Draco

It's a Saturday afternoon in March. Everyone's outside. Even the uptight working Granger girl has taken a break from homework to enjoy the Scotland sun. I'm alone, wandering the hallways of this depressing castle. I don't like the sun. It's too bright, and it taunts me with its warmth. Almost as if it knows that no matter how hot the temperature may be, I am always cold. A rustling from nearby classroom startles me. It's probably only peeves, but I peek my head inside anyway. I don't see the poltergeist anywhere. However, a cabinet on the other side of the room is moving. The hair on the back of my neck stands up on end. I tell myself to remain calm, and it strikes me that it's most likely a boggart that has resided itself within its dark confines. I have never done well with boggarts. Thankfully, Potters antics in third year spared me from being defeated in front of my classmates. It is my fifth year, and I'm sure I can manage it now. The last time I faced a boggart, it was the summer before my fourth year. One had made its home in my bedroom closet. Mother heard my screams, and she got rid of it, though not before telling me how weak and spineless I am for not being able to handle the creature. I look around, wondering whether I should tackle it on my own, or if I should alert a teacher. I come to the realisation that if I tell a teacher, I would be made to explain why I was wandering the halls. I've never been a great liar, and I'm certainly not going to tell professor Dumbledore that I was wandering the corridors, contemplating suicide.

With a shaking hand, I open the cabinet. My suspicions are correct; it is a boggart. The creature becomes an ominous shadow for a moment before taking a human shape. The figure removes its hood, and suddenly I am looking into the face of my father. I was wrong. I can't handle this. Father advances on me, an evil glare painted across his features. He is speaking to me.

"You pathetic, weak, spineless faggot. No son of mine will be a gay. You are a Malfoy and you damn well better start acting like it. You will drop this gay nonsense and you will marry the Parkinson girl as soon as you are out of Hogwarts. You will behave like a Malfoy. You will be getting the Dark Mark whether you want to or not. It is your duty to serve the Dark Lord. Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Father slaps me across the face. I am shaking. I raise my wand but my mouth is dry. I cannot say the spell. Suddenly something pushes me out of the way.

Harry

I'm on the way to loo when I'm stopped by the sound of someone speaking. I peek through the door to see Lucius Malfoy scolding his son. But something seems off. Draco has his wand pointed towards his father. He's trying to say something. Then it hits me. That isn't really Lucius Malfoy at all, but a boggart. Draco looks as if he's about to faint. Instinct takes over and I rush into the room, and shove Draco out of the way. In an instant the creature becomes a dementor. I banish it quickly and turn to look at Malfoy, who is chalk white. He staring at me, shocked. There are silent tears on his cheeks. He looks so weak and vulnerable. I feel sick to my stomach. I had no idea that his father treated him like that. Something occurs to me as I remember what Lucius was saying.

"No son of mine will be a gay." Draco Malfoy is gay? This is slightly shocking. I never expected it of him. I notice that one of Malfoy's sleeves is ridden up, and my eyes narrow on his wrist, which is covered in angry red slashes. Has he been cutting himself?

Draco

For the moment I am unable to do anything but stare. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, just saved me from that boggart, and he is now looking at me worriedly. My knees are week, my hands are trembling, and I am crying. But I'm too much in shock to try to stop the tears. I suddenly realise that Potter isn't looking at my face. I look down. My sleeve is hiked up, exposing the cuts on my wrist. I pull it down quickly and look wearily at Potter, almost daring him to say something about it. I feel dizzy. I don't want to stand anymore. I slide down against the wall, my grey eyes never leaving his emerald ones. I finally tear my gaze away and rest my forehead on my knees. I'm still crying. I feel Harry come over to me. He rubs my back as I cry. I'm still too shaken up to snap at him to go away. Besides, I don't want him to go away. I almost smirk when I think about how he'd react if I told him I was gay. He certainly wouldn't be here right now. I know I need to say something. I look up at him, completely aware that tears linger on my cheeks.

"Why did you come?" I ask, choking back a small sob. "You hate me." Potter sighs.

"How come you haven't told anyone about your father Draco?" He called me Draco, and for some reason this puts butterflies in my stomach.

"Because no one would help me." I tell him. I'm still crying a little. "Father is one of the most powerful wizards in the ministry. No one will try to stop him. He'll just set death eaters on their families. Besides," I say, "No one cares enough about me to try to help." I start to cry harder. Harry puts his arm around my shoulder and hugs me, and I wish strongly that he would comb his fingers though my hair. I want to nuzzle him but I know that would make things awkward for him.

"It'll be okay Draco." He says softly. "It'll be alright." He said my name again. When I finally start to calm down I think of something.

"How much did you hear?" I whisper.

"Enough." He says softly. I stand up.

"Great." I say. "I didn't want anyone to know..." I'm met by the urge to cry again. He looks at me.

"Draco, if you're gay then fine. I'm not gonna hold that against you." I'm close to tears again. He's lying. He has to be.

"Why wouldn't you? You hate me remember?"

Harry

I'm rather surprised at how vulnerable Draco seems now that the meeting with the boggart took his strength from him. Here I am, with my arch enemy crying in front of me, trying to stop me from telling the rest of the school that he's gay. And the truth is, I feel bad for him.

"Not like this. I hate you when you're being an arse." For some reason this was the wrong thing to say. Malfoy glares at me.

"Oh." He says. "You're just enjoying your fun because you saw the 'Slytherin Prince' cry. Or perhaps you're just amused about the fact that my biggest fear is my own father." His tone is biting, and for whatever reason this actually hurts a bit. I shake it off, telling myself that it's Malfoy and I shouldn't care what he says.

"Look," I say, starting to get impatient. "Think what you want. I don't have time for this, Malfoy. And for your information, all I did was come in here because I thought I heard something weird. You looked like you were about to pass out. Now I almost with that I'd let the damn boggart get you." The moment the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back, because Draco suddenly looks like he's lost all hope. His grey eyes stare desperately into mine, as if he's begging me to take back my biting tone. But I don't, because he was rude to me first.

Draco

Suddenly Harry's tone gets harsh and biting, and I want to crawl in a hole. For one moment I believed he cared. He hugged me and let me freak out a bit about the boggart. But now his gorgeous green eyes (did I just say that?) are cold. And I remember he hates me. And I hate him even more for letting me think he cared. I watch as Harry just shakes his head and leaves, leaving me in the classroom to cry. I don't know why it hurts so much to have him rip that out from under me, but it does. And the tears are there before I can do anything about it. I slide down the wall again, encounter with the boggart forgotten, and try to tell myself that I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up anyway. No one cares, and they never will. I'm just completely foolish for thinking the Golden Boy would even consider saving me. I notice now how desperate I really am, if I'm actually hoping that Harry Potter will give a shit about me.

Harry

The next morning Malfoy manages to catch me alone in the hallways again. He pulls me off to the side. I have no idea what this is about and I'm kind of confused. His eyes aren't red anymore. I can't help but notice how nice he looks when he's not crying and he doesn't have that stupid smirk on his face. Wait a moment. What am I thinking? I'm not gay.

"Potter, I need to ask you do me a favour." For a moment I think he's joking, but soon realise that he's not.

"Okay…" I say, completely bemused. "What is it?"

"Don't… Don't tell anyone about yesterday." When I don't respond, he adds, "Please." He looks desperate. I can't help but notice that this is the first civilized conversation we've ever had.

"Um… sure…" I say. But then it occurs to me that I can use this to my advantage.

"But," I add. "Only if you explain to me how you got those marks on your wrists." His cheeks flush, and I think it's adorable. I shake it off, wondering what's the matter with me. I. Am. Not. Gay.

Draco

Fuck. He's asking about my cuts. I need to be sure he won't go harking to a teacher.

"Do you promise you won't tell anyone about those either?" I ask him. I feel desperate and on the verge of begging. I wish I'd never found that bloody boggart. Not only has Harry found out that father beats me, he knows I'm weak and cry about it. Added to that, he now knows that I'm gay (something I've never wanted ANYONE to know), and he's about to find out that I cut myself too. My life is continually getting worse. He nods.

"Yeah." He says. "I promise." His eyes are sincere, and for a moment I'm lost in them. I mentally slap myself. I'm not allowed to have feelings for Potter. Especially after he made me cry like that yesterday, right after I'd gotten over the boggart. Although, admittedly, I probably wouldn't have cried if the boggart hadn't already drained me of any emotional self control I had. I take a deep breath. I'm afraid to tell him. There's a knot in my stomach and my hands are shaking. I hope he doesn't ask to see them, because there are a few new ones from last night. As smart as he is, he'll know they're fresh.

"They're self inflicted." I mumble. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't lie and say they were from Mrs. Norris. But then again, I know I can't lie to him. He stares at me. "Please." I say. "Let's just pretend none of this happened. Thank you for saving me, but please, I need things to go back to normal." I'm lying through my teeth. I don't want things to be normal; I want him to hold me. I want him to tell that he'll help me. But I know that it will never happen. I start to walk away. He grabs my wrist to stop me and I wince with the pain. He looks remorseful.

"Draco," he says clearly. "I'm sorry about being rude to you yesterday." His eyes gaze directly into mine and I know that he's being truthful. "And I don't like to hear that you're cutting yourself. There has to be another, better way to deal with what you're going though." I look into his eyes and try not to cry. I swallow hard. I don't know what's gotten into me. I shake my head and retrieve my hand from his grasp. I walk away, convinced that the next time I see him, I'll treat him the way I always have. No one else can know that this ever happened.

Harry

I stare after Draco as he walks away. There's an unexplainable worry in the pit of my stomach. I scold myself in my mind. I just discovered that Draco Malfoy, stuck up Slytherin extraordinaire, is far from perfect. In fact, he's more fucked up than me. But still… I don't like the idea of him cutting himself… I try to put it out of my mind as I go find Ron and Hermione. But I still can't get the image of those cuts out of my mind.

I walk into class and take my seat next to Hermione. Draco is sitting across the room, with his chin resting on his hand. I notice how he takes extra caution to close his fingers around the bottom of his sleeve, and now that I know that the cuts are there for him to hide, I can't understand how I didn't notice his precautions before. I feel my mouth form a slight frown. Draco suddenly turns his eyes towards me, and I look away.

Draco

Harry is looking at me with a strange expression. Part of me wants to believe its worry but I know that he'd never care about me. No one in this school cares enough about me to try to save me. And that's because I'm not worth being saved. It's as simple as that. But for some reason, that fact that Harry Potter doesn't give a shit about me hurts more than knowing no one else does. His emerald green eyes aren't filled with worry. I'm just imagining that. He'll never care, and I will always be alone. Oh shit. I need to stop thinking about stuff that makes me cry when I'm in class. Because now there's a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes and suddenly I'm sitting here in potions, begging myself not to cry. Not here. Not now. Harry's already seen me cry. I don't want anyone else thinking I'm pathetic too. I try to wipe my hands across my eyes surreptitiously, hoping no one will notice. But what am I thinking? Of course no one will notice. No one cares to watch me. But Harry was… No. Don't think like that. I can't get my hopes up. He was just thinking about how pathetic I am. Laughing in his mind about me being gay. Ah shit. This isn't working. I feel like I'm about to cry, and I need to stop thinking about this. Because if I do think about it, I'll start crying in the middle of class. I tell myself to calm down and that I can cry later. Just focus on potions for now.

Harry

When Draco turns away, I continue to watch him. There's worry in the pit of my stomach. Malfoy looks like he's trying not to cry. Then it occurs to me that he probably is and I suddenly get more worried than before. Hermione nudges me.

"What?" I ask, not bothering to whisper because Snape for some reason hasn't arrived yet.

"What are you staring at?" She asks me. I shake my head.

"Nothing." It's clear that she doesn't believe me.

"Yes you are." She says. "It's Malfoy isn't it?" I sigh, knowing I can't lie to her.

"Yeah." I tell her quietly. "He looks like he's about to cry…" Hermione shrugs.

"Malfoy always looks upset lately. I mean, not always on the verge of tears, but he's always like that." I feel a surge of guilt for not seeing it before. Oh shit. I feel really sorry for Draco right now… he looks as if he's about to cry at any second. I'm met with an unexplainable urge to go over there and comfort him. I don't know what it is that he's thinking about, but it's hurting him, and I want to make it go away.

Draco

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I have to think about Harry? I can't do this. I take deep shaky breaths. Having a breakdown in a classroom full of people is simply out of the question. Everyone will laugh at me. Don't cry. Don't even dare. Why am I getting like this anyway? I mean every day it's been getting harder and harder not to break down. I've come close to a meltdown in classes before, but never this close. Just don't think about Harry. It's simple, right? Wrong. I can't think about anything else, and it's breaking me down. He saw my cuts. He knows I cut myself. But he. Doesn't. Care… No. Stop. I can't think like this. Happy thoughts. Go to your happy place, Draco. But, what happy place? Do I even have a happy place? I don't know. Part of me almost wants to cry. Maybe I'll feel better when I'm done… Shit. I need my blade. That's what I need right now. I need to feel the sharp edge tear through my skin, and I need to watch the blood bead up on my wrist. Most of all, I need to calm down. Because when Snape finally gets here, he might ask me a question. And if anyone asks me a question right now, the words will catch in my throat, and everyone will know how pathetic I am. I press the palms of my hand up to my eyes, and breathe deep. I am a Malfoy, I tell myself. Malfoys are strong. Malfoys do not cry in class and Malfoys are mean to a certain Harry Potter. Snape picks this moment to walk in the room.

Harry

Snape just came into the room. Draco looks so close to breaking down. I really hope I don't have anything to do with this. I was really harsh with him yesterday…

"Today we are making a very powerful sleeping draught sometimes known as the 'Draught of Living Death'. Open your books to page 453, and gather your ingredients. I am pairing you up today." As Snape glares down at his list, pairing up students, I content myself with imagining why he was late. It isn't until he pairs me with Malfoy that I pay attention.

Draco

My breathing is slowing, and I'm beginning to calm down. The tears are no longer stinging my eyes, but the knot in my throat still hasn't gone away.

"Potter and Malfoy." I look up. I have no idea what's going on. Why did Snape say our names? I glance around, and see Potter coming towards my table, where I'm sitting alone. I'm so confused. Harry must have seen the dazed look on my face.

"Snape paired us together for the potion." He says cautiously, as though he's worried he'll break me. Once again, I remind myself that he's not worried because he doesn't care about me. I bite down on my lower lip and nod. "It's page 453." He tells me before going to the front of the room for the stuff we'll need. I find the page I need and swallow hard when I see it. The sleeping draught. I wish I could sleep… and never wake up. Tears sting at my eyes again and I wipe them away quickly. I've been thinking about suicide a lot lately. My journal is filled with poems and suicide notes. And drawings of razorblades and nooses and everything else. Potter's returned.

Harry

When I return to the table, Draco is staring intently at the potions page… I don't know what he's thinking but my stomach tightens. The look on his face worries me deeply. I sigh before speaking.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" He looks up, startled. Unless I'm mistaken, I think there are tears in his eyes. He looks back down at the page.

"Yeah I'm fine." He mumbles. I don't believe it but I don't persist. I just shrug my shoulders and ask him to start chopping the roots. "I don't have my knife." He tells me in an odd voice. For some reason I get the feeling that his words have double meaning.

"Then use mine." I tell him, handing him the small silver knife, and then focusing my attention on the instructions. Draco takes the knife from my hands, but doesn't start chopping right away. He just stares at the blade for a moment with an empty expression on his face. He visibly shakes it off and gets to work on the roots. I pause for a moment to watch him. He's looking at the knife chopping the herbs, but for some reason I don't think that he really sees what he's looking at. Something hits me.

"Hey Malfoy." I say. "Can you stir the cauldron, I think it's about to boil over." If I'm correct, Draco's too out of it to notice that the cauldron still only contains boiling water. He reaches up to stir and his sleeve slides down. That's why he was staring at the knife. My stomach disappears. There's more.

Draco

I'm chopping the roots, staring at the knife. I'm practically counting the moments until I get out of the class. I need my blade. I need it now.

"Hey Malfoy can you stir the cauldron? I think it's about to boil over." Feel ice form in my stomach as he calls me Malfoy. Malfoy is my father. I am Draco. But Harry doesn't care about that does he? To him, I'm just another Malfoy. I reach up to stir the cauldron. I don't bother to close my hand around my sleeve. He already knows I cut myself. Why bother hiding it? But Harry's smart.

"Those are fresh." He says softly. I look up at him, confused.

"Huh?" I ask. Butterflies settle in my insides. I hope I'm wrong about what he means.

"Those cuts." He says, fingering the bridge of his nose, as though his head hurts. "They weren't there yesterday." I pull my sleeve up, and go back to chopping. I'm trying desperately to ignore him and I don't know why. The entire time I've been doing this I've been secretly hoping someone would notice. But they haven't. No one would save me… I swallow back tears. "Malfoy, what's going on?"

"I'm fine." I mumble. I set the knife down and grip both hands around the edge of the table. I stare intently at the grains in the wood, silently begging for death. My knuckles are turning white.

"No," says Harry, ignoring his lace wing flies completely and looking at me. "No you're not." He sounds firm and I force back tears. I'm putting all of my effort in staring at the wood. "You're cutting yourself." He says. I nod.

"I know." I whisper.

"You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and right now, you're trying not to cry. Don't try to tell me that you're okay. You're gonna end up killing yourself; I can see it in your eyes." I squeeze my eyes shut. "Malfoy… Draco, look at me." I open my eyes to stare at him. His features are blurred.

"What's wrong?" He whispers. I shake my head and go back to cutting my roots, but not before I wipe a stray tear from my cheek.

"I don't want to talk about it." I mumble. It's a lie. I do want to talk about it. Just not here. He grabs my wrist as I'm lifting my arm. I wince, and he raises his eyebrows as though that proves his point.

"I think you need to." I bite on my lip to keep it from trembling. Why does he have to pick my weakest moments to ask me these things? Snape chooses this moment to come over to us.

"What… is this?" He asks, pointing his bony finger at our cauldron of boiling water. Fuck. Potter set me up. He knew my sleeve would slide if I stirred.

"A cauldron, sir." Says Harry, suddenly becoming a smart arse. I smirk. The tears are slowly going away, but I still want to cry.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your little remark Potter. Now, would you care to tell me why you cauldron still has only water?" He looks at me. "Mr. Malfoy?" He's glaring down at me and I know I have to answer somehow.

"I…" Even the simplest of words catch in my throat, so I say nothing. I'd rather get in trouble then lose control right now. Harry seems to realise this.

Harry

I hear Malfoy's voice break and automatically jump to the defensive.

"Well it's clearly because we haven't added anything sir." Snape glares over at me. I glance at Malfoy, who seems to be lost in thought. Whatever he's thinking, I don't think it's pleasant. What on earth could bring Draco Malfoy so close to crying like that? Especially in the middle of class…

"And what grade do you think you should receive for this?" His voice is dangerously low, and his black eyes meet mine.

"An A." I say, my tone serious. "After all," I add. "We did what a lot of guys can't do at all." I feel 20 sets of confused eyes fall upon me. The whole class it listening now. "We boiled water. Without burning anything." There are a few ripples of laughter, and Draco smiles a bit. It's adorable. I don't care about getting in trouble. I just want to see him smile like that. Snape vanishes the water from our cauldron.

"You get a zero for the day." He says shortly. "And I will being seeing both you and Mr. Malfoy in detention. Tonight. 7 O'clock." Snape walks away, and I turn to Draco, who still looks miserable. He's staring at the knife again.

"You don't need this." I tell him. "You don't need to do this to yourself." I feel desperate to make him understand. I hate that he's doing this to himself. He nods, and this time I actually see the tears well up in his eyes. I fight back an urge to pull him close and never let go. I want to make those tears disappear so badly it hurts.

"Yes I do." He says. His voice is thick. He's been working to keep tears back for so long I can hear it in his words now. I want to kiss his pain away. Wait, what? No. I'm not gay. Why did I just think that?

"Why?" I whisper. "Why on Earth would you think you'd need to do this?" I see him clench his eyes shut and shake his head.

"Stop." He pleads. I'm confused.

"What do you mean stop?" I ask him.

"Stop asking!" He tells me, looking up into my eyes. "You're going to make me cry and I can't afford to have a breakdown right now!" I close my eyes.

"I'm sorry." I tell him softly. "I'm just worried about you."

Draco

"I'm worried about you." Fuck. No. He's lying. He has to be because no one cares. I shake my head harder than ever, eyes squeezed shut. The tears are so close to spilling over.

"No you're not." I tell him, without opening my eyes. "No .No one cares. You're lying!" I'm breaking down.

"I'm not," says Harry quietly. "I'm concerned. And I understand why you don't believe me. I don't understand why you would do such a thing to yourself."

"Fuck off." I tell him in a shaky voice, pressing the palms of my hands up to my eyes.

"Alright." He says softly. "But if you ever need to talk come find me." The bell rings. I tear out of the room the moment it does. I run down the hallway into an empty bathroom. Tears begin to stream down my face and sobs wrack my body. He's lying. My blade! I dig into my pocket and pull out my little silver blade. With a shaking hand, I place the edge of it to my arm, apply pressure, and pull. The fragile skin slices without protest, and blood slowly begins to bead up on the cut. I move onto another section of my arm and do the same thing. The blood flows down. I'm still crying and I try not to think. I just cut.

And cut.

And cut. The blood flows and the cuts sting, and yet I cry. I'm finding it difficult to take a full breath. I'm having a mental breakdown. But no one's here. No one cares to save me from myself.

All I have is my blade. I hear the door open and I look up, fast. I yank my sleeve down over my bleeding cuts and go over to the sink. I run the water and wash my face. At least whoever it is that just came in won't be able to distinguish tears from sink water. As long as they don't try to make me talk…

Harry

I walk down the halls. For some reason, I feel like I need to find Draco. He looked really upset during potions and I need to make sure he's okay. I open the door to the first loo I come across. I've found Malfoy. He's washing his face in the sink. I almost smile at his attempt. I know his trick; mostly sense I've used it before. Despite the water on his face, I know he's crying. And especially after potions, the chances that he isn't are rather slim. I walk slowly towards him

"Draco," I say softly, in a calming voice. "Are you okay?" He turns off the water and nods his head. He's trying to avoid speaking. He looks at the sink. I notice blood drip from under his sleeve. I must have startled him.

"Go away." He whispers. His voice shakes slightly. Instead, I step closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. I feel him flinch under my touch.

"You've gone and done it again, haven't you?" I ask. I know he understands. He is silent for a moment, and then nods his head. Slowly. I reach forward and take his hand in mine. It fits so perfectly… I turn it so that it's palm up, and slowly bring up the edge of his sleeve. He doesn't pull away, and my breath catches in my throat as I see the fresh cuts. They're still bleeding. I trace a few with my finger. He lets out a shaky breath. All the fight has gone out of him. The only thing I can think of to do is hug him, and so I do. This appears to be a bit much for him, seeing as he once again, begins to cry. I just hold him, thinking of how right this feels. Maybe I am gay after all… or maybe not. All I know is that I need to make his pain go away.

Draco

He's holding me. Harry Potter has his arms wrapped around me, and I am crying into his shoulder. This isn't happening. He's my enemy… he's supposed to be my enemy… But I don't care. I can't fight him off. I don't want to. And as I stand here, in his arms, I come to terms with the fact that I have fallen in love with Harry Potter. And I'm ready to tell him everything.