iris | drarry

chapter 23

Draco was miserable. He would go back to the suite and see Harry's bedroom door closed, silence filling the air. Sometimes, he would pause by his door, listening, waiting for him, but he never left. 

Draco knew he was getting bad again. Whenever he did see the male, he looked tired, depressed. There were bags starting to form under his eyes again, and he was growing skinnier. Harry never said anything to him, would barely even glance at him as he walked to the bathroom and back to his room. 

He knew Harry wasn't going to classes, either. He would listen from his room for him to leave, but only silence could be heard. Draco used to hear crying, but for the past couple of days, it had just been silence. 

Draco wanted to hold him, wanted to apologize, to tell him how much he... how much he loved him. Because he did. He knew he loved Harry, and it was killing him to see him in this much pain. But it was because he loved Harry that he had to keep doing this. He'd rather Harry be alive and hate him than be dead, which is what he would be if his father got involved.

His father. Draco had been terrified of his father probably his whole life, though he didn't realize just how terrified until the war, until he was forced to take the Dark Mark. After that, he stopped seeing his father as this great, powerful man and just started seeing him as someone who destroyed him.

Draco was currently sitting on the couch, trying to figure out a way around it, a way to tell if Pansy and Blaise were bluffing, or a way to stop them from contacting his father. He glanced over at Harry's closed door, concerned. It had been a while since Harry had come out of it, and he was worried. 

He'd even stopped Seamus one day in the hall, asking him if he'd given Harry any drugs, or if he'd noticed any missing, but he hadn't, thankfully. He didn't know what it was that was making Harry so... out of touch. 

He was just about to get up and listen at the door when it opened, a small male with ruffled brown hair standing in the doorway. 

They locked eyes for a moment, the first time in days, staring at each other briefly before Harry tore his gaze away, starting to walk towards the bathroom. 

Draco nearly cried when he saw him. He was so tiny, so fragile. Draco hadn't seen him leave the suite in forever, so he knew he wasn't eating, but the thing that scared Draco the most was his eyes. 

He was high. 

Draco sprung up immediately, running to the bathroom door and slamming it closed before Harry could reach it, guarding the door. 

Harry just blinked at him a couple of times, his face unmoving. 

"Move," he croaked, his voice seeming like it hadn't been used in days.

Shit, Draco thought. I can't show him I care. I can't tell him not to. What do I do?

"Back to old habits, eh?" he said, willing a smirk onto his face. 

He saw something flash in Harry's eyes, then, something that might have been hurt or anger. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, looking away from him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's... It's pathetic, really. Can't stay away, huh? Might want to if you don't want to end up dead."

I'm sorry. I love you. Don't do this to yourself. 

"Oh really? And why would you care? You obviously don't feel anything towards me, so why bother talking to me about it? Or at all?" Harry asked, meeting his gaze again. 

He looked so broken. 

I'm sorry. I love you. Don't hate me.

"Because- Well-"