Harry ran and ran, until he got to Myrtle's bathroom. He collapsed on the floor, shaking and crying. He couldn't believe he'd done that. He was a freak. He let his anger block out everything else.

Harry was disgusted with himself. He hated that he was depressed. He hated that he had PTSD. He hated that just looking at food made him want to hurl. He hated his so called friends, that told his biggest secret. He hated all the guilt, and the grief. He hated all this self-pity, because it was sick. He'd had enough. He just wanted the pain to go away.

Harry pulled out his wand, using it to summon a small, sharp knife. He put the tip of his blade to his wrist, and took a deep breath. This was it, there was no going back after. He pushed down as he dragged the knife up his wrist. His arm stung, but he relished the pain. He brought the dagger up again, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He made a few more cuts, then, satisfied for the time being, used his wand to heal the cuts, leaving thin scars along his left wrist. The raven-haired boy took a deep breath, made sure his wrist was covered, and walked out of the bathroom.

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Hermione walked to the Great Hall, accompanied by Ginny and Luna, who were deep in conversation. Hermione payed them no attention, as she was thinking of the previous night's events. It was all so strange. Draco finding him, the panic in his voice when he ran into the hospital. She had thought there were tears in her eyes, but was unsure. Then the hand-holding, the worry, the fact that he knew about the fight. And he stayed, when even she didn't.

Hermione thought and thought, searching for some conclusion to the strange night. She came to multiple ends, none making much sense. First, she had thought they had been dueling, and something had happened triggering the attack. But she dismissed the thought. They had hardly spoken to each other all year, let alone break out in a fight.

Her next idea, was that they were dating, but that made no sense. Harry was straight, and even if he wasn't, he wouldn't date Malfoy. She laughed at herself for even considering it.

Hermione's next guess, was that they were friends, but that didn't make sense either. As she had pointed out before, they hardly spoke.

Hermione, for the first time in a while, didn't have an answer. She was stumped, befuddled, baffled. She hadn't even realized that they were at the Gryffindor table until Ginny was pulling her down to sit, waving goodbye to Luna.

Ron, on the other hand, didn't even give a second thought about Malfoy, he was worried sick for Harry. He decided to skip breakfast and go visit him in the hospital wing, and at least try to talk to him.

When he got there, however, Harry was gone. "Where is he?" Ron said, pointing a the bed he had been in.

Madame Pomfrey looked at him. "He left about an hour ago."

"Oh," was all Ron said before turning around, and walking to the Great Hall, hoping Harry would be there. On the way, he saw Malfoy, and called out. Malfoy turned around as Ron jogged toward him.

"Have you seen Harry?" they said at the same time, which spooked Ron a bit.

"Why are you looking for him?" Draco asked, glaring at the ginger.

"I could ask you the same thing, Malfoy."

"Well I've been looking for since he ran out of the bloody hospital."

"Wait, he ran out?"

"Of course not," he lied easily. "It was an exaggeration." Draco rolled his eyes, and looked back at the boy. Just behind the Weasel, he saw Harry walking up to them. "Harry! I've been looking all over for you," Draco said, maneuvering around the ginger and pulling Harry into a hug.

"Draco," Harry whispered, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest, "Ron's right behind us." Draco quickly let go, clearing his throat a bit. "I'm fine," he said, then looked at Ron, scowling. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, first off, I was looking for you to make sure you were okay. Second, did you and Malfoy just hug? And third," he turned to face Malfoy, "you called him Harry."

"First of all, why are you looking for me? You guys don't get to talk after you betrayed me like that. And Ron, are you off you rocker! Malfoy and I didn't hug, and he definitely didn't call me Harry," the boy lied. Ron looked confused. Was he really imagining things now?

"Oh. Wait, what do you mean betrayed you? Are you still on about our fight? Harry, that was a week ago, can you just let it go?" Harry and Draco both glared at Ron.

"No Ron, I'm not talking about the fight. I got over that days ago. I'm talking about what you and Hermione told Madame Pomfrey. What happened to 'Don't worry Harry, we won't tell anyone.' because last time I checked, Madame Pomfrey was included in 'anyone.'"

"How do you even know it was us who told her?"

"You guys were the only people I told. I didn't even tell you, actually. Hermione did," Harry said. Ron was at a loss for words. "Bye Ron, we'll be going now."

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Ron walked up to Hermione. "Hermione," he said, causing her look look up at him from her breakfast.

"What, Ronald?" She glared at him.

"We really screwed up last night. You should have seen Harry a couple minutes ago, I thought he was going to kill me. Oh, and, is it possible I could be imagining things?"

"What do you mean we screwed up? How? And why do you think your imagining things?"

"Well Harry's mad at us because we told Madame Pomfrey about...you know. And I apparently imagined Malfoy calling Harry Harry, and them hugging. Oh, and something about Harry running out of the hospital wing."

"Ron, I think you've gone insane. Malfoy and Harry hugging, seriously?!" Neville said. Dean and Seamus shared a look.

"So I did imagine it then?"

"Well obviously, Ronald. Now go away, I'm still mad at you." Ron rolled his eyes and walked out of the Great Hall, Dean and Seamus following quickly behind.

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