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The sink was cold underneath Draco’s clammy, warm hands. He clutched it even harder, sobbing. His knees shake, and the temptation to sink to the grimy floor is almost a welcome one. Moaning Myrtle is a kind presence, even if she is a depressed ghost of a teenaged girl. The bathroom door creaks, and Malfoy turns to swipe at his eyes. With a well-placed glare and maybe a stinging hex, they’ll be out of the room to go do their business elsewhere.
As he turns, a glint off of glass catches eyes, and there’s Potter, standing in all of his Golden Saviour glory.
“What are you doing here Potter? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Draco spits, his angular face contorting with anger.
“Relax Malfoy. I just wanted to talk.” As he does, the Chosen One slowly creeps closer and closer, as if Draco were a unicorn. His eyes turn to Draco’s puffy face. “Oi, were you crying? It’s alright, I just wanted to know-” Draco had stepped back, his grey eyes glinting.
“Oh, you just wanted to know? Know what? Know that I broke? Know that I failed? Well, I am still here Potter. Don’t come- Don’t! Don’t come any closer, Potter, I’m warning you.” His hand twitched towards his wand, and Harry raised his hands.
“I just want to help you.” His green eyes drilled into Malfoy, shining with determination. He stepped closer once more.
“That’s it Potter. One step more and I will hex you.” His wand grasped tightly in white knuckles, Draco’s eyes burned with barely concealed fury. “What makes you think I need help? Do I look helpless?”
“Well…” His slate gray eyes widened.
“You think I do, don’t you? I am not helpless. I am not some… Mudblood quivering on the floor! I will not back down to you Potter.” His wand twitched.
“Cru-”
“SECTUMSEMPRA!” Harry’s voice boomed through the walls of the bathroom, his wand slashing across Malfoy’s chest.