Empty Classrooms
“I don’t have much time, so just get on with it,” Harry snapped.
“Shut your mouth. you bastard. You have no right to be telling me what to do,” Draco argued. He was angry, angry that he was being treated this way by someone who had been so kind to him only days ago.
But he was also hurt. He’d woken up this morning to the pain from the dozens of flowers attached to his veins, his body practically on fire.
His temper melted, tears forming in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying, it was embarrassing to be so vulnerable in front of someone who didn’t seem to care about him. He swallowed down his tears, “What did I do wrong?”
Harry’s furrowed eyebrows shifted. He looked angry still, but something else too.
He looked guilty.
“You didn’t do anything, Malfoy,” He bit. He didn’t look up from the ground as he spoke.
“You’re lying! I know when you’re lying, Potter,” He argued, his body trembling. Harry winced at his words.
“What else do you want me to say?” He shouted back. The back and forth yelling was only weakening Draco.
“I want to know why you can’t even look at me.”
“I can look at you.”
“You’re not even looking at me now,” Draco stammered, stomping his foot on the ground. He could barely keep his emotions in check. Harry’s eyes were still on the ground.
“Look at me, goddamn it!” Draco yelled, his throat growing tight as he shoved back tears.
A sigh came for the boy. The Gryffindor locked eyes with the Slytherin.
“How long have you had it?”
The air left Dracos lungs. He could faintly hear a ringing sound in his ear. He opened his mouth to speak, unable to voice anything.
“What?”
“How long have you had Hanahaki disease, Draco,” Harry asked through gritted teeth.
Fuck, shit, fuck, shit were the only words running through Draco’s mind. He was trapped, he was screwed, he was cursed.
He took a breath. “Almost five months.”
He was greeted with a slam of Harry’s fist on the desk next to him. “Jesus Merlin, so it’s true?!”
The boy was standing now, a mix of worry and fury plastered on his face. Draco felt pressure on his windpipe.
“You have a fatal disease, and you’ve just kept it from everyone?” Harry clamored, now pacing back and forth.
“Not from everyone, I’ve told some people,” Draco tried to add. He needed something, anything, to help his case.
“You didn’t tell me,” Harry fumed. Draco felt his knees buckle and he toppled into the chair behind him.
“How is that any of your business,” Draco questioned angrily, standing back up and grounding himself. The frustration he felt brought back more life in him with each word. “How did you even find out?”
“Hermione told me.”
“Of course that muggleborn would poke her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Draco scoffed.
“Keep her out of this, I brought her this,” Harry refuted, holding a ruby red petal between his fingers.
Draco flinched, unsure of how to respond. “Where.. where did you get that?”
“In your dorm, before you kicked me out,” Harry muttered.
“You broke into my room and stole from me, and you’re the one who’s pissy? That’s fucking rich,” Draco yelled.
Harry pinched his brow, exasperated. “Hermione found one too, that night she said she caught you in the Prefects bathroom, she said you puked.”
“That’s none of her business, and it is certainly none of your business either,” Draco stated coldly. He felt a tug on each of his veins, every growing, living, breathing flower on his body screaming at him.
“Well apparently it is my business,” Harry mumbled, slumping down in his chair once more.
“What?” Draco uttered, raising an eyebrow.
“I found out you were sick, and I wanted to help. So I started hanging out with you more,” Harry began.
Draco’s heart shattered. “You mean to tell me you only brought me around with you because you were trying to fix me? Do you know how messed up that is?” He interrupted. His airway began to close, his breathing growing faster.
“Look I’m sorry I care about you,” Harry scoffed, throwing his hands up in defense.
“You don’t care about me! You care about fixing people, about saving people, it’s because of your savior complex. You don’t really care about me, you care about being the hero,” The Slytherin accused.
“It wasn’t like that at all! The more time I spent with you, the more I realized I really like having you around,” The Gryffindor admitted. Another confession followed, “But I also befriended you so you’d tell who it is, y’know, I thought if we were close you might admit to me who you fancy.”
Anger bubbled inside Draco. He felt like garbage. He felt used.
Harry continued, “And that’s why I brought you to see the mirror.” The boy looked up at Draco, hoping he understood what he was talking about. He didn’t.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“It’s magic, Draco, it’s the Mirror of Erised. It reveals to you your deepest desire,” Harry said. “I thought I could make you look in it, and you’d tell me who you love. But you only saw your ‘reflection,’ which was really just your longing for..” Draco watched the boy choke on his words.
The pieces clicked together. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words accumulated.
Harry took his silence as he cue to continue. “I thought that the mirror simply didn’t work for two people at once, and I saw my parents so I assumed you just wouldn’t be able to see anything while I was using it..”
“..But apparently not,” He muttered, before locking green eyes with blue.
Draco felt his cheeks burn, and his stomach drop. He had foolishly admitted his feelings for Potter without even knowing.
“I.. I’m sorry,” Was all he could muster.
“So it’s true,” Harry stood, cold and blank. “It’s me?”
“I thought you’d already put the pieces together, jackass, why are you phrasing it as a question,” Draco tried to be snappy, but he was too ashamed for his words to hurt.
Harry was quiet, it was clear he was thinking of a response. Draco felt his cheeks dampen, he was crying. But it was soundless, he didn’t choke or sob, it was just silent tears.
“So how do I save you?” Harry asked.
Draco swallowed, his throat feeling dry. He look at Harry’s shoes, some muggle brand. Converse, Pansy called them. Of course Harry would tie his shoes using the bunny method, Draco could have laughed if he didn’t feel so shitty.
“It’s a kiss, you have to kiss me,” Draco said defeatedly.
He heard Harry sigh. He continued, “But it’s not going to work if-“ He couldn’t finish his thought with Harry’s lips on his.
The kiss was soft, as if the Gryffindor was shy. But it deepened, growing hot. Draco felt a hand on his waist, then another. He leaned into the kiss, unashamedly wrapping his arms around Potter’s neck. The brunette bit his lip, kissing him harder.
Butterflies fluttered in Dracos gut, his legs almost unable to hold him upright. The warm feeling of Harry’s lips on his gave him a rush.
And soon that warm feeling was gone.
Harry wiped his lips on the back of sleeve, stepping away from the blonde. Draco stumbled backwards, hand grabbing a nearby desk.
The Gryffindor stared him down, green eyes like daggers stabbing large holes through his own silver blues.
“There,” Harry mumbled, a bit flustered. “Did it work?”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Draco gasped, catching his breath, “It didn’t work, because..” His own words pained himself terribly, “..because you don’t love me.”
Harry’s eyes darkened. Draco felt a couple tears trickle down his face, wiping a few away.
He looked up to see the Gryffindor somewhat in thought, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Surgery,” He thought out loud, in a soft whisper.
“What?”
“You can get surgery for this thing, right? You can remove it,” Harry said, beginning to pass again slowly.
Draco’s gut twisted. Embarrassed didn’t even come close to how he felt. He was ashamed. All he wished was to curl up into a ball and shrink away.
In every year of Draco’s life, he’d never been more ashamed.
“You’ll get the surgery,” Harry demanded. “Promise me you’ll get the surgery, Draco. You have to promise me.”
“I promise.”
Only problem with this promise, was Draco’s window of opportunity for surgery closed two weeks ago. Neville broke the news to the group that the flower had now attracted itself to Draco’s lungs, and removing it would cost him his life. He could no longer save himself. He was doomed. Doomed to die very soon.
But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell Harry that. It wasn’t fair to burden him with his death just because he didn’t love him. It just wasn’t fair.
He was already making up plans in his head, he would have his friends lie, and say he transferred schools. Or better yet, he decided to be homeschooled. No, no one in Hogwarts would believe that. But he could make up something else, he definitely could.
He collected his things, making his way to the door.
Harry waited for him in the doorway, stopping him on his way out. “So you’ll have surgery, and you’ll be okay.”
“Yes, I will,” Lying right to the Gryffindor’s face. A soft smile helped to cover how guilty he felt.
Harry nodded, “Good.”
Draco exited the classroom, Harry patting him on the back as he left.
A moment of sheer panic clicked in, and Draco turned on his heel. “Harry.”
“Yes?”
“In the odd circumstance that I don’t see you again, you should know,” Draco said, “I fell in love with your eyes before anything else.”
He stormed off.