You've got me stuck to where I'm sitting,
Looking at your eyes,
Then I know I'm so pathetic,
I wouldn't move to save my life,
Green. It was all Draco could see. Emeralds more valuable than all his family's gold could ever buy were right there before him. There were two, both equal in beauty and shine, and they were quickly consuming Draco; they sucked him in and he would sooner die than fight it. But these weren't real jewels. No, these were of much greater importance: he was staring straight into the eyes of Harry Potter. Maybe there was a small smirk playing on the younger boy's lips as he sat across from Draco on the common room sofa, the slowly dying fire somewhere in the background, another piece of the irrelevant jigsaw he called his life. The only piece Draco wanted to place was Harry - he was a beautiful, bright piece that made the puzzle seem complete. He was probably chuckling inside at Draco's hopeless gazing, thinking about how silly his friend is...
Draco knew this was wishful thinking; Harry Potter no longer smiled or chuckled. He hadn't seen the edge of his friend's lip twitch playfully in many months. His ears hadn't been filled by the sound of Harry's laughter in almost twice as long as the first. He rarely spoke much more than a few words at once and had pushed away all his friends. Ron and Hermione, clinging to each other for comfort, were still there, but they weren't as persistent as Draco was when it came to Harry.
That was, indeed, slightly aided by the fact that he was completely and utterly in love with Harry fucking Potter.
Pitiful, is it not? Well, that's how Draco felt. But he just let it envelop him. He was drowning in it, and, Merlin, he wouldn't want it to be any other way.
They tell me that you're lonely,
It's no surprise,
When you walk around all day wearing those
Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely eyes,
Draco had never broached the subject of Harry's mental health with him; he knew it would lead to his friend shutting him out entirely, the thought of which terrified him greatly. Draco did all he could for Harry, not expecting anything in return (his presence was enough to leave Draco wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was some good left in the world). He sat with him in the evenings whilst he studied, he shared his ideas with him and he was the only one who knew what to do when Harry completely shut down. Harry would join him in his homework, though the standard he produced it at doesn't need discussing. None of this was his fault – he had been a child who had to kill on the frontline of a battlefield. Media attention and fame being piled on top of this made this reserved young man's life practically unbearable for him.
Draco didn't know this, but Harry really appreciated having him around. If he were to open up fully, it would be to Draco and only Draco. He trusted him greatly – though this fact terrified Harry. Draco would hold him if he asked, he would help him when he couldn't process his homework fully and, most importantly, he wouldn't constantly ask questions. The comfortable silences Harry and Draco shared were the favourite part of each of the boys' days.
However, despite it all, Harry Potter felt so fucking alone.
Well I try to tell you jokes,
I'm afraid to cry,
And if you need a little sunshine you can borrow some of mine,
"It's okay if you're unhappy" I would say before I leave him,
"Just take a look around, there's no one here that's happy either".
Draco really did try his best. He knew his efforts wouldn't succeed – he couldn't even tell if they were appreciated – but most days he would take a moment to try and make Harry laugh. Internally, Harry would glow just the tiniest bit, a split second of happiness igniting his bones and pulsing through his veins. However, on the outside, he would shake his head and attempt a soft smile for his hopeful friend. It was odd, really, that no one but Draco could make Harry feel that tiny glimmer of hope – they'd been enemies for so long. He hoped to voice this to Draco soon, but he needed to take small, careful steps to avoid things backfiring for himself. Soon, Draco would know how happy he makes Harry.
