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“You can’t be serious!”
Draco makes for the cupboard next, the bag in his hand and a scowl on his face.
Harry hastens after him, leaning against the door and trying to catch his eyes.
“I assure you I am. Get out of my way.” Draco pushes against him, tries to move him and reach his clothes, but Harry stands his ground. He will fix this.
All it took was one mindless comment, one idle thought for Draco to look at him like he is the dirt under his shoes. He never thought Draco could look so hurt, betrayed and furious, resigned - emotions exploding all over his face.
To think it started over a bet. Why did Harry say that? He has forgotten they begun like this, ignored it, and now he ruined everything. Because he was stupid and careless and should have told Draco sooner.
Draco stops shoving at him, curses under his breath and turns around, striding through their bedroom and grabbing things in passing, throwing them into his bag blindly.
Harry follows him, not knowing what to do but unable to just watch, and almost runs into him when Draco suddenly stops.
He holds a picture of them, flying high in the air, too distracted flirting to notice the snitch right next to them. It’s one of Draco’s favourites. For one moment, Harry thinks Draco might stop, might hear him out, listen to reason, and hope swells in him.
Draco throws it against the wall, watches it break in a sickening noise and fall onto the floor.
“Come on, love-”
Draco spins around, glaring at him, tears brimming in his eyes, face torn into a horrible grimace. It’s the first time Draco looked at him since he stiffly got up from the couch, starting to pack his things.
“Don’t call me that, don’t ever talk to me again. I trusted you, loved you! It was all just a game for you, wasn’t it? I should have known, why else would The Golden Boy even talk to the disgraced Death-Eater?”
Harry flinches, backing away in hurt. Draco uses that moment, shoves past him and out of the door, out of the house without looking back.
Harry can only watch, swearing to get him back.