Shaky Hands
Soon a habit formed, of Harry asked Draco to tag along with him everywhere he went. They’d study together, go to the Three Broomsticks together after Quidditch practice, and talk nonstop in Harry’s dorm room.
Lying atop Harry’s bed, Draco watched the brunette desperately try to fix his unruly hair in front of a mirror. The boy seemed quieter than usual today, possibly something on his mind. But Draco didn’t dare ask what.
Giving up on styling his messy curls, Harry turned to face the blonde. Their eyes met, and for the first time in a while, Draco noticed just how green they were.
Harry swallowed before opening his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again. Then once again he opened it, “Come with me, I wanna show you something.”
Hesitantly Draco nodded, following the Gryffindor out of his room and through the common room. Immediately outside the common room, Harry took Draco through a path he never even knew existed.
The corridor they walked through was scarcely lit, only a few candles here and there. Draco stepped closer to Harry, a little skeptical of the whole ordeal.
A large door met them at the end of the hall. “Where are we?” Draco asked. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Harry uttered, “Someplace forbidden.”
“Forbidden?” Draco repeated. His mind was coming up with all sorts of probable outcomes. But they all ended the same way. Was this it? Had he actually won Harry’s affection? After all their countless hours together it had to be time for his confession, right?
The door opened, and all Draco was met with was a giant mirror. The top of the mirror was draped with a velvet red curtain.
Draco’s eyes widened as he examined the delicate artifact. It looked ancient, at least a hundred years old.
Harry stepped forward, admiring himself in the mirror. Draco watched him reach out and touch something that wasn’t there. “What’re you doing?”
“Hm? Oh nothing.”
Draco watched the Gryffindor carefully, before joining him in front of the mirror. He heard Harry hold his breath, as if frozen next to him.
He whispered, “What do you see?”
Draco stared into the mirror, puzzled. There was nothing unordinary about. He saw himself, looking less tired than usual, he could scarcely see the outlines of his flowers poking through his skin under his clothes. Next time him, he saw Harry, who had a bright smile on his face.
When he looked next to him, Harry was no longer smiling. Odd.
“What do you mean ‘what do I see,’l Draco replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I see you and me, our reflection.”
Harry’s senses seemed to heighten, and Draco couldn’t tell as to why. He looked hesitant, his mouth opening and closing as if he were finding the words to say.
Finally, he looked as if he were left with no answer. He flashed a timid smile, “me too.”
The night came to a close as Draco felt a little disappointed from not having what he thought was a confession from Harry. He waved the brunette goodbye outside the painting of Gryffindor Common room.
Harry didn’t wave back.
The next morning, Draco woke up bright and early to greet Harry in the Great Hall for breakfast.
He was quick to rush out the door, only then being stopped by Blaise. “Slow down or you’ll choke.”
Draco shoved him off, “I’m fine. Honest!” The blonde was now busy fixing himself in front of the mirror, flipping his hair from one side to the other. His breathing became quicker as he frantically tried to fix how he looked.
“Draco slow down, you’re practically hyperventilating,” Blaise muttered, rushing to the blonde’s aid.
“No but-“ He stammered. “You don’t get it- he-,” Draco’s lungs were growing weaker. “He’s been so-“ He grasped for air.
“Shit. Pansy!” Blaise hollered. Draco could barely breathe, his legs shaking as he struggled for air. Blaise desperately tried to help him sit down on one of the couches.
Pansy was quick to take action, rushing to join Blaise. Draco felt faint, his lungs practically being poked and pricked by thorns. “Draco, breathe.”
“He can’t, you idiot!” Blaise snapped. He usually never would yell at her, unless it was out of sheer panic.
A minute of choking and trying to stay conscious ensued. Draco could barely feel his limbs anymore, his body seemingly going numb.
His airway was finally unblocked, for the most part, and he gasped for a breath. The weight on his lungs lifted as he continued taking shaking breaths.
Draco took a glance at his two friends, who were both in petrified tears. It was normal to see Pansy cry, Draco had comforted her through dozens of failed relationships and flings over the years. But to see Blaise cry, it was gut wrenching. He’d only ever see the boy come close to crying once, when he’d been owled a letter that his uncle had passed.
This tragic scene before him triggered something in Draco, and soon tears were forming. He couldn’t help but sob, the countless hours of lost sleep and the dozens of flowers thrown up were now piling behind his eyes.
His friends were now wiping their own tears as they tried to comfort the crying blonde. Draco tried to stop himself, he felt selfish. He knew this disease wasn’t just hurting him, but the friends around him too. He felt Blaise’s arms around his neck and Pansy’s arms around his torso. He felt the stinging of the flowers on his skin as his friends squeezed the ever loving life out of him.
He desperately tried to shake the need to cry, doing whatever he could to shove down how he felt. This pain was killing him and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.
It was a long hour, if it were only an hour, which Draco had his doubts. His head lay in Pansy’s lap, his hair being toiled with as he cried while Blaise held his hand. Breakfast was practically over by the time he had composed himself and walked with his friends to the Great Hall.
He scanned the room, Harry was missing. It wasn’t too surprising, Harry was never consistent with his breakfast. Most likely the boy was sleeping in. At least he hoped.
He groggily found his seat at the Slytherin table, grabbing a scone and placing it on his plate. He looked at it for a moment too long and soon he’d lost his appetite.
Pansy and Blaise were talking, Draco didn’t know what about, but it was a quiet conversation.
Then the word Hermione came up.
He looked at the two, who were staring across the Great Hall at the young witch. Draco turned to see as well, and was startled to see the girl practically staring a hole through his forehead.
How long had she been looking at him?
It wasn’t a state of anger, or of resentment, but rather a state of worry. She looked frightened for Draco.
It put an uneasy feeling in his stomach. If he didn’t want food before, he certainly didn’t want it now.
“You have to eat something, Dray,” Pansy encouraged, pushing the plate towards him. He couldn’t help but gag. “I can’t.”
The day rolled by much slower than usual, no sign of Harry in sight. Draco’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing, he could barely sit still.
He turned over his shoulder, Hermione had been giving him little stares the entire period. It was sort of starting to freak him out. It freaked him out even more so that Ron was missing as well. He had no clue as to why.
Class was soon dismissed, and Draco’s head was spinning. He could barely walk straight as he stumbled his way to the courtyard. He felt faint as he leaned up against the large oak tree. The large oak tree that Harry had once cornered him against. Draco’s knees buckled and he landed on the ground. He could barely keep himself conscious.
“You okay?” A voice came from behind him. He tried his hardest to define who it was, to no avail.
He struggled to turn his head, seeing ginger hair pop into view.
Ginerva.
“You look a little pale,” She said, taking a seat in front of him. Draco glanced over her. She had come back to Hogwarts much different this year, her hair had been cut short above her shoulder, and she had changed her style. Draco often saw her dressed in cargo pants and those big black muggle boots. Pansy called them Doc Martens, right?
“I’m okay, yes,” He shook his head, giving her a false smile. To be completely honest, he was growing more ill each day, Neville suspected he’d only have a month or two left.
“I could always take you to the infirmary if you need it,” Ginerva offered. She extended her hand. He didn’t take it.
“I’ll be alright, I promise.”
“You’re as white as a ghost.”
“That’s my usual complexion, Ginerva.”
She chuckled, “Just call me Ginny, Ginerva makes me sound like an old woman.”
That tugged a small laugh from Draco, “You’re not wrong.”
He never imagined himself conversing with the littlest Weasley, if truth be told, he never really cared for her when she was younger. Always following Harry around, always trying to tag along with the year above her. The Harry part was definitely just from pure jealousy, he was always hesitant as to whether Harry had reciprocated the feelings she used to have for him. He could never tell.
“Ron’s told me a lot about you, this year,” She piped in.
Draco’s attention peaked. What the hell did Ronald have to say about him? He couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing. “A lot, like what?”
“He’s kept his eye on you apparently, says he’s a little concerned about you. Said Harry is too, and that you two have been spending a lot of time together,” She muttered, leaning back on her palms.
“He keeps an eye on me?” Draco repeated.
“Oh yeah, Ron’s been watching you since Hermione pointed you out.”
“When did Hermione point me out?” Draco’s stomach was flipping on its side. This was only stressing him out more.
“Since you started missing classes, I guess,” Ginny replied.
Draco’s stomach caught in his throat. The Golden Trio had their eyes on him since the moment he’d fallen ill. He was doomed from the beginning.
“Do you still like Harry?” Draco found himself asking. He didn’t mean to pop the question, but word vomit had seeped into his skin. He watched Ginny’s phase distort into an unreadable expression. Draco was worried he’d pushed her too far.
Instead, she laughed. “Merlin no! I’m gay, I thought that was obvious,” She blurted out, “And besides, even if I wasn’t, I had given up on Harry pretty quick. I think he swings for his own team.”
Draco tilted his head, “He what?”
“Y’know, I think he’s-“ Ginny made a hand gesture.
Draco stared at her for a moment, before it clicked in. He gasped, “You think he’s gay?”
“Definitely. But don’t say anything,” She whispered.
Draco felt dizzy. Maybe Harry did like him after all. But Ginny said she only ‘thought’ he was gay. He couldn’t rely on her guess.
“Do you fancy him?” Ginny asked.
What was he supposed to say? No? Could he actually admit it to the girl who had such a close connection to the boy he loves?
“I do.”
It felt good to say it out loud, to hear himself admit it loud and clear. A weight lifted off of Draco’s chest.
Realizing what he just said, he slammed a hand over his mouth. “Don’t tell anyone what I just said, you got that Ginvera! Or else I’ll hex the bloody hell out of-“
“I know, I know, you’ll hex the bloody hell out of me,” She put her hands up in defense. “But you should tell him, you only live once.”
And with that, she waved goodbye before exiting the courtyard. Draco watched her leave, a weird feeling of satisfaction flurrying within him.
In a moment of luck, Harry rushed through the courtyard in a hurry. His usually tan complexion was much paler, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Potter,” Draco called. He struggled to stand, leaning against the bark of the tree. His legs carried him over to the cobblestone walkway as he followed the brunette who apparently did not hear him.
“Harry Potter,” Draco called again. This halted the Gryffindor in his tracks. He didn’t turn around.
“Harry?”
Harry continued walking, leaving Draco behind.
Draco’s throat tightened. Harry had just left him behind. Had he done something? Did he say something crass? He felt abandoned. His knees buckled, his eyes pricked with tears.
Was he really going to cry in the corridor in front of a bunch of passing students? God no.
So he ran. And hid in the Prefects bathroom. He ignored every pestering question from Moaning Myrtle, who was both concerned and annoyed by his crying presence.
He did not sob, merely shed tears in silence. That was all he could muster.
The next day, Draco tried again. And Harry looked through him again. So he tried again, and again, and again to get the Gryffindor to acknowledge him. To no avail.
And each time, Draco grew sicker and sicker. His health declined rapidly, and soon it was a struggle to even get our of bed.
He mustered up the little strength that he had left and gave one final attempt. Harry had stayed late after potions to clean up his brewing station, which was the perfect time for Draco to corner him.
“We need to talk,” He stated, blocking the exit just as Harry was trying to leave. The boy held onto his satchel tighter.
“I don’t believe we have anything to discuss,” Harry affirmed shortly. He tried to pass around the blonde, but Draco moved to stop him.
“Get out of my way, Malfoy,” Harry spat. This tore energy through the Slytherin, energy from anger.
He flicked a wandless spell, shutting and locking the door. “You are going to stay here and talk to me, you prick,” He demanded, his voice far louder and far more angry than before.
Harry fell speechless. Draco pointed to a chair and he sat in it, giving him little glances when he was brave enough. Draco’s scowl deepened as he leaned against the door, guarding it.
It was going to be a long night.