A/N: I'm not sure what this is, only that it's meant to be vague and confusing. If you don't feel like you understand it at all feel free to PM and I will attempt to explain it, even though [again] I'm not 100% sure myself.

Draco Malfoy always was. He was always in the way and always ruining everything. He was always full of sarcastic remarks and always had an annoying habit of doing the unexpected.

He was always getting under peoples' skin and always smirking and grinning and cocky. Then one day he was being rushed into the house and dinner dishes were being slung onto the floor and he was lain on the kitchen table while everyone watched in quiet confusion and desperation, respectively.

When Snape sat heavily in a chair and slammed a shaky hand down and Dumbledore turned his eyes to the floor nobody needed to ask what was going on. When Draco Malfoy was moved to one of the upstairs rooms, it simply was.

Harry still didn't know what his reasoning was, but he offered to take over the caretaker duties and suddenly he found himself walking up the stairs with a heavy silver tray at various times during the day.

Eventually it stopped being a chore, and he learned to speak Malfoy. Then one day he learned to speak Draco, though it was never spoken of. Sometimes Harry would catch himself eyeing the pale hand that seemed to get thinner and thinner, and sometimes he would glance up to see pale grey eyes shrouded in something but that was never spoken of either.

Draco Malfoy simply was, and Harry Potter simply was even though nothing was ever really simple between them regardless of the silence they insisted on keeping.

One day, when Harry carried yet another almost full tray back to the kitchen, he realized Draco had learned to speak Harry as well. For the first time since the blond had been carried into the house Harry leaned heavily against the wall and allowed himself to mourn for what almost was and what could have been, had they been something other than judgmental children.

When he brings the next batch of potions those grey eyes look at him and by mutual agreement they don't speak of what both have realized. They let it breathe and grow and if Harry lets his hand lie alongside the one on the bed and Draco lets his pinky rest lightly on top of the darker one nobody has to know. They just can, for as long as they have left. And so they let their eyes talk, and they let it be.

Until one day he simply ceased to be. The floorboards had creaked under his weight the same way they had for the past few months. The tray had shone dully and the food had the same wilted, muted look it always did.

It made the same soft noise when it was sat on the small side table, and the sheets had been the same cool blue they always were. His forehead was still just as cold, his hair just as pale and still sticky with remnants of sweat. This time there was no flicker of an eyelid; no slow opening eyes and pitiful attempt at a sneer.

There were no snide comments with hidden meaning followed by a fit of heavy coughing and bright red splotches splattering on soft sheets. For a long moment after realizing this he stayed still, one hand braced on the nightstand and the other still cupping his bony face. Slowly he released his breath and pulled his hand back, tugging the top sheet so slowly it felt like moving stones.

At last it settled over his face, and Harry turned away with a jerky movement and stood still beside his bedside as all the silent things suddenly found a voice and they screamed in his head. Harry turned around, walked over the creaky floor and down the stairs, and sat at the table. Nobody had to ask, and he let the silence be. Harry had always simply been, until dying grey eyes and cutting remarks reminded him that really, he had never been anything at all.

And so Harry Potter ceased to be.

Still here Potty?
[Are you going to leave?]
Like I have a choice Malfoy.
[Never.]

I don't have time to watch you stare at your food.
[You don't eat enough.]
Fuck off Potter.
[I can't I can't I can't I...]

I have more important things to do than babysit you.
[I can't stand to watch you die but I can't let you die alone.]
Then go off with your Mudblood and Weasel.
[I'm dying and I'm so scared.]

You'd already be dead without me.
[I love you.]
Like I need you anyways.
[I know.]

Hey Potter, still here?
[I love you.]
Guess so.
[I know.]