Drarry || One Shots

What He Thought Wasn't Possible

   Summary
*One of them eventually almost has to die so they can see what was right in front of them.*

"Draco! Draco!"

The boy just kept walking down the hall, ignoring the desperate and quickly turning angry yells.

"Fucking hell, Draco will you stop and talk to me?" Harry said as he finally caught up with the boy and spun him around.

"What do you want, Potter?" the blond responded coldly, trying desperately to avoid Harry's gaze.

"For you to tell me what the fuck is going on. You've been ignoring me for days now and you look like shit. You've got bags under your eyes, your skin is paler than usual, you no longer keep your back straight and you barely eat", Harry spoke, maybe a bit too loud. "Are the nightmares getting worse?" he asked in concern, much softer this time.

Draco forced himself not to be softened by the worry the man held for him. It would do him no good, anyway.

"What's it to you anyway?" he spat, turning around.

"What's it to me? We're friends. I care about you", Harry whispered, not even trying to conceal the hurt in his voice. Draco shuddered at the words.

"Friends. Yeah, that's the problem." Was all Draco muttered before walking quickly towards the eight year dorm, leaving a very confused and slightly hurt Harry behind. What the fuck did he mean by that's the problem?

***

Harry entered the common room, mind set to talk to the git even if he had to fucking tie him down. They had been doing alright. More than that, actually. They started eight year in good terms and had gotten really close in the last few months, so really, what excuse did the wanker have to behave like that?

Harry knew he could be a bit oblivious from time to time, but surely he could not have done something to upset Draco this badly and not notice it, could he?

"Where's the idiot?" he angrily asked when he entered the common room and found Ron, Neville, Blaise, Theo and Terry sitting around the fire.

He didn't need to elaborate, since it was a given thing that all Harry ever thought or asked about these days was Malfoy and the other way around.

"Went upstairs", Blaise answered. "You two had a fight or something? He looked miserable."

Harry ignored the fluttering feeling in his chest at the idea that a fight with him would make Draco miserable and just assumed Blaise hadn't meant it quite like that.

"That's what I'm trying to find out", he muttered angrily as he stomped off towards the boys' dorms.

He vaguely heard a disbelieving you're trying to find out if you've had a fight? but ignored it and stomped towards their room.

He opened the door in what he had hoped to be a dramatic gesture, but was disappointed to find the room empty. Must have gone to the bathroom.

So he closed the door behind him and walked to the end of the hallway and into the bathroom. Only one of the stalls was occupied and Harry could tell whoever was inside was feeling very sick, which gave him a dreading feeling in the pit of his stomach.

With a quick, wandless and wordless spell, he unlocked the door and went inside, expecting to see Draco puking his insides and having to hold his slightly longer bangs back and rubbing soothing circles into his back, but what he saw had him petrified for a few seconds.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Malfoy all but yelled, vehemently wiping at his mouth in a poor attempt to hide the blood, that was anyway splayed all over the toilet.