How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Fourteen: Draco's Secret

            Harry couldn't take his eyes off Draco. Starting just above his wrist, the night sky was tattooed on the entirety of Draco's left arm, traveling up his shoulder and down onto his pec where it dissipated into a gray mist that shimmered and matched his eyes.

"The stars, they're twinkling..." Harry gasped. It was so odd to see something so Muggle on Draco. Harry didn't know any wizards with tattoos.

Draco nodded once.

Without thinking, Harry reached out and brushed Draco's skin, sending a shiver up the other man's arm. "Is this the constellation Draco?"

Harry looked up into Malfoy's face and saw he was biting his lip. "Yes," he whispered.

"I can't believe they twinkle. I've never seen anything like it before... how did you do it?"

"Flesh magic, the same kind as the Dark Mark. Except a less extreme version. It took weeks to work out."

Harry had forgotten entirely about the mark. Nestled in the darkness, the Dark Mark was almost invisible, except for the thick ugly scar that cut through it. Grabbing Draco's arm, Harry stroked the scar. "What happened?"

Draco was silent. Harry met his gaze, and Draco looked away. "Draco?" the name rolled off his tongue before he even considered it.

The blond man jerked his arm free of Harry's grip. "I tried to cut it off."

Harry stared, his stomach revolting against the image. "But... wasn't there a lot of blood?"

"I almost died," Draco looked down at the floor. "If my mother hadn't found me..." he trailed off, and silence descended on the room.

Finally, Harry said, "Thank god, she found you. That was incredibly dumb."

Draco, still shirtless, which was starting to be distracting, shook his head. "I didn't care. I hate it! I hate the fucking thing!" He ran his hands through his hair, disheveling it. Harry stared in shock. He hadn't ever considered how Draco felt about the mark. He'd always thought that it didn't bother him; apparently, he'd been wrong. "I hate this fucking thing so much, but I can't get rid of it. So I decided to make everyone else around it something I love."

Harry couldn't help but stare at Draco. His distress was evident, and Harry felt a sudden surge of empathy for the man. "Well, what you have now is beautiful." Draco stilled. "Can I, can I look closer?"

Harry thought he was going to say no, but Draco nodded silently and stuck out his arm. Harry gingerly held it, twisting it this way and that. The night sky seemed to shimmer before Harry's eyes, and the stars clearly twinkled. Goosebumps erupted under Harry's touch, and Draco started breathing faster. By the time Harry started inspecting his chest, Draco was practically gasping for air. Harry didn't think anything of it because he was too engrossed in the beautiful images before him. He found Sirius, and Draco, and Orion. It was only when Malfoy sank to the ground clutching his throat that Harry realized something was wrong.

"Draco? What is it? What's wrong?!"

The man just shook his head, still clutching his throat.

If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought Draco was having a panic attack. Harry grabbed his wand and pointed it at Draco, saying the most potent calming spell he knew of. It did nothing. Without any other option, Harry sank down next to Draco and wrapped his arms around the shaking man. At first, Draco tried to fight off Harry's embrace, but as Harry held him more firmly, he sank back into Harry's chest. "It's okay, Draco. Don't think about breathing. Think about something else – think about quidditch. Think about dinner. Think about anything at all that isn't breathing."

Slowly Draco's breathing evened out, but Harry still held him. "What was that about?" Draco mumbled something unintelligible. "What was that?"

"I don't like being touched, not after..." he shuddered. Harry could only imagine what would create this type of reaction.

"I'm touching you right now," Harry pointed out.

"This is different," Draco whispered. "You aren't touching my mark. That's was what really set me off."

"Oh."

"Are you going to hold me all day, Potter?"

"Oh!" Harry released Malfoy, who slowly pulled himself away. Sitting this close to him, Harry studied Draco for the first time. He was too thin, Harry could count his ribs, with dark circles under his eyes that didn't flatter his pale complexion. His lower lip showed signs of being chewed on religiously. Overall, Draco looked dreadful.

Unconsciously Harry reached out a hand and tucked Dracos now wild hair behind his ear. He looked softer without his hair slicked back. Draco jerked at the touch. "Sorry," Harry said, standing abruptly. He offered his hand, and after hesitating for a moment, Draco accepted it. Facing one another, Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco he wouldn't tell anyone about this, but instead found himself asking, "How are you, really?"

Draco jerked back as if Harry had slapped him. "I'm better than you, Potter."

Harry frowned at the suddenly hostile tone. "What does that mean?"

"In case you haven't noticed Potter, we're in the same boat, haunted by our dreams both awake and asleep. But at least I still eat, at least I am trying to get better. You're just wallowing – haven't you noticed how much weight you've lost since you stopped eating? Don't you think I notice how you look when you return to our room as if you were already dead inside? As bad as I am Potter, you're worse."

Harry stared at Malfoy, his mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"Nothing to say, Potter?" Draco seemed desperate for Harry to say anything at all.

"How do you know I haven't been eating?" Harry had thought he'd been so careful.

Coloring, Draco looked at his hands. "I have eyes, Potter. And even if I hadn't seen it for myself, Luna told me."

Harry sat down on Draco's bed, hard. He dropped his head into his hands and stayed like that. "I'm trying, damn it."

Draco couched down in front of Harry. "So am I. But we just need to try harder."

"I can't."

"You can, you're Harry bloody Potter. You died and rose again. You defeated Voldemort. You can do whatever you please because everyone loves you." There was no bitterness in Draco's words, which surprised Harry. "Word of advice, Harry, Healer Althea is really good at what she does. Go see her." With that, Draco rose and pulled on his shirt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.