I wrote this chapter last night, but was waiting for someone to get the reference from last chapter so I could dedicate it to them, and low and behold: @DRARRYLOVR4LIFE
~~~
Draco always thought there was something wrong with the boy-who-lived. There was something off. But why would that be? Didn't Potter have everything? Fame, attention and all that?
Then there where times, Draco would see it.
The flicker of emotion in the too-happy Boy-Who-Lived's eyes.
Fear, terror, depression, miserable acceptance, and some other rare emotions...he would see flickers. It was rare, but not un-heard of to the Slytherin.
He asked his friends if they had ever noticed. Crabbe and Goyal and grunted in a no, Pansy had wailed about her Draccy-kins not paying enough attention to her, and Blaise would just raise an eyebrow, shaking his head with a suspicious look to his best friend.
The first time he saw one of the four emotions besides the lucky-go-happy attitude the boy always seemed to have, was at Quiddich try outs, in their first year.
As Potter had flown into the air, Draco saw fear. Not unusual, it had been his first time flying. He discarded it. Then, Harry had politely (in a hushed voice so the others wouldn't hear) asked if Malfoy would "Please, just hand the ball over. We could stop this here and now." Draco had replied with a snotty remark, not planing on handing the ball over at all.
That's when he saw the second flicker. Miserable acceptance. They then gave chase for the little remembrall of Neville Longbottoms.
The second time had been on Halloween the same year. When the teacher came in, shouting about a troll in the dungeon, Draco saw Harry's eyes (which he had been looking at for some reason) light up in terror. Draco discarded is again. It was a bloody troll in the dungeon for Merlin's sake! The teachers and seventh years where shaking in their boots.
Third year, there seemed to an aura around the Golden Boy. It made Draco sag, suddenly feeling depressed. He was also aware, after a Hogsmead trip, the aura grew, a lot. There was also constantly a hint of steely determination the rest of that year.
Then with Buckbeak, once Draco had been hurt, and Hagrid was calming Buckbeak and yelling at Harry (who was closest, having just gotten off the Gryffin) to take him up to the hospital wing. As Draco had been lifted in the air (easily for Potter, it seemed. Which despite himself, he though was impressive. Potter was a stick, and Draco was the same age) by the black haired boy, he milked it for all it was worth, yelling about how he was dying, when it didn't hurt nearly as bad as when he had broken his arm after falling off his broom when he was seven (it had been his first time after all).
That's when he saw the flicker. Miserable acceptance, depression, fear, and the one that confused him most, concern. Harry had stared Draco down in his arms with miserable acceptance, concern, and fear for Draco's well being.
Draco had looked up at him with a moment of confusion, before shutting his eyes and continue to wail, milking it for all he could.
The next time had been when Dumbledore had pulled his name out of the goblet. Terror hit his face, a look of depression in his eye.
Harry had looked completely miserable up to the first task, which was a shock to Draco, because the Golden Boy wasn't his lucky-go-happy self. The rest of the school (at least the smarter bits) would've noticed, if they hadn't been too busy hating Harry, sending him glares every time they saw him. Draco almost pitied the boy, but quickly forgot about it as he would spill secrets and make up rumors to Rita Skeeter.
The next time, had been the first task. As everyone in the stadium cheered as Harry came out, Draco felt like the cheering was...different, then with the other champions. He then got a sickening feeling that they where all cheering for the Dragon.
Draco saw a look of pure terror on Harry's face, before it changed to a blank slate. Then, as Harry had swooped down to get the egg, Draco saw something. Depression flickered in Harry's eyes, taking over his face. That was when his arm got cut. But it was too perfectly set. Draco got a feeling that Harry had did it on purpose. Thinking it over later, Draco had realized that Harry had meant to let the dragon tear him to bits via spiky tail, but getting his arm hurt probably sent him off balance, and he rolled away when he didn't mean to. Though, to the rest of the audience, it looked like he had done a fantastic roll to avoid getting hurt further.
After this, Draco started to look over somethings. One: why did he notice these things, when it seemed no one else did? Even the Mudblood and blood traitor (though the latter didn't surprise him) didn't even seem to notice. Why was it Draco picking up on the boy's flickers of emotion when the rest of the school didn't? This boy was his rival! Draco had passed it off, discarding it as 'know thy enemy', as Muggles would say.
But why would Potter try to get himself killed via Dragon? Maybe he did really have a death wish? No, why would he? But what other explanation was there? Draco was left with more questions than answers, and it annoyed him greatly.
Fifth year, Potter had just seemed a little easier to piss off, but nothing else. Draco saw emotion rarely that year. Though Potter wasn't the usually happy-go-lucky, he wasn't anything else other than blank.
After the Quiddich game, when Draco insulted Harry's family, the acceptance was there again. Not rage, not hate, not even anger. His eyes seemed to convey what he was thinking, which seemed to be; Yeah, your right. Damnit.
The next time, was when Draco was there to watch Umbridge gleefully tear Potters little club to shreds. He saw Potters eyes, which looked directly at him. It confused Draco even more, seeing it. They said: I can't hate you. Nor blame you, really. Wasn't Potter supposed to be cursing him to the fiery pits of hell?
As they dragged the ring leaders to Dumbledore's office (Granger, Weasley, Potter, and for some reason Chang and her friend that rotted them out), Draco didn't see the flicker of Harry's emotion, but felt the flicker of his own.
As Draco had Potter by the hands (said limbs being held behind his back, stopping him from moving his arms), he noticed something on Potters right hand. I must not tell lies was carved into his skin. Draco knew Potter couldn't have done it himself, but had to have done it (it was his right hand, Potter was even more hopeless with his left then he already was with him right. Draco ignored that fact that he some how knew that potter was right handed) but it was in Potters hand writing (being partnered for classes frequently for five years made you notice some things), so he must have.
A Blood Quill.
The words flew across his brain. That was when Draco felt deep, hot, burning rage scream inside him. Potter wouldn't do something so idiotic to himself, he wouldn't even know what the damn thing was, being raised by Muggle, but Draco knew of all the detentions he had been getting recently. His mind flashed, remembering how everyone who had had a recent detention was being more delicate with their writing hand as of late.
That was when Draco realized what exactly the pink loving woman was doing.
Though he wished to get away from her, wished to take Harry away and just hold him close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, they were already inside Dumbledore's office.
For the rest of the year, Draco's mind had been dominated by two things. His O.W.L.'s, and the Golden Boy.
That was the year he finally put the pieces together. Why he always noticed what was happening to Potter more then others, why he seemed more in tuned to Potters emotion flickers, why he let out all his un-known frustrations on Potter, but felt a pang go through his chest when ever Potter would reply by just looking at him with that horrible accepted look in his eyes. Why he felt complete rage so bad he wanted to kill Umbridge (do it, do it, do it, do it says everyone who will read this), why he wanted to take Harry away and cuddle him (do it do it do it), telling him it would be okay and other such nonsense, why he wanted to protect Harry, and felt depressed whenever he saw the black haired boy who was (almost) always laughing or smiling along with his Gryffindor friends (and a Ravenclaw, as of late) because he couldn't be the one to make him laugh or bring that beautiful smile to his lips, or that twinkle in his eye.
Draco was in love with Harry Potter.
Now, he went to figure out how long he had been falling. After a week of thinking, he decided the first task of the TriWizard Tournament the year before.
And then sixth year rolled around. Draco had so much pressure on him, so much was at risk, so much was at jeopardy. If he failed the Dark Lord would not only kill him but his parents too.
Draco thought when he first came to school, he wouldn't notice Potter at all anymore, no matter how many flickers. But he was wrong, because he did notice Potter. Because it wasn't flickers anymore.
It was full blown depression.
As the Great Feast started, Draco's eyes searched the Gryfindor table. Draco was stunned in shock at seeing the cold, dull green, dead eyes that where nothing alike to the lively, shimmering emerald green. Everyone was sitting away from him, and those who tried (Mudblood, Weasel, Weaslette) would get glared at by lifeless eyes, and they would scamper away. Very few made it to Harry with out getting glared at.
Longbottom and Loony, a ditsy blonde Ravenclaw, sat on either side of him. Neville patted his shoulder comfortingly and Luna forced his head on her shoulder. Harry gladly accepted, and Draco saw tears forming in the dull, green eyes.
Depression hung around Harry like a fog, clouding and effecting everyone who went near him. He would always be staring blankly at the board or teacher in class, he would only eat when ever Loony forced food into his mouth (literally) which was about once a day, and even with that Draco was sure Harry would die of starvation soon. His skin was too pale, and very noticeable bags under his eyes showed he had been plagued with nightmares very frequently, if not every night. He was skinnier (Draco hadn't thought that was possible) and looked more fragile than he ever did.
It was obvious to the whole school. Harry Potter was very depressed. Some even feared he would leave the Great Hall one night, and never come back, ending up on the floor of a bathroom bleeding out, or at the bottom of a high tower, having died instantly on contact with the ground after falling, jumping off.
Draco was the one worried the most. He would stay up late, worrying his head off for hours, and vanishing the bags and signs of a sleepless night away with a spell. Finally, one night, when he needed to vent he went to a ghost that had been a grate listener as of late.
As midnight struck and passed, Draco slipped out of his dorm. When he got to the 'haunted' bathroom, he slowly and quietly opened the door.
He paused, frozen, when he heard sobs. Utterly broken and helpless sobs. Just hearing them made Draco's heart shatter.
"There there, it'll be oka-" Myrtle said, trying to be sympathetic for once. But a shout stopped her mid sentence.
"NO IT WONT! IT WONT! Wh-Wh-Why did h-h-he h-h-h-have to l-l-leave me j-j-just like e-e-e-everyone else? WHY?" A voice he knew all to well shouted, stuttering and shaking worse than Draco's first year DADA teacher as sobs racked their body. (In case you couldn't understand, the stuttering meant: Why did he have to leave me just like everyone else?)
Draco was left completely heartbroken as he heard the broken and hopeless voice of Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, the future savior of the Wizarding World. Draco wondered who 'he' was, but as a pang stabbed him in the heart, he decided now was not the time to be jealous. Draco wanted nothing more then to wrap his arms around Harry and rock him to sleep, to protect him, to make the hopelessness in the voice that he missed so much (he missed the voice, not the hopelessness, just to clarify) go away. It was the first time Draco had heard his voice all year, and Draco wished it didn't sound the way it did.
"I don't know why Harry. maybe it was just his tim-"
"NO! NO NO NO NO NO! IT CANT BE THAT WAY! HE HAS TO STAY WITH ME! BUT SHE KILLED HIM! THAT BITCH KILLED MY GODFATHER!" Harry screamed his throat sore hopelessly. Draco felt even worse. He was eavesdropping on probably the worst moment of Harry's life. "HE WAS GOING TO TAKE ME AWAY FROM THEM! I WOULDN'T HAVE TO BE A TOSSIN' SLAVE ANYMORE!"
Draco's mind was going in circles, making it hard to sort out his thoughts. But he knew one thing for sure; he did not like the image Harry put in his head when he said he was a slave.
Sobs took over Harry. Draco chose this time to peek. The small frame was hunched over a sink, tears dripping rapidly and endlessly down his already tear stained face. his body shook violently in a reaction to the horrible sobs.
"Harry, that's no reason to hurt yourself" Myrtle spoke softly, floating down to rest a ghostly hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry whipped around, causing Myrtle to float back slightly, startled. Draco saw his eyes. They raged with more emotions then Draco had ever seen, and could determine. There where a few emotions noticeably missing, though.
happiness, joy, laughter, and all such happy emotions.
His eyes shown with tears, making his eyes to seemingly sparkle. His eyes where red and puffy, his nose red. "WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?! I CANT TO ANYTHING ELSE! IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! ITS MY FAULT HE'S DEAD!" Harry screamed at her, hurting his throat more. But he was oblivious to the pain. He was oblivious to all pain. He was numb. He had been all year.
Harry's knees suddenly gave out from under him. "I-I-I j-j-j-just want i-i-i-it to s-s-s-s-stop. I d-d-d-dont w-w-want to d-d-d-d-deal w-w-w-with it a-a-a-an-anymore." Harry stuttered horribly, unable to talk smoothly because of the sobs racking his body constantly. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket with shaky hands. "I didn't want any of this. I d-didn't ask for it." He whispered, staring at the wand in his hand. (Translation: I just want it to stop. I don't want to deal with it anymore.)
As Harry raised his wand and pointed it as his chest, his hand stopped shaking and he spoke in a clear and strong voice. "Avada Kedavr-"
"NO!" Harry jumped, dropping his wand. He scurried away from the new voice. He was across the room in a flash, whimpering and hugging his knees, tucking his face in them.
Draco ran forward, thanking Merlin, Salazar, and all of them that he had found his voice in time. He crouched down next to Harry. He gazed at the cowering body despairingly. He slowly and carefully wrapped his arms around the black haired boy, ignoring the flinch. He pulled Harry into his lap (quite easily, since Harry hardly weighed anything, which worried him even more), then proceeded to pet his hair gently, whispering soft nothings into his ear, which he had dreamed and fantasized about doing multiple times. This was not how he imagined it, though.
Harry just continued to let out soft whimpers. He slowly began to relax, wrapping his arms around the unknown male. He dared to peek, and was very surprised to see Malfoy's face, eyes looking lovingly down at him.
"D-D-Drac-c-co?" Harry questioned softly. (Draco?)
"It's me Harry, I'm here." Draco whispered back, petting Harry softly. Harry leaned into the unfamiliar touch and action, closing his eyes and basking in the positive attention from the last person he thought would, but the first person he would pick if he could.
"P-P-Please d-d-don't l-leave me." Harry whispered hopelessly. Draco's heart broke a little more. (Please don't leave me. (For pulling your feels like this))
"I wont Harry, I promise."
Harry uttered a few last words before he fell into a sleep caused by exhaustion and lack of sleep for more then half a year. "I love you Draco, I always have. Don't leave m-me." He fell into the first peaceful sleep he had since his first night at Grimwald Place.
Draco's heart jumped into his throat, but he replied, though he knew Harry was asleep. "I love you too Harry, and I always will."
~~~
You've been getting a fair amount of updates recently, haven't you? Yea...I've just been procrastinating...did you like it? I worked on it for a while. I'm proud of it. Tell me what you thought. It's almost three thousand words. Jesus.