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

CHAPTER 56 - UNEASY

TW: Panic attack; anorexia

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As he walked along Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Harry thought he'd been experiencing a nightmare; He was just sleeping! The trial was tomorrow! All this mess was fake!

But Draco caught Harry's eye on the train platform, visible disgust and coldness on his face. And not in the way that he used to sneer, but still have a glimmer in his eye. Not with the hint of adoration he always had. Not mercury eyes, but unforgiving silver.

It was like they were thirteen again. Except they weren't childhood enemies anymore: they'd been as intimate as anyone in the world could possibly be.

The thing about intimacy is that intimacy doesn't heal wounds, but rather, it leaves it. The wounds heal when the other person accepts you. That acceptance is daily and ongoing. The scabs are always there. They can be reopened should you stop being welcomed.

And that's what Harry felt right now. Like each and every wound Draco had given him started to reopen. After Draco had worshiped his body, promised him a lifetime—things that Harry didn't take lightly and invested all of his hope into because he thought he was free now. He thought happiness was a possibility.

This can't be real. It's just a dream, it's just a dream.

Harry didn't talk for several hours into the trip, focusing on his breathing. That's what the mental hospital said to do. And if he didn't, he'd end up back there. Ron and Hermione had awkward conversations, and the trolly halls were just as loud and vibrant as ever. As if the war never happened.

Harry grabbed the pocket watch. 1260. It'd been stuck like that since Draco left. And now Harry knew the reason. He didn't know how, but he knew why. And he knew why he couldn't visit Draco by casting Somnium Amica Mea.

All of it made sense in the most horrible way.

After he couldn't stand it anymore, Harry stood and grabbed his invisibility cloak from the trolley overhead. "I'm going to see him."

"Wait," Hermione stood. "What are you going to say?"

"I'll be invisible. Nothing. I just want to see how he's doing." I want to see him. I want to look at him. I want to see if I can find the answer written on his face.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't." He threw it on and made his way to the Snake Pit. When he arrived, he found it was less populous than previous years, with empty seats all over the compartment.

The back of Draco's white-blond head alone put a brick in Harry's stomach. His hair was freshly cut, probably from being at the Manor. What were those three days out of Azkaban like?

His automatic thought was, I'll find out tonight in the forest. Because that's what they did over the years. They visited each other the first day back, regardless.

It brought his heart physical pain to think they wouldn't be doing that tonight.

However, he spent his days, it was nothing compared to what Harry would have made it. Harry would have held him and let him cried. He would have rubbed his shoulders and kissed his neck and let him heal. He would have told him he loved him no matter what. That he was safe now. That no one would ever hurt him if Harry had any say in it.

Harry worked so hard, waited three months to be with Draco, ran an entire hearing... and he didn't get his payout. The pure motivation that pushed him so far through St. Mungo's and a depression that was deeper than he'd ever experienced.