War is always the same. It is young men dying in the fullness of their promise.

Therefore, to know war is to know that there is still madness in the world."

Lyndon B. Johnson

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°~O~°

„You," said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Harry did not know who had been sent to verify. He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, and wait to be examined, but at the same time nothing, small comfort through it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching him, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan...

Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry's face, and felt his heart. He could hear the woman's fast breathing, her pounding of life against his ribs.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"

The whisper was barely audible, her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.

"Yes," he breathed back.

He felt the hand on his chest contract: her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up.

"He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers. *)

A couple of hours later it felt to Harry like all the events of this day had blurred into one big chaotic foggy cloud. He remembered the feeling of emptiness rather than joy when it was finally over, he remembered stumbling to his feet feeling absolutely drained. He remembered the shock on his friend's faces when he told them he had to leave, the surprise when they found out he was alive, the anguish in the faces of the Weasley family standing next to Fred, remembered people screaming and suddenly falling silent… And he remembered Narcissa Malfoy lying to Voldemort without so much as the faintest trace of fear, saving his life in the process.

Harry found his way back to the castle. Though he couldn't in good conscience call it that any more. It had been turned to rubble and ashes. A ruin against the grey skies. But it had been his home for so long, Harry couldn't think of it as anything else but a safe haven. The doors to the Great Hall - that had miraculously survived the attack - stood wide open revealing students, teachers, friends and families all looking utterly exhausted but happy and relieved this nightmare was over.

The Great Hall was bursting with life and that was a good feeling. Friends sitting together, telling stories, sharing memories of the past few hours, occasionally laughing. Students and teachers standing together like equals… But it wasn't this happiness that Harry was looking for. He wanted to see the other side, the darker side. The losses and the price they had been forced to pay today.

At the far end of the Great Hall where the teacher's normally sat at the dining table, a giant piece of cloth had been put up, separating this part of the hall from the rest of the room. Harry swallowed hard. He knew this was where the dead had been moved and the injured were treated. Fred and Remus and Tonks were there and they all deserved for him to pay his respects.

He knew that Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville were around somewhere. Surely they would have been willing to offer to go with him and support him but it was not what he needed right now. He needed a moment alone, a moment of peace and quiet to do what needed to be done.

He stepped through the wide curtain drawn. The room had been separated into two compartments once again. One side left for the dead, the other one for those who might soon be joining them. Once again Harry swallowed hard. The sound of soft, pained whimpers and the smell of blood and burned flesh was still overly present behind the curtain. He was sure somebody had put a spell on it - to keep the misery in here away from those who had been lucky enough to be alive and unharmed.

He had stretched out a hand, had steeled himself against the sight he was about to see, but he never made his way to see those who had died today. A voice somewhere behind him held him back. Cold, unforgiving but strong words uttered by someone whose voice was all too familiar to him. A voice he had heard once before today. The voice that had saved his life…

"You lied."

Harry whirled around. He had no trouble finding Narcissa Malfoy, the woman the voice belonged to. She was staring at him with cold eyes, her face hard like stone. Behind her her husband was standing, his face ashen, looking like he was about to fall over any second. His expression was just as hard as his wife's and his finger - hands on her shoulders - were digging into her skin like he was holding on for dear life.

It was only now that Harry realized Narcissa was kneeling on the ground cradling somebody in her lap. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine as the pale face framed by white-blonde hair came into focus. Narcissa had found her son and now Harry came to understand why she had accused him of lying. Draco, his face ashen, lay motionless in his mother's arms, eyes closed. Harry only managed a whisper.

"What… what happened?"

Madame Pomfrey seemed to have appeared out of nowhere but Harry realized she had probably arrived from another patient's bedside. He had just been so fixed on the sight in front of him that he had neither seen nor heard her approaching him. Her gaze was fixed on the Malfoy family but her words were low, only loud enough so that Harry would hear them.

"He was near the entrance to the Great Hall when there was a rumbling sound and part of the outer castle wall collapsed. He was buried underneath it. We managed to free him from the debris, but he was gravely injured. I tried but there's only so much I can do."

Harry understood immediately what her words implied. He choked back the giant lump that was forming in his throat. He had never liked Draco Malfoy. He would have gone as far as to say he hated him. Even now that Draco had not betrayed them to Voldemort while being held prisoner at Malfoy manner, Harry's feelings certainly hadn't changed. But he owed his life to Draco's mother and that had to be good for something… He swallowed hard, looking up at the Headnurse helplessly.

"How much time… left?"

"An hour, maybe two."

Harry nodded, feeling absolutely numb. He wasn't sure what he had expected but this was far worse than anything he could have imagined. Madame Pomfrey had spoken of a serious injury but a couple of hours, that was no time at all. There had been so much death today, so much loss and anguish and pain… He just wished for it all to stop and he wished for that awful feeling of responsibility to stop. After all he had told Draco's mother that he was alive…

"I want to see."

"No."

"I have to."

The words were uttered without thinking and Harry wasn't even sure why he was doing this. There was no need to punish himself, certainly not over somebody like Draco. Somebody who had always been hard on him, insulted him, hated him. On his best days Draco had been cowardly and easy to manipulate by his father, by Voldemort. Harry didn't want to think about the worst days… But it didn't change the fact that he never wanted something like this to happen to the other boy. After all that was why he had saved Draco's life twice today already.

Madame Pomfrey had given up on talking him out of it and had stepped closer to where Draco lay in his mother's lap, his body covered by a thin blanket, only revealing his face. Getting closer Draco looked even worse, his face a sickly grayish color and his breathing so faint, Harry could barely detect the rise and fall of the other boys' chest. Both Draco's parents were glaring at him but neither one of them said a word, when - with a flick of her wand - the Headnurse lifted the blanket.

Harry found himself feeling surprised. It didn't look so bad. There were fading scrapes and bruises on Draco's legs, the pale skin visible through the ruined clothes. But Harry detected no bleeding wounds, no broken bones. However when the blanket was lifted further a hiss escaped through his clenched teeth. Right between Draco's legs, a pool of dark red blood had formed and it seemed to steadily grow with every passing second.

Harry stumbled back and stared at the Headnurse who had gently lifted the blanket over the broken body yet again. She looked at him, gravity in her eyes and her face showing a hopelessness that made Harry's heart contract painfully. His voice was a hoarse whisper now.

"There must be something we can do…"

The nurse shook her head.

"I tried everything in my power. It's a natural wound, so magic can only do so much. I was able to repair the broken bones and skin but the rest of his injuries are too severe."

"No!"

Harry's voice sounded too loud in the silence of this crude sick bay and Madame Pomfrey stepped closer to him, blocking his view on Draco and his devastated parents, her face getting closer and her voice gentle but stern. But even now Harry wouldn't allow the words to sink in. So many people had died today, people who trusted in him. Narcissa Malfoy had trusted in him to tell the truth. She had trusted he knew that Draco was well and she had risked her own life and had saved his all in one when she had lied to Voldemort only to protect her own child and have a chance to see him again, be with him again… Harry couldn't help but feel guilty about it all. And he was just not willing to give up. Not yet.

"Harry. You have to listen. His inner organs are crushed. He's bleeding out…"

"But I told her he was safe! I told his mother he was safe and she saved my life in return… I… You need to find another way."

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TBC

°~O~°

*) taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

My first try at a multichapter Harry Potter fanfic.

I might add that English is not my native tongue.

And I have absolutely no idea how to go on from here.

I haven't decided where this story should go, so I would like your input!

Do you want Draco to get well again? Should Harry be helping him?

Please let me know what you are thinking.