<span style="font-style: italic">Because you cared for me. Because we kissed, we shagged, we slept together. Because you came down here to escape reality and you told me about your fucked up life and I told you about mine, and neither of us tried to argue against how much Voldemort had ruined in both of our lives.</span>For a moment it felt like an eternally long list of reasons why, but no matter how much these words filled his insides, phrasing them and thereby admitting them showed to be much harder than Harry had ever imagined it to be. Instead, Harry looked down the end of Draco's current wand, gradually lowering his own wand, almost in a gesture of exhaustion, as every<span style="font-style: italic">Potter</span>Draco sneered made his muscles tense as if he had been beaten.<br/>"I truly don't know," he exhaled, almost pitifully. He had spend days at Grimmauld wondering the same thing, without ever coming to a definitive answer, and he bit his bottom lip as he for the first time tried to form his abstract thought into a trying sentence. "But I know I did care - I<span style="font-style: italic">do</span>care - about you, wether you live or die, and ... I don't think you're very used to being cared about."