AN I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters! Angst Abused!Draco and Abused!Harry implied Drarry h/c fluff.

First day back from winter break, the lashes in Draco's back were hidden by his glamour but they still hurt like hell. The train ride was excruciating and it took all his focus in the common room to lean back against the couch as if nothing was wrong. None of the Slytherins seemed to notice. He waited until everyone was asleep and snuck off to the Prefect's bathroom. There, where he was sure he wouldn't be disturbed, he dropped the glamour and examined the scabbing wounds.

He heard footsteps. Panic surged through his body and he could have easily put the glamour back up or darted into a stall but he was frozen on the spot. Why wasn't he hiding it!? The footsteps got closer and part of him hoped it was a prefect. Hoped that some older Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would ignore his signature platinum blonde hair or his silver and green robes and just see the wounds. Hoped someone would care.

He swore at himself for even considering such a thing because he, of all people, knew what his father would do to him if anyone even suspected but he couldn't make his body move. He couldn't raise his wand, he couldn't duck out of sight. He just stood there. Frozen.

And it wasn't yellow or blue that greeted him as the figure strode into the bathroom-it was scarlet. Fuck. A Gryffindor would definitely not help the current situation and it was almost as bad as watching a Slytherin step through those doors. But it wasn't the Gryffindor prefect.

"Malfoy?" Draco felt his stomach drop clean through him to the floor. He was so stupid! Stupid for wanting someone to discover it, stupid for hoping it would be a nice kid from one of the less hostile houses, and stupid for not hiding it. His father was going to kill him. Quickly, he put the glamour back up but it was too late-the damage was done. Harry fucking Potter stepped into the bathroom with a shocked look on his face.

"You're not a prefect, Potter." But Harry looked close to throwing up and in no mood to banter with him. "Better get out before I tell McGonagall." Harry didn't move. Draco felt those piercing green eyes on his skin, searching and trying to find holes in the glamour as if to reassure the dark-haired boy that he'd really just seen that. It seemed impossible, Draco was sure, but he wasn't really keen on reassuring Harry at the moment.

"Potter, leave me alone. You're not supposed to be here." Suddenly, it was like Harry snapped back to reality.

"Neither are you." So the sass was back. In some weird way, that was actually a relief to Draco because at least this was normal. But Harry's face said they were still in no way going to drop this. Dammit.

"Bugger off, Potty." Potter looked ready to stay, though, and had that fierce, annoying looking of determination in his face that said Draco would have to fight to get him out of that room.

"Who did that to you?" The dark-haired boy sounded so… broken. For a second, he managed to throw Draco, who just blinked at him. He'd thought Potter would be happy to find out that Draco had some dirty little secret? But he was upset?

"I'll hurt you, Potter, if you don't leave." Draco raised his wand towards the boy but Harry didn't move. Maybe he was frozen in fear too?

"You can hex me or curse me if you want but I'm not leaving you like this." Draco's eyes turned to steel. It was bad enough that Potter was being stubborn and refusing to leave but like this? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"What? Alone? I quite like it that way, actually, and you're ruining it."

"No, hurt." Again, Draco stopped for a moment. It wasn't long, but given his reputation for quick wit and an even quicker tongue, it felt like years before he finally had a retort on his lips. But he didn't say it. Slowly, he considered the boy in front of him and the indignant little pout to his frown. No, arguing and bantering like everything was fine wasn't going to work on the Gryffindor. So Draco changed tactics.

"You telling me you haven't had worse?" It was a rather well kept secret that Harry's aunt and uncle had been abusive. Draco wasn't even sure that Ron or Hermione knew, to be honest, and he'd only found out from eavesdropping on his father but that kind of leverage was exactly what he needed right now. Harry paled and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Worse from what? A whip?" Draco grit his teeth because of course Potter would guess right on the first damn try from just a half-ass glimpse in a dark bathroom. A guess, though, he reminded himself. It was just a guess. So Draco schooled his expression and rolled his eyes with a snort like Potter was actually funny.

"No you bloody idiot from a bludger. You've been knocked around on the field a fair amount too, you know." Harry just stared back at him, his eyes a weird mix of ice and warmth. It was like he was trying to decide how bad this was, if it was worth pushing Draco or if it was better to just let it go. But, if Harry was anything besides the boy who lived, Draco knew he was a bleeding heart. Those eyes decided on concern.

"You and I both know bludgers don't leave marks like that." Draco rolled his eyes again but his stomach was starting to churn. Potter was pushing this more than he'd expected him too and his hands were starting to sweat where they were still gripping the edge of the sink. They did both know that. Honestly, why had Draco picked quidditch of all things to blame it on? If anyone knew exactly what injuries were possible from that damn game it was Potter and he had to guess the golden boy had been hit with enough bludgers to know what kind of mark they left. They both had. Draco swore at himself internally.

"No, but falling on a patch of Devil's snare does." Harry didn't budge. "We were sneaking in extra practices over the forbidden forest and I got knocked off. Had to burn the bloody thing just to get free." What was he doing!? He knew that wasn't how to get rid of Devil's snare-they both did-and he knew he was rambling too much for it not to sound like a lie but he couldn't stop himself. Normally, he was an amazing liar! What the hell was wrong with him?

"Malfoy." He flinched, ever so slightly, at his father's name-because, really, Malfoy had only ever been used for his father, who detested people using his first name-but the normally oblivious Gryffindor noticed. Of course he noticed, now of all times. Harry gave him a look of concern but Draco decided right then and there that this had to end. The little bubble of hope in his chest that had formed when he thought about someone finding out, someone caring, had cooled into a steady supply of panic at the thought of what his father would do to him. It was too real now, and he wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

His father wouldn't kill him. He was still the only Malfoy heir and his father valued appearances above nearly everything else but Merlin help him if that thought was supposed to be comforting. His father wouldn't kill him, but he would torture and violate and destroy him until he wished he was dead. Draco could feel the cold, unforgiving bite of his father's cane against his skin already. He steeled himself, deciding this had to end. No more games.

"What will it take to get you to forget this ever happened?" Harry looked at him, confused and then hurt but then as if he understood. He didn't like it, clearly, but he understood.

"Pomfrey." Immediately, Draco shook his head. If he went to the hospital wing then, not only would the entire school know, but they would write home and his father wouldn't hesitate to collect him. And destroy him.

"No." There was so much steel in his voice that Draco almost scared himself. He sounded like his father, if he listened hard enough, and that made his skin crawl in a way that was horribly familiar. He lurched, but caught himself. Harry just watched.

"Why not?" But Draco just shook his head, faster and faster until it felt like he was doing some kind of time jump and none of the realities were right. "Okay, then Dumbledore. He'll keep whatever this is quiet and you can trust him." Draco shook his head faster, cursing the tears he felt brimming just behind his eyes. He couldn't trust Dumbledore-he couldn't trust anyone. Because they all trusted his father.

"Snape, then." He shook his head slower, but Harry was determined. "I'm not leaving you until you're with an adult, Draco. So Snape?" He noticed the use of his first name. It was small, and he wouldn't have even heard it if he wasn't so acutely aware of how he'd flinched before, but it meant the world. No one had ever noticed he didn't like being called Malfoy. Granted, he'd never let a reaction like that slip through before but… It still surprised him that Potter didn't use that reaction to his advantage. If anything, it was like he respected it. He'd shifted immediately to his first name and Draco knew it had to be difficult because they had never used anything but last names but Harry had done it. Very intentionally.

"Yeah, Snape." He swore semi-internally, earning a look from Potter, but he was too focused on the current situation. Snape was his best option, realistically. His godfather would be upset and would undoubtedly interrogate him about it but if anyone wasn't going to push too hard, it would be Severus. Because Snape was afraid of his father too. Draco could convince him to put on whatever show his moral compass needed-he could plead with Draco, heal him, beg him to tell him who'd hurt him-but at the end of the day he wouldn't push hard enough to get Lucius' name. The only way that was coming out was with veritaserum or if Draco told him on purpose.

They walked in silence down the hallways towards the dungeon. He felt Harry's eyes on him, looking for more injuries, for a limp, for anything that said this was worse than what he'd already seen, but Draco didn't let any more show. He'd been stupid enough already and he didn't need to make it worse. When they reached Snape's office, Draco almost let himself back out and just deal with Potter insteady but then the door opened. Snape had sensed they were there, somehow. But his surprise at seeing the two together, and out of bed so late at night, trumped any kind of smugness he had at catching them off guard. Slowly, he looked between them.

"Draco is hurt." Snape noticed the first name, too, but didn't say anything aside from a glance to Draco. Harry just stood there, not afraid necessarily but clearly uncomfortable around the professor, and Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Then take him to the hospital wing, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for overlooking the obvious." But neither of them moved, and Draco felt Harry hesitate again.

"No, he refused to go see Pomfrey. You were the only one I could convince him to go to." Snape's eyes turned to Draco, then, in confusion and something like distrust. Harry didn't notice. But Draco felt it and squirmed under that gaze because he just knew Snape would refuse the deal. He would tell Lucius, he would expose Draco's secret, and godfather or not he would be the reason Draco suffered for the rest of his life. No, Draco corrected himself, Snape hadn't done anything. If he hadn't been so stupid and let Potter see in the first place none of this would have happened. He was the reason he was going to suffer, not Snape.

"What happened? He looks fine." Yes, Draco thought, because he was fine and there was absolutely nothing wrong. This could still go badly but at least Snape seemed unconvinced in his need to go to the hospital wing.

"Glamour," Potter said shortly. "I saw him drop it in the Prefect's bathroom." Snape glared at them both.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being in a prohibited area after hours. Did you ask him what happened, Potter, or just jump to conclusions?" Both turned on him and he squirmed a bit before steeling himself. He could do this.

"Fell onto Devil's snare." Harry frowned but didn't say a word, thank Merlin, and Snape merely looked at them both.

"Honest, professor, he needs medical attention and you were the only one he would agree to. Just help him."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for forgetting your place, Potter. You don't give orders. Now, get back to bed before McGonagall hears about this and let me handle my godson." Harry's eyes flicked to Draco in confusion. Had the dark-haired boy not known Snape was his godfather? But before that conversation could happen, Snape glared and Harry started for the stairs back to Gryffindor tower. When he was gone, Snape beckoned him into his office.

"Drop the glamour, Draco." Draco did as he was told, but kept his shirt on. "And the robes." He did, but it was more hesitant than before and he stiffened when the cold air of the dungeon hit his skin. Snape frowned at the wounds.

"What happened. Don't lie." Draco took a deep breath and forced his body to relax. He could lie. He was a good liar, at least when Potter wasn't concerned, and he could do this.

"Fell onto some Devil's snare, Sir. I was out flying after hours." Snape glared, clearly indicating that he hadn't asked for extra details and didn't care. The man examined his back very carefully. Unlike Harry, Snape had the time and the light to see the other marks-the bruises on his ribs, the burn mark on his leg, the rippled scars already on his back beneath the damage-but he didn't say a word. He circled the blond, observing, and Draco felt like some kind of specimen but he didn't move. He needed Snape on his side for this.

"Interesting wound patterns for a plant that doesn't have arms." Draco stayed quiet. "And interesting that it didn't go for your throat. How did you get out of it?" Draco was ready that time, and unconsciously touched his wand through his robes.

"Lumos, Sir." Snape nodded. At least the whole ordeal with Potter had let him think on that question because if he'd said fire Snape would not have let that go. He had to be convincing.

"Where in the forest?"

"It was dark, Sir." Snape just hummed, though Draco couldn't tell if it was in interest or in suspicion. Fuck he felt like he was going to die. He knew, realistically, that he wasn't and there wasn't even a curse on him let alone crucio but his skin began to crawl again and his stomach churned because he started to imagine his father finding out. What if Snape didn't believe him? Or, if he did, what if Snape still told Lucius? Draco would be pulled out of school and thrown into his room faster than he could scream.

"You're sure it was Devil's snare, Draco?" When he didn't answer, Snape leaned closer and almost took on a parental kind of worry in his face. "You're positive it wasn't something else?" Draco grit his teeth. He could say it, if he wanted to. He could tell Snape and watch the dominos fall around him. But his father would come for him, no matter what he did, so he forced his insides to relax and he met Snape's eyes.

"Positive, Sir." At that, Snape backed off. Draco wasn't sure that he'd convinced him entirely, but it seemed to be enough for the moment. Thank Merlin. With a few spells and a healing potion, Snape dismissed him back to the dorms to sleep.

"Draco?" He stopped, halfway out the door, and tried not to panic.

"Sir?" Snape had this look in his eyes that Draco had only seen once or twice in all his years of knowing the man. It was contained and angry and sad. To Draco, it looked like poison.

"Let me know if you run into any Devil's snare in the future. I keep healing potions on the third shelf in my office." Draco nodded.

"Thank you, Sir." With that, he walked away. His gait was stiff and he felt Snape's eyes on him as he walked but the second he rounded the corner he broke into a run. He sprinted, trying to balance between the burn in his lungs and the terror in his gut, and he didn't stop until he had to hiss the password to get into the common room. It was empty, thank Merlin. Draco wasn't sure how he would explain the sight of him-out of breath and shirtless in the middle of the night-to anyone, least of all one of his friends. He forced himself to breathe until he was relatively normal and then started for the stairs. His roommates were asleep, thankfully, and he slipped into his bed without another sound.

Silently, he closed the deep green curtains and whispered a small silencing charm. Then, the tears started. He wrapped his arms around his middle and hugged himself the way he'd learned to during the panic attacks as a kid but it didn't help. He wasn't panicking, he was just crying. The sobs wracked his body until he couldn't see straight but it was dark and no one could hear him so he just hugged a pillow to his chest and rode it out. He was so stupid. That little urge in his chest to let someone find out, that little bit of hope that it might change, was gone. He screamed at himself inside his head, letting the sound ricochet until it felt like knives. Stupid! He was so damn stupid.

When he managed to fall asleep, the nightmares came fast. Thankfully, it was one of the scattered ones. Draco knew by now that he had two types of nightmares on a regular basis, and occasional panic attacks in his sleep. The first type was the worst. They were memories, or situations, that were so clear and so vivid they felt more real than Hogwarts did, and they lasted in his mind for days. The second type, however, was easier. These ones were scattered-they were memories, sometimes, but they were snippets and pieces jumbled together so it was enough to scare him but it didn't leave that slimy aftertaste in his brain after he shook it off.

He was shocked, however, to see a new image in among the old, familiar ones that had taunted him since he was a child. Green eyes. They were piercing and sharp and sometimes they were angry but most times they looked sad. The green eyes were what woke him up, actually, and he swore out loud. He hadn't meant to dream of Harry's eyes. It was an accident, he told himself, and it didn't mean anything because he was just still anxious from the whole incident with Potter the night before. But the eyes lingered in his mind, even as he got up and hurriedly dressed.

It was early-way too early for breakfast and definitely too early for any other students to be up. So he dressed and began to walk. He walked quickly, eager not to be recognized or seen, and headed straight for the door that led out to the quidditch field but he didn't make it. Instead, his foot caught on something and he tripped.

"Mal- Draco?" The correction, if nothing else, told him instantly who's leg he'd tripped over. Draco quickly got up from the floor but he was too late because Potter was already up and looking at him, trying to find injuries. He wouldn't have any for a while, now, but Draco still shied away from the look. It was habit, he told himself.

"What are you doing out here, Potter?" Harry rubbed at his eyes-had he slept out here?-and yawned.

"Was waiting for Snape. He always seems to find me the second I'm out of bed without permission so I figured he would come." Was Potter actively trying to die? Pissing off Snape on purpose, or pissing off Snape for your own motivations, was one of the fastest ways to suffer his wrath and Draco knew that. But, Potter apparently didn't.

"Why do you want to find Snape?" The longer he looked, the more details Draco seemed to notice about the dark-haired boy. His face was slightly red in patches from sleeping on his arms. His robes were still dirty from walking to care of magical creatures the day before, and his eyes were kind of red. Had Potter been crying? No, he was just tired, Draco reasoned, and the Slytherin had simply never seen him like this because they didn't share a dormitory. Harry gave him a bleary look.

"To see if you were okay." Draco honestly didn't know how to react to that, so he just gaped. "Where are you off to?" There, a question with a concrete answer. Draco could handle that, even if his mind was still reeling and stumbling over the words to see if you were okay.

"For a walk." Potter nodded, still clearly drowsy, but Draco couldn't help himself. "You want to come? The cold air will wake you up." He hated himself the second he said it but Harry's face lit up at the offer and the Gryffindor immediately nodded. Together, in silence, they headed towards the lake.

It was silent and Draco secretly loved the fact that neither of them were talking or trying to fill the quiet. He'd always hated small talk, especially with Potter, and he had sincerely hoped that his morning walk wouldn't be ruined by a chatty Gryffindor who couldn't help himself. But Harry was quiet. The dark-haired boy merely shoved his hands in his pockets in protest against the cold and followed alongside Draco towards the path. Nothing but the sound of their footsteps dared grace the air.

"Draco?" They were halfway around the lake, now, on the trail that the Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws had worn down over the years, and farthest from the castle. Draco sighed because he knew the interrogation would come-that Potter wouldn't drop it-but he still cursed at himself. He'd practically offered Potter a chance to get him alone and away from other people. Why was he surprised the boy was taking it?

"Yes, Potter?" But Harry didn't immediately launch into the string of questions that Draco was expecting. Who did that to you? Why did they do it? Was it a whip? Did Snape heal you or just yell at you and tell you to go back to bed? Is the person a student? Why do you let them do that to you? How long has it been happening? But Harry didn't say any of that.

"I'm not going to ask about last night because I said I'd leave it alone if you went to Snape and you did. But I haven't had worse, just so you know." Draco stopped walking. Harry stopped and turned back to face him but Draco was just standing there, completely taken aback.

"What?" Was all he could manage to squeak out. Harry sighed. After a second, the boy began to worry his lower lip between his teeth.

"Last night, when we were talking. You said don't tell me you haven't had worse. I haven't. I just… wanted you to know that." Draco gaped at him. He could not believe that Harry was standing here saying this to him in the middle of the frozen morning just admitting this to him. But it was too close to last night and he shook his head immediately because he needed Harry to drop it.

"I've watched you take worse hits in quidditch, Potter, hell I watched Pomfrey regrow all the bones in your arm." Harry just looked at him, those green eyes just as piercing as in his dream.

"I wasn't talking about quidditch." And, at that, Draco really did stop. Not just walking, but breathing and thinking and comprehending because Harry fucking Potter was actually saying this. To him, of all people. Harry gave him a sad little smile but he waited for Draco to move before they started walking. Draco couldn't fucking breathe but he could walk, at least. They kept moving on the trail and Draco reeled, not quite believing or comprehending what had just happened.

"Why did you tell me that?" Harry shrugged, his hands back in his pockets, and stared out at the lake. Draco wouldn't have blamed him for not answering, honestly, because Merlin knows Draco had kept all of this to himself for years, but Harry didn't seem to be ignoring him. Just thinking.

"I wanted you to know." But that wasn't enough because now Draco was burning with curiosity and he needed more than anything to understand what gave Harry the bravery to say that to him.

"Why, though?" Again, the Gryffindor shrugged but it more thoughtful this time. Draco took a second, while Potter thought, to marvel at how quickly he'd gotten used to reading the dark-haired boy's body language.

"Because it felt like you were justifying it, what happened to you, by saying I'd had it just as bad. And I haven't. Yeah, it was bad and I got a lot of bruises and scars and a fucked up mental state from it but it was never anything like that. That… I don't know what that was, honestly, but I never went through that." Harry shrugged, slowing his pace again as if to draw the conversation out. "I wanted you to know it wasn't normal. None of it is, of course, but definitely not that extreme." Draco felt like his stomach was tying itself in knots. They were reaching the end of the trail but he shocked himself by not wanting it to end. He was learning, surprisingly, about Potter's history and something visceral about that explanation shook him to his core. Potter had been abused. Potter knew abuse, knew what it did and what it felt like, and Potter was telling him that what his father did wasn't normal.

"Harry," Green eyes flicked up, both at the first name and at his tone, but Draco didn't let himself stop. "Skip classes today with me?" Harry hesitated, his eyes darting towards the castle, but he nodded surprisingly quick. Draco suppressed a shiver, but Harry noticed.

"Yeah, okay. Come with me." Harry led them along a path Draco didn't recognize over an embankment and through a pumpkin patch. It was Hagrid's, Draco realized. He started to turn back, to run before anyone else could find out about this, but Harry stopped his with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I'm just gonna make sure none of the teachers panic and start searching for us." Harry knocked. The surprise on the big oaf's face was something for the daily prophet and Hagrid seemed so shocked at seeing them, not only together, but so early that he almost spit out his drink. Harry hurried to calm him and explain, but didn't give details. He asked Hagrid for a favor, actually, which Draco was surprised to see the Gryffindor pulling out for him but he wasn't complaining. Hagrid asked a few questions, but generally accepted Harry's request to trust him. Draco knew the half-giant didn't like him, and for good reason. So it surprised him even more when the large man looked him and Harry up and down and gave them both thick winter robes that were only a bit too big.

"Thanks, Hagrid. I owe you one." Hagrid muttered something like darn right ya do but they were already walking again. Harry kept him close, Draco noticed, and slowed down when he strayed too far, which Draco found oddly endearing. Sweet, even. It felt strange to use that word for the man he'd despised just the day before but things had changed dramatically and this, it seemed, was the new norm.

"Where are we going?" Harry shrugged, starting down the trail around the lake again.

"Wherever we won't get caught." Draco nodded. He followed rather obediently given his usual stubbornness but it didn't bother him. It was kind of nice, actually. To just put his head down and follow Harry's shadow without having to think about it.

They stopped at the base a huge oak and sat. Draco was prepared to just shiver in his coat but Harry cast a minor heating charm on the furs and they settled comfortably among the roots, only a few inches between them. It didn't seem like they were too close, though. Draco felt the urge to break the silence, to do anything to make it less awkward, but he couldn't make his voice work. What was he even supposed to say? Harry beat him to it anyways.

"I know I said I'd drop it but…" Draco let out a groan but Harry was quick to reassure him. "I won't ask any bad details." That got Draco's eyebrow to raise without his direction and Harry shifted nervously on his root. Why was he nervous?

"Bad details?" Harry quickly nodded but stopped almost instantly when he saw that Draco wasn't following.

"Yeah, like things that are too specific. Like who does that to you, or where, or anything like that where you could get punished for telling me. Nothing that will give away your situation. Just.. other questions. Is that alright?" The blond stopped to consider for a moment. His gut screamed no, that this was too big of a risk and that he was practically asking for his father's wrath now, but those green eyes were just watching him. Not studying, necessarily, but merely waiting for his response.

"Yeah, okay." For a moment, they were trapped in silence and Draco thought he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. What if Harry was somehow reporting back to his father? What if Harry was just pretending? Just waiting for-

"How long?" His voice was sad and soft but Draco heard it. That wasn't the voice of someone who was pretending, he told himself. At least, he didn't want to believe it was.

"Since before I can remember." But Harry didn't gasp or sigh, he just nodded as if he'd expected nothing less. Draco couldn't decide which option made him more uncomfortable.

"Yeah, me too. Is it just the beatings or..?" Harry trailed off but Draco was no about to finish that sentence for him without knowing precisely what the dark-haired boy meant. He was not going to jump to conclusions and give anything away.

"What else would it be?" The Gryffindor shrugged, clearly at least embarrassed if not ashamed by whatever he was deciding whether or not to say and it made Draco nervous. He didn't like seeing the fool-hearty, reckless boy look so unsure.

"I don't know… My aunt, she likes words more than fists. She was my mother's sister-she's the one I'm related to by blood-and she always had a gift for saying exactly what would cut deepest. My cousin used to lock me in places. Shove me in cupboards, lock me in the garage by myself, trap me in the closet, whatever was easiest. He's scared of me now but he used to like giving me panic attacks. And my uncle… I'm just saying there more than one way a person can inflict pain. Physical, mental, emotional… sexual."

Draco's head snapped up at that and he faced the dark-haired boy with fire in his eyes but Harry just looked at him. This was uncharted territory and Draco was more than on edge. His chest burned with fear. Harry kept looking at him, just observing, watching him with those green eyes like Draco might suddenly hit him but without any fear. Did he trust Draco? Or did he just not care about a punch here or there?

"Why would you say that." It wasn't a question. Harry didn't stiffen or finch at his tone, though, or move to storm off like Draco thought he might. He just looked at the ground and drew patterns in the dirt with his shoe.

"Last night, in the bathroom, I saw the bruises on your hips." Draco stared. He felt like his heart might give out at any moment and part of him wished he would just die. Then it would all just be over. Potter wouldn't know, he wouldn't have the panic attacks or the nightmares, and he would just be at peace. But his father would go insane. His mother would suffer, and probably his friends indirectly as his father took it out on their parents, so he shook the thought off. Harry was still watching him, and Draco wanted to throw up.

"I fell, remember?" Harry hummed in agreement but it felt fake. Draco's stomach lurched but he managed to breathe enough to stop himself from actually throwing up. He just sat, waiting for whatever Harry's verdict was. Whatever the Gryffindor decided for his fate.

"The pattern was very distinct, and so was the placement." Draco couldn't breathe. "Hands make marks like that, Draco, when they grab your hips to pull you back against them." Fuck. He was so screwed and his father was going to be livid. His chest seized and, for a second, Draco thought he might die-he wanted to, he realized-but then there was a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades a voice calmly telling him to breathe. He calmed down quickly, because the contact felt like a drug, but they stayed silent. Harry, it seemed, was more than content to just sit there like that until someone came along and found them or until Draco broke the silence. The blond steeled himself.

"Why do you know that?" At that, Harry shuddered. Draco had to swallow the impulse to reach out for him, to comfort the boy the way Harry was comforting him. Harry just sighed and continued to play with the dirt and rub Draco's back.

"It didn't happen a lot, but it happened. And I remember everything about it, including the bruises that got left behind." Draco nodded. Harry was resigned, it seemed, and had just accepted it which somehow made Draco even sadder.

"The frequency doesn't change the act." His own voice shocked him, but those green eyes widened in surprise and then warmed as they looked at him. Was Harry.. Comforted? By Draco?

"No, I suppose it doesn't." Harry paused, looking at him strange. "Shit I forgot! I'm so sorry I-" But he stopped, staring at his own hand as he pulled it back from Draco's robes like it was disgusting. Draco turned, confused, but there was nothing he could see.

"What's wrong?" Harry jolted back and seemed to shake off whatever had come over him.

"Sorry, I just remembered. Your back is pretty fucked up and I'm probably just making it hurt worse." Draco shook his head, though, when Harry moved to pull away and before he even realized what he was doing he'd grabbed Potter by the wrist. Harry immediately went rigid. Confused, Draco searched the boy's face fo some kind of clue as to what he'd done wrong but when he met those green eyes… For the first time in five years, Draco saw Harry as abused. It was easy to be distracted by the courage and the stupidity-the Gryffindorness-but Draco was impressed because he realized he'd never seen the boy so much as flinch at a loud noise. But right then, he saw nothing but terror in Harry's face.

Quickly, he let go and started to move away and apologize but Harry just sat there, as stiff as a board. He was barely breathing, Draco realized, and he swore. He'd fucked this up worse than he'd thought-he must have triggered something! But he had to do something because he could see Harry's chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths and he knew how that felt all too well so he reached out. The way Harry had for him, Draco rubbed his back and coaxed him to breathe. And, just like Draco had, Harry slowly came back. Draco apologized over and over again but Harry still had a hint of that faraway look in his eyes and Draco doubted he was listening. Instead, he just rubbed between the brunet's shoulders.

"I'm sorry." The first words out of Harry's mouth had Draco rushing to reassure him, having forgotten completely that they'd been enemies less than twenty four hours ago, but Harry didn't listen. He just stared at the ground.

"Can I hug you?" Draco was more than surprised but he'd never been asked that before and those green eyes always managed to catch him off guard so he nodded. Immediately, Potter wriggled up between his knees and hugged him. Gradually, Draco hugged him back. It felt… odd, he decided, because it wasn't uncomfortable but it scared him in a different way. In a way that wasn't fear, really, or distrust, but was more like confusion or uncertainty-which Draco had never done well with. But, slowly, he got used to the feeling of the warm boy in his arms. Draco wasn't exactly sure how long hugs were supposed to last but he noticed Harry had discarded his robe in the shift and quickly wrapped them both in his own. He was not going to be the reason Harry went to the hospital wing, even if it was only for a cold.

Harry didn't push him away. For some reason, that struck deep in Draco's chest and he almost couldn't believe what was happening because he was just waiting for it to happen. For Harry to realize what was he was doing. To realize who he was hugging-his enemy, the disgusting Draco Malfoy-and reel back in revulsion. But Harry didn't move, didn't even stir. Draco started to wonder if he'd fallen asleep when he felt lips move against his thin undershirt.

"Harry, I can't understand a thing you're saying." The boy mumbled but straightened up a bit, refusing to pull back or push Draco away from him. Again, Draco was surprised.

"I said you're a fake." Draco reeled, almost knocking them both off the roots, and stared at Harry. He was a fake? Did Harry not believe him about the abuse, think he was just an attention seeker? His father had warned him that that's what people would say but he'd thought Harry was different-that Harry understood.

"What?" Harry grumbled and tried to move back into Draco's chest. He was probably cold, Draco realized, and immediately pulled off his winter robes to throw them over Harry but the boy just accepted them and pulled Draco back into them as well. Draco didn't understand. Wasn't the Gryffindor revolted by him?

"You're a fake. You go around pretending to be this snobby, untouchable rich kid who doesn't give a shit about anyone else or what they think but that's not true. You're a teddy bear, though. Why do you pretend in the first place? Doesn't it make it harder to be alone and to be constantly hurt?" Draco… well, honestly Draco had no idea what to do with that or with the way Harry nuzzled back into his chest like it was his own bed. He considered arguing on the teddy bear thing but Potter seemed convinced and, truth be told, Draco was not in a position to piss him off. He just shrugged.

"No one gets suspicious or finds out that way. Isn't it harder keeping it from Granger and the Weasel?" Harry shook his head.

"No, they make assumptions and I just never correct them. They know I'm not happy there, and they know my aunt and uncle don't like me, but they don't know anything else. It's not in either of them to assume anything so twisted. That's for stories, yanno?" Draco nodded that he did know but he was still marveling at the fact that Harry hadn't had to lie. He hadn't had to pretend, or fake it, or keep up appearances.

He'd just… let them assume. Draco had spent the better part of his life learning to lie and perfecting it into an artform just in case anyone ever got close enough to ask questions-not that that had helped in Potter's case, obviously, but still-and Harry had just… not said a word. No one had made that leap or put the two together. That wasn't most people's instinct.

"Draco?" He hadn't realized he was staring off into nothingness until Harry gently tapped his cheek with one, warm finger. "I'm sorry for walking in on you. In the Prefect's bathroom, I mean." Harry sounded so dejected, like he'd violated some kind of rule-other than being somewhere he shouldn't have. If Draco listened close enough, it felt different. It sounded more like an apology for finding out, for not just letting it go when Draco told him to, for making him go to Snape. For doing something.

Draco stopped at that, ignoring for a moment the boy in his arms and turning that thought around in his head. Harry had done something. Harry had seen the wounds and, even though Draco had told him a hundred times to drop it and even threatened to curse him, Harry hadn't budged. He'd made him get help, even if Snape was a huge risk. He'd refused to just forget about it or pretend it never happened-he'd refused to let Draco go untreated or unaccompanied. It hadn't been a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, but Harry had done something.

Harry had cared.

Draco's heart must have missed a beat or his breathing must have stopped because Harry hummed in confusion and tried to study his face like something was wrong. But Draco barely heard, too wrapped up in that thought to comprehend it. Harry had been the last person Draco had wanted to see walk through that door-maybe an older, Hufflepuff prefect or a Ravenclaw seventh year would help him-but Harry had cared. And now Harry was apologizing for that, as if Draco was angry.

"Harry," The Gryffindor stopped and merely met his eyes. "Thank you." The boy nodded and pulled the robes tighter around them as the breeze picked up. He seemed content, Draco realized. No one had ever just been content with Draco holding them or touching them, not even small children or babies. They saw his father in his eyes and his hair or they saw the lack of love in his expression and even when Draco had been hit on, the touch was never just content. It was seductive, at times, or comforting, but never for long. And never content. No one ever trusted him enough to just relax into his touch like that-not even the other Slytherins.

"Course. But what for?" For noticing, Draco though, and for not being afraid or intimidated by me. For not dropping it, for making him get medical attention but respecting his refusal to see Pomfrey. For checking up on him. For telling him about the Dursleys, and never pushing him to give any information he didn't want to share. They were all true, but they all seemed to be either too much or not enough for the fragile newness of their friendship so Draco shook them off.

"For giving a shit."

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