*If you're going through the comments and wondering what half of them are talking about its bc I had pictures of Slytherin merch I got in the mail but I took them off bc I feel like I was really Annoying w that.

Btw i didnt edit this chapter so excuse the typos
I havent slept in over 24hrs and i honestly cannot bother to edit this
K bye
••••

The next day there wasn't a sign of Draco, only Harry's friends visiting him and leaving ten minutes later to catch up on homework.

Harry was alone with his thoughts for nearly an hour, thinking about what Draco had said the night before. His mind replayed the whole event continuously, as if it were in some sort of mental loop.

Each time it replayed it resulted in Harry regretting everything he said.

It was a few hours before visiting hours were over that the platinum-blond decided to pay a visit, just to check up on Harry - of course. Make sure he was eating.

This time, Harry didn't have any snarky or sarcastic remarks to throw at him, so instead went with a simple "hey."

"Did you eat today?" Draco got to the point immediately, avoiding eyes with Harry.

"Kind of," Harry replied quietly.

Draco nodded, sitting in the same chair he did each time he came to see Harry, "kind of," Draco repeated to himself, not really realizing he said it out loud.

It was quiet for several minutes, before Harry spoke, "So... you do care about me?" He asked quietly, just barely audible.

"Potter, you're going to have to speak louder if you want me to hear something, you git." Draco snapped, finally looking towards Harry.

Harry's heart clenched when he locked eye contact with Draco, but he had no idea why. He just felt... something.
Harry repeated what he had just said, searching Draco's Murcery-like eyes.

"Of course," Draco scoffed, leaning so his elbows had rested on his knees; his fingers intertwining, "you're a complete git if you haven't noticed yet."

"Okay but, you, Draco Malfoy, care for I, Harry Potter?" Harry questioned. "Malfoy, did someone poison you? What happened? Are you feeling okay? how many fingers am I holding?" He held three fingers infront of Draco's face, only to have Draco swat them away.

"Nothing is wrong with me, Scarface." Draco hissed, leaning back in the chair as he weaved a hand through his hair.

Pieces of his hair fell over his forehead- the used to be slick hair now messy, and Harry had to admit, it made him more attractive.

I mean... not that I find him attractive in the first place.

Harry looked away, "how long?"

"What do you mean, how long?" Draco snapped, "How long do you think?"

Harry paused, thiking; "Since this year?"

Draco laughed dryly, "I wish."

"How long?"

Draco sighed, locking eyes with Harry once more, "You'll just have to find out, won't you?" He asked, standing up, "get some rest."

Before Draco could leave, Harry shot up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving, "how long."  He repeated; but instead of asking, it was more of a demand.

Draco closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath; "Since second year," Draco admitted, "I've cared for you since second year, alright? I never admitted it to myself. Ever. I always said I was lying to myself. But I finally realized when you saved me from that damned fire. Now, If you'd excuse me, there's a cliff waiting for me to jump off," Draco said sarcastically, ripping his hand away from Harry's grip and quickly making his way towards the exit.

Harry was stunned.
It couldn't possibly be that long.
Hell, it was hard enough for him to believe he even cared in the first place.

With the way Draco had always acted towards not only Harry, but his friends as well... it didn't even seem possible for Draco to feel any other emotion towards Harry other than hate. But then again, Harry has learned that Draco is good at hiding his feelings.

Harry pinched himself, thinking it was just a dream, and to his surprise, it wasn't. Because he hadn't woken up from the pinch, and it had hurt. But Harry kept pinching to the point where it drew blood.

*

Harry was finally out of that dreaded hospital wing, finally able to walk- well... kind of.

He was told by Professor McGonagall that he didn't have to attend today's classes, and that it'd be better if he just focused on trying to walk without stumbling. And so, he did just that.

He tried walking across the corridors without leaning against the cobble walls for support, but his knees kept buckling if he took more than three steps on his own.
His legs felt like jell-o, and they felt as though they were going to break just from Harry's weight.

He hasn't lost that much weight. His legs just weren't used to his weight anymore. Especially after lack of protein and laying in bed for a week.

He tried walking across one corridor without the support from the wall once more, only - in his dismay - to fall over half way accross.

"Dammit." Harry cursed to himself, sitting with his back against the wall, his head hitting against the cold cobble as well, "You just can't do anything right for once, can you?" Harry mumbled to himself, digging his thumbs nail into his palm, "You always fuck up. It's a surprise you're not dead yet, you know." He spoke as though he wasn't talking about himself, but as if he were in third person, or speaking to someone who was infront of him.

Draco, on the other hand, had been listening to Harry's self-loathing, and had been watching him stumble over and just... struggle in general.

It wasn't even just him struggling with walking, Draco noted, He's struggling with life in general.

Sighing, Draco closed his eyes, letting out a breath, before making his way towards Harry. Harry hadn't notice the person nearing him, nor heard the footsteps, as he was too focused on talking to himself. Mainly hating himself, and cursing random slurs he found were appropriate for the current scenario.

"Potter," Draco sighed, causing Harry to instantly stall on his rambling.

Harry shot his emerald eyes towards Draco, the pit of his stomach churning in embarrassment.
Instantly, he tried helping himself up, only for his knees to buckle and for him to fall back down.

Instead of falling onto the cold floor, though, Draco caught his arm, bringing the boy back up.
He grunted at the weight (he felt heavier than he looked, but, then again, Draco had been growing weak,) but managed to lift him to his feet, steadying him out.

"Did you eat today?" Draco asked, his hand still clenched to Harry's arm to help him stand straight.

"Kind of."

"Kind of," Draco repeated, "the fuck is 'kind of', Harry. Yes or no, did you eat?"

"I tried. But I couldn't. If I would've eaten I would've just puked it back up, and I'd be... Worse than I am now." He explained.
He was going to say weaker, but like hell he was going to actually admit to being weak infront of Draco. Over his dead body.

Draco swallowed. Seeing the pain that struck through Harry's vibrant eyes made hid stomach churn, and he felt as thought he may puke, but he held it back.

"Come on," Draco sighed, "We're sneaking you into the kitchen. And you're going to eat."

••••

Why the fuck am I helping you.
Why the fuck am I even near you.
Why the fuck am I worried sick about you.

It doesn't make sense.
I'm not supposed to feel this way.
I'm not supposed to help you.

Malfoy's don't feel.
Malfoy's don't care.
Malfoy's don't love.

Then why do I feel all of these emotions when Im not supposed to?

If my father found out... oh Merlin- if my father found out.... I might as well avada kedavra myself. It'd hurt less.

This is the last time I'll be helping you. Liar.

This is the last time I'll run into you. Liar.

This is the last time I'll look at you without hate in my eyes. Liar.

This is the last time I'll speak to you. Liar.