Chapter Three

                                    

                                          
Walking back to Gryffindor Tower, from Dumbledore's office, was like a stealth mission. His cloak was long forgotten in his trunk. The map discarded somewhere in there as well. He hardly thought to bring them now a days. The only time he used the map was for his late-night Malfoy-watching. 
                          
Voldemort had been silent. No nightmares. No unwanted, uncontrollable feelings. No taunting comments. Just peaceful, uncharacteristic silence. It was a bit unsettling. Now the reasons Harry was not sleeping were due to his anxiety induces insomnia and his Malfoy-watching. Perfectly good reason if you asked him. 
                          
A faint light in the distance, caught his attention in the dingy corridor. He pressed himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows to avoid discovery. Rounding the corner, just as fast was another light. Harry could just make out a thin frame moving towards him. As the second light got closer, Harry was able to the person approaching much clearer. It was Malfoy. 
                          
The Slytherin was obviously trying to not get caught. It was after hours, even for Prefects. Without thinking, as the blond approached Harry's hiding spot and turned out his wand, Potter reached for the boy, grasping tightly onto his wrist, and securing them both safely in the nearby alcove. 
                          
It was a small alcove, so they were pressed, chest to chest. There was no way either of them could move to make their situation less awkward. Their breath and scents mixed in the tight space. Malfoy's wand was pressed against Potter's hip, only because the other boy did not have time to tuck it away, before being pulled into the alcove. 
                          
They stared into each other's eyes in silence. As the footsteps neared the alcove, they held their breath. Both boys tensed. Neither of them wanted to get caught. Harry may have had an excuse that would be backed up by Dumbledore, but Draco did not. He was out for a much darker, sketchier reason and Harry knew it. He could feel it in his bones. 
                          
Even as the footsteps retreated the two boys stayed in their position. Whether it was from fear, or something else, neither of them knew. All either of them knew was that something was calling them to stay in the small alcove, pressed up against each other. 
                          
"Why did you do that?" Malfoy finally asked.
                          
Potter's voice came out in a whisper, only audible because no one else was around. "You looked like you needed saving."
                          
"You and your hero complex," He sneered. 
                          
"It was working in your favor this time."
                          
The two stared at each other intensely. It was not a glare, but not kind. It was filled with something neither of them knew. It was different from their other encounters. 
                          
"Have you been stalking me?" Malfoy suddenly asked.
                          
Potter blinked rapidly, to keep his eyes from giving him away. "No. Why would I be stalking you, Malfoy?"
                          
"That's something you'd have to tell me, Potter."
                          
The two fell silent. Something was nagging at the back of Draco's mind. It refused to go away. There was something in Potter's eyes that he had never seen before. It looked almost hopeless. He had never seen Potter look hopeless before. 
                          
"Did something happen?" he asked before he could stop himself.
                          
Harry stared in shock at Malfoy. There was genuine concern in the Slytherin's voice. 
                          
"No," Harry said. "I think it's safe to leave now."
                          
Draco nodded. His wand was still pressed against Potter's hip. It must have been uncomfortable for the Gryffindor. 
                          
Neither boy attempted to leave the alcove.
                          
"Aren't your friends going to be looking for you?" Draco asked.
                          
"No. They know where I was," Harry said. 
                          
An itch was moving its way up his arm. It was that nagging itch that he always got when he thought about his friends caring about him. It was foreign and filled with a sense of being lied to. It had only increased after Sirius died. He moved his arm just enough to scratch at his arm through his long-sleeved shirt. 
                          
"Stop that," Voldemort hissed in his head.
                          
He jumped, hitting his head against the alcove ceiling. 
                          
"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked. Concern was dripping from his voice.
                          
Harry rubbed the top his head, making sure there was no bruise forming. That would be hard to explain away to his friends. 
                          
"Yeah, I'm fine. I thought I heard something," Harry mumbled quickly. 
                          
Malfoy did not believe. It was clear that the boy was lying. He reached out a hand towards him, gently clasping his shoulder. He managed to lower his wand, so that it was no longer pressing against the other boy's hip. 
                          
Then the scent hit him. The overwhelming metallic scent of blood. Before he could react, Potter fell into him. His dark hair brushing against the exposed skin on his neck. Draco wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor to hold him up.
                          
"Potter," he said urgently. "Potter, are you alive?"
                          
The faint breathing that tickled his neck, gave him the answer he was looking for. This was the second time the boy had passed out in front of him. It was the obviously that he was not intending on doing so. Something was causing him to pass out. Something that he was not telling anyone about.
                          
Draco slid them to the floor of the alcove. It was like third year all over again. 
                          
"Potter," he said softly, with the same amount of urgency. "Potter, wake up."
                          
He ran his fingers through Harry's unruly hair. 
                          
"What is going on with you?"
                          
He was unsure whether he was asking himself or the unconscious boy in his arms. Trying to coax the boy awake was proving futile. It was infuriating and concerning at the same time. 
                          
All Draco knew in that moment, was that he was going to figure out what was going on, no matter what it cost him.