"The day of the match, after we left the room," Draco whispered , "I was falling apart in the dorms - feeling sick at the idea of you dying at the hands of the Dark Lord. I felt terrible. But... but then it occurred to me that it would take a miracle for  either of us to walk out of the Manor alive and I...," he let out a bitter laugh, "I felt  better. And then I felt bad all over again for being relieved by the idea of my potential death," Harry’s heart clenched in his chest, but he tried to maintain a level expression - he wasn’t able to prevent his own tears from gathering in his eyes though, "It just... it would be so much  easier. And then I felt bad for presuming the worst - for giving up on you and I kind of spiralled from there for the rest of the night. Spent most of it crying," Harry couldn’t help the small, pained noise that escaped him.