Cruel

Draco was sick of it. Sick of crying into his pillow every night just because Potter was picking a few fights. And he kept telling himself that. It hurt watching him, and actually being picked on him instead of the other way around. He knew some would say it served him right. After all, he'd done nothing but harass Potter since they'd come to Hogwarts. But truth to tell, it wasn't the same. Harry didn't feel the same way he did. Potter didn't care. No, Harry...

It was horrible for him. This night was just as confusing as the others, but it was all building up now. He felt something for Harry. Wanted to be close to him. And maybe that's what brought him out of the dungeons in the middle of the night. He'd walked up to the Astronomy tower, only to find Harry standing there, on the brink of oblivion. Somehow, he knew that was just what he was there for.

"Potter, don't be stupid. Get down from there."

"Afraid to lose your rival, Malfoy?" The voice was cold and harsh as it always had been since they'd come back.

Draco shuddered but attempted to stand his ground. "What the hell is wrong with you? Get down from there this instant, before..." He stopped with the realization that threats wouldn't work here. By the time he could get anyone, Harry would already be dead. "Just, come on, alright? It's too late at night for this."

"He was innocent, you know."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Sirius. He was innocent. But that doesn't matter. He's dead now."

Draco could feel himself threatening to break. Even with their rivalries, and how they were even now, he still knew he couldn't live without Harry there. "Harry, please..." He dared not speak more, lest the dam of his voice crack, soon to break open with a rush of tears.

Harry did turn. He turned with anger burning in his eyes. Anger, depression, and several emotions that shouldn't be present in boys their age all filled the soul of this boy. "Sirius was my godfather! Did you know that Malfoy?! He was going to get his name cleared, and I would go to live with him. I'd finally be away from the fucking Dursleys. But now he's dead. There's no bringing him back, not to mention the only family I have left I hate, and they hate me." He turned back to the window, ready to step. "It's all my fault. If it weren't for me..."

"I'd be a Death Eater!" Draco shouted, his voice finally cracked, tears streaming down his face. "Muggles are alive because of you! The entire wizarding world is the way it is because you defeated Voldemort!" His voice lightened, already strained from yelling while crying. "I... We need you, Harry."

Hearing Draco was like an arrow had been shot through his chest. He turned to see the other boy in tears, his eyes pleading with Harry. It was then he realized what Draco had called him. "Draco..." He thought of stepping down to him. Ask him why he wasn't a Death Eater already. Ask him why he cared. Instead he turned to look out the window once more, no longer looking at the ground, but at the sky. Harry had been terrible all year, and the year had only just begun. He was pushing away those close to him, and picking fights with those enemies he'd already had.

Draco's heart skipped a beat, hearing Harry say his name. He decided he had to act now. "Harry, now why don't you forget about this? Please? Just step away from there. I know your friends want to help."

"My friends have already abandoned me," he said quietly. "No one cares. It's better that way." He turned back, leaning on the window side. "That way no one has to die. But I will. Because that's what Voldemort wants."

"Damned self-righteous Gryffindor."

This time Harry only looked over his shoulder. "Pardon?"

Draco was still crying, but this time in anger. "If they don't help, I will! I've always been there, haven't I?"

Harry considered this carefully. Yes, Draco was always there. And he'd always hated it. Draco was always trying to get them in trouble, or get them killed. Always fighting with him, always insulting them. Ever since... Harry almost thought he could feel worse.

Draco had been tormenting them ever since he'd refused the boy's friendship on the train. But as he thought back to the times when it seemed like Draco was trying to get them killed, he couldn't see it. Even back in their fourth year, when the Death Eaters attacked at the end of the Quidditch World Cup, he wasn't there handing them over to the Death Eaters, but telling them in his own way to run, and especially to get Hermione to safety. Draco, indeed, was always there, and yet not for the reasons Harry had thought all this time. Even now, Draco was his only rival that continued to face him. And as he looked at the tear-streaked face for the boy, setting anger, hatred, and years of rivalry to the side, he felt something he only now realized was there all along.

He moved to turn again, then felt his foot slip. Soon, he was falling. He could feel the wind brush his hair, making it more wild than ever. He looked up at the window, reaching out toward it and Draco. Why now? Why did he finally manage at the one time he didn't want to die. He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to show themselves. "I love you," he whispered, unknowingly. Then he blacked out.

Draco ran for the window the minute he saw Harry slip. He made a wild grab for the other boy, but it was like trying to catch the snitch. He would never have it. It would always be out of his reach. He would never win. As he watched Harry fall, he knew he couldn't let that happen again. This time he would win. He would have what he wanted.

The other boy's incredible emerald eyes shone at him, depending on him, and for once, wanting him. No, he couldn't lose. Not this time. He pulled his wand and heard himself shout something, though he couldn't really hear it. His entire focus was on Harry. Everyone else had forsaken him. They'd all lost hope. He'd seen it in everyone, but he'd no idea they'd truly given up on Harry all together. He'd show them. He'd recover Harry, and this time, he'd be the hero. But it wouldn't matter, because nothing mattered so long as Harry was there.

It looked as though Harry had hit the ground. It'd been too late. But there was no blood, no sound of him hitting. Draco hoped he wasn't too late. He ran down out of the Astronomy Tower and headed for the grounds. Harry had to be there. He had to be fine. He couldn't be dead. He ran right past Filch without caring, no matter how the groundskeeper shouted at him.

In fact, by the time he reached Harry, nearly all the staff had been following him, trying to catch him. Of course, it would have been easier to use their wands, but realization dawned on each of them as they noticed his panic and tears. Draco nearly slid right past Harry, trying to stop, and fell to the ground next to him. He crawled the rest of the way over to the dark-haired boy and took him in his arms.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" He couldn't stop the tears from falling, nor did he want to. He'd had no water to pour on the boy, but if the hot salty tears could wake the boy, let them. He just had to know Harry was alive. "Please, I need you Harry. Wake up. Please wake up."

The staff watched this scene, stunned. The rivalry between the boys had been famous, and now to see all this... Madame Pomfry began to walk over, thinking to pull Draco away, when Professor Dumbledore stopped her. She soon saw why.

Harry opened his eyes and realized that part of him was warm. Warmer than he'd felt in a long time. A splash on his head altered him to the figure holding him, pouring tears onto him. "Draco..." He reached at hand up and took one of the other boy's hands. "Thank you..." Then he was unconscious once more, weak emotionally and mentally from the happenings of the night.