Misery and Grief

It was several days before the silence was broken. Since the awkward moment in the kitchen, though neither really understood why it was as awkward as it was, their conversation had been kept to a minimum 'where can I find', 'food is ready', 'thank you', so on and so forth. While they both sort of missed the fighting they had the first day, neither of them wanted to really find out if the peace was because the other one hated them or because this was an offering of courtesy. Draco cleaned mercilessly every minute detail of the house until it was sparkling until he was on the top floor in a room that really looked abandoned. If he hadn't been on a mission, he would have ignored it - finding it unnecessary to clean what wasn't used, but he did anyways.

Harry spent most of his time reading and teaching himself things, finding himself more Hermione like in the process. However, he had taken on the cooking for what was now two. He had also at some point went away and bought Draco clothes of his own, with the help of that very same Hermione. Granger didn't ask what was going on, as she usually would, and that put Harry on edge. But, at the same time, he didn't want to talk about it anyways. She did, however, say that the Order would now be communicating by passing along information one by one for the time being, oh, and that Ron was very upset about the whole ordeal. Out of worry for Harry's safety, of course. "Sanity, you mean." He replied, only half joking.

And it was five days ago that a very bruised Slytherin had showed up at his doorstep, unconscious. His pains had gone away but they both knew that Draco was bottling himself up more and more. Things may be getting better on the outside but nothing had changed on the inside. Harry knew this by watching how diligently his house was being cleaned. His aunt used to clean like this, and though he didn't realize it at the time, the knowledge had come to his possession that this was her way of coping with stress. It never changed her however, and therefor Harry knew that Draco was going to need more than that. This was, however, a way for him to cope and delay the break down until Harry could figure out what the next step would be.

Alas, the black haired boy did not get the chance to figure out what the appropriate next step would be. No, it was on that day that the silent house burst out with a shrill cry. Though Harry had never heard it before, he knew it was Draco's. Not only because this would be the only thing to make sense, but because it distinctly felt like it belonged to Draco in Harry's heart. Forgetting he could apparate, Harry flew up the stairs faster than he could fly on a broom to the top floor, where a door was open and a light was on. Draco was pressed up against a wall, crying without shame and only with extreme fear and despair, in front of him was Lucius Malfoy, looking extremely happy for some reason.

It didn't take Harry more than a moment to find out what had happened and as such he went up to Lucius, who promptly turned into a dementor. Harry used a full blast of patronus to stuff the boggart back into the cabinet, blaming himself for never quite getting to know how to use riddikulus due to the nature of his fear. Snapping out of his own thoughts, he spun to meet a broken Draco, crumpled on the ground and tied into himself. The blonde was weeping openly, pulling at his own hair. Sobs and shouts burst from the boy in intervals as Harry slowly made his way to Draco, who flinched. Harry got on his knees a yard away from the boy, tucked into a sitting fetal position against the wall, his knees clasped to his ears seemingly. "Ma--- Draco..." He tried, feeling Malfoy would only stab because the boggart's identity held the same last name. The blonde didn't change in any way, so Harry moved closer. "Draco." A hand gently went towards the boy. Once it touched, however, it was batted away. Harry caught a glimpse of the boy's face, looking completely shattered and red and slick from tears. He tried again.

"DON'T! TOUCH! ME!" Draco screamed without looking up. Instead, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed harder.

"Why?" Harry couldn't help it, he had to ask. Draco looked up him and though a glare started to form, it stopped and instead he just looked completely helpless. For the first time in his life, Harry could read Draco's thoughts through his glittery eyes. The blonde simply didn't have an answer why Harry couldn't touch him, it wasn't Potter's fault. What the Gryffindor could not see, because there was no way that Harry would be able to conceive this, was that Draco was looking at the dark haired man for the first time as a savior. Potter had gotten rid of his father, was going to protect him. He didn't want to believe it, unsure of if the reason for not wanting to was because he didn't want to break what he was so used to or because he didn't want to put that much faith in anyone, but it now was the truth. The first truth he had ever found by himself. He watched in terror as the shorter, more muscular man stretched his arm out to him once more. Draco did not bat it away, but flinched once it touched all the same. Silver eyes still streamed large ribbons of tears but the sobs had stopped. His breathing had stopped. Harry hesitantly grabbed Malfoy's wrist, somehow unraveling the broken schoolmate from his tangle of himself. Against his own will, he pulled the dead weight of Draco into his arms, the boy's head into his chest. "I trust you Draco." The boy in his arms fidgeted for a moment, still not breathing, as if to say what that has to do with anything. "I trust you, or I wouldn't have let you stay. Wouldn't have let you go through my stuff under the pretense of cleaning." A large hand, much stronger than Draco's landed on the more feminine boy's head, completing the comforting engulfment that Draco couldn't remember ever feeling. He had never been held like this, not by his parents or even Pansy, who probably would have if she had ever saw a side to him that wasn't cold and domineering. "I trust you, Draco, so trust me."

It was then that Draco burst. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but all dams were broken as he clutched to Harry's shirt, sobbing into it with broken breaths. Not another word was spoken as Draco bawled for the first time since he was able to crawl in the arms of another human being. He knew it was wrong instinctively, to be cradled by Harry Potter and comforted by his warm arms, to take solace in someone whom he had been the most vile he could to. And for a moment he fidgeted, trying to decide if he should stop now and wall himself in again, but then he felt the man who only knew as Potter or Scarhead tighten his old on him. It could have been the closeness and body heat of another person, or it could have been the embarrassment of it all, or perhaps the blotchy heated skin from where his tears had come and gone over and over again that made him so warm. Eventually he fell into sleep, a sleep in which Harry knew was the first dreamless sleep he'd had since he woke up five days previous.

A napping Draco was heavy and Harry's legs were falling asleep. However, Draco seemed so content that he only allowed himself to very slowly switch his sitting position from on his knees to sitting on the ground with his legs on either side of the blonde. The slowness made the pain in his legs even more obvious. Harry could not help but wonder what Draco would do when he woke up in the arms of his arch rival. He'd remember it, to be sure, but he'd be embarrassed. There was no way that Draco Malfoy would wake up in his arms, smile and say thank you, and climb out and go back to the way everything was. However, it was also truth that Draco waking up not in Harry's arms would not make him forget the whole scenario but feel alone and if Harry didn't really care. In fact, Malfoy or not, he was sure any human would feel the same after what had happened.

So for hours he sat there, his back aching and his arms wanting to move. However he didn't, unsure of what to concentrate on other than the man slumbering peacefully in his arms. Draco had truly moved closer to him, curling up innocently into a sitting Harry who could only think of how different a sleeping Draco and an awake Draco really were. He was just happy that the Slytherin wasn't crying anymore, and a little shocked at how calmly he slept. The blonde had to have been making up for all the sleep he'd missed lately, as Harry had heard him late at night pitter pattering around the house and crying out while he did sleep. Harry had thought about doing something about it before but had not. Overall, a lot of the time he sat there thinking about Malfoy, and despite their history, he couldn't possibly harbor one ill feeling towards the boy now. Could he even blame the kid he had known for saying the things he had believed, just because that's how he was raised? His hand had petted Draco slightly before he realized it, a soft sigh eliciting from the boy. Harry smiled in spite of himself. How utterly ridiculous this situation was, how strange how close they were, and yet how content they both were with it. Well, for the moment anyways, he knew Draco would wake up and suddenly be angry at everything - at Harry, at his father, and especially at himself.

As if Draco heard his thoughts, he suddenly squirmed, waking up engulfed in heat he didn't understand. Sleepily he realized his arse hurt from sitting on wood and that someone was holding him. Everything flashed behind his lids and his first instinct was to push the man holding him away and running away, the second was to pretend he was still sleeping. Yes, he was angry at himself for allowing all this, and a blush came to his cheeks immediately at his own stupidity, but at the same time it felt so good to be held and he tried to tell himself he could pretend it was anyone else but the famous Harry Potter. However, when he tried to imagine it as Pansy Parkinson or his mother or someone unknown, he couldn't and was left to the first instinct. He untangled himself from Harry quickly, jumping away as far as he could in one movement. Harry only stretched his arms, unaltered by the sudden movement. It was like he was mocking him. He wanted to cry again, did Draco's sudden motions mean absolutely nothing? This time, however, he was able to steel himself. The thin man opened his mouth to scream at the other boy but didn't know what to say.

Harry got up, stretching his back and absolutely not acting like Draco's oncoming onslaught was within a moments distance. "Don't mention it." He said, with no hint of insecurity whatsoever. "Though next time if we could not be sitting in the middle of a room on a hard surface, that would be great. Draco looked absolutely scandalized, thoroughly screaming within the confines of his head that there would not be such a next time, thank you very much. Harry left without another word, leaving a very angry young man to himself. Said young man immediately left the room also, not wanting to be anywhere near the boggart now that he remembered that portion of the ordeal.

And it was for all the reasons they could think of that they didn't even see each other for the rest of the day, food left out for Draco in the hall from whatever room he was with a sharp knock on the wall. The room in which everything had happened had been abandoned, it's cleaning ignored by both of them. Hedwig came and went with messages from concerned members of the Weasley family and others concerning his situation, and he wrote back only to write that everything was fine and that this really was necessary. Harry couldn't help but smile lightly to himself both at the concern from his friends and the fact that he so wholeheartedly trusted someone no one else seemed to. And with a sigh he went to bed that night.

It was well past midnight when Draco woke up sweating and clinging to his blanket, curled up and feeling sick. The nightmares again, they seemed to get worse each time he had them. It was not just memories but his mind wandered to what would happen if he was found or just new occurrences that were even worse than he had that night less than a week ago. He started crying softly to himself. It was here, in the middle of darkness, that he felt the most hopeless. Draco couldn't very well just get up and start cleaning. Instead he always got up and padded around. He did this every night and it was getting bothersome, if only he could sleep like he did while in Potter's arms... Mentally slapping himself for thinking such things, he tried to make excuses for it. "He was just somebody, anyone would feel better while in someone's arms." But no one had ever held him like that, ever comforted him in that way. Running a hand through silken hair, he admitted to himself even if he did not want to that Harry had definitely surprised him. Not only was he a singularly caring individual, even to his enemies, but he was someone who at the same time could make you feel like they didn't care that way you didn't feel nearly as strange as being picked apart by someone. It was obviously a Gryffindor trait to do things rashly, unthinkingly, but that didn't mean that Draco had expected it of anyone - much less someone whom hated him, at least until recently.

He yawned and sleepily realized he was walking around in circles. Going up the stairs, he passed his room and went up another flight to find himself next to the door of one Harry Potter. He looked into the already open door, wanting to look at the man whom was able to boil his blood with anger and nervousness at the same time. Why was it that Draco only doubted himself in the presence of the famous, perfect Harry Potter? He almost left when he remembered the almost passive 'next time' Harry had mentioned. Looking over his shoulder, he was tempted. Certainly he wanted to stop the dreams from ruining him but he couldn't very well just snuggle up to Potter every time he had a nightmare, or wanted to sleep. In fact, that idea made him sick. He held his stomach at the thought of getting so cozy and familiar with Harry in that way. And it was with regretful eyes, though he would never admit it, that he worked his way back to his own bedroom.