reparo ( ? )

[ TRIGGERING CHAPTER ]

Saturday. The middle of the weekend. The 'good' day. Well, in Harry's case, there was never a truly good day. There were bad days, there were really bad days, and there were decent days. Today was a bad day, and Harry found himself with cravings that he hadn't felt in a long time.

He stood in the Gryffindor boy's lavatory, staring back at his reflection with a frown on his face. He was Harry Potter. He was known as such a great boy who'd been responsible for the downfall of Voldemort, twice; and he felt like the most unimportant and useless person in the world. He stared down at the sink, and back up at his reflection. He hated what he saw. He looked so much like his father, but he had his mother's eyes. Yet another two people who had died for him. He looked down at his lips, still slightly plump from aggressively kissing Ginny before curfew took place, trying to rid the horrors from his mind.

He hated what he was doing. He hated kissing Ginny just for the brief moments without pain that came alongside them, but were instead replaced by pleasure. If Ron had found out what he was doing, he'd have surely punched his friend for using his sister like that. He let out a groan of frustration, and rammed his fist towards the mirror. It cracked, and his knuckles began to bleed. He didn't care though. He needed to intensify the pain, in hopes of one canceling the other out.

He picked up his wand, and pointed it at the mirror. One word, and the pain would intensify just the littlest bit more...

"Crucio." He murmured just as the door opened. He fell to the ground, writhing in his own misery as the mirror defected the curse and shot it at him.

"Harry!" That was Ron's voice. Why was Ron here? The ginger quickly undid the curse and heaved his friend into a sitting position.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? You're bleeding!" Ron exclaimed, taking Harry's injured hand into his own.

"I wanted it to stop." Harry cried, refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

"What? Wanted what to stop? Harry, that curse is illegal! Imagine if the Ministry knew you were using it... Why are you using it?" Ron asked, tone rushed as he fumbled for his wand, realizing he'd left it on his trunk back in the dormitory. "I thought you were feeling better, Harry. You, you're back with my sister, and I assumed you were okay. What's wrong, Harry? I'm your best friend. Talk to me!"

Harry felt feverish, and guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Ron." He cried, and collapsed, worn completely.

Ron stood, and heaved Harry onto his shoulders. He rushed from the restroom and lied Harry down on one of the plush couches in the Common Room. Then, he made his way up to the dorms and woke Neville, and grabbed his wand.

"Mmm, what do you want? It's early." Neville groaned, covering his face with a pillow.

"Neville, Harry's in trouble. C'mon, I need your help!" Ron exclaimed, pulling at Neville's duvet. Neville let out another groan in protest. "Harry's in trouble!"

The boy seemed to wake up more then and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He moved the duvet from his body and grabbed his own wand, following Ron down the stairs towards the Common Room. Harry was in a state of half-consciousness, and Ron grew more worried.

"What should we do? We can't go to McGonagall. She'd flip if she knew what he did." Ron asked, biting his lip nervously.

"I dunno, Ron. I just woke up. We shouldn't leave him here, though. It'd be cruddy to put him on display for everyone to see. We need to get him some place where he can heal and mend himself. Somewhere that no professor can interfere." Neville stated, obviously being the logical thinker here.

Ron thought long and hard, wracking his brain for the ideal place, and suddenly, it struck him.

"The Room of Requirement!" He exclaimed, and Neville frowned at him.

"Wasn't the Room of Requirement destroyed during the war?" He asked.

"Neville, is anything every truly destroyed at Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"True." And then the boys were carrying Harry through the portrait hole, not really caring if they were out of the Gryffindor Tower past curfew, and made their way to the seventh floor.

»»»

Once inside, the boys thought about what they really needed, and suddenly, a comfortable looking bed appeared. They set Harry down on it, and the boy let out a small groan at the cold sheets.

"Who knew the Boy Who Lived could be so weak." The boys froze and turned to find Draco Malfoy standing smugly against a wall, arms crossed and pajamas on.

"Malfoy, why're you here?" Ron snapped, baring his teeth at the blond boy threateningly.

"What? You mean neither of you two wished for me here? Hm, must've been Potter then." Malfoy smirked, and from the bed, Harry thrashed slightly against the duvet as if he were reaching for someone. Ron's eyes widened.

"Why would he want you?" The ginger asked, stepping in front of Harry to block him from the Slytherin's view.

"Subconsciously, I suppose." Draco smirked, and stepped past Ron, slipping beneath the duvet beside Potter. "Now, I suggest if you want me to heal him, you bloody leave us alone."

"How do you suppose you could possibly heal him?" Ron asked, and Neville shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

"I dunno, Weasley. Perhaps it's the blood on his knuckles, or the visible aftershock of a Cruciatus Curse." The blond stated, and pulled the dark haired boy closer into his side.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Weasley, bloody leave! To truly undo a pain inflicted curse, you have to apply comfort and security. You have to make them feel at peace." Draco said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"And you're suggesting that you can give my friend those things?" The ginger asked, grimacing and feeling his stomach lurch once Harry's arm slung itself across Draco's torso.

"I have for the past few months, haven't I?" Malfoy smirked at Ron's surprise. "Seriously? Potter didn't tell you about our exploits?"

"Not a word..." Ron trailed off, staring at his friend in a new light. "He's-"

"He's safe. Now, you two should get some more sleep. He'll be fine. I promise." Malfoy spoke softly, and Ron couldn't help but feel his skin crawl at the sight of the two looking so, so domestic.

"I can't believe I'm saying this Malfoy, but I'm trusting you. Do anything to my best friend, and I swear I'll have your head." The ginger threatened, and then made his leave, glancing back at Harry only once more.

"Oh, and Longbottom, please do invest in a larger pair of pajamas. Your appearance cannot be very well good for Harry's mental health, now can it?" Malfoy smirked, and Neville glanced down at his shirt that was perhaps a bit too small for him. He hurried after Ron then.

"What the hell are you doing to yourself, Potter?" Malfoy asked, staring down at the boy who'd finally fallen asleep. As they lied there together on the plush bed, surrounded by warm blankets, Draco couldn't help but admit that he himself had started to feel more at peace beside Harry, and Harry had visibly stopped shaking.

"You've gotta stop being such an idiot, Potter. You're gonna kill yourself one of these times, and we can't very well have that happen, now can we?"