How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Sixteen: Dinner is Served

            Instead of heading down to dinner when he left therapy, Harry headed straight back up to his room. He flopped down onto the bed and ignored the angry screaming from his stomach. He couldn't eat, and he couldn't face anyone right now. It had taken too much from him to bare himself like he had, and he was too tired to try and hold a conversation.

Harry's mind meandered back to Malfoy's memory and froze. He had never considered that Draco hadn't willingly taken the mark. With all his bragging sixth year, Harry had just assumed. But apparently, he couldn't have been more wrong. His heart ached in his chest for the sixteen-year-old who had been forced to make an allegiance to Voldemort. It wasn't fair.

The door swung open and in walked Draco, carrying a picnic basket. Harry sat up. "What are you going here?"

Draco just smirked at him. "Having dinner, Potter. And you are too. I had the house elves pack enough for two."

"I'm not hungry," Harry said automatically as Draco sat on the ground between their two beds and started unpacking. His stomach growled loudly.

"No use in lying. Come down here. Don't make me hex you. Or worse, tell Granger you haven't been eating."

It was the last threat that did Harry in. Groaning, he made his way to the floor, sitting across from Draco, who was watching him closely. "Go ahead, you pick first," Draco offered. Harry blindly reached for the closest item and picked up a biscuit. "Now eat it. All of it," Malfoy commanded.

Harry took a bite as Malfoy selected his own. "I'm serious, Potter. Eat all of it. And then have another."

"I can't; my stomach won't let me," Harry protested.

Draco sighed and set down his own biscuit. "Harry, starving yourself isn't going to make you feel any better. Althea made that abundantly clear to me over the summer. You aren't helping anyone by wasting away."

Harry stared moodily at the biscuit. "It's not like that," he grumbled and took another bite.

"Try me, Harry."

Harry glanced up and realized Malfoy was serious. Everyone stared at Harry, but no one seemed to have seen him as thoroughly as the man sitting across from him. It was an odd thought. Harry had never consciously thought about why he wasn't eating, but he opened his mouth and said, "It's like... well... this sounds silly, but I have the power to decide whether I eat or not, and feeling hungry reminds me of that. I have control over something in my life, even something as small as when I eat."

"You mean if you eat. Take another bite."

Harry did as he was told grudgingly. The few nibbles he'd taken had already quieted some of the pain in this stomach. "I'm not doing it on purpose, really, Malfoy."

"Call me Draco. And I'll call you Harry. We're too old for this last name business."

Caught off guard, Harry almost protested but realized he had no reason to do so. Draco already called him Harry sometimes. Why not have it be all the time? He liked the way his name sounded on Draco's lips. "Okay," he hesitated, "Draco."

Draco's face burst into a radiant smile, one that took Harry's breath away. "Perfect, Harry. Now finish that biscuit and grab something else. The house-elves were very enthusiastic."

"I didn't ask you to bring me food, you don't get to tell me what to do."

Draco hushed him in a surprisingly Hermione-esque way. "No one else is looking after you. It's been left to me."

"I don't need to be taken care of!" Harry protested around a bite of sandwich.

Draco snorted but didn't reply.

"I'm really okay, Draco. I promise."

"Don't lie to me, Harry. You aren't okay. You just admitted you aren't eating, so you feel like you have some kind of control over your life. That's not healthy, and that's not okay."

Harry felt his face flush. "I just..."

"Just what?" Draco asked, his expression sharp.

Harry's excuse died on his tongue. "I don't know what to do."

The other man's face softened. "You take it one meal at a time. Althea made me write down everything I ate in a food journal until I started being able to eat on my own again."

Nodding absently, Harry took another bite, only to realize it was the last one. "I haven't eaten this much since before the Battle," he observed.

Draco looked aghast. "You ate a biscuit and half a sandwich. How have you been surviving?"

Harry shrugged. "Lots of water, I guess."

Draco pushed another half of a sandwich towards him. Harry picked it up. After a bite, he looked up. Draco was inspecting every movement Harry made. "Why do you care so much?"

His expression didn't change. "Because I can't help myself."

Harry looked at him, blankly. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Frowning, Harry decided he wouldn't be getting a more satisfactory answer from Draco. "I think therapy went well today."

Draco nodded. "It was definitely different having you there."

"Bad different?"

"Not at all, just different." Draco bit his lower lip. "I just wanted to say, when I made fun of your family, I had no idea what your home life was like. I like to think even I wouldn't have crossed that line had I known."

Harry shook his head. "Nobody knows. Not even Ron and Hermione. I'm sure they have their suspicions, but I've never actually told them outright. You're the only one who knows." Harry set down his sandwich and met Draco's probing eyes. "I didn't get to say it, but I'm sorry about what happened to you. And I'm sorry I ever thought you'd wanted the Mark in the first place."

Draco froze like a house-elf presented with clothes, his eyes just as wide. Finally, you stuttered, "Th-thanks Harry. But after how I acted sixth year, I would have thought I'd asked for it."

Harry smiled. "You really were a git."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I know."

"You've changed, Draco," Harry murmured, taking in the man before him. He looked like the Draco Harry had always known, but he didn't act like him.

"About damn time you noticed."