Harry could sense Draco staring at him as he walked into the room. He probably wanted answers, answers that Harry couldn’t give him. The idea of talking to anyone, especially Draco Malfoy, about the Weasleys made his skin crawl.   

“So…”   

Harry ignored his blonde roommate and fell onto his bed, pulling his blanket protectively around him as he tried to stop the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to break down in front of Snape and Malfoy; he would never live it down if anyone found that out.   

Harry’s chest hurt knowing he had lost yet several more people that he had loved. Questions swirled in his head; was no one safe around him? Who would be next? Hermione, the Dursleys, his roommates at Hogwarts, his professors? Seamus and his family had already lost their lives, now the Weasleys. How many people would die before Harry would be able to fulfill the prophesy? How many innocent lives would be lost because Harry had been unable to kill the snaky bastard when he was one, eleven, fourteen and fifteen…would he ever succeed? If, by chance, he did succeed and survive, would he have anyone left in his life to rejoice with? What good would it be for him to live if he had lost everything?  

“Harry?”  

If Voldemort would so easily kill a pureblood family, what’s to say he wouldn’t turn around and kill the Grangers, being muggleborn? How would he face his schoolmates in the fall knowing that they knew his friend and his family had been killed just because they cared about him? He was no stranger to his classmates fearing him, but now there was a legitimate reason to do so. Maybe he should write to Hermione and tell her they couldn’t be friends anymore, maybe he could ask Dumbledore to keep him out of the boys dormitory once the school term started, for their safety.   

“You can’t ignore me forever.”  

Harry’s shoulders shook as a sob broke through the barrier he had worked so hard to construct. He bit his lip tightly, until he could taste the familiar metallic flavor of blood, and tried to regain his composure. The last thing he needed was Draco Malfoy thinking he was weak. Draco had just abandoned Voldemort and the darkest of the dark arts, the last thing he needed to see was the ‘savior’ of the light crying like a baby.    

“Come on, Harry, I’ll go crazy if I have to sit here in silence all day.”  

Harry took a few steadying breaths before rolling over to face Draco, hoping his eyes weren’t red from crying, “What?”  

He cringed as he heard his hoarse, emotion-filled voice, he hated to come off as weak.    

“I know we aren’t friends, by any means, but I know what it feels like to lose a friend. If you want to talk about anything…”   

Harry couldn’t mistake the sincerity in Draco’s voice, but even that didn’t make him feel better, instead, he felt defensive and weak. If the years in the Dursley house had taught him anything, it taught him that he hated feeling helpless.  

“What’s to say you won’t go spread all of it around the Slytherin common room once school starts?”  

“Aside from the fact that half of Slytherin will want me dead because I turned my back on the dark side of the war? Who would I tell? Do you really think I’m that petty?”  

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off with a quick, “Don’t answer that.”  

Harry was silent for a moment before his curiosity got the best of him. Besides, thinking about anything other than the Weasleys was bound to make this day a bit more tolerable, “Who have you lost?”  

“Before I came here this summer…” Draco paused, frowning slightly, “I had to attend a lot of death eater meetings, it was all very disturbing. He had four recruits out of our school, students whose parents were death eaters. One of them decided he didn’t want to join, he was killed. He had been one of my roommates.”  

Harry was silent for a moment, studying the pained expression on Draco’s face with a sense of sympathy and a stab of heartache…just another classmate to add to the death total of the summer…swallowing back bile that always crept in his throat when he thought of someone dying at the hands of Voldemort and his stupid plight, he asked quietly, “Who?”  

“Theodore Nott.” Draco paused, his face ashen, “His own father killed him on Voldemort’s order….I don’t know how anyone could do that to their own son.”  

“I don’t know either.” Harry said quietly, “I’m sorry.”  

“We weren’t exactly close, but we did spend the better part of the last 5 years sharing a room and attending the same classes. He was a pretty good guy.”  

Harry felt a stab of pain at the haunted look on Draco’s face. He knew all too well what that felt like. Seamus had been that sort of friend to him, another person lost. He briefly wondered if there had ever been so many deaths in one class. He felt tears prickling again, and he threw his covers off, standing and clenching his shaking hands, “I hate him.”  

“Nott?”  

“No, Voldemort.” Harry said darkly, “I want to make him suffer before I kill him, I want him to pay for what he’s done. I hate him more than I have ever hated anyone else before.”  

It was the first time he had let himself vocalize these thoughts, and he was surprised he was letting himself open up to Malfoy. It was no secret that he and Voldemort were enemies, but he tried to keep these darker feelings locked away—he had always worried that saying he wanted to actually kill someone would make him just as bad, just as vile as Voldemort. After what he had witnessed today, though, he was not in the mood to censor himself. Besides, if anyone would understand the darker side of him, it would be Draco Malfoy. The Malfoys weren’t exactly known for being caring and compassionate.  

“If I’m there, when it comes down to the end, I’ll help you.” Draco said quietly, and without meeting the blonde boy’s gaze, Harry knew he was serious. For some reason, it was reassuring.  

“Thanks.”  

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Severus pushed open the door, “Lunch will be ready in ten minutes, and you may come downstairs now.”  

“I’m not hungry.” Harry replied immediately, his stomach churning at the mere thought of sitting down to eat a meal. How could he even think of eating when his whole world was being turned upside down?  

“Harry…”  

He knew Snape would be unhappy with him skipping a meal after missing the previous one. It was like the man knew how to torture him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he even tried to make small talk around the table if he was forced to attend. How could anyone act so normally when an entire family was just wiped away from existence?   

He refused to meet his professor’s eye and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly, “Please, sir.”  

“Very well, I’ll have a tray brought up to you in case you change your mind.”  

Harry didn’t fail to notice the concerned look that Snape and Draco shared before leaving the room.  

**  

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?”  

Severus looked up from his plate as his godson spoke, a frown on his face, “I’m not sure, Draco. He was very close to the Weasley family, this has been a very sharp blow to him.”  

“Do you think he is suicidal?” Draco asked quietly, staring down at his plate.   

The question took him by surprise, “Do you?”  

“I don’t know, but I know I might be thinking irrationally if one of my best friends had died.”  

Severus was silent, contemplating Draco’s words. Was Harry suicidal? The child didn’t seem like the type who would even consider taking his own life, especially knowing the destiny he had to fulfill. But, at the same time, the potions’ master didn’t know the boy very well. Why was he always put into uncomfortable situations? He had no clue how to deal with emotional trauma of this caliber, even if it had been with a student he remotely understood. And he definitely didn’t understand Gryffindors.   

“I trust you will keep an eye on him, then, and let me know if there is any evidence leading to this conclusion?”   

It was more of a command than a request, and by Draco’s nod Severus could see the boy had understood that as well.    

He thought of the boy upstairs, who was likely more in danger of starving to death than suicide, seeing how selfless he tended to be, even if that selflessness was shrouded in foolishness. He didn’t seem like the type who would leave the wizarding world in turmoil in such a cowardly fashion, knowing about the prophesy that fated his life. He needed to find a way to get Harry eating again; it wasn’t healthy for a child to miss a meal, especially a growing teenage boy who was small to begin with.  

“Do you have any books on advanced transfiguration?”   

Draco’s abrupt question interrupted Severus from his thoughts, and he nodded absentmindedly, “Sure, you may go into the library after your meal and find what you need. Is it for your homework?”  

“Yes sir.”  

Draco hurriedly finished his meal and excused himself to the library, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts. He hoped that the Gryffindor wouldn’t fall apart, at least not while they were stuck in this house for the summer. Snape wouldn’t know what to do, how to help, and as much as he disliked the boy, he didn’t want to see any harm come to him.  

A foreboding sensation of dread washed through him and he quickly finished his meal. He had to do something. He walked to the floo, calling Dumbledore’s office to request a meeting. He may not be able to take the Harry’s pain away, but he could give him a distraction from it at the very least. 

**  

Draco walked into his bedroom, a heavy transfiguration book in his hands. He dropped it onto his desk, glancing at Harry’s bed, surprised to see it empty. A half-eaten sandwich and an empty glass were sitting on the bedside table, and the bathroom door was closed.   

The blond boy walked to the closed door and knocked lightly, feeling utterly exhausted from the events of the day, even though it was still early in the afternoon. He could only hope the rest of the summer wouldn’t be so dramatic! He frowned when he didn’t get a response and he knocked harder.  

“Come on Potter, stop hogging the place!” Once again he was met with silence.   

His stomach churned with a sudden rush of adrenaline as his conversation with Severus replayed in his mind. Was Harry suicidal? Was he dead on the other side of the door? Why else would he not be answering?   

He turned and fled the room, running back downstairs in an attempt to locate his professor. Finding the dining room, library, lab and den empty, Draco sprinted back upstairs and into Severus’s room. He didn’t locate his professor, but he did come across two wands on the dresser, one of which he recognized as his own.   

He dashed back to the bathroom door, knocking one last time, “Harry? If you don’t answer me, I’m going to come in. Damn it Potter!”  

Draco was met again with the awful sound of silence. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he felt blood rushing through his temples as he shakily pointed his wand at the door. Taking a deep breath, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care what he would find on the other side of the door. He and Harry had been enemies for years; it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference if he was hurt, or even dead. He’d get the room to himself, he wouldn’t have to see or hear about Saint Potter for the remainder of his days at Hogwarts. It didn’t matter what he’d find…he was only checking because the golden boy would start stinking the place up once he started to rot.   

Yeah, that was why.   

He steadied his wand hand with his other hand, and whispered softly, “Alohamora.”  Holding his breath, Draco pushed the door open, expecting the worst. Horrible visions flashed through his mind as he waited to see the state of his rival. As he laid eyes on the dark-haired boy savior of the wizarding world, he slowly exhaled, shakily pushing his hair back and slipping his wand into his pocket.  

“Harry?”  

Draco knelt next to Harry, who was sitting on the floor, against the wall, with his knees drawn to his chest. Shaking the boy’s shoulders, Draco quietly called out to him, “Are you alright? Harry? Answer me!”  

Harry’s head lolled to the side, and Draco quickly felt his neck for a pulse. Harry’s skin was warm, which caused Draco to release the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, and moments later he was able to find the rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat. So he was alive, that was a relief. Draco sank to his knees, shaking Harry by the shoulders once more, his heart fluttering anxiously when he didn’t get a response.  

The Slytherin stood, wringing his hands anxiously. He didn’t know where their guardian was, he didn’t know what to do and he’d probably be expelled for using magic over the summer. Frantic tears prickled his eyes and he inhaled sharply, trying to get a grip on himself. He had to do something, anything. There was clearly a problem here. People didn’t become unresponsive for no reason…why in Merlin’s name had Severus left them alone?!  He had to know a spell, something that could be useful in times like this. After all, wasn’t that why magic was so useful and great? He took a shaky breath, then pulled his wand out of his pocket again. He had to do something, anything. Laying the thin piece of wood on the counter, he moved Harry into a laying position, then stood over him and pointed his wand at the unconscious boy.  

How he had wished to be in this situation for years. Ironically, the first chance he had to curse Potter into oblivion, he was concerned about rescuing him. No one would never believe it. He could scarcely believe it.   

After levitating the boy to his bed, Draco cast a monitoring charm on the room and stepped out into the hall once more. He had to find Severus, he had to be around somewhere. He felt lightheaded as his anxiety level grew. Severus wouldn’t have left knowing how upset Harry was…even if the professor and Harry didn’t get along, he wouldn’t leave them alone when Harry was going through so much. Would he?  

“I think at this point it is absolutely necessary.”  

Draco paused, hearing his godfather’s voice. It was muffled, meaning he was likely enclosed in a room nearby. He carefully listened as he walked down the hall, wondering where the voice could be coming from. After all, he had searched all of the rooms earlier and found nothing.   

“But he’s only fifteen years old-“  

Hearing the headmaster’s voice, Draco came to a standstill. To be able to hear his quiet tones, they had to be close.  

“He is a fifteen year old with the responsibility of an adult hanging over his head.”  

Draco found the source of the conversation, a panel concealed by a tapestry on the wall. He continued to listen as he tried to figure out how to open the doorway.  

“What about young Mr. Malfoy? Don’t you think he will be upset if Harry is being allowed to use magic and he is not? Do you think Harry is interested, even if he is ready?” Dumbledore questioned.   

“Potter has been doing countless hours of research since he came to stay with me, I’m quite certain he is capable and willing to learn. If necessary, I can provide Mr. Malfoy with extra lessons as well.”  

“Are you certain-?”  

“I’m certain that if we leave Harry to his own defenses, he will fall further into depression and may act out irrationally as we have seen him do in the past. This way, he can feel like he is making a difference and preparing for the inevitable fight with the Dark Lord. It will keep him focused on something other than his grief and it will increase his knowledge and abilities. This puts us in a win-win situation.”  

There was a moment of silence before Severus’s voice continued, “Draco, you may enter.”  

”I can’t!”   

The door suddenly opened and Draco rushed in, looking anxiously between his godfather and headmaster, he cleared his throat, “There’s something wrong with Potter.”  

“What is it, Draco?” Severus asked, concern clear in his voice, “Why didn’t you inform me immediately?”  

“I-I went back to our room earlier and he wasn’t there, the bathroom door was locked. I knocked several times and he didn’t answer, and I came down here to find you, but I couldn’t, so I took my wand from your room and magically opened the door. He was unconscious, so I levitated him to his bed.”  

“And he didn’t wake?”  

“No sir, he’s breathing and he looks okay, but he wouldn’t wake up.” Draco replied nervously, “I didn’t know you were in here until I heard you and the headmaster speaking. Really, sir, I would have gotten you immediately had I known-“  

“It is quite alright, Draco, calm yourself. I should have told you where I would be, you are not in trouble. Why don’t you have some tea while I check on Harry.”  

“I shall come with you.”  

Draco watched as the two older men left the room, then he sank onto the sofa, biting his lip. He wasn’t used to this whirlwind of emotions and he was not enjoying it in the least. He leaned his throbbing head onto the back of the couch, exhaling loudly. He wasn’t sure how Gryffindors put up with all of these conflicting, raging emotions, it was so much easier to just be cold all of the time.  

**  

Harry’s head felt fuzzy and his body ached as he slowly began to wake up. Before he could even force his eyes open, the memories of the attack on the Weasleys came back to him and he inhaled sharply, turning onto his side, covering his face with his hands. He would love nothing more than to wake up and find out the last 24 hours had been a dream.   

The last thing he remembered was nibbling at his lunch, and then feeling sick. He had gone into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and…oh no.   

He was vaguely aware of the voices of Snape and Dumbledore speaking to him, and he tugged on his shirt sleeves, moaning as he tried to focus on them through his pounding headache.   

“Harry, my boy, can you hear me?”  

“P’ssor Dum’dore?” Harry moaned weakly, rolling onto his back and blinking his eyes open, only to quickly shut them as he was assaulted by sunlight.  

“Does something hurt? Do you know what happened?”  

“My head.” Harry managed to vocalize, bringing an arm to cover his forehead and eyes. He wasn’t about to tell them about exactly what had happened earlier, and he wasn’t going to leave himself in the situation to be found out. He wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment from the headmaster and the sneers from his potions professor. He heard Snape say something about potions and then footsteps walking away from his bed, and he lowered his hand, tugging his sleeves over his hands once more, “W-What are you doing here?”   

“I was just discussing some things with your professor, my boy. Are you ill? Have you had another vision?”  

Harry began to shake his head, only to feel his stomach roll at the slight motion. Bracing himself, he whispered, “Just tired, haven’t been sleeping much.”  

At least it wasn’t fully a lie. He really hadn’t been sleeping much and he was very tired. Of course, that wasn’t the reason he passed out in the bathroom. He tugged at his sleeves once more, hoping that his scars would be covered and unnoticed. The last thing he wanted was someone to know what he had been doing, he didn’t need any more attention than he already received.   

“Or eating, from what I’ve heard.”  

“Haven’t been hungry.”  

“Torturing yourself won’t bring them back, Harry.”  

Tears stung Harry’s eyes as he tried to block out the older man’s words. He didn’t deserve this sort of sympathy or attention, he was practically the reason people were being killed. He was the reason the Order had lost Molly and Arthur Weasley, Sirius. He was no better than Voldemort himself.   

Footsteps came closer to the bed once more and his nose was assaulted with the scents of various potions. Before he could link the scent to his professor, he was being forced into a sitting position, dry heaving as the movement caused a severe case of dizziness and nausea. Seconds later, as he tried to regain his bearings, several vile potions were being forced into his mouth. He moaned and struggled to break free of the tight grasp, and after a few moments he was rewarded by getting to lay his heavy head down on his soft pillow once more.   

The voices in the room seemed a lot farther away as he began to drift off to sleep and he found himself only mildly irritated that he was unable to hear the entire conversation taking place around him.   

Complete diagnostic scan…malnutrition…migraine….fatigue….rest…..  

Voices swirled around him, unrecognizable, and he felt himself drifting away. As he succumbed to darkness once more, he was amazed at how warm and comforting it felt to be cared for.