Author's Note: Hello everyone! This piece is set during 7th year, the war having been fought the summer before. DH is the only disregarded book, all others still stand. Inspiration comes from various places, but the main source is also the source for the song lyrics, "When I Go Down" by Relient K. Updates for this will come when they can; I do have a life unfortunately. With that being said, I'm looking for someone who would like to beta read for me. I've never had one before, but I know I need one, especially if I expect to get better. Someone who can help with grammar/spelling but also some plot things here and there. If you're interested, PM me. So, without further ado, I give you chapter 1!

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

I'll tell you flat out

It hurts so much to think of this

So from my thoughts I will exclude

The very thing that

I hate more than everything is

The way I'm powerless

To dictate my own moods


His stomach lurched as he cast his gaze at the green-tinged monsters standing next to him. His hands were shaking.

A steady rhythm was the backdrop of a conversation spoken in a far off place, but the words, they sounded foreign.

Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

Exhale.

The inhale was barely audible.

The floating shape above held his gaze. It was disgusting.

He finally gained control of his trembling hands, about to use the newfound control to point his wand at anything, anyone but the person in front of him when the blast of the doors opening behind him froze everything.

Then, fast forward, audio coming in loud and clear.

"Severus . . ."

The rest of his body began responding. His fingers fisted. His heart pounded faster.

Thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump.

"Severus . . . please . . ."

One thought had released him from paralysis, 'He's going to die.'

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green.

And just like that, his world froze again.

Draco unclenched and clenched his hands as he sat up and pushed the image from his head. Small incisions brought blood to the surface on both palms. He didn't care. Tossing his legs over the edge of his bed, he pushed himself forward, striding to the bathroom. Placing both palms on the edge of the sink and leaning down to face the floor, he glanced upwards at his reflection. His stomach rolled. To the toilet.

Thank merlin for quidditch reflexes.

He flushed. The cool water he rinsed his mouth with didn't stay down for long, as he tried once again to meet his reflection.

'This is getting me no where.'

He undressed and stepped in the shower, wishing to wash the memory from his conscience, but with no such luck. The pounding water only served to increase Draco's developing headache. He turned the water off and dressed.

Striding back towards his bed, he glanced at the clock: 3:47AM. Like clockwork. He hadn't gotten more than 3 hours of sleep a night for the past month, and it was all owing to these nightmares. Or maybe memories would be a more appropriate term. He slammed his fist against the wall as a guttural roar escaped his clenched teeth. Not two seconds later, a throaty chuckle replaced the roar.

'Good thing I don't have dorm mates, or I'd have been dead by now.'

The thought came before he even had a chance to censor it. He blinked; his world remained frozen. He hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral or since then, so of course an off-handed comment wouldn't make him breakdown. Inhaling deeply, Draco brought his hands to his face and rubbed intensely as he sat back down on his four-poster. He glanced at the clock again: 3:52AM.

He had just experienced five different emotions in the past five minutes, and he felt crazy.

Giving up on sleep, he threw on the first shirt he could find and entered the common room in one fluid motion. The fire had died long ago and there were still subtle sparks burning as he spoke a spell, causing the orange embers to burst to life; the newborn flames swallowed the old ashes as they devoured everything in the fireplace. How Draco wished for that kind of destruction.

He crouched there, on the hearth, just staring into the destructive glow but not focusing on anything, mesmerized by the radiance of obliteration and existence. Only fire could juxtapose life and death so ultimately. How appropriate. Only when a small morning light seeped in through the windows did Draco move, and that was only to lean against the couch.

His thoughts were swirling about him, making it hard to focus on any one thing. He thought of everything his brain could wrap around: homework, his classmates, himself, the room he was sitting in, the person just two walls away. His thoughts halted there.

'How does she see me now?'

His muscles tensed. He hadn't even thought about how she must feel having to be in the same confines as a murd… failed murderer. His stomach lurched again, and he waited for the feeling to pass before glancing away from the fire, eyes meeting her door. It was cracked slightly, a small sliver of her wooden floor reflecting the morning light.

Moving swiftly and quietly towards the door, he slowly opened it just enough to poke in his head. She was sleeping soundly in her four-poster, covered by a large blue comforter and curled up on her side. His headache twinged; the suddenness of the sensation caused him to turn quickly away, accidentally bringing the door with him. He froze, hoping that the thump of the door hadn't disturbed her. No such luck.

"Wh-What was that?"

He cringed, "Sorry, I slammed my door."

At the sound of his voice, she tensed. His head pounded again as he walked back to his room and closed the door. There was his answer.

After dressing properly, he ventured to the bathroom once again. Placing his palms on the sink as before, he slowly lifted his head to face his reflection. Another roll, but no other sensation. Progress. He fixed his face into indifference and marched into the common room only to find his previous sanctuary occupied. Her position was a mirror of his previous stance, and her thoughts were tangible in the air, if only they weren't a foreign language.

He stood there, observing her. An odd feeling crept up into him. Pity. Shaking his head, he did the only thing he could think of to get rid of the feeling: punched the wall. At the sound of the thud and hiss of pain, she turned around and saw Draco cupping his fist and wincing as he bent his fingers.

"You know, punching walls isn't exactly beneficial to your health."

Remembering his company, he immediately sneered and bit back the first thought that struck him, "Well neither is moping around about your dead old man."

'Wrong thing to say.' His stomach immediately leapt and he lunged for the rubbish bin, gagging violently as he fell to his knees. A slightly pained expression fixed on his features; he wiped his mouth, and leaned back against the wall, his head hitting it, eliciting another hiss of pain. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resolving to stare into space for several moments.

She stood, watching the whole episode, stunned. Unsure of whether to scream out in indignation or comfort the obviously troubled man in front of her, the only reaction she could muster was retreating a couple steps. The sofa collided with her knees, causing her to lose her balance momentarily and cry out in surprise.

Her peep brought him out of his stupor.

In a flash, he was up on his feet, taking two large steps to stop right in front of her. His eyes, though trying to cloud over with menace, still held a drop of desolation as he gazed at her.

"You keep your mouth shut, and I'll do the same."

A slight nod of her head sent him to his room. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he slammed the door and crumpled against it, once again pulling his knees to his body. He remained that way for some minutes, crouched and unfocused. Only one thought was clear to him: he had just lost it in front of the one person for which he wanted to maintain some semblance of control.

His bed was the second retreat he found. Grabbing his pillow, he proceeded to let out a throaty yell of frustration, desperation, and anger into it, the sound of which ripped through his lungs, leaving him gasping for several seconds. Draco's teeth gritted as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. Taking several more deep breaths, he ventured into the common room to find the hearth unoccupied (to his relief).

'Saturdays are good,' he thought to himself as he planted himself back in front of the fire, intending to spend the rest of his day in thought and quiet. Draco managed to stay awake for only one hour before his eyelids grew heavy and his head lolled back against the sofa cushions.

Everywhere he looked, he saw green, forcing him to back up into the corner directly behind him. Observing his surroundings, he noticed a four-poster that looked rather familiar, covered in a comforter. Other than that, the room was bare except for a painting adorned centrally on the largest wall: the dark mark. The atmosphere was suffocating and the air felt recycled, almost dirty.

Trying to rid the world of its greenish tint, Draco shook his head violently and jammed his hands towards his eyes, rubbing vigorously, however, the color stayed, and now Draco was seeing stars. Stepping cautiously away from his corner, his feet carried him to the bed in the center of the room. The covers looked disheveled and almost… then, something moved underneath them. Draco froze, his muscles tensing expecting to have to flee at any moment. The sound that met his ears almost floored him.

"Hello?"

Granger's throaty groan made his stomach drop and his hair raise on end. Her form wiggled for a couple seconds and then stopped with a heavy sigh. Approaching the bed, he carefully reached his hand forward and pulled the covers back. He had to fight his gag reflex.

Her hair was matted and greasy, stuck to her forehead with sweat and grit. Her arms and legs were bound magically to the posts and bruises were visible on almost every inch of her body. Several cuts were fresh, the most gruesome of which looked as if someone had scraped their nails across her face. Staggering back a step, his eyes met hers and immediately saw the simultaneous relief and fear flood through her. She coughed, attempting to sit up then turned towards Draco.

"Come back for more I suppose?" she winced, as her eyes closed from pain.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." His breathing quickened and he glanced around quickly, looking for his wand so he could help her, heal her, something.

"Oh, don't make me la-au-au-augh. I saw the glimmer of enjoyment in your eyes the last time around. Ei-ei-ei.." her coughing became chronic, causing her to pause to catch her breath. Draco just stood there, breathless, not believing her accusations.

"Either quit acting or get to it. I might be your prisoner, but I still have a timetable. I'm scheduled to stare at the wall in about 30 minutes.

He blinked. "What the hell are you talking about? We've got to get you out of here…" He trailed off as he approached her, reaching for his wand that sat on the bed next to her. Her reaction was instant: the mere brush of his arm against hers sent her hyperventilating.

"All bark and no bite, I see. Stop squirming, I'm trying to help," he bit out as he undid her magical bindings and grabbed both wrists to keep her from running.

"Let go of me!" Her screaming was frantic and her heart rate through the roof. Draco did the only thing he could think of to calm her down, he hugged her.

Pulling her into his arms at first caused her to struggle more, but gradually her movements lessened until she was sitting limp while he spoke softly to her, "I have no idea what's going on, but I'm here to help. Now, if you expect us to get out of here before we're discovered, you're going to have to cooperate and trust me." He pulled back to examine her response; her eyes were watering, but she seemed calmer than before.

Sighing deeply, she looked back at him, "Okay, I beli-ie-ie-ie…." It happened so suddenly. Her coughing wouldn't stop. Draco held her, trying to think of something, anything that could stop the coughing, stop the blood, stop the agony.

The coughing did come to an end, but now her breaths were shallow and rare; he was losing her.

Shaking her, slapping her, doing anything he could to keep her conscious, he yelled, "You can't die on me Granger, you've survived too much for that. Now stop fooling around and get living!"

His words had an effect on her.

Slowly, she turned her face to his, wearing a small, unnatural smile, and breathed, "It's your entire fault."

He blinked and it was Dumbledore, lying in his arms, coughing up blood, his face fixed with that same eerie expression. Draco shot away from him and staggered backwards into his original corner. Dumbledore was now standing, holding his wand, poised at Draco. He gulped, and then… a flash of green.

Draco rolled over and gasped for air, as if he'd been underwater for an hour, and the last thing he saw before blacking out was a pair of brown eyes.

Outstanding?

Acceptable?

Troll?

Let me know with a review!