Malfoy and Potter (A Drarry fanfiction)

Chapter 8

Draco POV:

"Draco. Be honest. Did you curse Katie?"

"I didn't mean to! It was supposed to be for Professor Dumbledore!" I exclaim. Sitting in Professor Snape's office, we argue over the way I so desperately tried to kill Professor Dumbledore. "I think someone suspects me, too!"

"Oh really, Mr. Malfoy? Who?" Professor Snape asks in a menacing voice.

"H-Harry Potter?" I stutter. Professor Snape's eyes widen.

"Mr. Potter? He shouldn't know about this!" Professor Snape sounds so angry, I cower. My hands itch for my knife, but I know it's not in my bag, so instead I clear my throat and apologise.

"I expected better from you, Mr. Malfoy. Please come back here next week. We will deliberate on your task again."

"Yes, sir," I say in an emotionless voice.

"Ok then, our meeting is over. Please head back to your common room."

I nod and head out of the dungeons, angry at myself. Once again, I feel the urge to grab my knife, but I know for a fact that there is no knife in my bag. I'm so lost in my thoughts, that I only stop when I hear a soft crying in the boy's bathroom. Puzzled, I take a detour and go to the bathroom. Turning the corner, I see a certain black-haired boy, crying his eyes out, glasses and my knife on the ground, and cuts all on his arm. I gasp.

"Harry!" I cry. Harry turns around, sees me, and flushes and messes his hair. "Erm...you know-" He starts to day, but I stop him.

"Harry, you do this too?" I say furiously, "you can't do this and tell me not to do it!"

Harry smiles weakly and scratches his arm. "Er- well- you know, I thought I'd just..." he trails off, tears filling his eyes.

"Oh Harry...don't be sad," I say weakly, watching him slide down the wall, crying. "I'm sorry for shouting, alright? But you can't do this either."

Harry sniffles, and I wrap my arm around him. He looks at me, apparently surprised. "Sorry, you're right...where are my glasses?"

"Over here," I answer, pointing at his round glasses. He starts to go over to them, but seeing the state of his bloody hands, I stop him. "Wait, I'll get them," I  mutter, grabbing them for him. Then, I carefully put them on him, finally getting a good look at his face. His slightly pink cheeks, his emerald green eyes, and his messy hair makes him look...kinda cute?

"Sorry, sorry," Harry says repeatedly, "I shouldn't have done that. I was overwhelmed with everything that's going on."

"No, no! It's fine! I've done the same, I know where you're coming from."

Silence fills the bathroom. I can't imagine what someone would think of us, wrapped around each other very weirdly, Harry bleeding from his arm, me trying to comfort him.

"Well...I guess we both have some stuff to work on," Harry says awkwardly.

"Y-Yeah," I answer, feeling my face get hot. We gaze at each other for a while, before I try cheering. "Look, you still shouldn't be doing this. I care about you, you know. And everyone else does, too."

Harry sniffles and says, "B-But why? Why do you c-care so much?"

The question completely stops me in my tracks, before I whisper the words that I'd never thought I would say in a million years.

"I love you, Harry."