"Any luck," Ron asked as Hermione walked back from Harry's room with a frown on her face.

"No," she sniffed, sitting on the couch next to the Weasley. He wouldn't even open the door. It had been over a week and Harry still been within the walls, frozen to society. He didn't come out to get food, he didn't come out to go to class; Ron and Hermione lied and said he was sick and his teachers told him not to worry about making it up. Everyone was worried sick about him, including Draco actually. He would find himself staring off into space and thinking about him, trying to contemplate what could have set Harry off.

He honestly, completely had no idea.

"I think he's just torturing himself at this point," Ron thought out loud. Ron slept on the couch in the common room. The sight of his best friend in the state he was in was too heartbreaking. 

But he couldn't get in. The door was locked, and no spell they tried worked. Not alohomora. Not any other locking spell under the sun. It was Harry's magic locking it, and only Harry could unlock it. They even tried the muggle way, picking the lock, hitting the doorknob with several heavy objects. Nothing worked.

And Harry refused to let them in, no matter how much Ron bargained with him, no matter how much Hermione begged him, choking back tears, telling him how much they all were concerned, no matter how much Pansy rallied him or Blaise tried convincing him. 

No matter how much Draco knocked on his door and asked to play quidditch. No matter how much Draco threatened that he'd stay outside until he came out. No matter how much Draco dozed off outside the door waiting for him-- for what he felt like no reason except that he felt compelled to. No matter how many times Draco banged on the door with his fist, telling him to get his shit together and go get breakfast or lunch or dinner. No matter how many times Draco almost shook because of his anxiety. I swear to Merlin, Potter, if you're dying in there...

"What are we going to do," Hermione picked at her nails. For once she didn't have an answer. She cried a little bit throughout the week.

"Well," Blaise joined in,"someone has to do something. He can't just starve himself the way he is. I don't know about any of you but I don't want to be responsible for Potter's death."

"If anything he'd die of a broken heart, let alone starvation," Hermione said, leaning her head on Ron's shoulder.

"But no ones ever died of a broken heart before," Pansy stated.

"Since when has Harry ever followed the path of everyone else. I'm pretty sure he'll die in some insane, twisted way."

"I say we should kill the ferret first," Ron bit, "it's his fault! And besides I made a promise that I'd kill him if he hurt Harry."

"I have dibs remember," Hermione cut in. "And I say we play it out. I'm not killing him yet."

"You honestly expect me to follow 'dibs,'" Ron said, a look of disgust, "when my best friend is completely devastated and bawling his eyes out because of one man, who, let me remind you, is on this property as we speak? Where is Malfoy anyway?"

"No clue, but Harry never gives up! That I know. He'll come around, he's not going to let something that important to him slip away. We've got to give him some time."

"Some time," Pansy questioned. "He has to get married by the end of they year, he's going to propose before Christmas and it's already going to be November next week."

"That bastard! I swear I'll kill him, he's breaking Harry's heart-"

"It's not his fault," a voice came from behind them all. They turned to see Harry, hugging his blankets around him, barefoot, wearing his Gryffindor hoodie, only because it smelled like Draco, and cotton plaid PJ bottoms.

"Harry," Hermione said, standing up with Ron.

Harry got choked up and fake smiled as he tried to keep tears from falling. "That's me." He could barely speak.

Ron and Hermione ran to him and they hugged each other in a threesome. Harry held them tight, almost scared to let go, but when they did he almost fell because he was visibly weak.

His cheek bones were sunken in, and basically his whole face was red and puffy. He wasn't even wearing his glasses, so the dark circles eagerly stood out of the strawberry color in the rest of his face. Harry's eyes were glassy but no tears fell, as if a cloud had lost all it's rain but didn't clear.

"Harry, how are you feeling," Hermione asked concerned. Although it was an obvious answer, she still needed a diagnosis from the patient himself.

"Horrible," Harry coughed, and coughed hard, so hard he lost his balance and gravity took him to the ground, Ron only just grabbing him.

"God, you must have the flu! Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Do you think I've been sleeping," Harry asked sarcastically, annoyed. He talked through his nose and gasped for air after every other syllable. The boy was ghostly pale. They didn't know what to say really. What were they supposed to ask? They already knew all the details.

"Here, let Hermione and I help you up," Ron and Hermione both grabbed an arm and tried pulling him up but halfway through Harry went limp and fell completely through their grip, completely sprawled on the ground.

"Harry!"

This caused Blaise and Pansy to stand up too.

"He's freezing! We need to get him to the hospital wing," Hermione pointed out while she felt his cheeks and forehead.

"Mione, I'm fine," Harry said barely above a whisper, but he was shaking. Ron picked him up and out Harry's arm on his shoulders and grabbed him by the waist, Hermione on the other side. They walked slowly out into the 7th floor corridor. That's when Harry's head started to scream in pain and as a result, he too yelled.

"Don't worry Harry, we'll get you there soon, I promise," Ron cheered him on. Pansy and Blaise followed, just for moral support. They honestly didn't think Harry could die from a broken heart, but his current state was changing their minds.

"The hell happened to Potter," a voice asked behind them.

"Like you would care, Malfoy," Ron bit. Harry coughed and tasted the blood in the back of his throat.

"I actually do, Weasley," he said, catching up to him.

"If you did, you wouldn't be doing this to him!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Boys," Hermione cut in, but was interrupted when Harry coughed yet again, completely falling out of their grasp.

"Move," Draco shouted and picked Harry up bridal style. Harry immediately relaxed into Draco's touch, into his scent, and leant his head into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around his throat.

"Draco," Harry breathed as the corners of his vision darkened. His heart hurt a little less, but the rest of him felt like it was being stabbed.

Draco practically ran to the hospital wing, gently placing him on the bed. Madam Pomfrey ran to the bed with a bucket as Harry started to cough heavily again, but he couldn't puke anything out.

"Why isn't he throwing up," Pomphrey asked, rushed.

"He hasn't eaten for a week. There's nothing to throw up," Hermione told, stepping right next to the woman, ready for any questions shot her way.

"Why hasn't he eaten!?"

"He's been depressed," she tried to lie, rather, not tell the whole truth. Harry threw the bucket aside and grabbed his head, starting to scream again, facing into the pillow.

"What is going on," Draco demanded, kneeling next to Harry's bed, worry shown over his brow, but he was ignored.

"How long has he been like this," the healer asked.

"We don't know that either. He hasn't left his room all week, and he locked the door, we couldn't get in," Hermione assured.

Madam Pomfrey wanted to ask more questions but couldn't because Harry started shouting phrases like "he's going to kill me; it's all my fault; Voldemort's back; no Draco please don't go; help me," ect.. And then there was more screaming.

"What's happening," Draco asked in a panic.

"He's having flashbacks from the war," Hermione answered before the professional even had a chance to speak.

"What can we do to stop them," Draco begged for an answer.

"You can't," Pomfrey said, "it has to run its course."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and laced them together. Immediately Harry began to calm down a bit. For one, he wasn't screaming as bad, more like a painful moan. It took a few more minutes and the flashbacks were done. Harry, however, looked like a human manifestation of death.

"Mr. Potter, can you hear me."

Harry could hear, but couldn't see, for his eyes were droopy and it was a war to keep them open. He was so far from consciousness he felt like he was falling. He barely moved his head and the second he did, Madam Pomfrey ran to her supply cabinet, grabbing multiple vials of liquid. From what they could speculate, about half were for sleep, and a few tonics to calm him down.

"Would any of you like to volunteer to help me give these to him?"

"Draco does," Pansy said before anyone else could put in their opinion. Draco glared at her but then collected the vials and unscrewed the first one. Slowly, he placed a finger on Harry's lip. It was soft underneath his touch, tender and warm, inviting almost, in fact he just examined them for a while, until it barely moved. "Draco," they whispered.

Draco looked into Harry's irises, looking past all the darkness and redness of his eyes. They were dismayed, yet wanting, yearning. They were also staring back at him. There was like an invisible bond between their eyes that kept Draco from moving anywhere.

They were clean, his eyes, as if they had been washed by a million tears. The green had so many dimensions, from a bluish yellow closest to the pupil, a forest in the middle, and almost a brown on the outer ring. They were beautiful, Draco concluded.

"Mr. Malfoy," broke him from his trance, "are you going to administer the potion?"

"Right, sorry," he apologized. He turned back to Harry and said almost delicately, "Open your mouth, just a little."

"Why," Harry asked softly, not caring for the answer.

"Don't you trust me?" That he cared about. Right, trust. That was what landed him here in the first place. If only Draco trusted Harry, they wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

Eventually Harry opened his mouth a centimeter and Draco poured the clear liquid down Harry's throat. Harry gave a look of disgust and started coughing violently.

"You're almost there, just one more," Draco lied. He did the exact same with the next 5 potions, and Harry didn't object.

"What happened to one more," he stated drowsily, almost smiling, before completely passing out. Draco studied his face and honestly got choked up at the sight of it all together. What could have made Harry hurt so much that he out himself through such a deranged hell?

"He should wake in another 12 hours. While he's asleep I'll run a few diagnostic spells. I will question you all in the morning, along with Mr. Potter. I suggest you all get some rest, I'm sure he'll want his friends around when he wakes," Pomfrey said before practically throwing them out.

"Wait! Can I stay with him for a little bit," Draco blurted, receiving wild eyes from the group.

"I have to run the diagnostics on him-"

"But that doesn't take 12 hours, couldn't you wait 20 minutes?"

After a few seconds of contemplating, she agreed and gave him his space. Draco immediately grasped Harry's hand, and once again locked their fingers, taking his free hand and stroking his mangled, sweaty, greasy hair. It was just him and Harry. The others looked at him before leaving, and when they finally did, Pansy spoke outside of the Wing.

"That's the thing about Draco. He absolutely adores him and he loves him. He just doesn't know it."

-----------------------------

Draco had fallen asleep next to him, his head on Harry's bed, almost next to Harry's face. He only awoke when he heard moans coming from the boy. He shifted in his sleep while Draco raised his head from the bed.

"Harry," Draco asked drowsily, but concerned. Harry was yelling again, and Draco grabbed his hand, only for him to stop all sounds completely. Suddenly Harry awoke only 6 hours into his treatment.

"Draco?"

"What happened?"

"A nightmare," Harry rubbed his eyes and coughed.

"You were supposed to have a dreamless sleep though, I administered the potion to you," Draco said, almost panicked. Harry shushed him.

"Shh, I have a headache."

"Sorry."

"Dreamless sleep doesn't work on me, remember? You're the one who's ever kept me from my nightmares, you should know that," Harry whispered. Draco just looked at him, confused, but not bothered by it for once. "Everything hurts."

"I know," Draco cooed, wiping hair from Harry's eyes with his free hand, "I know."

"You wanna know where it hurts the most," Harry sounded as that of a little kid, they both kind of did. Draco shook his head, and Harry saw him, although his eyes were almost shut. Harry let go of Draco's hand and readjusted it by grabbing the top of it instead of his palm. He slowly dragged it, almost as if it hurt to, towards his chest, just stopping above his heart and holding it there. Harry was staring at Draco the entire time, who's eyes were following the limb. "Right here," his voice broke.

Draco's eyes shot up to Harry's own. They were flickering between mercury and silver for the first time in months. The blonde could feel Harry's ribs, each bone sticking out from the lack of food. But most importantly, Draco could feel the pulse of his heartbeat. Thump-thump thump-thump.

It sped to Draco's touch.

"Right there," Draco asked softly, his own heart hurting. Harry nodded is head, and his eyes told him a story that wasn't of his language. They said, 'you're doing this to me. You're the one putting me though all this pain.'

He could still feel his heartbeat, going faster, it saying 'I beat for you.'

"Mr. Malfoy, I think it's time for you to leave. I must do the brain scan now," Madam Pomfrey called.

"No," Harry said, calling him for him, squeezing his hand tight and staring at Draco in the eyes, "please don't go."

"I- I can't-"

"Let him stay," Harry demanded, turning to the healer.

"I need to do the diagnostic. Why are you awake?"

"You can run it with him here!"

"I've already let him stay much longer than he should have," she had caring eyes but she always had been a stickler to the rules, "it's much past visiting hours."

"How much? How long have I been here?"

"You were checked in at 7:40 and visiting hours end at 7:00. Right now it's 1:24 in the morning."

"So him staying couldn't do any more damage," Harry said hopefully. "Please, I can't sleep without him. After a few minutes of consideration, she agreed.

"Alright. I'll run the test in a few more hours." She went into her cabinet and grabbed another sleeping potion, handing it to Draco. "Drink some more of this."

Draco unscrewed the cap of the vial and ordered Harry to open his mouth, and he did. It wasn't long before Harry was asleep, and Draco was stroking his hand with the pad of his thumb, watching the rise and fall of his chest and feeling his heartbeat.

-------

Draco woke at 6 o'clock in the morning, his neck a little sore and drool pouring down his lips. Opening his eyes to see an array of colors, he squinted. He was suddenly awake, alive, finding a tapestry-like object above him, glimmering and lighting up the room.

Everyone who's was there the night previous surrounded the bed. "Morning," Pansy said.

"What's his full diagnostic," Hermione completely ignored Draco.

"Mr. Potter has a nasty case of clinical depression, as well as small memory loss and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Memory loss, I assure you Harry remembers everything," Hermione started to argue but Draco interrupted. Madam Pomfrey decided to

"What is that," he asked, pointing to the colors he was laying above him.

"As I was telling them, It's a representation of Mr. Potter's mind. You can see absolutely everything there is to know about him." Different colors filled different areas of the coils. "The top," which was blue, with barely a little silver, swirling in between the layers, "represents brain activity."

The next section was green and represented knowledge. The third, was his second largest section, his emotions, which was black with different dimensions. "The emotional section is the only one that can completely change color," the professional said, "right now, it shows his major emotions are so overused he can't properly function with them. I can't believe it. I've never personally seen this before."

"What does that mean?"

"It means all of his negative emotions have been given so much attention that they've completely isolated his positive ones and shrunken them. If they weren't like this, you would see different colors between the coils here and here," she pointed out, "but here you can't. See, when one is upset, the negative emotions come forward and push back the positive, but the person, they can still feel happiness, they can still feel pleasure and fun. But Mr. Potters are completely gone."

"How long, how can you tell?" Draco was worried and furrowed his brow.

"You move to here," she went to the biggest section which was made of different beads of light, all completely different sizes and colors. "This is his memory. The beads represent different life events, the bigger, the more significant. The colors are his emotions through said memories."

She examined the beads and traced for black, which from where Draco could tell, there wasn't any until the ending half, starting at a rather large bead. Before it was mostly pastels in the beginning, then it got darker and more intense as it went on. The black continued through the very end, however there was a large bead, one of the biggest ones, in the middle of it, which was instead, a swirl of pastel red and pink, up until another large black bead.

"It started a few years ago," she determined, bewildered. "Towards the middle of his 6th year."

"What's the red and pink?"

"Romance and love, my guess is about 2 weeks or 3 weeks time."

Probably Weasley, Draco thought. "Can you see the memories?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure he'd allow it-," the healer started but Hermione interrupted.

"It's an invasion of privacy." Hermione as well as the others grew afraid of what Draco would see and how he would react. They didn't want Draco anywhere near those memories while Harry was in this state.

"How though?"

"You grab the bead," the professional stated.

Draco moved closer to the beads to see if he could actually tell the events, but once he could almost touch them with his face, they disappeared.

"What happened," Draco asked curiously.

"Holes mean memory loss, but tears mean damage," she said. "Oh my, there is a lot, years worth of holes."

Draco backed away from the tapestry, and suddenly the holes filled partially. "I don't understand," he turned to the others.

"Why, that's rather odd. Mr. Malfoy, if you would please step away from Mr. Potter and disconnect your hands." The colors became more vivid throughout the whole piece and the holes completely filled. "Mr. Malfoy, may you lay in the bed next to you."

"Why?" He did as followed, however.

"I'm just going to do a brain scan on you. If Mr. Potter has all his memories, and the diagnostic finds holes, maybe it's picking it up from another source, and you and him were connected. This shouldn't hurt at all."

"But-" Draco tried to protest, but he felt like his brain was being pulled and suddenly a tapestry formed. He examined his own emotions, which was purple and brain activity, which was yellow and moving. He then moved his eyes to his memories, and he gasped out loud.

The top was okay, very few large beads, but then he moved lower and it looked like a bear claw had been repeated dragged through it; it was completely mutilated.

"What," Draco breathed. "How did this happen? This can't be right!"

"That's was we were wondering, Madam," Hermione said, "Harry and I have been in the library for months looking for a logical explanation."

"You and Potter? He said it was because he wanted to save your parents!" Nothing was adding up in Draco's mind. He was yet again thrown to the side.

"When he'd lose it?"

"After he came back from Askaban," Blaise responded.

"I've never lost my memory!"

"We thought it was the dementors," Hermione stated.

"Dementors can't cause memory loss, he had to of been obliviated," she replied solemnly. "It must have been done wand less. There are still small traces from what I can see, plush the tears wouldn't of been so ragged. Do you know what memories could have been eliminated?"

The group all looked at each other, then at Harry. Draco also looked at Harry who was sleeping soundly. "We've hated each other for years, we wouldn't have anything to lose but us punching each other."

They all just looked at each other.

"You two have almost congruent emotions conveyed, even in your missing memories."
She was right, their paths, his and Harry's, were alike, except the missing links from his paths in Draco's. "Were these memories missing with Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey asked.

"If they were, I have a right to know," Draco said with wild eyes. "If he has the memories and I'm in them but I can't remember them, then they should be mine!"

Hermione nodded at the healer.

"I want to see one," Draco demanded.

"No, you don't," Blaise said sternly. "Not now."

"It's Harry's memories, he's the one that has the right to show you if he wants to. It's his decision," Ron bit. "And he's asleep right now."

"If I'm in them it's my right!"

Before he could be stopped Draco got up from the bed and grabbed a random bead in one of the places his hole was missing.

Suddenly he left the hospital and was sucked into a whole new scene, a place he didn't recognize. It was like he was standing in the memory, and watched the two from a distance, however he was frozen, couldn't move, couldn't think.

It left the others in panic.

It wasn't a while later when Draco released the bead and didn't even have time to process what just happened before his vision completely blanked out and he fell to the ground of the hospital wing.