Less Like Them, More Like Me

Less Like Them, More Like Me

A D/H darkfic

"Someday they'll find your small town world,

On a big town avenue.
Gonna make you like the way they talk,

When they're talking to you.
Gonna make you break out of the shell,

Cause they tell you to.
Gonna make you like the way they lie,

Better than the truth.
They'll tell you everything you wanted someone else to say
They're gonna break your heart..."

--"Hand Me Down", Matchbox Twenty

Chapter 3:

Draco stared at the hand touching his shoulder, turning slowly, not believing the words spoken so softly.

"Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

Don't leave him? What did he mean? He had just been so angry. Draco kept his eyes on the hand, studying, memorizing it. The nails were jagged from being chewed on all the time, the hand felt cold and icy, even through Draco's shirt. The skin was pale where it used to be tanned, almost translucent.

"Potter...get your hand off of me now," he hissed.

Harry did not remove his hand, but waited until Draco had turned around to face him. Scowling, Draco swiped at the hand, slapping it away.

"Don't touch me. Don't you ever touch me again, you mudblood-loving freak."

Draco's jaw suddenly came in harsh contact with Harry's fist. He toppled to the ground, staring angrily upward at Harry. A trickle of blood dribbled out the side of his mouth and down his chin. He kicked at Harry's knees. Harry fell forward, landing heavily on top of him.

Draco shoved him roughly away and stood. Now Harry was the one on the ground, and Draco kicked him hard in the stomach. Harry's eyes widened and he curled into a fetal position, holding his stomach tightly. Draco dropped to his knees, straddling Harry's shuddering form. He grabbed his shoulders and pushed him roughly onto his back. He drew back his fist and drove it straight into Harry's face.

Within a couple of seconds he had bloodied Harry's nose, and blacked both his eyes. In the next moment he found himself smashing against the Gryffindor table as Harry somehow managed to pull out his wand and shout "Expelliarmus!"

Draco felt wood splinters slipping through his shirt and under the skin of his back as the table groaned and toppled over. He landed hard on the floor, coughing as the wind was knocked out of him. Blood flew from his mouth in tiny scarlet droplets. Harry's face appeared over him, swimming in his blurred vision.

"Don't say that, Malfoy," he whispered, and his voice was like ice. Draco sneered through his pain, unconsciously rubbing his ribs. It felt like a few of them were broken, it was unforgiving agony when he breathed.

"Malfoy! Potter! What in the name of Merlin is going on?!"

Shit.

***

Harry bent over Draco, his fist clutched to his chest. It hurt like hell, but there was no way he would let Draco know that.

When did I start thinking of him as Draco?

He looked up as he heard his name called. Professor McGonagall was storming across the room toward him. Inwardly, he cursed his luck.

Draco was painfully regaining his feet, his breathing harsh and shallow. He glared at Harry, who turned away, fighting the urge to smash Draco's teeth in.

McGonagall had made her way over to them by now, and was staring angrily at the pair, her mouth in a tight, thin line with her arms crossed. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Explanation. NOW."

Harry said nothing, nor did Draco. Blood dripped from various wounds. Harry examined his bitten finger. McGonagall caught sight of it and two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks.

"Fine. Both of you will be punished. Potter, a months worth of detentions. Malfoy, I will be informing Professor Snape of this incident, and he will think of a suitable punishment. And fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin! Off to the hospital wing, now, both of you. And no more fighting, or I will make sure you both are suspended!" She glared at them, as though daring them to complain or protest. Neither did, instead choosing to glare at each other while they headed toward the doors.

They headed down a corridor, up stairs, up another hall and entered the hospital wing. It smelled...sterile to Harry's nose. And like medicine. It was too clean, too white. The beds, with their crisp white sheets, were lined up along the walls, waiting to be filled.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over. "What seems to be the problem, boys?" They were silent. She sighed, annoyed at their stubbornness.

"Fine then. Potter, you there." She pointed to a bed. "And Malfoy, the one next to it, please." Harry scowled at the thought of being next to Draco, and it looked like he wasn't all that thrilled, either.

As he climbed awkwardly onto the bed (His wrist was throbbing horribly, and had swollen to a considerably large size.) Harry heard a sharp intake of breath to his side. He looked up to see Draco, clutching his ribs, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in pain. And was that...a tear? Yes. There was a tiny droplet of water, slipping from his left eye and leaving a shiny trail down his cheek.

***

I'm breaking. I can't take this. It hurts too much.

I'm crying. Dammit, he sees me. He can see me crying.

I'm broken.

I'm falling.

Save me.

***

The pain in his ribs was just too much as he tried to climb into the hospital bed. He clutched them, he eyes shut tight, but he couldn't keep back the tear that rolled down his cheek and off his chin.

And he knew that Harry had seen it.

Seen him break.

But that's what he had said, wasn't it? That he'd one day let Harry see the real him, even if it was the broken him, the torn, tattered, smashed soul? The years and years of torment, all crashing through his carefully layered exterior, cracking, splitting, falling to the floor in tiny bits of fractured glass.

He bit his lip hard, feeling a drop of blood trickle into his mouth, bitter and metallic.

Strange.

Before it had been sweet.