When Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, there was no longer a place for him in the wizarding world. All had turned their backs to him, thinking him to be the next great 'dark lord'. The muggle world also held no welcoming arms for him. Harry Potter was, undoubtedly, alone in the world. He didn't know where he was, didn't care really. He was on a hill somewhere… or was he in a clearing in a forest… He wondered, briefly, how long it would take for him to die. The war was over, the world didn't need him anymore; nor, it seemed, did they want him. It was at this moment that he recalled a line from a movie that Dudley had watched once. Something about what people love more than a hero, is to see a hero fall, fail, die trying. It certainly seemed to apply here.
Someone did find him though, someone called his name. It wasn't Ron or Hermione, no; they had abandoned him long ago. He had probably scared them of with his oh-so-scary 'dark powers'. This person had blonde hair, and looked like something of an angel to Harry.
"Potter? Harry Potter? What are you doing out here?"
"Leave me alone Malfoy." Harry said tiredly.
"What ever for?"
"I just want to die, can't you let me die?" Harry questioned softly, having no energy or will left to argue with Draco Malfoy.
"Do you even know where you are?" Malfoy was getting closer. Harry wondered why he bothered.
"No." He replied flatly. He didn't know, and he didn't care. He just lay and wanted for death.
"I'm not letting you die so close to where I live Potter." His voice held none of what Harry was used to. It was more than unemotional, but less than kind. Harry made no reply when Draco picked him up, said nothing when he carried him away. Truthfully, he didn't care. Anywhere, anything, even death would be better than Harry's current situation. If the great Draco Malfoy wanted him, at least somebody did. Nobody wanted him, nobody cared. Except...maybe… one person who he thought never would.