Drarry - It Was All Just a Game (REWRITE - MATURE VERSION)

CHAPTER 18 - GOOD HELP

A few awkward days passed between them as they took it slowly to heal following the Quidditch match. Dinner was a big help as it stabilized them. They shared more apologies, and it was like they took down a wall that Harry had put up between them. Well, everyone. But he took Draco's down.

Draco understood why Harry was acting the way he was. And Harry felt he had someone to talk to if he needed to.

"I just don't want this to take me over," Harry said. "I want to be myself again."

"I can tell you from experience, the best thing you can do is to be your true self. That's what drove out my darkness the most."

"I'll try," Harry said.

"And that's good enough."

They both chose to forgive each other and move on cautiously. They didn't ignore it, but talked about it when it was necessary, but they also didn't dwell, and in doing so, they both felt better.

Maybe they could get the hang of this whole relationship thing.

Still, Harry's spirit visibly dampened with each detention spent with Umbridge, and it set Draco aflame. He never hated a person more than he hated Umbridge. Ever. At least his own father bought him things and brought him to fun events (though it was his only redeemable quality). But Umbridge was so horrible, Draco had to leave his wand in his bedroom so he wouldn't hex her in the middle of class.

On the following Wednesday, Harry received a note during lunch. Draco had been absent for breakfast. Come to the forest after detention if you can.

Which, well past ten, Harry arrived in their special place to find a fire, but no sight of Draco, to which Harry frowned.

"Hey you," Draco called from his left. Harry spun around to find he was lying on a hammock that was pinned between two trees. He had a book laxed in his hand as he peeked over it to meet Harry's eyes. "Surprise!"

"Hey you," Harry said back, walking over to him. He put his bleeding hand behind his back out of habit.

Draco swung his legs so he could stand. "I thought it would be helpful if you slept."

Harry looked at it, then at him, a genuine but soft smile finding its way to Harry's lips. "Thank you."

"How's your hand?"

Harry frowned, trying to suppress the tantalizing fear that Draco was going to judge him or hurt it worse or leave. But then Draco reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a few bandages and a jar of cream off of a stump next to the hammock.

"Can't fix this with a spell. It's Dark Magic. So we have to use the muggle way. Hughs taught me." Draco took his hand and began cleaning it with a damp towel. "There's hot chocolate over there," he pointed to the stump, "and snacks."

Harry's heart melted. "That's kind of you."

"How are you?"

"Exhausted. Three hours of this—ow!"

"Sorry," Draco pulled away the towel. "I've never taken care of anyone before."

"It's okay. Really, thank you." Draco grabbed a bandage and fumbled with it. "Draco, I can do it."

"No, you always take care of everyone else. Let someone else take care of you for a change."

And Draco did his best, he really did. The bandage was twisted and barely covered the cut, but Harry kept it wrapped that way anyway, because the effort was so kind.

Harry then drank the hot chocolate and had a few bites of the pumpkin pasty. It took effort to allow himself to enjoy this, but he did it. Because he should enjoy this. It was one of the first things that brought him joy in quite a while. "How was your day?"