Summary: Harry has always been in love with Draco. When Draco needs his help, what will happen? And what will the pair do when they find out that actually, Draco needs more help than either of them realised.

Warning: HPDM slash, swearing... That's all for the minute.

Note: the HPDMHPDMHPDM are scene changes and the -o-o-o- are paragraphs. Just to let you know.

Enjoy!

HPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry Potter watched the Slytherin table carefully and sighed. He was worried. Draco Malfoy, the undisputed Prince of Slytherins, was the cause of his worry. Harry had been watching Malfoy for a long time. Ever since their second year in Hogwarts he had been watching the tall, ice-blonde Slytherin closely. It had started as something suspicious- a means to observe the enemy – but as the two boys had grown up, Harry had fallen in love so slowly that he didn't even notice at first.

This feeling of longing was the only thing that truly terrified him. Deep down he knew it was real, but he told himself that it wasn't. That it was a trick of the mind. Still, he watched Malfoy. Just in case.

HPDMHPDMHPDM

Over the last few weeks Harry had noticed that Malfoy seemed slightly out of sorts. He became much thinner and even paler than usual, his stunning deep silver eyes grew clouded and he had stopped taunting Harry, stopped noticing him. That hurt.

When Harry glanced over he noticed that the blonde was sandwiched between Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were eating as though the food was going to disappear. Malfoy, though, was pushing his food in circles around his plate and not actually eating anything. There were huge dark circles under his eyes and his silky hair fell over his face.

Harry felt his stomach jerk. Malfoy looked terrible. Even as he watched the Slytherin Ice Prince stood up, shaking almost imperceptibly, and hurried from the hall. Glancing around, Harry saw that no-one had even noticed him leave. Something like guilt twinged in his stomach and he got up casually and followed.

Outside the hall, he glimpsed Malfoy running into one of the bathrooms, a hand clasped to his mouth. Harry, against his better judgement, followed him. One of the cubicles was locked, and Harry could hear the Slytherin throwing up. "Malfoy?" he called softly, "Are you alright?"

Draco struggled not to groan. Potter. He tried valiantly to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest that had started as soon as he heard the ebony-haired boy's voice. "What do you..." he started to drawl, then broke off as his stomach flipped over and he threw up in the toilet again. Somewhere deep in his mind, he wondered how he could be this ill when he hadn't been able to face food for days.

He didn't want Harry –'Potter', he corrected himself- to see him like this; he must look terrible. But there was a very large part of him indeed that wanted Potter to be close to him. This thought occurred to Draco and he moaned, trying to force it out of his head.

"Malfoy?" Harry said, urgently now. "I'm sorry... alohamora!" And with that he unlocked the door and slid inside.

The Slytherin was crumpled on the floor beside the toilet, head resting on the wall. When he heard Harry behind him, he raised his head with an effort and stared into the Gryffindor's stunning green eyes. Harry saw, just for a moment, pain, fear and some other emotion that he couldn't quite identify on Malfoy's face. Then it was gone, replaced by guarded anger.

"Look, Malfoy, you should get to the Hospital Wing." Harry said firmly, quietly.

"Oh yeah, Potter?" Malfoy spat, standing, "And what the hell makes you think I need your help? Why don't you stop playing the bloody hero? I don't need your help, and I don't want scum like you anywhere near me. Leave."

Harry glared at Malfoy, furious, but wondering in the back of his mind why Malfoy's words had lacked his usual malice.

"Fine." he muttered, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

The Gryffindor sighed deeply.

Why the hell did he bother?

HPDMHPDMHPDM

Meanwhile, Draco felt his knees go weak and he sank to the ground again. He felt awful, both ill as he had for the past few days and – worse- sick to his stomach with unusual guilt at being so horrible to Potter. He shuddered, thinking of the fury in those emerald eyes that made his stomach drop and his knees go weak, and…

His thoughts were interrupted as he turned and emptied his stomach into the toilet, again. Merlin, he felt terrible...

A moment later, Draco dragged himself upright, cleaned himself up and paused in front of the mirror. He looked every inch the Malfoy, pale and proud. He gave a sad smile, wondering why that didn't fill him with some kind of pride, and headed to his first class. It was going to be a long day.

-o-o-o-

TBC, obviously

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