i cannot believe macabre is pronounced muh-kob

Draco comes to Potions with red-rimmed eyes.

Harry resists every urge in his body to run to the other boy and hug him and ask him what's wrong, and he has to physically grip the ends of his seat to make sure he doesn't get up.

Instead, he waits until Draco sits beside him to murmur "What's wrong?"

He has to resist adding love at the end of his sentence, afraid someone around them might hear him.

"Later," Draco replies softly, and that's the end of the conversation.

They try to make their potion, but Draco is upset and Harry's upset because Draco's upset, and instead of red, their potion turns an ugly green shade.

"Professor?" Draco says quietly, raising his hand. "May I use the restroom?"

Slughorn nods and Draco shoots out of the room lighting fast. Harry's necklace is getting colder and colder.

Harry waits five minutes, trying to find some way to leave class that doesn't make it look like he's following Draco.

His eye catches the board. Skin-Eating Potion.

Feeling a bit sick to his stomach, Harry knocks his potion over and screams when some immediately burns through his jeans and the skin on his lower thigh, right by his knee.

Worth it. I need to talk to Draco.

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn shouts, rushing over. "Oh dear, run along to the Hospital Wing immediately!"

Harry decides not to point out that walking may very well kill him, let alone running, and he hops off his stool, gritting his teeth at the searing pain that immediately shoots through his leg. He limps out of the room and immediately beelines to the nearest boy's bathroom.

It appears to be empty, but one of the stalls is shut. Harry can't risk saying Draco's name and having it not be Draco, so instead he coughs softly.

The stall clicks and opens, and a tear-stained Draco steps out, eyes wide. "Harry, what are you doing here? People saw you leave after me!"

"What happened?" Harry asks, avoiding the question.

Draco seems to crumple in on himself. His arms come to wrap around himself, and Harry so badly wants to hug him, but he knows if he moves it will hurt his leg and Draco will notice and make him go to the Hospital Wing.

"Blaise came out to the Slytherins last night," he whispers.

"That's incredible?" Harry says. He means it to sound like a statement, perhaps an exclamation, but he's confused as to why Draco is crying. His legs burns.

"A group of seventh years and Greg beat the shit out of him," Draco finishes, his voice shaking. "He's in the Hospital Wing."

"Oh," Harry breathes. "Oh God."

Draco starts crying again and Harry instinctively moves to hug him, only to cry out when searing pain spikes through his entire leg.

Draco immediately stares at him in shock. "What? What's wrong?" His eyes catch on the slightly smoking hole in Harry's jeans and the blood drains from his face. "Harry, how did you leave class without raising suspicion that you were following me?"

Harry winces. "I couldn't ask to go to the bathroom, it would be too suspicious."

"So you fucking spilled a goddamn fucked-up Skin-Eating Potion on yourself?" Draco shouts. "Are you insane?"

Harry is starting to feel a bit dizzy from the pain. His necklace is ice-cold. "Guess so," he mumbles.

"Harry?"

Harry realizes he's leaning to the left, and then his leg gives out and he falls. His hand catches on the counter and Draco is lightning-fast, catching him before he hits the ground.

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco growls. "You stupid, selfless bastard."

"Love you too," Harry mumbles in response, staring up at the white ceiling of the bathroom. He wonders if their fucked-up version of the potion will kill him.

He wonders if he'll go to hell.

"You're not dying, and you don't deserve hell," Draco says sharply. He's pulling Harry to his feet, wrapping his arm around Draco's shoulders and helping him walk around the door.

Harry is hyperaware of the feeling of Draco's hand awkwardly wound around his own to keep it around his shoulders, and the searing heat of Draco's other hand on his waist to keep him steady. "I said that out loud?"

"You did."

"Everything hurts, Draco," Harry mumbles. 

"Don't call me that. We're in the halls. I'm Malfoy."

"I don't know you're Malfoy, remember?" Harry says, feeling quite dizzy. "I don't remember anything. To me, you're just Draco, who I'm better friends with than Ron."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Dunno. I love you."

"Potter, shut the fuck up, I don't need you ending up like- like Blaise."

"'m sorry about Blaise." Harry's words are starting to slur together, pain lacing in every syllable. "He doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that. Dean doesn't deserve that."

"There you go, saying things I don't understand again."

"If I die, I want you to tell Hermione I remembered her."

"You're not going to fucking die."

"I want you to tell Dean I'm sorry I didn't tell him."

"You were going to tell Dean?"

"He asked."

"He asked?"

"He doesn't know. Well, he knows I'm gay but he doesn't know about you. Although," Harry giggles, delirious. "I told him before I got my memories that I had a poem boy, a secret boyfriend, and I need help finding him. Yesterday he told me it might be you, 'cause we're nice to each other." Harry giggles again. "How funny is that, how right he was?"

"Potter, keep your eyes open."

Harry hadn't realized he's closed them, but as he opens them again he realizes his vision is blurry.

"You called me your poem boy?"

"You wrote me poems," Harry giggles.

"I did indeed."

"'So I revert to letting you remain mute, and mayhap, deaf,'" Harry mumbles. "That was the second one you sent me."

"I'm aware."

"'You left them with me, and left me.' That one was deep."

"They were all deep. I was sad."

"Emo boy." Harry giggles uncontrollably, he can't help it. He feels like he's lost gallons of blood, but he knows the poison cauterized the wound in his leg. "Cauterize," he mumbles. "My leg is cauterized."

"Indeed it is, dumbass. Open your fucking eyes."

"Everything hurts, love."

"Don't call me that." Draco's voice breaks.

"I saved the world, I deserve to love whoever the fuck I want. Everyone deserves to love whoever the fuck they want. Except for creepy pedo people. Nasty."

"You deserve the world, Harry." Draco sounds tired. "You deserve the world and more, but unfortunately all you get is a terrified boyfriend who isn't good enough for you and a bunch of homophobic classmates."

"You're good enough for me," Harry says. He thinks his eyes have slipped shut again, but when he tries to open them, nothing happens. His right leg is numb and his left leg burns like hell. He doesn't think he can keep walking. "You're good enough and I love you, I love you, I-"

His leg stops working and he falls, only to realize Draco has tightened his grip on the hand around his shoulder and pulled his hip so they're pressed flush against each other, Draco's body supporting Harry's entire weight.

"I love you too," Draco whispers, before he takes a few steps forward. "You could fucking try to walk, Harry. You're heavy as hell and I left my wand in the classroom."

"Left mine too. Grab it for me when you go back?"

"I can't go back, I'm staying with you!"

"You can't stay with me. People will suspect."

Draco falls silent, and Harry knows he's right. 

He hates being right.

He tries to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but instead he just collapses again. Draco makes a small yelp, trying to catch him.

"We need help."

"Get Dean," Harry mumbles. "Good guy, Dean."

"Indeed. How do you propose I get Dean?"

"Patronus."

"I don't have my fucking wand, Harry."

"Wandless. It doesn't take the energy of a longer spell like levitation or stunners."

"I can't do a wandless Patronus."

"I can."

"You're about to pass out, Harry."

"Share your magic with me."

Draco stills. The last time they had tried sharing magical energy, both of them had been drained for days. "Harry-"

"Draco, I think I'm dying," Harry says softly, already forgetting what they had been talking about.

"You're not fucking dying. Send the damn Patronus. I'll share my stupid fucking magic with you."

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on his own magical core. It's weak, like the rest of his body right now, but he feels it grow stronger as Draco's magic joins with his.

He thinks of the first time he kissed Draco, and when he opens his eyes, it's to see a silvery stag running off into the halls.

"Fuck," Draco breathes.

Harry just collapses. "That was a mistake."

"Better not be," Draco grumbles. He sits on the floor next to Harry, trying to catch his breath.

Ten minutes later, they hear pounding footsteps and Dean comes running over, chasing the silver Patronus. He stills, taking in the scene in front of him; Harry with a smoking gash in his thigh, collapsed on the floor, and Draco, eyes puffy from crying, sitting on the floor next to him.

"I'll ask later," he says decisively, and the look Harry gives him is of pure gratefulness. "What do you need?"

"He can't walk, and I'm not strong enough to carry him the whole way to the Hospital Wing myself," Draco grumbles. "And we're both weaker because we combined magical energy to send that stupid Patronus wandlessly."

"Fuck," Dean swears. "I was so caught up in following the Patronus that I didn't even think to get my wand. I'll help you carry him."

He grabs Harry's left arm and pulls him up, wrapping it around his shoulders. Draco sighs and stands, wrapping Harry's right arm around his shoulders, and the trio walks to the Hospital Wing.

"Madame Pomfrey!" Dean shouts as he kicks the door open. "Our darling Saviour has hurt himself once again!"

"For Merlin's sake, every year-" Pomfrey says, bustling out of her office angrily. She stops when she sees the trio; an exhausted Dean and Draco supporting a barely conscious Harry Potter. "Oh my. Set him down there."

Draco and Dean carefully lay Harry down on one of the beds. Pomfrey rushes over, examining his leg.

"What on earth happened?"

"Spilled a Skin-Eating Potion," Harry mumbles. Is the ceiling always spotted, or is that his vision?

"A messed up one," Draco adds. "It was green."

Pomfrey clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Boys," she mutters. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Thomas. You may go back to class."

Both boys hesitate, eyes on Harry. Pomfrey sighs. "He'll make a full recovery. Likely be back in a couple of days, once the poison flushes out of his system. You needn't worry about him."

Both boys relax and leave the room. Draco casts one last look to Harry before the door shuts. Harry's necklace is still cold.

"You should rest, Mr. Potter. Sleeping won't hurt. If anything, it'll make it easier so you're not moving while I work on your leg. I'll go get some supplies." She rushes back into her back room.

Harry's head falls to the side, and his tired eyes meet the surprised ones of Blaise Zabini. His left eye is bruised and swollen, his lip cut in multiple places. There is a cast around his right arm and several dark bruises on his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles, not even registering that he's not supposed to know why Blaise is here. "You don't deserve this. No one does."

Blaise smirks. "What, being in the Hospital Wing with the Golden Boy?"

"No one deserves to be bullied for love," Harry whispers. His vision is fading.

Blaise's grin drops. "How did you know about that?"

"You're not a freak, Blaise," Harry says, although he thinks he's talking to himself. "Love who you want, and cut out anyone who thinks you shouldn't. You deserve to love."

He's met with silence as his vision goes dark, and he thinks he hears a soft "Thank you" before he fully slips into unconsciousness.