First of all, Thanks a lot for actually reading this! I never imagined anyone would ever want to read this story.

Second, I've typed down almost half of the story (which isn't very long, a few chapters), but I know what I want to do with the rest of it. So rest assured. I will not leave this fic unfinished. (Unless something really unexpected happens)

That's enough for now!

Disclaimer: Do I really have to say this every time? Fine, they're not mine.


Chapter 1

("You're not doing it?"

"No. No I'm not.")


I'm dying.

Harry's blood froze, his body forgot how to breath and blink. It seemed like everything stopped living for a second or two. Harry couldn't make a sound. And even if he could, what would he say? What could he say when all he could he think of was 'What'? so he said it. In a shaky voice. Barely above a whisper.

"Wha-What?" Malfoy smirked. 'Ha, that sneaky bastard. I knew it. He's just messing with my head.' Harry thought, or rather hoped. But the smirk plastered on his lips weren't the same. His face wasn't the same. Draco Malfoy always stared in you eyes with a smug smirk on his lips.

But now? Now he wasn't even looking at Harry. The half smirk plastered on his bloodied lips seemed more directed at himself than Harry. Smirking at the irony of something that Harry was having problem seeing or understanding. He blinked slowly. Long blond eyelashes distracting Harry's focus on his grey and eyes. Those eyes used to be sharper and more daring, always glinting silver with half-evil ideas and pranks. Not this tired. Never this tired. Seconds passed before he looked up again at him. Staring straight in his eyes.

"Yeah, Potter. You don't have to destroy all villains. Sometimes, they die themselves." He said silently and simply walked away. And Harry didn't stop him. He couldn't move a single muscle. He just watched as the swaying figure of his rival, his enemy left.

I'm dying.

So, he was dying. Only if he wasn't making fun of Harry again. What then? Why should he care? One less death eater on these grounds.

Harry couldn't help but grimace at the thought. He shouldn't care a bit. Then why was an invisible hand clenching his throat? Why did he care? He hates me. I hate him. End of story.

But Draco's face kept flashing in front of his eyes. Coughing, looking at the ground, silent, bleeding. He hadn't said a word for months and the first time he had, Harry wished so badly he hadn't.

I'm dying.

Hours later, Neville had found him standing there staring blankly at the end of the corridor. He had taken him to their dorms and helped him to bed shifting uncomfortably on his feet and had left, leaving him alone.

Through the night Harry managed to understand Malfoy's words and moved on from a question to another. From What to Why.

He didn't see him at the great hall the next morning. He himself had no interest in eating but was hoping that he would come. He needed to talk to him. he needed more answers. But he wasn't there. Harry checked everywhere. The library, the infirmary, potions class, green houses, he spent a good hour or two under his invisibility cloak wandering around the dungeons. Even the Room of Requirements was empty.

It was after noon that he remembered he had a bloody map that showed every one. He wanted to strangle himself for his stupidity. He nearly flew to his dorms and opened the map in such hurry it almost got teared in two pieces. He looked every where and didn't spot a dot named Draco Malfoy. He was on the verge of throwing himself out of the window when he saw it.

The Girls Bathroom. Single dot.

That seemed like a place Malfoy would go to be away of everyone else and have some time alone. 'Or maybe throw up some more blood' Harry thought with a grimace. He grabbed his cloak again and ran outside the common room. He had to stop and take a few deep breaths before getting in the bathroom.

There he was. Sitting on the dirty ground with those expensive clothes and leaning on the wall. Myrtle was floating around him. "… a big place! We can share it! Don't be…" 'What in the burning hells?"

"Malfoy" he called. His eyes shot open. He stared at him for a few seconds and closed his eyes again.

"What do you want, Potter?" he sounded exhausted. Like he hadn't had an ounce of sleep last night.

"I wanna talk."

"Well, clearly I don't. Why else would I be here?" whatever disease he had, it certainly hadn't changed his way with words. Myrtle wasn't so happy with Harry for being there and ignoring her completely. She floated away and kept up her reputation, though Harry couldn't care any less. He stood there for a few minutes and when he was assured he's not going to get an invitation, he stepped forward and slid down beside him on the ground.

"About last night…" He started. No reaction. But what else could he expect really? "First of all, I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have said those things." The blond snorted at his words. "And I'm not saying apologizing because of what you told me." That got a reaction. He opened his eyes and looked forward, where Myrtle had disappeared some time ago.

"And secondly, what is really happening? I need answers so please give me some." Malfoy breathed heavily. "I don't know what you're seeking Potter. I'm dying. That's all." He said it like it didn't mean anything. Like he was talking about a potions essay that was due tomorrow and he had finished writing it two weeks ago.

"Why? I mean have you talked to someone professional about it? Madam Pomfrey maybe? Or I don't know someone who knows about it?" he asked with a tone of plea. Malfoy rolled his eyes and shook his head, puffing some air out which turned into a single cough.

"There must be a way, Malfoy! Surely there is a healer that can fix you, fix … this." He referred to the cough.

"There is no way, Potter."

"I refuse to believe that. There must be a way, there has to be. How can you give up so easily? So what? You're going to die? Just like that?" he was frustrated and was frustrating the blond.

"Yes, actually. Just like that." His tone was getting irritated and something else Harry couldn't name.

"No! How can you do this? Is it so hard to fight? Come on Mal-" He was cut off by his rival.

"You don't get it Potter." His voice was tired. Tired of fighting with Harry and maybe fighting at all. "I should die. The way father died. The way mother will soon. I have to die." He turned to look at Harry straight in the eyes and continued with a sterner voice than before. "There's nothing you can do about it so please do me a favor and stay away from me." With that he stood up and walked out of the door, leaving Harry alone again.

Harry sat there for hours, frozen. Thinking about Malfoy's words and trying to understand. When he finally got out of the bathroom it was dinner time. Hermione and Ron were worried sick. He said he had decided to take a walk around the Forest and had lost count of time. Neither believed him but both of them decided to let him get away with it, for then at least.

After their last encounter Harry made up his mind and stayed away form Draco. But that didn't stop him from asking Hermione about all diseases that are incurable even in the wizarding world. For the first few days, she would patiently answer him or recommend him books on healing and other stuff. But as time passed she got more and more suspicious.

On the fifteenth day of Harry's abrupt interest and obsession with incurable diseases, she finally couldn't keep it any longer. "Okay, I've had enough. Speak. Now." She demanded.

Harry looked at her with shock. He tried to think of an excuse while he was opening his mouth just before she spoke again. "And don't you dare lie to me, Harry James Potter." She demanded again, sounding a lot like Molly Weasley.

Harry thought about it. He definitely couldn't lie to her. On second thoughts, why would he? If there was anyone who knew how to help, it was Hermione. So he took a deep breath and steeled himself for being told off for not telling her any sooner.

Half an hour later found the two Gryffindors in the common hall. One of them looking more shocked than the other. "And he didn't tell you what was actually wrong with him?" she asked. Trying to stay all business, but her voice was still wavering a bit. "No, just that he had to die." Harry said, still puzzled with his choice of words. Then it hit him. he paled instantly and started to shiver.

"What- what if?" he mumbled. 'No, No he wouldn't' Harry shook his head to get rid of the thought. But it was possible. "What if he what, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry felt a shiver run through his body.

"What if he's going to kill himself?" he whispered with panic. He looked at her with fear and was relieved to see the disappointed look on his best friend's face. 'That means she's realized something that I haven't. Thank god.'

"No, Harry. I highly doubt that being the case. Why would he cough blood and talk about his parents' death then?" she reasoned with him in the same tone one would talk to a toddler. But she had a point and that was enough for Harry. "However, it is obvious he has lost the fight within himself and has already given up, which suggests him being depressed." She said, voicing his thoughts.

"Then what is happening?" he asked as he ran his hands through his already messy hair hopelessly. She looked at him sympathetically before she stood up and held her chin up. "I don't know, yet. But I will figure it out." She promised to him and herself. And marched away with determination Harry hadn't seen in her eyes after the war.

"Where are you going?" he called after her. She didn't even slow down to answer him. "The Library of course." She said matter of factly. Harry smiled at his retreating friend. Her hair swinging to left and right with her each step. She would find a solution to this problem.

But she didn't. After two weeks of immense research she had not yet found a disease sharing all the signs that Malfoy had and being known as incurable at the same time. Harry felt terrible for not knowing what's going on. But Hermione was worse. She seemed… crestfallen. "I don't get it. I have read every single book about diseases in any form. But there's nothing about it. None of those who had the same symptoms as Malfoy were incurable." She said with annoyance. Ron patted her back as he tried to comfort her.

Four days after Harry told Hermione, they decided to tell Ron. At first he had been furious and ignorant. But the second Harry told him that he was dying, he had paled as well and had not once interrupted them or their research.

Knowing about Lucius didn't help much either. No one knew what has been his main problem or his actual cause of death. It had been months since anyone had seen Narcissa Malfoy, let alone know about her health conditions. The Trio were completely and literally helpless. They lacked information and there was no way of gaining them… unless…

Back to Malfoy. He was the only one who knew more.

But once again, as if he knew that Harry was looking for him, Malfoy had vanished into thin air. How he could mess with the raven haired boy without even knowing he was doing so, was beyond Harry's understanding. The map wasn't helpful either. Honestly, what was the point of having a map that shows everyone's place in the school but never the person that was needed to be found?

It was a Saturday afternoon and he could be anywhere. But him being Malfoy, Harry reasoned, he would probably be somewhere no one else would be. Some where like the girls' bathroom, which was empty according to the map, some where like the Room of Requirements, which Harry had checked before. Harry huffed, scowling and trying not to give up.

Where else would he go himself to stay away of everyone else? He closed his eyes and focused on everyone else being too overwhelming, Hermione and Ron asking him repeatedly if he's okay with worried and pitying looks on their faces, some people running to him and asking about the war, people thanking him for being the hero he was… 'Where would I run?'

Of-fucking-course. He opened his eyes, knowing where to look. He ran towards the nearest staircase to him, not wasting another second for finding his ex-enemy.

The Forbidden Forest.

The Forest was darker inside, which gave the false impression that it was almost sundown, though, that wasn't anything new. He turned to the deeper side of the woods and walked towards it. Last time he had been there he had died. Such a lovely memory to recall. But now, being there, standing there, it lifted something off his heart he didn't know was there before.

In his dreams everything felt so close and near him. always reminding him of his death. He had never felt the same after that incident, never had felt that rush of adrenaline in his blood, never felt really alive. But actually being in the damn place reminded him of something he had been forgetting so often.

That it was over. Just part of his past.

Harry was so caught up in his memories and feelings he almost didn't recognize a very familiar platinum blond hair behind a tree a few feet away.

He neared him soundlessly. He was sitting on the muddy ground. 'That's what it took him to let his robes get dirty, then.' He thought and regretted it immediately. Every time he thought of Malfoy's situation, he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, air would be thicker to get in and out of his lungs.

Draco was hugging his knees and resting his head on them. 'He's always sitting down or leaning on something… Is it because of the illness? Has it made him so weak?' An invisible hand grabbed his throat from the thought and squeezed it hard.

"Malfoy." Why was his voice shaking? Draco raised his head to meet him in the eyes. His eyes were red and shinier than ever. Was he crying? Was he going to? "What do you want from me Potter?" he rasped out. Harry wondered if their encounters were the only times he actually spoke. He opened his mouth to talk, maybe he could persuade him to tell him what the illness was. But he beat him to the words.

"There is nothing you can fix about me. Go find someone else to save. Go find someone you can save." He said as he stood up. Harry didn't show that he had noticed how tight he had grabbed the little branch beside him to do so.

"Look, Malfoy. I'm not asking for much. I just need to know what disease it is. Maybe there hasn't been enough research done on it. There might be a cure after all. Just tell me what it is." He asked softly, ignoring his last sentences. The blond shook his head in disappointment.

"And what did you mean by those words? You have to die? How do you know that you mother will die too?" he persisted on getting the answers he seeked.

"You don't get it Potter. You don't understa-" the second he said those words Harry's blood boiled. He couldn't take this shit anymore.

"You keep on saying that every bloody single time I come to you. You tell me that I don't understand and I don't get it. I'm bloody pissed of you telling me I don't get it." His voice was loud enough to echo back to him in the woods. What he couldn't understand was the shaky and sad tone it had. His eyes were burning, so was his throat. All the time he was shouting at the boy he looked at him with a sad expression.

His silver eyes, which were now tearful, glanced away. His lips started trembling again as he swallowed something down, hard. "That's because you don't." at least his voice was shaking as well as Harry's. All the anger inside him melt away when he saw the boy in front him. he seemed so lost and he suddenly wanted nothing but to hug the little boy standing there. He stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

"Then tell me. Let me understand. Please, Draco. Please tell me." He begged him. His mind vaguely warning him that he had just called the blond by his first name. But that was the thing to break his will to stay quiet after all.

He closed his eyes as if the sadness and pain was too much. His head fell down. Harry didn't move a single muscle nor did he make a single sound. He was afraid it would change the other boy's mind.

"It's not a disease that's doing this. It's a curse someone put on me-" He paused and winced at a thought. Harry would do almost do anything to know what it was but still kept silent, giving him time to spill the truth. "-a curse he put on me, and my family."

He

A muscle in Harry's neck jumped painfully before his mind could comprehend Draco's words. Searching Draco's eyes, Harry couldn't find the weakness he thought he had seen there earlier. Just sadness. And defeat. And loneliness.

"Wha-What? How? Why?" he couldn't find a single reason for Riddle to curse three people before his death. He took another breath and looked at the taller boy in front of him. "Start from the beginning." He demanded, as softly as possible in his panicking state.

"When he brought your body back to the school, He hugged me. At first I thought he's trying to be nice or something, not that he was really capable of being so. But after that, the second he died, something burnt on my arm and these words carved out." He said before pulling up his right sleeve. Harry gasped at the view.

There on his pale arm, were words written and scarred. They sickly reminded Harry of his own scars on his hand. 'I must not tell lies'. Though, the ones on Draco's arm were longer and deeper. And as he read the words, a cold shiver down his spine made him realize.

And darker. Very darker.

Your parents have it as well

Do it or you'll die

All of you

One by one

Harry was shaking involuntarily. 'When did it get so cold?' "Do what?" he finally managed to get out of his dry mouth. The next words that reached his ears made it even harder to breath.

"Bring him back."

"How? Is it even possible?" 'No, please no. Not again. I can't handle him one more time.' He was so badly hoping this was all a sick joke. He looked up at the blond, desperately waiting for him to smirk and laugh at him for being so dense and humiliate him for the rest of his life for his stupidity. But the grimace in the other boy's face said otherwise.

"There is a very unknown spell, it requires very special circumstances, a big amount of sacrifice, and ancient dark spells. Unknown to most because there aren't many families left old enough to have it passed down to them." He sighed disappointedly. "and that's what I get for being a pureblood. A curse on my whole family threatening me to bring him back or die miserably."

He was bringing him back then. After all shit he had to go through to kill the mad bastard, he would just return and kill more innocents, just like that.

But… Lucius was dead. Wasn't he? So…?

"Lucius Malfoy is dead." He stated the obvious. "You said you're dying… wait…" it hit him too late. "You're not doing it?" that was confusing. Why wouldn't he?

Draco looked at him sadly. A bitter smile on his lips. "No." He was smiling at Harry's stupidity for not realizing till then. "No, I'm not." He looked at the trees behind Harry, quite proud of something Harry didn't know. "and after some time, the spell won't work, ever again. It's possible to be performed for only a limited amount of time after death."

It confused Harry even more. "But why?" Draco looked at him disappointedly. "That's how the spell works, Potter." He said with a sigh. He sounded oddly like his godfather when Harry couldn't answer a simple potions question. When he wasn't trying to humiliate Harry. He shook his head.

"I meant, why aren't you doing it? He's going to kill you." Harry himself didn't know why was he trying to convince him to bring the mad killer back from dead. Draco's face was as puzzled as his thoughts. "What, Potter? Miss the Dark Lord so much?" he took another breath and steadied himself on his feet. "Anyway. Point is, he's not coming back."

Harry started thinking about every single encounter he had had with the blond. He had kept a distance from almost everyone. Even his close friends. He had been silent and not said a word in reply to all the remarks that had been send his way. Harry understood now.

He was staying alive for his death.

Harry was too deep in thought that he almost didn't catch his ex-rival's next words. "Do something for me Potter will you? Don't tell anyone about this, please." Harry was sure he had imagined the last word. He looked at him with wonder.

Harry looked at the boy in front of him. Anyone who saw him could see his straight back and broad shoulders and held up chin. Maybe if it was a few months ago, Harry would too. But now, after seeing him so vulnerable and exposed not more than few minutes ago, he didn't fall for the pretence. Now Harry could see more in the blond than he did before. His tensed jaw, his too stiff posture. They were obvious now that he had noticed them. How hadn't he seen them before? All the signs screamed one thing.

Draco Malfoy didn't want to die.


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