A/N: Just an angst-y little one-shot that I decided to write. I wanted Harry to apologize for being so damn stupid and using Sectumsempra on my precious little Draco.

Disclaimer: -cries-

"Sectumsempra!"

The words fell from Harry's mouth before he could think. They tasted bitter, like a dark coffee, almost, cascading from his tongue to the tip of his wand, shooting out and hitting the unsuspecting Malfoy before anybody realizes what kind of a spell it was.

So, now, here Harry stands, outside of the hospital wing two hours after the incident. He remembers Professor Snape running into the room, yelling something Harry didn't understand before hovering over Draco and telling Harry to get away.

Harry didn't even realize he was clutching onto Draco. He didn't know how long he was, either, and he didn't know why his vocal chords were raw. Later, he was told he was screaming the whole time. When did he become so important? Important enough to scream for?

Finally, Harry builds enough courage to walk into the hospital wing. He keeps unclenching and clenching his fists, nervousness running through him and causing him to (almost) shake. He hasn't been this nervous since his kiss with Cho Chang in the Room of Requirements - which, mind you, didn't turn out to be all that nerve-wracking after all.

So maybe the same will go for this.

"Potter? Is that you?"

Harry swallows and looks over at Draco - when did he become Draco? - with a nervous, obviously scared expression clear on his face. "Yeah." Harry's head feels like a bobblehead when he nods.

Draco eyes him - why does that make me feel even more nervous than before? - suspiciously, up and down, over and over. Harry shifts uncomfortable, under the scrutiny of Draco's steel grey - incredibly beautiful - eyes.

"What are you doing here, then?" Draco asks bitterly. "Here to do some more damage?" Harry sees Draco's fingers twitch towards his chin, which is scattered with tiny scars.

Harry wants to touch his own scar, but refrains. "I-I... No. I just wanted to... apologize." He shifts again as Draco's eyes narrows. "I feel bad. I didn't know it was dark magic."

Harry sees Draco's tongue slither over his teeth - like a lovely pink snake - and takes half a step back. "Well, I'm afraid apologies aren't going to do you much. Why do you care, anyways?" Draco raises a golden eyebrow.

Because I didn't want to tear that beautiful pale skin in the first place. "Because it was wrong of me to do that, and I'm sorry."

"Nobel as ever," Draco mutters under his breath, moving a few strands of blond hair from his forehead. "I guess I'm supposed to say all is forgiven? Fine. If it'll get you to leave me alone, all is forgiven, Potter. Goodbye."

Harry doesn't want to leave quite yet. "Actually, Dra-Malfoy, I was going to... ask you something," Harry quickly lies. He has nothing to ask him, it's just a mere excuse to stay around the blond boy.

Draco sighs. "Fine. Ask away, Potter. I'm tired and would love to get to sleep after that," he tells the shorter boy, finally touching his neck and chin, where scars lie. Little sliver scars, that are white and scattered all along his neck, down to his chest, where Harry can't see - but he can see bandages, wrapped around his chest. Why'd I have to do this? Why didn't I research the spell before using it?

Harry's hand twitches towards Draco, wanting to touch those tiny scars - I've got so tired of staying away - and explore Draco more than ever. He can't push the feelings down like he has for the past year. Ever since Cho Chang, he's realized something other than malice for Draco. Something so complicated, that he doesn't think even Hermione would understand it.

"Potter? Are you going to ask?"

Harry blinks and look back up at Draco's speculating eyes - Why does he hate me so much? - suddenly realizing that there's been a long silence between now and when he was going to ask the question.

"Um. I was just going to..."

"Harry Potter! Out, out, visiting hours are over!"

Harry is so relieved to hear Madame Pomfrey's high-pitched voice - Never thought I'd say that - that he sighs. He glances at Draco, and is about to reply to Madame Pomfrey when his Slytherin side takes over. "Actually, Madame Pomfrey, I don't feel all great," he says. It's not a lie, because he doesn't feel very good right now. Just not physically.

Madame Pomfrey narrows her eyes skeptically. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry can feel the Puking Pastille in his pocket, and he swallows, slightly nervous. "I just kind of have an upset stomach," Harry tells her, clutching at his stomach. "I think I need to lay down. Hermione made me come here."

Madame Pomfrey sighs. "It's always something with you, Harry. Let me just talk to Mr. Malfoy, here, and then I'll take care of you."

When she turns around - I hope she doesn't see me - Harry takes the Puking Pastille out of his pocket and quickly pops it into his mouth. A few seconds after taking it, while Madame Pomfrey is explaining something to Draco, Harry empties the contents of his stomach into a garbage can next to Draco's bed.

Draco's smirking at him and Madame Pomfrey sighs again. "Oh, Harry," she says, walking over to him quickly. "Come on, now, up." She helps Harry up and lays him on the bed next to Draco's. "Now, now. Stay here I'm afraid that this is just the stomach flu, and it's been going around for a couple weeks now, so I'm not surprised. There's nothing I can do for you, dear."

"That's alright," Harry tells her. "Will I be staying her for the night?"

"For tonight and tomorrow, I'm afraid. We don't want you to be getting anybody else sick," she tells him before turning away. "Now, Draco, what was I saying? Oh, yes. I'm afraid the scars on your chest won't be able to disappear completely, since it's dark magic that your attacker used. But I will be able to make them less visible and I think the ones on your neck and chin will go away."

"Thank you, Madame Pompfrey," Draco says. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes. Goodnight, dear." She walks over to Harry, who's laying down now, facing away from the pair. "Goodnight, Harry. Feel better and wake me if you need anything."

Harry nods. "Goodnight."

After Madame Pomfrey leaves, Harry turns to Draco, whose smirking at him. "What?" Harry asks self-consciously before hurling again.

"I saw you take that Puking Pastille," he tells Harry, still smirking. "I didn't know you had it in you to lie to anybody."

Harry looks away from him and closes his eyes. "Yeah. Neither did I."

They're silent for a moment. "So did you keep the other half?" Draco suddenly asks, sitting up straighter and looking at Harry. When he sees Harry's confused look, Draco says, "The other half of the Puking Pastille to get you to stop puking."

Harry bangs his head against the garbage can. "Shit."

Draco sighs. "I have some in my bag. Let me get it." He begins to get out of his bed, and Harry begins to panic. No, he can't get up while he's injured!

Harry suddenly stands. "No! I'll get it! I'll get it for you... you're injured."

Draco gives him a funny look. "What did Severus do to you?" he asks slowly, furrowing his eyebrows, almost worriedly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, beginning to feel dizzy from standing up so fast. "And why are you calling Professor Snape Severus?"

"I mean, you're acting strangely. You're lying and helping me," Draco speaks slowly, as if talking to a very young, very stupid child, "so I'm wondering what he did to you in the bathroom. To make you act like this."

Harry shakes his head, feeling something start to come up again. He clutches onto his wastebasket as he walks around Draco's bed. "He didn't do anything. He... he questioned me on where I learned the spell. That's it." He throws up again.

He hears Draco sigh, and then feet softly falling onto the floor. A warm body is suddenly next to him, and hands take his upper arms. "Get up, Potter. Lay down, I'll find the Puking Pastille."

Harry refuses to get up - I won't let you do any more than what you have to - but instead sits down on the floor. "I'm fine," he tells Draco shakily. "I'll be able to get it."

"You're so stubborn." Draco kneels down, and begins going through his satchel. He finally takes out a Puking Pastel. He gives half of it to Harry, and watches as he eats it gratefully.

Harry, once is stomach is calm, pushes away the wastebasket. "I feel much better now," he comments, looking over at Draco.

"I still think something's wrong with you, Potter," Draco informs him, standing up and offering a hand to Harry. "You're probably just tired. But, you really should tell me if Severus did or said something that scared you so badly to apologize."

"Why do you call him Severus?" Harry asks, taking Draco's hand and standing. He looks at their hands, melded together - Oh, Merlin, he hasn't let go of my hand yet - and feels his breathing go shallow.

Draco drops Harry's hand and sits on his bed. He allows Harry to sit at the end. "Because he's my godfather. You didn't know that?" Draco says absentmindedly, staring at his pajama bottoms.

"No. I didn't," Harry says truthfully. They're silent for a moment more - I like it when I can just admire him, without words getting in the way - before Harry says, "Are you feeling alright? I forgot to ask you that earlier."

"As could as I can, when you've been hit with a curse," Draco answers curtly. "Except for the dull throb in my chest, I'm feeling rather cheery."

"You're good at sarcasm. It suits you."

"Watch it; that was almost a compliment."

Harry grins, but gets nothing but Draco's poker face. He looks away from him and taps his fingers against his thigh. "I really am sorry, though. I don't know what I was thinking."

"What was it you needed to ask me earlier, Potter?" Draco says suddenly, looking up at Harry. "You said you needed to ask me something and that's why you weren't leaving, and I'm going to assume that's why you used the Puking Pastille."

"By the way, where'd you get that? Fred and George don't usually sell to Slytherins," Harry says out of pure curiosity; and wanting to avoid his nonexistent question.

"They sell to Blaise, for some reason." Draco shrugs. "I give him the money, he buys them for me. Just because I'm as perfect as I am doesn't mean I don't want to skip class every once and a while."

"But Blaise is a Slytherin."

"He's also an idiot."

"Touché."

This earns a smirk and a headshake from Draco. Harry all but beams, bringing both legs onto the bed to sit in a cross-legged position. The only thing lighting the room is the small candle next to Draco's bed and the moonlight spilling in through the windows. I don't know how he can be so beautiful.

Draco absentmindedly touches the scars on his neck. "Now I think I know how you feel," he murmurs quietly. "To have a scar. Except, the difference is, I have a million tiny ones, all on my chest and neck. You have a large one, right on your face. The only similarity is..."

"... that they're both from dark magic," Harry finishes. He can no longer help himself. He reaches over and touches the older boys jawline, running his calloused finger tips across the small, smooth scars...

Draco doesn't move. He doesn't look at Harry or at anything in particular. He just stares off into space - until Harry moves closer.

Draco blinks up at the brunette. "What are you doing?" he asks, precautious. "Potter? Answer me."

Harry has no idea what he's doing - I can't believe I've waited this long to touch him- but it feels right. So he moves in even closer, selfishly wanting all of Draco's body heat for himself, and to share his, as well.

And Draco lips - The main attraction, those perfectly pink lips... - part slightly, but not in the way Harry would like them to. More in confusion, than anything. Harry can't stop staring at them, though. He just thinks what it would be like to - taste, touch, feel - kiss them.

So Harry does.

He presses his own chapped lips against Draco's soft ones, and closes his eyes. For a moment, it was perfect.

But Draco nearly instantly reacts, ruining the perfection of the moment for Harry. He shoves Harry harshly on the chest, almost shoving him off the bed. "What the fuck, Potter!" he shouts, standing up and staring at Harry with hateful eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry blinks a few times, trying to figure out what just happened. He can't seem to pull together a reason why he kissed Draco, other than the fact that it felt like the right thing to do. "I-I... I just... I'm sorry, Draco..."

"No." Draco clenches his fists and lets his head hang. "Don't fucking call me Draco."

Harry realizes at that moment that it wasn't the right thing to do - I'm so selfish, I didn't even think of how he feels for me, only how I feel for him - no matter how he felt. He shrinks away from Draco, his cheeks a flaming red. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you're sorry for a lot of things, aren't you?" Draco snaps, his usually milky complexion completely red - from anger, Harry assumes. "Get out! Right now! I hate you!"

Harry stands there for a moment, his breathing hitching over and over - No, don't cry, you can't cry, Harry, he'll just think less of you than he already does - and he doesn't know what he should do. Should he try and talk? No - his throat is all closed up. Should he run away then? Should he run away from Draco Malfoy, his archrival for five years now, but maybe... maybe a crush?

No. This is much too serious to be called a crush.

"Why are you just standing there?" Draco demands. "Get away from me, right now! You have no reason to be here!"

"Draco..." Harry tries to talk. He just can't, for the fear that he might start crying.

"Get out!"

So Harry finally does. He turns around, and he runs. He runs away from his most desirable dream and worst nightmare - He's just so bittersweet, I don't know what to do when I'm around him - and from every hope about love he's ever had. He doesn't know where all these feelings came from, just that they did and never left.

Harry runs all the way to the Gryffindor tower, trying to stop the tears but failing. They stream down his face like a waterfall - but less majestic and graceful - wetting his bright red cheeks as they do.

Once in his dorm, after running past all of the students still up, he locks himself in his bathroom and cries.

Fifteen minutes later, there's a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Harry, mate, what's the matter?" Ron asks. "Why don't you come out and talk to us?"

"No," Harry croaks, shaking his head although nobody can see. "No. Just leave me alone, please, I'll be fine."

Ron's silent for a moment. "Okay. Hermione's really worried, though, so as soon as you can talk to her, that's be great." He doesn't try to mask the worry in his own voice, though.

Harry rubs his eyes, and his breath sounds like a freight train in the quiet bathroom. He doesn't plan on coming out until everybody else is in bed. Then he'll go to sleep; or bed, at least. He doesn't know whether or not he'll be able to fall asleep or not.

Two hours later, Harry can't hear a thing coming from outside of the bathroom. So he slowly sneaks out, seeing everybody in his dorm in bed, and slips on his own pajamas. He gets into bed and pulls the covers over his head.

All I can think about is him.

Him.

Him.

"Please tell us, Harry," says a worried Hermione, jumping from foot to foot anxiously. "I want to know why you came in crying last night."

Harry shakes his head for the umpteenth time. "No, Hermione. I don't wanna talk about it."

"C'mon, mate," Ron sighs. "We can help you. Was it something including Voldemort? Was it something that Dumbledore said?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

Harry doesn't feel like talking to either of his best friends, but decides that an explanation is in order - they deserve it, and maybe then they'll leave him alone. "Look. I like somebody. They don't feel the same way. Let's get over this and move on, okay? I'm ready to. I've cried enough tears over him."

Both Hermione and Ron blink in confusion a couple of times. "Him?" Ron says flatly. "Harry, did you just say him?"

Harry sighs. He feels rather drained off all emotion. "I like a boy. I'm not sure if it's all boys, yet."

Hermione sits down next to Harry and smiles. "It's alright, Harry. We're not going to judge you. And, if you don't want to tell us who it is, that's fine. We'll support you no matter what."

"Not if I told you who it was," Harry informs her.

Ron sits down next to Harry, too. "It's alright, mate. I'm not homophobic, and whoever you choose to like is your business," he informs Harry. "But I'll tell you one thing - whoever broke your heart, if you ever tell us, will get a Ginny Weasely grade Bat Boogey hex."

This is enough for Harry to give a faint smile. "Thanks."

And then Hermione hugs him. Ron joins in, too, and Harry feels more accepted than he has in weeks - he feels more loved than he has in months. What if Draco could give me a whole new kind of love?

Harry shakes it from his mind. No. Don't think about him, or his smile, or his eyes, or his lips... Because, no matter how much you love him, he'll never love you back.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry looks at Draco and feels his heart harden. "What, I can't come up to the Astronomy Tower?" Harry snaps. "You don't own the place, last time I checked."

If Draco's taken aback by Harry's unusual crabbiness, he doesn't show it. Instead, he just looks back at the stars, leaning on the railing of the Astronomy Tower. "Most of my scars have healed."

"And I care?"

"You sure seemed to when you came to apologize," Draco replies with a sideways glance at Harry. "And, anyways. We haven't talked since that night. I figured you'd want to know how I'm doing. How are you?"

Harry scoffs. "I have the fate of the whole Wizarding world resting on my shoulders; how do you think I am?"

"Stressed," Draco suggests nonchalantly, with a shrug for added effect. "Probably sad. Undecided. And, since you're a teenager, like me, full of angst and really horny."

Harry doesn't want to look at Draco. "Fuck off."

"Well, I would," Draco replies. "But I want to ask you something." When Harry doesn't say anything, Draco continues. "You see, I was thinking about the night of the Sectumsempra incident, and thought about how you kissed me."

"Yeah, and you flipped out, pushed me, and hollered at me."

"And I made you cry."

"How'd you know that?!" Harry cries, looking at Draco with shock.

Draco shrugs, not seeming pleased with this. "I just knew, because guilt wouldn't unclench my stomach from that night on. It's just that... I was shocked, you know? How would you feel if your archrival just came up and kissed you?"

Harry doesn't answer.

"My point is," Draco continues, "is that you should've eased into it. Maybe a little flirting first? Then a friendship, and then asking me on a date. Then we'd kiss. And maybe a few make-out sessions would follow."

Harry shakes his head. "You don't like me like that. I know you don't."

"Please. You don't know anything about love, Potter, much less about me." Draco snorts. "Have you seen me date anybody other than Pansy Parkinson in fourth year? Anybody?"

Harry frowns. "No."

"Then how could you instantly assume that I'm straight?"

Harry doesn't know how to answer this, so he doesn't.

"That's my point, Potter. You don't know anything about me, and yet you think you do. I'm not exactly sure of my sexuality yet, truth be told, but I have plenty of time to figure that out. What I do know, is that I would like to get to know you better."

Harry looks up at Draco, knitting his eyebrows together. "What exactly are you saying?" he asks dumbly, feeling oblivious and stupid as butterflies flutter around in his stomach.

Draco steps closer. "What I'm saying, Harry, is that I'd like for you to go to Hogsmeade with me Saturday afternoon. The Three Broomsticks, maybe?" Draco slides an arm around Harry's waist.

Harry's eyes widen. "A date?"

"Yes, a date." Draco nods.

"Okay," Harry says after a long moment of silence. "I'd love to. I'd absolutely love to go on a date to Hogsmeade with you. On Saturday." The butterflies turn into bats when Draco begins to lean in.

"Wonderful," Draco whispers, kissing Harry lightly on the cheek. Harry can't help but feel tingly where ever Draco touches him, so his cheek tingles anxiously. "Would you like me to walk you back to Gryffindor tower?"

"But that's such a long way from the Dungeons." Why am I protesting?!

"It doesn't matter to me," Draco says as he takes Harry's hand. "Now let's go. You better be getting a good night's sleep, because I don't want you to be tired at lunch tomorrow. We'll be sitting together, I presume?"

Harry bites his lip excitedly. "Sure."

"I wonder how your friends are going to take this," Draco murmurs. "Or do they know about me already?"

"They know about someone. They just don't know it's you."

"I assumed. Otherwise I'd have gotten hexed at least once." Harry smiles at Draco, and Draco smiles at Harry. The rest of their walk is silent.

Finally, when at the portrait, Draco kisses Harry's forehead. "Goodnight, love. See you tomorrow."

Harry feels giddy - He called me love, he called me love! - and can't help but smiles as wide a humanly possible. "Goodnight, Draco."

And so Harry goes into the Gryffindor common room, and practically skips up the stairs. Seamus and Ron are still up, so they give him funny looks. "What's up?" Seamus asks, raising an eyebrow.

Harry grins. "You'll see tomorrow."