Why Do You Love Me?

The day’s classes had taken their toll on Harry. Hermione and Ron had abandoned him in the commons nearly two hours ago, and Harry would have continued to sleep, but a weird hissing noise coming from the near vicinity - most likely the fireplace - woke Harry up.

“Psst. Potter! Wake up,” the voice sounded oddly familiar. Harry groaned and attempted to roll over, nearly falling to the ground, because instead of his bed, as he had expected, he was sitting upright in a very comfortable, cushy armchair.

“Go ‘way,” Harry muttered, inhaling deeply and attempting to fall asleep.

“Don’t make me come in there, Potter. The layout of your common room is rancid and I’m afraid I might go blind at the sight of Gryffindor colors plastered everywhere. Get up.”

Harry grunted.

“Potter!” Though the voice was only a whisper, it held authority, and nearly caused Harry to jump out of his chair in surprise.

“Whad’dya want?” Harry groaned out, cracking one eye open. He was startled to see the face of Malfoy in the fireplace.

“Come over here,” Draco hissed. Harry blinked at him curiously, raising one eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Just bloody do it! You know, kneeling on this floor is all but comfortable, and I’ve been doing it for nearly ten minutes, trying to wake your lazy arse up! Besides, if anyone comes in, they‘ll think you‘re trying to start the fire up again, instead of talking to me. If they saw me, they‘d think that I was here to kill you, and we both know that that‘s not the case, so get over here this instant!”

“What time is it?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse from sleep, his glasses askew and his hair more ruffled than normal.

“One o’clock in the morning,” Draco replied. He looked very impatient as Harry stretched, fixed his glasses, and finally stood to make his way towards the fireplace. When Harry was kneeling, Draco nodded and smirked.

“Well if it’s so late, why are you here, then?” Harry asked suspiciously. His vision was still a bit bleary, and staring into the hot coals of the fire wasn’t helping much.

“Well,” Harry could see Draco’s hand come up to rub the back of his neck, almost sheepishly, and he was sure that if Draco’s face didn’t blend in with the coals, he would be able to see some pink tinting those perfect cheeks. Harry grinned lopsidedly. “Actually, it was because Hermione wanted me to talk to you,” Harry’s face immediately fell, and he drew away slightly.

“A…about what, exactly?” Harry asked, suddenly defensive.

“Well, she’s been pretty suspicious about something or other lately. She hasn’t exactly given me the details quite yet, but I’m sure it has something to do with what you’ve been eating lately...or something. At least, that was what I could collect earlier today when she came in to grab a few things she left behind. I don’t know,”

Harry blinked, his eyes suddenly blazing. “You’re kidding, right?”

Draco glared up at Harry. “No! And well…that and…I was bored. I wasn’t quite sure that you’d be here or not, but I figured I’d take my chances. And besides, it would have been great fun to scare the shite out of some unsuspecting first years, especially Gryffindors!” Draco exclaimed gleefully. This time it was Harry’s turn to glare.

“You will not go around scaring my housemates, Draco,” Harry growled. Draco smiled gleefully once more.

“I don’t suspect there’s much you can do about it, is there?” he asked, eyebrows raised mockingly.

Harry grunted, but otherwise ignored him. “Well, get on with it, then.”

“Well…I’m bored. So entertain me. Do some tricks or something,”

Harry glared. “Entertain yourself!” he exclaimed irritably. “I’m tired, and I have classes tomorrow!”

“Well, it would help if you would eat something,” Draco grumbled.

“I do eat things!” Harry ground out with another glare. “Shut up!”

“From what I’ve heard from Hermione, you don’t eat much, and she’s pretty sure you make yourself sick afterwards.” Draco replied, all business now.

“How the bloody hell would she know what I do?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Well, perhaps it’s the frequent trips to the loo that set off her suspicions. But she and Ron had a bit of a talk, and-”

“Shut the bloody hell up!” Harry whispered, his voice deadly. Draco immediately clamped his mouth shut. “Hermione doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“But the Weasel told her that he found you in the bathroom-”

“I’ve been a bit sick lately, is all,” Harry muttered, his eyes glowing with anger.

“Well, Potter, I can’t say that Granger believes you, but I do, if it’s any compensation.”

Harry leered. “It’s not, I assure you.”

Draco smiled smugly. “Be that as it may, I’m not the one you have to worry about, if you well remember,”

Harry’s right eye twitched, and he pulled away from the fire, the heat that was consuming his face too much - and not all of it was from the fire, either. “Look, Malfoy,” he ground out, standing and brushing his jeans off. “I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. I suspect that you can find your own way out of that fireplace, as you found your way to it just fine. You won’t be here in the morning, will you?” Harry raised his eyebrows in question, and Draco sighed.

“You imbecile. Do you really think I’d fancy burns on my face? Not to mention my hair being burnt off. No, I rather think I’ll come back tomorrow night, after I get some sleep myself, thank you very much.”

Harry shrugged and turned away.

“Potter,” Draco stopped him, and Harry blinked before turning around to face him.

“What?”

“Just…please eat something, okay? We can’t have our hero dying of malnutrition. Promise?”

Harry just glared.

“Promise me, Potter,” Draco demanded, his voice commanding and eyes full of malice.

“Why do you care, exactly?” Harry asked, allowing himself to collapse on the armchair once more.

Draco sighed and stared at Harry intently for many silent minutes. “I just do. That should be enough for you. Potter, you won’t die against Voldemort, I know you won’t. Be we can’t have you killing yourself before you even get the chance to try!”

Harry tilted his head to the side, thinking on it deeply. “You’re right, Malfoy,” he decided. Draco’s eyes lit up, and Harry was shocked as their true color came through the flames momentarily. “I mean, starving myself isn’t helping anyone. I guess I will eat some more. And just for the record, I have been eating things.”

Draco eyed him calculatingly. “And that’s why you’re so skinny, then?”

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “Look, I’ve been stressed lately. I’ve eaten, but not much. And I’m not that skinny. You make it sound as if I’m going to keel over any second, or something.”

“Or something,” Draco agreed. Harry glared. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Draco sighed. “Nothing. Just promise me, already, so I can get to sleep,”

“But I thought you were bored,” Harry said, staring critically at Draco.

“Well, I was, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not tired, as well,”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to promise me, or not?” Draco asked imploringly, his eyes searching Harry’s face for something Harry couldn’t place. “Because I can still come in there, you know. It wouldn’t be pretty,”

“So you’re going to force me to promise you one way or the other, then, is that right?”

Draco nodded, smirking smugly. “Pretty much,” he agreed. Harry sighed.

“I’ve already said that I’ll eat more,” he said, his tone bored, tired and angry all at once. Draco found himself wondering how exactly Potter could pull something like that off. He never had been able to before.

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve promised.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, I promise already. Now can I go?”

“Somehow, I get the feeling that you don’t quite mean that.” Draco said, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Well, get over the feeling. I’m going to bed.”

With that, Harry turned on his heal and walked away.

Draco found that he had a rather nice view of Harry’s arse from this vantage point, and didn’t leave until Harry had all but disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, with images of certain parts of Potter stuck in his head, destined to keep him awake all night.

…
…
…

The next day, Harry looked petulantly down at the eggs, bacon and toast piled high on his plate. He had no intentions of eating all of it, and he couldn’t believe that he had promised Malfoy that he would eat more, even after promising himself only hours before that he would never eat as much as he had.

At Hermione’s glance towards him, he grunted and glared, and refused to talk to her when she asked him to pass the spread. Ron looked between them curiously, but Harry ignored Ron, as well, opting to, instead, push the scrambled eggs around on his plate.

Ron broke the tense silence. “You okay, mate?”

Harry grunted in return.

“Um, okay. Well, then…oh, I know! You’re upset because the Chudley Cannons won last night’s game, aren’t you! You owe me ten galleons! Ha!”

Ron stood up triumphantly, pointing teasingly at Harry and causing many disturbed and curious glances to be thrown his way.

“Yeah, Ron,” Harry agreed, his voice cold and distant. “That’s exactly the reason.”

Ron grinned smugly. “I knew it,” he said, eyes gleaming. “See, ‘Mione? I told you I knew why he was acting all weird. He’s just upset that he lost the bet, see?” With that, he turned back to Harry. “I told you they were a good team, mate.”

Harry glowered and Ron grinned. Hermione grimaced. “He confronted you last night, didn’t he?” she asked in low tones, so as not to draw anymore unwanted attention to themselves.

“What do you think, ‘Mione?” Harry asked with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, but it’s for the best. Harry, we really can’t have you die, especially not now.”

With that, Harry stood abruptly. “And what if I want to die, Hermione?” he asked, his voice cold. This drew many startled gasps and stares, and Harry grimaced. He hadn’t realized he had said it nearly as loud as he had.

With a sigh, Harry spun on his heal and made his way towards the bathroom.

When no one followed him immediately, Harry knew that he was safe to fix it, and he proceeded to throw up all the contents of his stomach, leaning weakly over the toilet afterwards. “I’m fine,” he muttered to himself. “Perfectly healthy. Perfectly…”

Standing, he flushed the toilet. But when he left the stall, he was face to face with none other that Draco himself. Harry gave a startled gasp.

“I told you I would come in here, Harry,” Draco said, his eyes gleaming angrily. “And you promised to eat more. Sorry to tell you, but this,” Draco gestured towards the toilet. “this isn’t healthy, Potter.”

Harry scowled. “I’m fine, Malfoy. And the last time I checked, my wellbeing was not your business.” With that, he pushed past Draco and made his way towards the sink. “How did you get here, anyway?” He asked, washing his face before swishing some water in his mouth and spitting the sour tasting liquid out.

“Hogwarts’ floo is open to Number Twelve,” Draco muttered. “No one knows, since it’s un-plottable.”

“How’d you get here so fast, then? And without anyone seeing you?”

Draco blushed slightly, though Harry couldn’t see it as he was still cleaning himself up and didn’t bother to look in the mirror, because of the fear of what he might see. His eyes had begun to get a haunted look to them that he didn’t quite like looking at.

“Well,” Draco seemed reluctant to tell.

“Well…?”

Draco sighed. “I used your invisibility cloak. You’ve been in here for over half an hour, by the way. Hermione came and got me during her free hour. She’s in class now, though.”

Harry nodded, wiping the excess water off of his face with the sleeve of his robe, before turning around. “Good.”

“She’s only concerned about you Potter. This can’t be good for you. I mean, look at yourself.” Draco gestured towards Harry, and he flushed.

“I’m fine.” Harry growled out.

“No, Harry, you’re not,” Draco said, stepping closer.

Harry stepped away, backing into the sink. Draco still approached. The sink was digging into the flesh of Harry’s back, and Harry’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a way to get out. “I’m fine, Malfoy. Wha…what are you doing? Stop! Get away from me!” Harry ran towards the door, but was too slow. Draco cast a silent spell, and the door locked.

Harry wiggled the handle violently, but to no avail. Draco still approached him.

“Harry, you’ve got to trust me when I say this is a problem.”

“No,” Harry said. His voice was a whisper, and though Draco had to strain to hear it, he still heard it all the same. “No, it’s not a problem. I’ve got it under control. I’m fine.”

…
…
…

Voldemort watched through his orb, a silent smirk adorning his face. Of course, he couldn’t see Draco, and had no clue that it was Draco who was talking to the Potter boy. He didn’t even have an inkling of the fact that, just beneath his nose, Malfoy was betraying him.

Oh, but he loved to watch Potter squirm. “It’s not a problem, Wormtail,” he said, cackling. “He’s got it under control.”

Wormtail laughed slightly, not knowing if it was a good thing to let his guard down or not. Voldemort’s laughter ceased immediately.

“We must find out about this boy. He is very seriously ill, and weak to boot. This may be the perfect time to attack.” Turning towards the cowering servant, Voldemort smirked, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the candle light. “Wormtail, see if this boy has any other weaknesses. We must know in order to defeat him.”

Turning away, he grinned widely. Or, rather, grinned as wide as his nearly rotted away face would allow. “Yes, this boy. He is but a boy, Wormtail. That, in and of itself, is a weakness.”

A wave of his hand, and the orb cleared, the picture fading away like smoke being blown in the wind. It was placed once more on it’s claw-like pedestal, and Voldemort began to chuckle lightly to himself.

The chuckle quickly turned to something more, and for the second time that week, Voldemort’s lair was wracked with high pitched, maniacal laughter.

…
…
…

Somehow, Draco’s arms had found their way around Harry’s waist. Harry had to wonder how it had happened, and why he wasn’t fighting them. Draco’s head rested on Harry’s shoulder, and his body was trembling for some reason. If Harry didn’t know any better, he could have sworn it was because Draco was crying. For some reason, he found himself wanting nothing more than to comfort Draco.

With a sigh, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. “Are you okay?”

Draco remained silent, though his arms tightened around Harry.

Harry felt tense, and he realized that this probably wasn’t helping Draco much. Little did he know that it wasn’t Draco that needed the help, and that Draco had broken down because he was worried about him.

As Harry finally let himself relax, Draco pulled away, and Harry found himself missing Draco’s warm touch.

“I’m fine, Harry. But you…you need to stop this. Okay?” He looked soulfully into Harry’s eyes, and Harry found that he could not say no to Draco. Not now.

With a sigh, Harry nodded.

Draco smiled wanly. “I’ve got to leave, before someone detects me. I’ll come back tonight. Meet me in the Gryffindor common room at midnight.”

Harry nodded, and Draco flung Harry’s invisibility cloak around himself. “Sorry I took this, by the way.”

Harry smiled slightly. “That’s all right. I get the feeling that you need it more than I do; at least for now, anyway.”

Beneath the cloak, a smile tugged at Draco’s lips as he left the room.

‘I am not falling for Potter,’ Draco assured himself, repeatedly, the whole way to Gryffindor tower. Glancing around himself, he sighed in relief when he saw that no one would see if he flooed away. And that was exactly what he did.