Harry leaned his head back against the bathroom wall and closed his eyes. The warm water of the shower sluiced over him and puddled around his feet. He had it turned on so high that it didn't even have time to drain away before more splashed down.
It didn't really matter, though, he thought, running a hand through his damp hair and staring hazily at the pale strands. He was never going to feel clean.
"Henry?"
That was Draco's voice. Harry sighed and reached up to turn the faucet off. His ears seemed to roar in the sudden quiet, and he tilted his head to the side and hit his forehead with his hand a few times, trying to get water out.
"Henry, I know you're in here. I could hear the shower running."
Harry stifled the temptation to snap that he hadn't said anything about not being here or that Draco was a genius, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Then he shuffled out of the shower and into the bathroom.
There were magical devices embedded in the walls that could dry his hair instantly and clothe him. Harry didn't usually use them because it felt like cheating, somehow. But now he thought he needed to, so he waved his hand vaguely in front of the abstract pattern of gold bricks, yelping a little as an overpowered Drying Charm focused on him.
"There you are."
Draco sounded as if he was right outside the door and probably considering using Alohomora on it. Harry scowled towards it as his hair drained of wetness and the clothes robed him in a loose weaving that felt weird, like he was in the center of a spider's web. "Don't you dare open that, Draco."
"You can't just scrub the Horcrux away."
"I wasn't trying to do that!" Harry said, even though he'd been kind of doing that.
He opened the door and found Draco standing on the other side. He immediately straightened up when he saw Harry, his eyes narrowing for a second before he shook his head and banished whatever had been running through his mind.
"Come on," he said, and held out his hand. "Let's go sit on your bed and talk."
Harry sighed and followed his brother, stifling the objection that being led around by the hand made him feel like he was about two years old. From the way his family was treating him since Andromeda's announcement that the Horcrux had spread all through his soul, maybe they thought of him that way.
(It was maybe better than the way Harry thought of himself, which was sick and aching, with the temptation to vomit whenever he remembered what his aunt had said).
Draco sat down on his bed, and Harry scrambled up to sit beside him. And then they just stayed there awkwardly, with Harry bowing his head and Draco staring at him.
"Right," Draco said. "Should I tell you why what you're thinking is stupid, or are you smart enough to figure it out on your own, Henry?"
Harry glared at him. "I'm thinking that I'm sick and disgusting and dirty."
"And you're an idiot. Can't forget that."
Draco was sneering the way he'd used to back during first year, when all they were was rivals in different Houses. Harry was almost grateful that they'd sort of traveled back in time to a simpler year. He folded his arms. "Tell me why I'm an idiot, oh brother mine."
"Yes, I am your brother. And you have parents, and an aunt and uncle and cousin, who aren't just going to abandon you."
"I never thought that."
"Yes, you sound so convincing."
Harry closed his eyes and slumped back against his pillow. Draco lay down beside him, shoulder pressed against his. It was unbearably close. Harry couldn't look at him as he spoke, though.
"What if I'm not really me? What if I'm him?"
"That's stupid."
"Such a clever argument, Draco, I'm really impressed."
"Then put it this way." Harry opened his eyes and turned his head when he heard how serious his brother's voice was. "You're you, the way you are now. You haven't had any violent changes in your behavior in the past few years—"
"Except the ones that come with finding out I'm a Malfoy," Harry muttered.
Draco ignored him, although the lines around his eyes tightened. "You haven't started talking strangely, or acting strangely. If you can't distinguish the Dark Lord from yourself, then what is yourself? Some mystical thing that you aren't? Don't worry about that, Henry. We're going to get it out of you."
"Aunt Andromeda said it was going to hurt."
Draco grabbed Harry's hand and held on so tightly that that hurt, too. "I'll be with you as far as I can. I don't know if Mother and Father and Aunt Andromeda will let me watch every part of the healing, but I'll tell them that I want to. I want to see what happens. I want to lend you my strength."
Harry blinked. "What does that mean?"
....
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