Drarry: The Boy Who Loved

I am Broken

Trigger Warning: Mentions/thoughts of suicide + self harm

(Ps I am so sorry but I hope you like it xx)

"So?" Ron asked with a smirk on his face. "How's Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh," Harry said awkwardly. "He's fine..."

"Is something wrong?" Hermione piped up concernedly. "You don't look so good."

"Oh, I'm fine," Harry said, forcing a laugh. "It's just that... these blood lollipops make me nauseous."

They were in Honeydukes, and Harry used the fact that Ron had just shoved a lollipop into his face as an excuse. 

"That's a chocolate and honey pop, Harry," Hermione said, frowning. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he assured her. "I'm just spacing out, I guess."

"You didn't answer my question," Ron prompted Harry impatiently. "How's living with Malfoy?"

"Oh, fine," Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You were complaining about it only two days ago, Harry."

"Well, it's actually not so bad," Harry said, casting a glance at Ron. "We barely talk to each other, anyway."

Ron nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Typical Malfoy," he scoffed. "Always so-"

"Shh," Hermione whispered, nodding toward the door. Harry looked over and saw Malfoy entering, Pansy Parkinson hanging onto his arm like a lifeline. He frowned. He didn't know why this made him feel weird, but it did. He saw how Malfoy's hands were wrapped almost carelessly around her waist and felt a twinge of-what? 

"Have you been in touch with Ginny lately, Harry?" Hermione asked casually, startling him out of his trance.

"Huh?"

"I said," she repeated, picking up a piece of toffee, "How's Ginny?"

"Oh- I don't know," Harry said embarrassedly. "We haven't been talking."

"Why?" Ron asked accusingly. "She's your girlfriend, after all." He winced at the word girlfriend. 

"I just haven't had the time," Harry said apologetically. "I guess it slipped my mind." He kept staring at Malfoy, remembering how he was basically crying in Harry's arms just hours earlier. How different he had seemed then, much different than he did now.

"Oi, Harry!" A sharp jab in Harry's side brought him back to the present. 

"What?"

"Hermione asked you something, mate," Ron said peevishly. "What's up with you tonight?"

"I don't know. What's up?" He asked, turning to Hermione.

She sighed and shook her head. "Do you prefer sugar quills or sherbet?"

"Sugar quills," Harry said promptly, but when he turned around, Malfoy and Pansy were gone.

...............

Draco didn't like how Pansy was clinging to his arm like her life depended on it, but he didn't say anything and instead steered them into Honeydukes. 

He immediately cringed when he saw Potter in the corner, but he didn't walk out again-that would just call attention to himself, and he didn't want to be seen. He felt weak-just a few hours earlier, he had let Potter see him cry, he had let Potter nurse him! If he'd been himself, he would've punched Potter right back, or even hexed him-not break down and start sobbing. But he wasn't himself; he hadn't been himself ever since the war. That's why his father had sent him away to live by himself.