Drarry- It Was All Just a Game (Old Version)

Chapter 43- Cope

When morning struck and Harry woke with a sticky face, he clutched his heart in wonder why he was doing so. He opened his eyes, his glasses imprinted into the side of his face and askew. Through the corner of them, he could see his wand around ten feet away from him.

"Draco," he said it before he could think about it, and then suddenly his eyes watered at the immediate thought of Draco's arm. That horrifying vision stuck in his face.

Ron. Ron was in the hospital because of Draco. He tried murdering his best friend, almost murdering Harry in the process. Harry tried to keep down the need to vomit as he stood up from the cold stone floor. He found the Room in ruins.

Harry had done it, went on a rampage, that is. He put that in it's state with too many reductos to count. He remembered setting something on fire- possibly furniture. Who knew? The entirety of the room stood in shambles.

"Draco," he growled again, feeling that hate that he had felt the previous night. He'd felt deceived and angry and hated and tricked and cheated and- God, this hurt so bad.

When he stood, his knees felt weak and feet bore heavy. He didn't want to move, but Ron was in the hospital and needed him. Draco did that. No. Malfoy did that.

What else had Draco done?

Visions of Katie Bell up in the air filled his head, Draco sneaking into the girls' bathroom, not the boys'.

But what else besides that? Surely there had to be more. He'd had to poison more. The mead was in Slughorn's cabinet. That's a teacher. What if Slughorn had drunk it, or shared it with Flitwick? What if on one of his dates with Draco, Draco poisoned him, or hexed him when they slept.

They shared a bed together before Christmas. Harry slept next to that man. Harry remembered his hand in his hair, next to his neck. His neck. Draco could have choked him, suffocated him with a pillow. He could have used Avada Kedavra- had Draco ever used an unforgivable?

Or was he waiting for his first to be on Harry.

'Safe is with me,' Draco had said, and Harry, so vulnerably, had believed him. Harry's heart scorched.

Harry felt the back of his neck, his migraine making it even sorer. He fixed his glasses, picked up his wand, breathed, and set his shoulders high. Ron. That's whom he'd worry about. Not his broken heart, but his best friend. That's what mattered right now.

When he cracked open the door, the first thing he saw was a cold eye staring at him. He gasped involuntarily, immediately moved to shut the room off, but Draco's foot moved to stop it from shutting all the way.

"Harry, listen to me," he shouted, trying to hook a hand around the door so he could push it open, but the angle did him no good, and he lost grip easily. "Harry!"

"Get away from me," Harry yelled back at him, and with all his might, he kicked Draco's shin and shut it, the only thing he could hear was Draco howling in pain, and then nothing at all. He didn't realize how much seeing him would hurt. But then again, he was stupid enough the think Draco would have gone away. Had Draco been out there the whole time?

Probably ready to strike him.

Harry put his forehead against the door, and his lips quivered. What if Draco was going to kill him now? He took the chance and opened the door just a crack, and he heard Draco choke.

"Does Voldemort know about us," Harry's voice cracked, and he bit his lip to keep from trembling, but his limbs were shaking. Draco tried to put his hand in the door, but Harry shut it too far so he couldn't. All they could do was talk. "No," he said, his hand tightening on the handle, his eyes staying on it. He could see his hand go white.