he thought it was Draco, wrapped in an Emerald green scarf up to his nose. Then he registered the sandy blond hair. His brain stuttered for a moment as he searched for the name through all the chaos of disappointment and shame for assuming Draco might approach him.
"Theo?" Harry hadn't seen him since Slughorn's party, but he vaguely remembered being asked to use the nickname.
The Slytherin nodded, his eyes crinkling in what Harry could only assume was a smile behind the lush scarf. "Hi, Harry. Good to see you again."
"Yeah, you too! I didn't know you were staying for the break." Harry tried to recall the list of students again, but he felt he would have recognized Theo's name if he had seen it. He must have signed up later.
"Oh, I'm not. My father's going to be picking me up himself on the way to Greenland. We've got a family home there." He trailed off, awkwardly pushing snow around with the tip of his leather boot. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to say, so he stayed silent, staring out over the frozen lake. Theo had approached him after all. "So, you've got a thing for Draco?"
Harry choked, eyes widening. "Huh?"
Theo shrugged. "No judgment here. I was hoping you did. The way you watch him all the time is fairly creepy if you don't."
"Wait, I didn't-"
"Potter. I'm being very serious right now. I know this is weird, and you don't have any reason to trust me but don't give me that bullshit. Otherwise, I'm just going to bugger off now." He pointed his thumb back to the castle and raised his eyebrows in unamused warning. Harry closed his mouth, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
"What do you want?"
"Splendid." The crinkles beside his eyes returned as if they had never left, and he spelled the grass next to Harry clear and dry before settling down. Even the way he sat was posh. "If you fancy him as much as I assume you do, I expect you're quite worried about him."
"Yeah."
"Well, it is good to hear that we're not the only ones. Pansy nearly canceled her trip to Thailand to stay behind with him. Once I saw your name on that list, though. I knew there was no need."
"Theo, what are you talking about?"
"You'll take care of him, won't you? Make sure he eats? Be there if he falls apart?" Theo's voice had become uncharacteristically soft. "He needs someone to take care of him because Merlin knows he won't do it himself."
Harry let his head fall to his knees and groaned again. "Yeah. I know."
"I'm fairly confident you won't like what he's doing. You and your Gryffindor goodness and all that." his face scrunched in mild distaste for the rival house. "Of course, I don't know the details; even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." He was thoughtful for a moment. "I guess I'm just asking that you suck up your moral superiority and take care of him anyway. Even if you find out what he's doing and hate him for it, you need to save him. Because he's a good person—well as good as any Slytherin can be— and he's in over his head. And that's what you do, isn't it? You save people?"
Harry stared as Theo finished his ramble. He couldn't believe that whatever Malfoy was tangled up in was anything that bad but the look on his friend's face told a different story and Harry swallowed and looked away. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would make him hate Draco, but that wasn't the biggest issue. "He doesn't want to be saved."
"Oh, well that's too fucking bad for him." Theo spat. "It's not his choice anymore because I'm telling you to fucking save him."
"What can I even do?"
"Whatever you have to. But for now, I suppose just keep him alive. Make sure he eats, maybe take him to the infirmary if he passes out." He shrugged, pulling his scarf higher to cover his ears.
"He passed out?" Harry asked, hissing out a breath when Theo nodded.
"He's in over his head," he repeated as if that were enough to explain.
Harry clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Draco crumpling to the floor in an empty hallway. "I'll do what I can."
Theo considered him with an odd expression. "If it makes it any easier, he cares about you." Harry shifted his head to look at him, arching a brow. "He'll kill me if you tell him I told you this, but he stares at you anytime you're not staring at him—which is most of the time. Have I mentioned how creepy that is?"
Harry couldn't help the sad chuckle that escaped his lips. "That doesn't mean he cares."
"Yeah, you're both just creepy motherfuckers for no reason." Theo heaved a sigh, fiddling with the end of his scarf. "He needs help and he's too much of a stubborn bastard to accept it from me. I hope you'd have better luck—Chosen One and all." He waved a dismissive hand in Harry's direction.
The giant squid broke through the ice in front of them, and they watched in silence as it flailed a tentacle in the air, grasping at a flock of birds. The pause in conversation was surprisingly comfortable, and Harry pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. He'd considered all of this, but hearing it from someone else made it more manageable.
Eventually, Harry stood, holding out a hand for Theo to take. "I don't know if I'll make much of a difference but I'll keep an eye on him." Theo smiled and let Harry pull him to his feet.
"Oh, believe me, you have 'keeping an eye on him' down, Potter." He snickered, casting an ironing charm on his robes.
"Oh, fuck off, I do not."
"Whatever you say. Just…" Theo tensed his shoulders, the playful attitude falling away. "I needed to know someone's looking after him."
Harry stared for a moment, assessing. "And you two aren't…?"
"Oh, Merlin no!" Theo scoffed. "He's like my brother, Harry. And I'll have you know that I am quite straight."
"Oh, well that's good."
"Were you jealous?"
Harry blushed, turning back to the castle. "Have a good Christmas, Theo. He'll still be here when you get back."
"Happy stalking, my friend!" Harry walked faster.
—
Theo's blessing in the matter didn't necessarily change any of Harry's plans but the renewed energy from not being the only one to notice the issue lifted his spirits considerably. He was no longer following Draco around based on unrequited love which was arguably just as creepy as Theo had suggested. Draco's best friend had asked Harry to look out for him, so he couldn't be overstepping. It made his job easier to stomach at least.
Which helped when Draco seemed to be on a mission of deteriorating self-care. Without the structure of classes to keep him in check, Draco's habits became even more erratic. During the first two days of break, Harry only saw him at one meal, so he began dropping food off at the Room of Requirement twice a day, concealed in his invisibility cloak. The baskets always disappeared and Harry could only hope that they were eaten and not vanished out of spite.
The first time he followed Draco wasn't exactly planned. According to the map, Draco had stayed in the common room for several hours later than he usually did. Without anything better to do, Harry donned his cloak and made his way down to the dungeons. He wanted to check on him, but without the password, he settled for waiting in a nearby alcove for Draco's footprints to move. Eventually, Draco came out, looking worn and exhausted, and Harry just… followed him.
After that, Harry fell into the habit. He would make sure Draco got to the RoR safely, and then he would run down to the kitchens, gathering a basket of breakfast foods to leave outside the door. He no longer ran away when he knocked, simply waiting a few meters down the hall, concealed in the cloak. It was the only time he got to see Draco's face, and it was the best part of his day.
He looked a bit better now that classes were paused—Harry could only assume he was finally getting enough sleep— and the sunken quality to his face was slowly recovering as he ate regular meals. Draco's hair had grown long enough to be tucked behind his ears and the slight curl near the ends made Harry want to run his hands through it. Harry loved seeing him like this again; He was a beautiful person.
By the end of the first week, a schedule started developing. Draco would work for a few hours in the morning, eat lunch in the great hall (usually; sometimes he skipped), and then spend an hour or two in the library searching for books that Harry couldn't understand before returning to the RoR for the rest of the evening. He would come out to claim the baskets of food when Harry left them, and like clockwork, Harry waited for him to head back to his common room every night.
Which is what made Christmas Eve such an anomaly. Draco started the day much the same as always. But when Harry knocked to leave breakfast for him, he didn't emerge. Harry stayed put in front of the door, tapping a nervous hand against the brick as the hours passed. He didn't come out for lunch either and eventually, when Harry knocked again to leave dinner, there was still no sign of him. Harry checked the map to make sure he hadn't missed him leaving but Draco was nowhere to be found so he had to still be in there.
Without any options besides blowing a hole in the wall, Harry was determined to wait. The time passed slowly and each sound from the castle walls made him jump to attention. He had only managed to calm down enough to doze when the door opened just after 10 PM. Draco looked like shit. His face was pale and he cradled something small in his arms as he stepped around the baskets without a second glance and started down the empty hallway. Harry waited until he was sure he wouldn't be heard to stand up, quickly making his way to follow behind.
Draco swayed as he walked, his limbs heavy and unbalanced like he had been standing in the cold all day. His head was bowed and he didn't bother looking around at his surroundings. Harry couldn't quite make out what he was holding, but the urge to run to his side was a hard one to fight. It seemed like a gust of wind would be enough to topple the boy over.
Draco turned the corner into the prefect's bathroom, and Harry hesitated, unsure of what to do. Was he really going to follow Draco into a bathroom? Was that something he did now? All of Theo's stalker allegations crashed through his mind as he stared at the door, willing Draco to come out before Harry had to make any bad decisions. After a few anxiety-filled minutes, though, his curiosity became too much, and he gently pushed the door open.
The sound of rushing water echoed off the marble surfaces, filling the room with a constant static noise. Soft cries joined the echoing tumult of sound and Harry's chest tightened as he turned the corner. Draco stood hunched over the sink in front of him, shoulders trembling like Harry had never seen before. He stopped, letting the cloak fall away. His need to comfort Draco trumping any worries he had about the questions he might be asked.
"Draco-" Harry called softly, taking a step forward.
He looked up, and their eyes met in the mirror's reflection. Harry could see the exact moment Draco registered who he was, shock and confusion flickering over his face before finally settling on rage.
The blond whirled around. "Get the fuck out, Potter!" A small, dead bird was laid out on the counter and Harry couldn't quite understand what he had stumbled into. Draco followed his gaze and blanched, stepping in front of the dead creature to block Harry's view.
"Draco-" But before he could finish his thought, a spell exploded against the wall next to him. Harry jumped back as Draco hurled another.
"I said get out!"
Jaw tight, Harry ducked behind a stall, clutching his wand as a third spell hit the door. Should he fire back? He didn't actually want to fight him but the git wasn't giving him a lot of options as another curse was hurled over the top of his stall. Harry's mind raced through all the non-lethal spells he knew. Fuck. Just disarm him. "Draco, stop!"
"Why the fuck are you here, Potter?" Draco snarled, voice breaking midway.
Harry's wand was raised in defense but he answered calmly, "I'm here to help. What's wrong?"
"Go away-" But Draco's voice broke and devolved into tears echoing over the water. Each ragged sob tore through Harry like a knife and soon he had no choice but to drop his wand, the thought of Draco crying alone on the floor becoming too much.
Draco was slumped against the stone wall, head buried in his arms. He seemed so small like how he had looked injured after their duel, cutting gasps and cries wracking his body. Was this another panic attack? Should Harry go get someone? "Hey," Harry whispered, hands raised tentatively as he approached. Draco's wand lay abandoned at his feet and Harry quickly kicked it away before dropping to his knees next to him. "Hey, Draco-"
He didn't respond and Harry did the only thing he could think of: pulling him into a firm hug and pressing soothing circles into his back. It was what Molly Weasley had done for him after Cedric's death, and he had no better ideas. "Hey, you're okay. I'm here."
"I-I killed it." He sobbed, melting into Harry's touch and folding his body into the embrace.
"No, you didn't. It's okay."
"I did!" Draco's fingers cut into his ribs and Harry tried his best not to flinch away. He continued the slow, steady circles and for a brief moment considered how oddly natural it felt to hold him. "I killed it! I'm a m-murderer, Harry." The words felt desperate and Harry's chest ached to take whatever was making him feel that way.
"Draco, it's okay. You'll be okay." His voice shook, betraying his own panic, and a new wave of sobs seemed to consume the blonde boy wrapped in his arms.
"Why are you still here?" He gasped.
"Shhh. Where else would I be?"
" I-I don't deserve you, Harry." Draco buried his face in Harry's clavicle, fresh tears soaking into his T-shirt. "I could never deserve you."
Harry squeezed his shoulders, trying his best not to dwell on the frail bones protruding from his back. "Of course you do, Draco. I wouldn't want anyone else," remembering Draco's words from the cold winter night weeks before Harry added a soft kiss to Draco's hair. "You're perfect."
Draco trembled against him. "It's not fair." His voice was so small now, barely audible above his tears and the faucet still running next to them.
"Shhhh, what's not?"
"All of it. Everything." Harry stroked his hair gently, coaxing the words out of him. "I wanted to be better for you. I wanted—" A fresh wave of sobs interrupted the thought, and Harry waited. "T-they won't let me." An angry sob wrenched its way out of Draco's throat, punctuating the word. "I can't do anything, Harry. I killed the bird, and I'm fucking useless, and I'm scared, Harry. I'm so scared."
Harry's heart clenched. "You don't need to be afraid anymore, Draco. I've got you." but that only made the sobbing worse. Shit. What had he said wrong? "I'm sorry. Shhh. It's okay."
"Everything is so fucked, Harry. And there's nothing I can do about it; all I can think about is how much I- and if I don't-" More tears. "I'm such a fucking coward."
"No, you're not," Harry whispered.
"Why are you still here?" He stuttered out again, holding tighter. Harry felt he wasn't understanding the question Draco was trying to ask and so he waited, letting Draco cry into his shoulder. Harry breathed and focused on the feel of this beautiful, stupid boy in his arms. When had his entire world shifted towards him? When had his happiness become the most important thing? It had happened without Harry noticing and now all he could do was try.
"I care about you, Draco." He finally whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."
Draco wrenched out a sob, grasping Harry's arms like a life raft. "I-I don't deserve to love you, Harry."
Harry squeezed him again, afraid he would disappear if he allowed himself to hope. He had no claim on Draco, and he could say these things now and then never speak to him again. Harry was all too familiar with that. He let himself smile a bit at the idea, though. "When has that ever stopped you from doing what you wanted?"
Draco gave him a shaky, tortured laugh, whispering "Asshole."
"That's me." Harry sighed, absently running his fingers through the flyaway hair behind Draco's ear. Draco shuddered into the touch, sobs slowly quieting into shaky, tear-stained breaths. "You're gonna be okay. I promise." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts together. "I just want you to be happy. Even if- Even if that doesn't include me." And it wasn't a lie. Harry knew without a doubt that he would walk away if he knew Draco was happy. It wouldn't make it hurt less, but at least Harry could accept it.
Draco loosened his grip, pulling away just far enough to look Harry in the eyes. Anything Harry had left to say caught in his throat. Draco, it seemed, was very suited to crying. A rosy red blush accentuated his face, making him look alive and young like his skin was stained with cherries. The moisture from tears running down his face left his skin dewy and soft, and Harry reached a tentative hand to push the silky blond hair away from his eyes. He let his touch linger, gently tracing the shape of Draco's ear down to his jaw. Draco's gaze didn't leave Harry's, and they stayed like that for several moments, limbs tangled together, eyes searching for something.
"You make me happy," Draco whispered when the silence became too much. Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he glanced at Draco's mouth. He waited, but Draco didn't pull away, so pnce again, Harry did the only thing he could think of and leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Draco let out a whimper and moved a hand up to Harry's neck to pull him closer. The kiss lasted too long and not long enough, and Draco was the first to pull away. He didn't go far, returning his head to Harry's shoulder and hugging him close like he had done while crying. He had stopped crying and Harry hoped that was a good sign as he wrapped his arms around the boy, resuming the slow, circular motion across his shoulder blades.
Harry wasn't sure how long they held each other, but eventually, his thighs started to ache, and Draco's breathing became less panicked. It was late, and Harry was sure they were both exhausted. He carefully untangled himself from Draco —who had gone quite limp—and helped him to his feet.
Draco cast a worried look at the dead sparrow as Harry turned off the tap and retrieved the wand and cloak from the floor. "Don't worry. We'll take care of it tomorrow." Draco nodded silently and took Harry's offered hand to be led out.
They didn't say much to each other as they walked towards the dungeons. Draco's grip on Harry's arm was firm, and he was so close that it was difficult not to trip over each other's feet. Harry found that he was too electrified from their brief kiss to care. As long as Draco stayed near him, Harry would put up with just about anything and everything. It wasn't until the Slytherin entrance came into view that the pit in Harry's stomach returned and he faltered. There was no guarantee that this changed anything. Harry could leave him here, and tomorrow, Draco could very well act as if nothing had happened. He should have taken a longer route—prolonged this respite between them.
Walking towards that door was like watching everything he'd ever wanted slip through his fingers.
Following a panicked impulse, Harry pulled Draco into one of the small alcoves. He was stalling, but he didn't care. He could let this go again. Draco didn't say anything, which was fine, but Harry didn't say anything either, which was less fine because this whole thing was his idea, wasn't it? Harry took a shaky breath, reminding himself that Draco had not yet attempted to separate their hands. That had to mean something.
"Hey-" He breathed, by way of starting a conversation.
The corners of Draco's mouth tilted up, and he gave Harry a tired smile. "Hey."
"I'd like to kiss you again." The direct approach seemed fitting, but the hesitation that crossed Draco's face was nearly devastating. He regretted it all, didn't he? A weight crushed down on Harry's shoulders before Draco could even speak. It was all over, wasn't it?
Sensing the change, Draco blurted, "I want to— I just…" He looked away, a tortured expression on his face. "There are things I can't tell you."
Harry shook his head. "I don't care."
"I'll have to lie."
"You said I make you happy…" Harry took Draco's other hand, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest as Draco let him. "As long as you're not lying about that."
"I wasn't."
Harry leaned and pressed their foreheads together. "Then whatever it is will be okay. Because you make me happy, too, Draco. So, so happy."
He stared into Harry's eyes, and it was like watching walls fall away one by one, each excuse falling short right before he vocalized it. Harry gave him an encouraging smile, and Draco finally said, without much conviction, "This is a terrible idea."
"Maybe." Harry closed his eyes and brought Draco's knuckles to his mouth for an affectionate kiss. "But there's no one else I'd rather make bad decisions with." He dropped their hands and watched as Draco's pale silver eyes darted between Harry's, lips slightly parted. Harry waited, determined to let whatever he decided be the final say. He wasn't going to push more than he already had if Draco didn't want him to.
"Fuck it." Draco breathed the words, closing the gap between them. The kiss was salty and rough and Harry couldn't help but smile into it, twining his arms around him and weaving fingers through pale blonde hair. Draco's tongue swiped across his lips, and they deepened the kiss, searching and clawing at each other for any semblance of balance. Harry's back hit the wall, and he let Draco take control of the speed. He tilted his head to meet each movement as the kiss slowed into something lazy and gentle, neither boy in any sort of hurry.
A little shakily, Harry pulled away just far enough to look into the gray eyes he'd longed so hopelessly for as if to reassure himself that this was real. Draco was here; Draco was his. "I love you," he whispered, pulling Draco tighter against him and pressing kisses along the curve of his jaw. Draco shuddered and turned his head to allow Harry better access.
"I-" Draco whimpered but lost the thought when Harry nipped gently at his ear.
Harry grinned against his skin. "What was that?"
"I love you too." And it was enough. Recapturing his mouth, Harry pressed closer, melting all the ice that had formed between them in the last few months. He kissed as if it could convey how deeply he'd wanted him—had missed him— and hoped Draco could understand.
"You won't avoid me anymore?" Harry eventually asked, giving Draco a tight hug. "I know it's complicated. Just-" He clenched his eyes shut, hoping to hide how vulnerable he felt. "Just please don't run away from me."
"I won't." Tentative hands wrapped around his back, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Harry smiled into Draco's neck, giving himself up to hope for the first time in months.
"Okay." He pulled away, retaking Draco's hands and wondering how he was supposed to leave now. Draco bit his lip and stared sadly towards the Slytherin Common room, obviously having come up against the same dilemma.
"Stay with me?" Draco asked. Harry tilted his head in silent question. "I don't mean- I just-" He leaned forward and rested his head against Harry's shoulder. "I don't want you to go yet... You could stay here for the night?"
"Okay," Harry whispered again, pressing a kiss to Draco's hair. "I'll stay."