"Harry!" I groan and flip over, trying to ignore the noise that's disturbing my sleep.

"Harry, please wake up..." I hear sniffing and finally come to my senses enough to realise what's going on. I open my eyes to see a blurred figured over my bed. I reach over to my nightstand and grope around until I find my glasses. I put them on, and instantly, Draco comes into view, tears running down his cheeks. I flip on the lamp and pull him towards me.

"Shh... what's wrong?"

"I'm s-sorry." He stammers. "I-I didn't want to wake you up." I shake my head.

"Don't worry about that, Draco." I say soothingly. "Another nightmare?" He nods his head into my shoulder. Draco's been staying with me at the Dursley's for the past few weeks. Dumbledore couldn't think of anywhere else to place him. He's getting better, slowly, but he still has nightmares.

"I-I should be over these by now." He mumbles as he starts to calm down a bit. I wipe a few tears from his cheeks. I really like taking care of him.

"Nonsense." I say softly. "I'm not expecting you to be perfectly okay." He nods his head and cuddles up against me. As far as I'm concerned, Draco is making considerable progress. He hasn't cut in nearly 2 and half weeks now. He's been smiling more, and he actually eats during most meals. Sometimes though, I watch as it takes over him. There are times where he just confines himself to his room, not even talking to me. I can hear him crying. And at times like this, I sit outside the door, knees to my chest, hoping he won't feel as alone.


This is the fourth or fifth time I've woken Harry up in the middle of the night. There have only been two or three nights in the past two weeks that I haven't woken up from some sort of nightmare. I'm usually crying. I try not to wake him up if I don't have to... But sometimes I can't do it on my own.

I melt into Harry's arms. I thought It was some sort of Miracle that Dumbledore sent me to go stay with him. Though I won't admit this to anyone, I think he figured Harry would keep an eye on me. I don't think he trusted me not to do something stupid while away from him.

I pull away from Harry slightly and look at my forearms. Most of the cuts have completely healed. I haven't touched a single sharp object since I got here. Harry won't let me. The scars from my suicide attempt are long and dark down my arms. Madam Pomfrey healed them completely after my meeting with father. I start to cry again, thinking of this.

"Shh..." Harry croons. "You're okay. I'm right here."

"He's s-still out there." I cry. "H-he'll come find me."

"No, Draco, he won't." Harry says softly. "Dumbledore won't let that happen." I sniff. The urge to cut overwhelms me. My stomach flutters with unexplained anxiety. A sensation I can usually banish by slicing my skin. I feel restless, scared. My closed scars burn, as if begging to opened. I clench my fists, trying to get rid of the urge.

"Harry..." I whisper. "I need..." But I stop. What do I say? I can't just tell him I need a razor. But he seems to understand.

"You don't need it, Draco." I cry harder. The sensation in my stomach is making me feel sick, growing stronger and stronger, begging for release.

"Yes I do..." I whisper. "I can't make it stop."

"I know it's hard." He tells me. "I know." He holds me tighter.


I feel like I'm trying to get him through withdrawal. In a way, I am. The cutting is an addiction, no way around it. All I can do is hold him until the urge goes away.

"Just once..." He pleads. I lay down and motion him down with me. I stare into his gray eyes, wiping more tears from his pale cheeks.

"Never going to happen, Draco." I tell him. "I'm not going to let you hurt yourself just because you got yourself into an addiction." He sniffs. I grab his hand and hold it tight. His eyes close. I flip the light off and listen to him breathing. After a while it slows, slower, slower, until I know he's asleep. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, I slide out of the bed.

The Dursley's don't know that our relationship extends any further than just friendship, and I don't want to risk the two of us being found in the same bed. So regretfully, I wonder down the hallway and into Draco's room. I smirk as I remember Aunt Petunia's face when she was told she had to give up the guest room. I crawl into Draco's bed, inhaling his scent, and fall asleep almost instantly.


I wake up, alone, in Harry's room. I don't panic. This isn't the first time he's snuck out when I fall asleep in here. We have to keep our relationship secret. I sit up to find that the fluttering is still in the pit of my stomach, though not nearly as intensely as last night. This I can manage. Constantly, I am followed by the small, nagging anxiety that's resided in my body since the last time I cut. Harry says that it will go away with time. So far it gets worse with each day, and I'm afraid it will get to be too much.

I stand up, needing to steady myself for a moment against the nightstand. I can still see last nights nightmare clear in my mind. Subconsciously, I bring my hand to my throat. The small cut I caused there is gone now, but I can almost still feel its sting. Despite the fact that I've been freed from my father's abuse, I'm still having thoughts. My self esteem is gone, and my depression and anxiety are still going strong. But I've been fighting.

I walk down the stairs to find Harry's family in the dinning room. Harry's made breakfast and as I walk in, he nods at me, giving me a look of reassurance. I nod back.

"I don't want anything." I mumble, hearing that my voice is scratchy. He looks reproachfully at me.

"You sure?" He asks, trying to sound casual around the Dursley's. They don't know about, as Harry likes to put it, "my fragile condition" either. They've seen the scars, and Dudley's called me a freak, but Harry seems to think it would be a bad idea for them to know that I'm still a bit sensitive. I agree. I don't really want to end up in therapy.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I tell him. I feel nauseous this morning. The anxiety is manageable, but it's still too bad to eat with right now.

"Okay..." He says. He sounds a little apprehensive.

"Hey, freak." I turn to glare at Dudley, with his face stuffed with food. He's absolutely repulsive.

"It's Draco." I say coldly.

"Whatever. So what, you anorexic too?" He's taunting me. I won't take the bait.

"No. I'm just not hungry. Not to say anorexia might not do you some good though," I sneer, looking him up and down. He glares at me. I glare back.

"Shouldn't you be off cutting yourself or something?" He asks me, annoyed. "What are you doing down here with the rest of the normal human race?" His words hit me like brick, and the anxiety increases at a nearly paralyzing rate. Harry jumps in.

"Hope you don't mean yourself Dudley." He says. "You don't count as normal. Hell, pig doesn't count as human at all. Leave him alone." Harry places a hand on my shoulder, trying to bring me to my senses.

"Come on. Let's go for a walk." He says gently. I nod. Maybe some fresh air will do me well.

I know this isn't very eventful, but I wanted to get the story posted, so my readers know that the sequel is, in fact, being written. In the future, expect fluff, angst, and all that. This is just and into. Regardless, please R&R. I'd like to know that people are at least reading the sequel.