It had been a long day, and Harry was exhausted. Trudging up the stairs to his dormitory, he felt as if all of the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders. Ron and Hermione had tried to get him out of the funk all week. Ron kept offering to take Harry out to the Quidditch pitch to help him work on his flying, but Harry declined. Hermione had just hugged him and asked him if he wanted to talk, but Harry declined. Even Ginny, who had not taken their breakup well at all, had asked Harry if he needed anything. But all Harry wanted to do was sleep.

He had been feeling so weird lately. Like there was something about him that was different that he couldn't figure out. He felt so angry all the time. But he was doing fine in school, there was no drama with him and any of his friends, and no drastic changes had been made in his life. But still, every night when the lights went off, and Harry was sure that Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all asleep, the tears streamed out. He had had enough practice with his secret crying to be able to cry without making so much as one small sniffle. Harry was aware of the bags under his eyes and his blotchy, red cheeks he always had when he woke up, he had just hoped no one else noticed. But Harry knew that his roommates knew something was up, considering they always looked at him questionably when he woke up.

This night, Harry was feeling particularly depressed. Looking down at his shoes has he plodded up the stairs, he nearly ran right into someone coming down the opposite direction.

"Watch it, Potter!"

Harry's head snapped up and he saw Draco standing there, glaring. "Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

His voice was so pathetic, Draco felt something inside him snap. "It's alright," he began tentatively, glancing around to see if anyone else was in the vicinity. "Just watch where you're going next time, okay?" Harry nodded, and Draco felt another twinge of sympathy. His eyes looked so glassy and so red. He looked pale and weak, and he had definitely lost weight. For a moment, Draco thought the dramatic weight loss could have been from Quidditch practices, but the more he thought, the more sure he was that he hadn't seen Harry on the pitch in days.

Or at dinner.

"Are you okay?"

The words escaped Draco's mouth before he could even think.

Harry's head snapped up even faster this time, and he blinked rapidly. Was his arch-enemy really asking him if he was okay? And was he truly as genuine as he sounded. Cautiously, Harry shrugged and tried to walk past Draco, but Draco impulsively stuck out an arm, blocking his path.

"Seriously, Potter."

"Since when do you care, Malfoy?"

This question caught Draco off guard. He pursed his lips and took a minute to collect his thoughts.

Draco had been having a rough few weeks as well. Nothing made him happy or brought him joy. He felt hollow and empty. Bullying the Hufflepuffs and first-years wasn't fun anymore. When playing Quidditch, he didn't get the ecstasy of accomplishment he did when he caught the snitch. He wasn't exactly sure of when he began feeling this way, but he knew it was pretty recent. He had given up on trying to figure out why or when the feelings of gloominess had began. He was beginning to give up on himself, on the reputation he had earned. Which is why he didn't even think twice when he admitted, "Harry, I always have."

Harry, taken aback, couldn't decide what had shocked him more: the fact that Draco called him 'Harry', or the fact he cared about him (or at least claimed to). He was able to collect himself enough to stammer out a reply.

"That would explain why you have insisted on making the past few years of me and my friends' lives at Hogwarts a living hell."

Draco had to give himself a moment before replying. "It's because I have a reputation to uphold, Harry. I have high expectations that my father has set for me. And I can't fail my father. He has too much faith in me. Do you realize that if he were here right now, in this moment, with us, he would probably disown me? Just talking to you goes against everything he's asked me to do."

Harry made another attempt pass Draco, who finally lifted his arm from the railing and rested it upon Harry's shoulder. Giving it a quick squeeze, Draco lowered his voice and said, "Honestly, Harry. I've been having a rough couple of weeks too. If you want to talk to me, you know where to find me." Offering a small smile, Draco sidled in between the railing and Harry and made his way down the stairs, leaving Harry to gaze at him in awe.

Bringing a hand up to the same shoulder that Draco touched, a thought crossed Harry's mind. It only lasted a millisecond, but it spoke volumes.

"Draco!" Harry hollered, spinning on his heel and thundering down the steps, hoping to reach him before it was too late. "Draco, hold on!"

As he reached the last flight of stairs on the spiral staircase, Harry saw him. Draco was waiting at the bottom, with a small, sad smile etched across his face. Harry hesitantly walked up to him and whispered, "I do need someone to talk to."

Draco blinked, his smile quickly fading, a feeling of confusion crawling across his face. Harry's heart sank and his stomach physically hurt, so humiliated for falling for Draco's fake act of compassion. But then he felt something warm and soft on his elbow, and looking down, he saw Draco's hand. Giving it a quick squeeze, Draco nodded towards the Slytherin dungeons and began walking, never taking his hand from Harry's elbow.