Chapter 1 – Soliloquy

He watched the evil, cruel creature towering before him. It was too quiet for his liking– like he was watching a silent movie. But, no – he was starring in it. The creature approached him, tapping his staff of ultimate power upon his palm. Draco could feel the evil aura surrounding him, engulfing him in darkness and fear.

And then the pain. He remembered the pain, like a knife protruding his weak body. He remembered the torturous agony, the anguish of his helplessness…

He cried.

"Malfoy, you alright?" Harry walked through the door, his eyes transfixed on Draco's shivering state. "Are you cold?"

Draco whimpered, lying on his chest to ease the pain. His fingers were digging into the pillow, and there was cold sweat all over him. He looked up at Harry, his grey eyes still tear-filled.

Harry sat beside him and touched his neck.

"You're feverish, Malfoy."

"Ah… yeah." Draco stuttered, realizing how poorly he felt.

"I'll wipe you down." Harry got up and went into the bathroom in search of a towel. He decided the only one there didn't look clean enough, so he took off his outer shirt and then - his singlet. It was perfect – hardly sweaty or blood-stained, like his other clothes. He wet it thoroughly, then went over to Draco.

He lifted Draco's shirt, then wiped lightly upon Draco's back and up to his neck. Draco looked away, slightly embarrassed but secretly grateful. Harry then turned him over carefully and wiped his chest and forehead. He could not get over the deep sorrow painted over Draco's face.

"Potter?" Draco said suddenly, startling Harry.

"Yes?"

"Why are you being kind to me?"

"Why else?" Harry placed the wetted garment upon Draco's forehead. "Because you need help."

"I'm your enemy."

To this, Harry smiled.

"In this day of war and peril, little things like that don't matter much anymore. After all, if we're to deem everyone our enemy, what little friends would we have?"

Draco stared wondrously at how the mind of this boy worked. As much as he hated him, Harry was an amazing person all the same. To have to hunt every day, or be hunted. To have to regain his composure after a loss, to have to bear with his situation with perpetual determination and selflessness. To be strong, yet gentle when he had to be. Another tear rolled down Draco's cheek.

"I just sent a letter to Ron and Hermione," Harry said matter-of-factly. "They should be coming to get us tomorrow. I'll go down and get some food for us with the money I have left. What would you like to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Malfoy, you look like you haven't eaten in days."

"I can't."

Harry sighed. Draco was probably feeling too sick to eat anyway. He wondered if he could get any chocolate, or perhaps a bit of warming Butterbeer. After a quick glimpse of Draco, he walked out and down the hallway.

Draco listened on as he left, dreading the silence that would fill his next few minutes. He heard the footsteps grow fainter and fainter, then disappearing in reality but repeating in his head. The footsteps were rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Draco thought about them for a while, not knowing why they seemed so disturbing yet so comforting at the same time.

Perhaps, he thought, it reminded him that he wasn't alone. After all, with his parents gone…

Suddenly Draco realized how pathetic he must be. Whimpering, crying… and being helped by Harry Potter? He thought of what his father would think. But then again, where did that noble attitude his father possessed, get him?

Draco felt his head spinning in confusion. He tried to sit up, but the pain that burned his lower abdomen forced him back down. It was the end – he couldn't live like this! Noticing the veins protruding his wrists, he pulled his right hand to his left. Then, with his sharp nails, he scratched. It would be a long process, but it might work.

It hurt, but then again he thought it was best to let it hurt until the pain faded away. His heart was a void of emptiness – he had lost all he had, all he believed in. And now to try to be converted to something against his upbringing – mingling with Potter and his lowly friends? What would become of him? He was the only heir of the family – and now all he was, was helpless and weak.

Or, perhaps, he was the one at fault.

He stopped scratching for a while and thought about it with a sinking feeling. Perhaps, his father had been wrong – after all, all his hauteur had been a façade. The Death Eaters - they were not men of honour, but men of fear. And they had died, one by one, in the hands of one whom they had pledged their services and loyalty to.

Perhaps, his mother had been wrong. She taught him the beauty of a pure life – free from contaminations of mixed blood, especially if it was the blood of a Muggle. But right now, he felt more contaminated than ever before. The sins of murders made him shudder.

"Then, have I been wrong all this while?" he asked nobody, expecting nobody to answer. "Death. I've been told it is right for the right reasons. But was it right?

"Was it right for my father to die? Perhaps, since he killed so many. Mother? I don't know if it was right. I don't know anything. Perhaps we have all been so involved in our evil ways that our conscience doesn't even function anymore. I need to understand… I want to know why they were taken away…"

He stopped, feeling exceptionally childish. He was sure Harry didn't speak like that about his parents. Harry was strong, and Draco finally felt that he could admit that he admired the boy so much.

"Potter," he mumbled. "Potter probably has it so much harder on him. To never ever feel a mother's love, to never ever have a father to boast about him. He saw death before he could even comprehend it. And he saw it time and time again, and he still hasn't given up.

"To have the world depend on you to dispel the evil demons of their nightmares. And all at only… seventeen." Draco began to feel slightly better about himself. It was suffice to say he wasn't alone in his plight, yet it felt strange to share something with somebody he would have gladly killed just a few days before.

"Malfoy?" Harry came in, his hands full carrying bottles of Butterbeer and packs of food. He admired the priceless expression on Draco's face – it featured shock, grief yet a distinct slimmer of relief. "I'm back. Eat this."

Draco struggled to raise his hand towards the chocolate Harry held in his, but then weakly brought his hand up to his mouth to eat it. Harry noticed the scratch marks and touched Draco's hand worriedly.

"Don't touch me."

"I'm just trying to see…" Harry was cut short as Draco pulled his hand away indignantly. Hatred burned in his eyes for a second, then he looked away embarrassedly. How ungrateful he was, forgetting how much the boy had already done for him.

"Did you hear what I was saying just now?" Draco asked suddenly, remembering Harry's awkward entrance.

"I guess so. Just a bit."

"You were eavesdropping on me."

"Malfoy, I was at the door. You were talking aloud."

"You could have… gone away?" But Malfoy realized that fact was fact – Harry had heard his brief monologue.

"You know," Harry said, putting down the rest of the food and drink on the study table, "I'm not all that great."

"Never said you were."

"Right." Harry looked down at Draco with eyes that seemed to reflect the sorrow of the moment. For a minute, Draco thought Harry was actually crying, but dismissed it. "You feeling better?"

"No."

"Why don't you eat something? Or drink some Butterbeer?"

"I'll puke."

"Then just water." Harry poured a glass of water for Draco, then beckoned him to sit up. He helped Draco sit up, despite the painful yelps of restraint from Draco. Despite his usual defiant nature, he sipped with water slowly, savouring its taste. He felt at unease for a while, then realized it was because Harry was staring at him.

"What do you want?"

"It's strange, seeing you so sad."

Draco thought about what Harry said for a while, then sighed. The pain was finally setting in, and he realized how fragile he felt. He longed for someone to hold him, to reassure him that things would be alright.

"Harry…"

"It's alright, Malfoy." It was as if Harry knew what he was thinking, knew what he needed. As wrong as it felt, Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him close. He shivered as Harry embraced him so gently.

Then his tears began to fall.