"My parents don't want me."
Harry's breath hitched in surprise. It was the blunt simplicity of the statement that caught him off guard. Harry knew that Draco had never trusted him enough to tell him things like this. It was all so sudden, Harry didn't know how to respond.
"What do you mean?" he sputtered out, feeling the need to say something.
"The reason," Draco still gazing out the window. "The reason I am here at Hogwarts over winter break. The reason I had no house to come home to. My parents don't want me there."
Harry really didn't know how to answer this time. Why was Draco being so open and personal? It was so out of character and unexpected. Harry would never have been prepared for this. So he shut his mouth and let Draco continue talking after a small gap of stillness.
"I can't blame them though," his voice broke. Was he about to cry? Harry caught the shimmer of a gloss over his eyes. Draco dropped his head into his palms, shielding his emotions. "I can't blame them for wanting me gone. The- There's something... wrong with me."
"Wrong with you?"
"Yes. Wrong with me," his face was still buried in his hands, suppressing a sob. Harry didn't know how to comfort him. Should he comfort him? It was a very confusing situation. He settled on patting his rigid back. Slowly laying a hand on him, he rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Draco didn't acknowledge it.
"Could you tell me what's wrong with you?" Harry asked bravely.
"I- I'm still figuring it out."
"Figuring out what's wrong with you? Draco, is everything okay?"
"I can't tell you," he sniffled and ran a hand through his hair. "You of all people."
What was that supposed to mean?
"You can tell me Draco."
But he didn't tell him anything. Malfoy was silent and the question lingered in the stagnant air.
"I never want to go back there again."
"Malfoy Manor?"
"I can never go back there again," he whimpered. His head was now in between his knees to hide his pained expression, rocking back and forth. He kept repeating the sentence as if saying it over and over again would make him accept his decision.
"It's okay! It's okay!" Harry rubbed and squeezed his shoulder, making Draco aware of his presence. "You don't have to go back! It's all going to be okay."
Malfoy turned and stared at the boy. His glassy eyes locked with Harry's.
"How can you say that when you have no idea what I'm talking about."
"I don't know, friends are supposed to reassure you, right?"
"Friends," he laughed quietly. "I guess..."
Harry didn't know how to answer and the room was silent. He dropped his arm from Draco's shoulder as they sat facing each other, just staring.
Unconsciously, Harry studied how he looked when he cried. The dried trail of tears down his cheeks. The disheveled mess of his blonde hair. The swollen redness on his parted lips. He was so beautiful, even in his worst state.
Harry realized it was a thought that he kept rejecting. Finding Draco beautiful made him uncomfortable with his own mind. But he was slowly coming to terms with how he saw the blonde boy in front of him.
He forced his eyes away from Draco's mouth and back into his eyes. But Malfoy seemed to be looking at Harry's features the same way. Harry's heart skipped a beat at this fact, suddenly aware of how he looked. Their faces were now only inches apart. When did they lean into each other?
Harry's heart raced at a million beats per minute. His breathing increased along with it. Sweat clammed up his palms and at the nape of his neck and the room suddenly became several degrees hotter. Why was he reacting like this? Draco exhaled deeply, blowing a minty smell in Harry's direction, luring him in.
"Harry," Draco breathed in the smallest of whispers. His eyes were set in Malfoy's, both wide in fear of where this was going.
"Draco," Harry whispered back.
Malfoy's eyes held so much emotion in them. So much relief and desire. It was overwhelming to look into someone's eyes and be affected by the feelings within them. So Harry mimicked those emotions, mirroring the need inside of them on his own.
With every second, they grew closer and closer, destined to touch in a few moment's time. Leaning into each other without realizing like magnets, being pulled toward the opposite charge. Attracted towards the inverse.
"What are we doing," Harry whispered with a small, uncomfortable voice, refusing to show the panic in his actions.
And with that sentence, Draco was snapped back to reality. He retracted his position, backing away.
"I'm sorry," he said scratching his forehead, but it sounded like a question. "I, I should go."
"Oh."