"Tom," Harry called.
There was no answer.
Harry sighed. Typical, he thought.
Over the past few weeks, Voldemort had been going silent on Harry. There were no invading emotions, or nightmares, or dreams, or memories, or bits of orders to the Death Eaters. It was weird. On top of that Malfoy was constantly watching him. Not to mention that he was off horcrux hunting with Dumbledore all the time.
Was there mental connection fading, due to the destruction of two of the horcruxes? No one was able to give him an answer. Hermione only got mad when he mentioned that he was still getting dreams from Voldemort. He did not dare tell Dumbledore, as the man would only use it in his favor. There was no one else that he could tell. No one that understood what was going on. He had to deal with this situation on his own. No one could help him but himself.
He leaned his head against the pile of books and chairs, that he was sitting in front of. He closed his eyes, letting the world dissolve around him. The Marauder's map and his invisibility cloak sat on the dusty ground next to him. He did not bother to hide either item. It was very unlikely that someone would come here and find him.
His stomach grumbled, sending pain shooting through him. How long had it been since he last ate? Weeks. Days. He was not sure. His body felt week. He could fall asleep in this room of chaos, if it were not for the nightmare that kept plaguing him. It was always followed by that cackle. The only thing reminding him that he was connected to Voldemort.
He let out a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulled them into his chest. He pressed his cheek against his knees, staring into the corridors of books, shelves, furniture, and other miscellaneous things.
Maybe he should go down to eat. It was about super time anyway. He shook his head at the thought. Going into the Great Hall would do nothing good, for him. It was better if he just stayed here. If he really wanted to eat the room would grant him something. He knew that. He knew most of the secrets of the Room of Requirement, by now. He spent enough time here.
There was a thud a few isles down, as if someone had fallen or punched something. Harry sat up straight in shock. He thought he was alone. No one else could get in here if he were in here. Unless they were going to the same room as him.
The Gryffindor stood up and drew his wand. He clutched it tightly in his hand. He was ready for anything. Well, almost anything. Harry stopped in his tracks at what he saw. A few isles down, sitting in front of a wooden cabinet, with his fingers pulling at his hair, and an apple with a bite out of it, and a dead bird, in front of him was Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin was obviously distressed. A wave of glee flooded through Harry. He fell to the floor in shock, knocking over a pile of junk on his way down.
Malfoy jumped to his feet; his wand pointed at the intruder.
"Who's there?" He called. His voice was strained, as if to hide the fact that it was shaking.
Potter stared wide eyed at the blonde. He could barely bring himself to breathe. His heart was pounding in his chest, but something in the back of his mind told him it was from fear. Of either Malfoy's wand pointed directly at him, or of the cackling malevolent gleeful laughter, coming from Voldemort in his head.
Draco lowered his wand once he saw who it was.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked.
The question was not asked with malice or accusation.
"I'm trying not be found," Harry answered the question honestly.
Both boys pocketed their wands. Something new flowed between them. It was not friendship. It was not a rivalry. It was oddly like trust. But, neither of them had a reason to trust the other. There was too much between them to believe that they trusted each other. There was too much bloody history—literally.
Harry cringed as the memory invaded his mind. Voldemort's laughing intensified. No. It was more like cackling. Crazed, deranged cackling. A shiver ran up Harry's spine, causing him to close his eyes tightly.
Instead of offering a hand to the Gryffindor, Draco sat on the ground next to him. Harry fixed himself, so that he was resting against the wall of junk, instead of on the dusty isle.
"Hiding away from your friends." It was a statement not a question.
"Something like that," Harry said.
"Why?"
It was a shock to both that the question was asked. It was even more of a shock when it was answered completely honest and truthful.
"Ron's been getting on my nerves lately. Hermione too. Not that she is trying to or anything like that. She just thinks she knows everything," Harry admitted.
Draco bent a knee and slung an arm over it. "Yeah. I've got friends like that, too."
This was the most civil conversation they have ever had. It was a shock. Neither one of them knew how to handle it, so they kept talking. It was the only thing they could think to do.
"I've heard you and Weasley have been getting into plenty of rows, lately," Draco said.
Harry sighed. "Something like that. He is with Lavender, which is causing a drift between him and Hermione. Let alone the fact that him and Lavender will not break up, even though everyone can see that they are both miserable. And on top of that he is trying to set me up with his sister, even though I have expressed very clearly that I don't want to."
"You don't want to date Weaslette?"
"No. Are you going to ask me why, too?"
"No. Not at all. I just thought you two would always end up together. Get that perfect ending for you."
Harry had to hide a laugh. "Dating Ginny would just be weird. She's like a sister to me. But apparently, that's not reason enough for Ron."
Draco let out a laugh at Harry's begrudging tone. It was not often that he heard the Gryffindor golden boy talk about his best friend with such distaste.
Harry felt something tug at his heart, at the sight of the blond laughing so freely.
"I don't mean to laugh—okay I do. How long has Weasley been pushing you to date his sister?"
"Since her and Dean got together over the summer," Harry answered.
Draco laughed harder. "—And he hasn't gotten the message yet?"
"No."
"That's...hysterical."
Harry half-heartedly rolled his eyes. "Not for me."
"Of course not."
Once Draco finally got himself to stop laughing, he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Are you hungry?"
The Gryffindor shrugged his shoulders. "Not really."
This answer worried the Slytherin. He had noticed how the raven-haired boy was thinning. Taking a bout of courage, he stood up, held his hand out, and gave a soft smile.
"I'm going to the kitchens. Do you want to come with me?" He asked.
Harry debated the offer in his head. He really should eat something. But then there was this nagging thought that: this was Draco Bloody Malfoy. His sworn rival. Just because they were being civil now, did not mean that Harry was ready to show any sign of weakness in front of the blond.
Watching the debate in Harry's eyes was infuriating.
The Slytherin took a deep breath. "I know you've been starving yourself," he said. "When was the last time you've eaten anything?"
The Gryffindor shrugged his shoulders.
Malfoy did not like that answer. He felt a knot of worry settle in his stomach. He kept his hand extended out to Potter. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."
Hesitantly Potter grabbed Malfoy's hand. Draco pulled him off the floor. Harry quickly acciod his invisibility cloak and map. He stuffed them in his pocket when Draco was not looking.
They walked down to the kitchens together. Most of the students were still in the Great Hall, so it was unlikely that they would have been caught.
Both had their hands stuffed in their pockets. It was a casual walk to the kitchens, with little conversation. Harry was going through a storm of questions in his head.
How did Malfoy find out he was starving himself? Was he watching him too? How many other people know? Why has no one else said anything? Did they not care about him?
As Draco tickled the pear, Harry asked the question that has been bouncing around his head in peak agitation. "How did you find out?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I do notice things," he said.
Harry felt his shoulders hunch. He was slumped forward, trying to curl in on himself, but keep walking at the same time. It was an odd sight.
The Slytherin never expected the Gryffindor to try and make himself as small as possible. It was so out of character, that for a split-second Draco thought he was walking with someone else.
The house elves rushed to great them. Bringing platters of food right to their faces. Draco led Harry to the small table. The House Elves dropped the platters onto the table, always wanting to please.
"You're going to eat something tonight. Even if it is just a measly bit of pudding," Draco said, grabbing a biscuit from the silver platter.
Harry slumped forward, still trying to make himself as small as physically possible.
Draco placed a gentle hand on his arm. "What's going on with you?" he asked, full of concern. "You're not eating. You have passed out in front of me twice. The second time I smelt blood. You are hiding from your friends. What's going on?"
Potter refused to look at the blond. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Do your friends believe that bullshit?"
Harry was caught off guard by the accusation. It was full of malice. But, not the usual I-hate-you-malice, it was more I-hate-your-friends-for-not-noticing-this-shit-because-for-some-reason-I-am-and-I-care-about-you-malice. It was not something that Harry was used to hearing in the blondes' voice when being talked to. It was the exact opposite. The furthest thing he would expect.
"I'm going to take that stunned silence as a yes." Draco took a sip of pumpkin juice, that was brought to the table.
"What? No—they're just—" his protests died on his lips as he realized the Slytherin was right.
Malfoy wore a triumphant smirk. "Get better friends, Potter."
"They're good friends, most of the time."
The blond slid a small biscuit across the table to Potter. "Eat," he said, softly.
The raven-haired boy picked at the biscuit, eating small pieces as if he were a mindless house elf, measly following orders.
The two ate in silence. Harry did not ask about the cabinet. Draco did not pester him about his friends. It was oddly peaceful. That was until Voldemort just had to say something.
"He's right you know," Voldemort said suddenly.
Harry fell off the bench in shock. Draco quickly stood up to the help the other boy.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Harry said, taking his helping hand.
"You're lying," Voldemort said in a sing-song voice.
Harry took a deep breath, sitting back at the table, and plopping his head against it.
Draco looked at him in shock. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes." His voice was muffled against the wood.
The gleeful cheer was back in full swing.
"I know how I'm going to break you," Voldemort sang. "I'm going to kill Dumbledore. I'm going to rule the world."
Harry felt irritation rise within him. It had been two weeks since Voldemort had spoken to him and now, he was being a crazed mad man. No. He would not stand for it. He would not put up with this. So, using all his magical strength and limited knowledge in occlumency he shut Voldemort out.
Everything was suddenly too quiet. Every single House Elf was looking at him in odd fascination. Draco was staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?" he asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"That was powerful," Draco said slowly. "You just sent out this huge burst of magic. The air crackled."
"Oh."
"Very impressive, young Potter," Voldemort said.
Harry slammed his head against the table in aggravation.