A/N: One review I got for this story said that the reader found Harry to be abusive and controlling in this fic. That's now how I intended it, but I thought I should put a warning note just in case anyone needs it.

Chapter 1

Draco

He was trembling, but Draco knew that wouldn't last long. He'd had enough. He was done. The trembling in his knees stopped, and he smiled faintly as he climbed onto the edge of the astronomy tower.

"MALFOY, STOP!"

He was so startled that he stumbled back, his ass hitting the ground. Potter was on him in an instant, muscling him away from the edge.

"Stop it, let me go, Potter!" What was Potter even doing here? Who came to the top of the astronomy tower at three in the morning?

"No, I'm not letting you go, you idiot. What were you thinking?"

Potter finally got him as far from the edge as possible without starting down the stairs and pushed Draco into a sitting position with his back against the door. "Well? What was that about?"

"Nothing," Draco muttered angrily.

"You call trying to leap off the astronomy tower nothing, do you?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded. To his surprise, Potter's face went red, and he was suddenly engrossed in staring at his shoelaces. Draco could have laughed when he realized. "You too. You were coming to jump."

Potter didn't deny it, which only confirmed Draco's suspicions. It was perfect. The Chosen one and the Death Eater scum, dying together.

"Well, how do you want to do this? Together, or would you rather be a gentleman and let me go first?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, you're not killing yourself."

"Oh yeah? And exactly how are you going to stop me?"

Potter hadn't seemed to have thought of this. If he was dead, he wouldn't be able to stop Draco jumping. Draco could almost see the clogs moving in his head. The only logical option was for them both to die. Or…

"Oh no you don't, Potter. Don't you dare –"

"Come on." Potter grabbed his arm, trying to tug him down the stairs. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing."

"No you are fucking not!"

"Yes, I am!"

"If you do, I'll tell Pomfrey what you were really doing up here."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Fuck you," Potter spat.

"Fuck you."

"I'm trying to help you, you idiot!"

"Who said I wanted your help?"

"I don't care if you don't want it. I'm not letting you die."

Draco had never hated Gryffindors more than in this moment. If he could, he'd crucio the whole lot of them. Bloody idiots and their hero complexes. He could see it in Potter's eyes, the Gryffindor had already made his decision. He'd live, just to save Draco from himself.

Why would he do that? Draco knew what kind of pain Potter was in – the same kind that had driven him to seek the astronomy tower in the middle of the night. Why would he suffer that, let it continue, just to save a boy he hated? Stupid Gryffindor heroism, that's why.

"Fine," Potter snarled. "But if you won't let me take you to the hospital wing, you're going back to your dormitory."

"Fine," Draco retorted. Perhaps Potter wasn't as creative or as desperate as he was, but Draco could think of any number of was to kill himself from within his own dorm. They would likely be more painful than a simple fall would have been, but at this point, he really didn't care.

Potter seemed to read his mind, because he pulled out his wand. A streak of purple light went straight into Draco's chest. He gasped in pain and would have fallen back had he not been pressed up against the door.

"What the hell was that for!"

"It'll stop you from hurting yourself, physically at least."

Surely, such an evil spell couldn't exist. Draco yanked himself out of Potter's grasp and made for the edge of the tower again. Potter didn't stop him. It was as though he hit an invisible wall several steps away from the edge. Draco cursed and threw himself at it, but it didn't give.

"Take it off!" he howled at Potter.

"No."

Draco lunged at him, his fist smashing into Potter's jaw. Potter calmly captured his limbs, holding him immobile. When had the bastard gotten so muscled? True, Draco had hardly been eating properly, recently, but it still rankled that he was overpowered so easily.

"Where did you learn that spell?" he demanded, fully intending to strangle the culprit at the first opportunity.

"Hermione tried to cast it on me," Harry mumbled, his fire suddenly doused. "She doesn't know what I blocked it with a wordless shield charm, or she'd never have left me alone."

Draco didn't know quite what to say to that. Panic was rising inside him. He couldn't do this anymore. That's why he was here. It had to end. Potter was too stubborn to let him have his way, but Draco wasn't giving up that easily. It was Gryffindor idiocy that had gotten him into this mess, and it would be Gryffindor idiocy that got him out.

"Not very honorable, is it?" He smiled grimly as he watched his words affect the boy.

"What?"

"Forcing me to do something you're too cowardly to do yourself. So, what? I have to live, but you get to take the easy way out?"

Apparently, Potter hadn't thought of it that way, because he suddenly looked troubled. Draco smirked, sure he was about to have the curse taken off him.

Then –

"Fine." Potter turned his own wand on himself, and the same flash of purple light hit him. He grunted in pain, but recovered quickly. "There, we both have the same charm on us. Happy, now?"

"Not even remotely," Draco growled under his breath.

His work done, Potter turned and started walking away.

"WAIT!" Draco had just remembered something, and he couldn't let Potter leave before it was rectified.

"What?"

"You have to modify the spell. No, listen to me! You won't let me kill myself, fine, we'll argue about that another day. But I need to be able to hurt myself. Please, Potter." Draco hated that he was begging, but he had no choice.

Potter's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

Draco didn't want to tell him, but what option did he have? He slowly rolled back his sleeves. Potter swore and lit his wand, examining the deep cuts that went down Draco's forearms.

"Why?" he asked softly, all anger gone from his voice.

"It's the only way I can cope. Please, Potter, if I can't die, I at least need to be able to do this."

The stubborn set of his jaw was back. "No. I won't have it. Look, Mal – look, Draco, you'll need to find other ways to cope, alright? We both will."

"You're telling me you also slash up your arms like a madman?"

"Well, no, but I wasn't planning on living past tonight."

"Please, you have lines of people waiting to jump to get anything you need. You're the fucking Chosen One! I'm an outcast. Everyone hates me. Where, exactly, do you think I'm going to find other coping strategies?"

Apparently, he'd taken Potter by surprise again. The boy had always been thick. "I, um… you can talk to me! No, seriously, come and talk to me. I guess we could both use it. I don't want to worry my friends any more than I already have."

Was he being sincere, or was he just batshit crazy?

"Why would you want to kill yourself, anyway?" Draco snapped. "Your life is perfect."

"I don't know." Potter's legs seemed to desert him and he sank to the ground next to Draco. "Ever since the war ended, I've been… haunted. So many people died because of me. Sometimes, I just want the pain to end, you know?"

Draco found himself nodding. He did know.

"What about you?"

"I…" Draco leapt up. "I'm going to bed."

Then he ran, all the way down the stairs and straight back to his the dormitory that all the eighth years shared. At least he had his own bedroom, probably because no one else was willing to share with him. The mad urge to tell Potter everything slowly faded now that he was on his own.

He wasn't giving up. Draco would find the counter curse to whatever spell Potter had put on him, and he'd remove it. Then, he'd have a date with the top of the astronomy tower. He had only to wait until then.

Unfortunately, waiting was easier said than done. Draco couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried, and the urge to cut was overwhelming. Praying that Potter had been lying about the spell preventing all harm, he pulled out his blade. Just before it cut into his arm, it seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Draco moaned and tossed it aside. No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't keep living, even the few hours before the library opened, he couldn't bear it.

He was able to transfigure his gown into a rope, but unable to slip the rope around his neck. He could summon poison from Slughorn's private stores, but he couldn't drink it. Draco felt like he was going mad. This was torture worse than any he could imagine. He even tried tearing at his skin with his nails, but he met the same barrier as he had with his knife.

Giving up on sleep, Draco forced himself to take a deep breath. Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he could tell a panic attack wasn't far away, but that would have to wait. He had some research to do.

He was sitting outside the library by the time Madam Pince came to open it. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Anything I can help you with, Malfoy?"

"No, thank you." He knew he was done for if he asked for help. She would all too easily figure out what had happened, and then he'd be in the hospital wing whether he liked it or not.

Draco skipped breakfast as he searched. He couldn't care less about going to class. He was going to find the counter curse, and then he was going to end his agony, Potter be damned.

It was lunch time before anyone bothered him.

"Thought I might find you here." Potter leaned nonchalantly against a shelf, but he had dark circles under his eyes. It was apparent that he hadn't slept either.

Draco didn't deign to answer, but merely pulled down another book and started scanning the index.

"Don't bother," Potter told him. "Hermione had the book with the counter curse removed from the library. McGonagall's got it under lock and key. No way are we getting to it, even if we want to."

With those words, all of Draco's hopes came crashing down on him. He was vaguely aware of his knees hitting the floor. He couldn't stop the tears now. He wished Potter would just go away, but the idiot was still staring at him.

"Draco…"

Draco curled in on himself as he sobbed harshly, wishing for nothing more than his pain to end. A grating sound had him glancing up. Potter was directing the bookshelves with his wand, closing them into a makeshift version of a private room. He recognized one of the spells the Gryffindor muttered as a sound-proofing charm, which would have been comforting had Potter not been inside its radius.

The next thing he knew, a set of arms was around him. Draco flinched away, scrambling as far as he could get within the confines of the room of book shelves. He brought his arms up in a futile attempt to shield his face, knowing already that Potter was much stronger than him.

Potter stared at him, apparently taken aback. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" Draco retorted. He warily lowered his arms, but curled his knees up to protect his stomach, just in case.

"I – have you never had someone hold you when you cried before? To comfort you?"

Oh. That's what he was doing. Draco had known, of course, that not everyone viewed displays of emotion as weakness. Not all fathers did their best to beat it out of their children, and some even did as Potter said and comforted them. He'd just never expected such a gesture to be applied to him.

Draco didn't know what to do with that. Why would Potter even want to comfort him? Of course, he knew the answer to that. Stupid, chivalrous Gryffindor. He turned his face away as his crying picked up again. Even Potter's bizarre behavior couldn't long distract him from his own pain and desperation.

A hesitant hand settled on his shoulder. Draco cringed away automatically, and the hand disappeared.

"Tell me how I can help." Potter sounded almost as desperate as he felt.

"You can take this fucking charm off me, that's how!"

"No. I won't do that… but Draco, like it or not, we're in this together. We both want the same thing, and we can't have it for the same reason. I'm not going to worry my friends over this, which means you're the only one I have to talk to, and I'm the only one you have to talk to. I'm not going to watch you suffer alone. I won't hurt you, I promise."

The hand was back, and this time, Draco didn't have the energy to escape it. He tensed as Potter slowly pulled him into his arms. It felt strange and wrong… and yet, somehow so right. Draco's body took over and he found himself turning, burying his head in Potter's robes and sobbing his heart out.

The feeling of being held as he cried did strange things to him. As Potter's arms tightened, Draco found himself crying even harder, clinging desperately to the source of his comfort. Potter murmured soft, consoling words, apparently unaware that Draco was utterly falling apart in his embrace.

His breath hitched, and Draco recognized the signs of an oncoming panic attack. He welcomed it. He'd hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness, as usual, and the brief break from reality would be a relief.

"Ssh, Draco, try to slow your breathing now."

He stared up at Harry, still gasping harshly.

"Slow down, or you're going to pass out."

That was what happened with panic attacks, didn't Harry know that? Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, because Harry tilted his head to the side. "Has this happened before?"

Unable to speak, Draco nodded.

"Then you know you need to breathe slowly. Come, try to do it with me. In, and out. Nice and slow."

He didn't understand. Why wasn't Harry just leaving him to pass out in peace? But the stubborn Gryffindor wouldn't leave him be. "Slow," Harry insisted. Try now, Draco, match my breathing patterns."

If he wasn't currently too full of feelings to take in anything else, Draco would have been annoyed. He tried his best to follow the instructions – maybe then he'd be left alone – focusing on Potter's hands, which were gently rubbing his back in a steady rhythm.

To his great surprise, Draco's breathing returned to normal – or as close to normal as it was going to get with him crying as hard as he was.

"I – I d-didn't pass – o-out," he managed to choke at Harry, trying his best to express his confusion.

"No, I would hope not," Harry said gently. "Have you always passed out before when this happens?"

Draco nodded jerkily, and was shocked at the expression of sadness that crossed the Gryffindor's face. "You should have had someone to help you. No one deserves to go through this alone."

"You – h-had?"

"Not when I was younger, but ever since I came to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione have always been there for me."

Draco didn't have the energy for any more conversation. He was helpless against his pain, with nothing to relieve it, no blade, no leap off the astronomy tower. Harry held him through all of it, and eventually, Draco exhausted himself. The tears stopped.

This, too, was surprising. He'd never cried himself out like this before. Always, he'd had to forcibly shove his weakness away. He hadn't even known that, had he let it run its course, it would ever end. Maybe without Harry here, it wouldn't have.

He found himself limp and more peaceful than he could ever remember being. Harry seemed quite content to hold him, and Draco couldn't find it in himself to pull away. His last thought before he drifted off was the confused realization that somewhere along the line, the Gryffindor had stopped being Potter to him, and become Harry.