Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I apologize for the late update, but I hope all would be forgiven after you read this chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

Summary: AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But timeis running out.


Chapter Nine — Words and Pain

"You're finally awake." Draco jerked his head around, startled by Madame Pomfrey's voice. His body felt a trace of lingering, but bearable soreness that followed his movement. The Healer approached his bed with a tray in her hand. On top were several bottles of various colours and sizes. She set it on the table beside his bed and began to prepare his potions. "When did you become a regular patient here? You probably see me more often than some of your professors." the woman let out a sigh as she scooped out a spoonful of yellow liquid from inside one of the containers to an empty glass.

"I guess so." The blonde took the glass the Healer handed him, and downed it in one gulp. It was orange-flavoured, he noted. "How long was I out?"

"Dinner is starting in a few minutes. You do the calculation," Madame Pomfrey said, handing him another glass. This time, the liquid was dark green.

"So…what happened?" Draco asked, and drank the potion slowly; not that he could go any faster. Unlike the first, this liquid was bitter and felt sticky inside his mouth.

"Don't you remember anything?" Madame Pomfrey paused and looked at the blonde with one quirked eyebrow.

"I remember myself falling…and I think someone caught me. But that's it."

"You've got the large picture. You dislocated your shoulder and fractured your right kneecap. Other than that, a few minor bruises and cuts." She handed him a third bottle, which looked to be the last one. It was a colourless, odorless substance that tasted much like water, though Draco was sure it was not. Madame Pomfrey took away his glass and set it on the table. "But they're almost completely healed now. There would have been a lot more damage if Mr. Potter wasn't around."

Draco shut his eyes in utter disbelieve, but opened them quickly before Madame Pomfrey turned to face him. "Is he here in the Infirmary, too? Potter, I mean."

"Yes, he is." The Healer uncorked another set of bottles and poured it into two different containers this time. "He's sleeping on the bed right next to yours."

Draco felt a tug in his chest. "How badly is he hurt?" He immediately regretted asking such a question. Why the hell would he care about what condition Potter was in? It's not as if I'm his mother. Yet he was still oddly curious about all this.

"Not as bad as you. Just minor cuts and bruises. Nothing too serious." She arranged the glass cups on Draco's table, along with the empty ones. "I'm going to tell the house-elves to bring dinner here for you both. I'll be back in a minute or two. If he wakes up while I'm gone, tell him to drink the potions on the table, will you?" She rose from the stool and took the tray in her hand. As she stepped through the write curtain, she paused and turned around, with a peculiar smile on her face. "You do know he saved your life?" The question was more of a statement than anything. Before he could say anything, the woman had left.

Draco fell back into the pillows, easing into its softness. He shifted his attention to the right, but his gaze could see no further than the white curtain that hung like a wall. He could barely make out the vague shape of the other boy's body, though; the silhouette indicated that Potter was still on his bed, sleeping probably.

The blonde slid out of bed. The touch of marble floor felt like ice underneath his bare feet, adding shivers to his already-sore body. The boy did not mind the coldness. In fact, it was quickly forgotten as he walked forward. He brushed aside the curtains, revealing the Gryffindor. The boy was indeed sleeping; his eyes were shut with a thick blanket tucked securely under his chin. Potter looked so different with his eyes closed; perhaps it was the lack of those hideously-round, over-large glasses, or maybe it was just the sense of stillness and quietness of the environment. Whatever the reason, Draco felt himself being drawn like a puppet on strings; he was fascinated. He doesn't even realize how vulnerable he is right now. The thought passed his mind, almost instinctively. Anyone could kill him right now. I could kill him right now.

He wanted to hurt him, to cast a spell and wake him up and make Potter hurl insults at him. He wanted Potter to look at him.

It was that instant that Potter chose to open his eyes.

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Harry fluttered his eyes several times before he could fully open them. He pushed himself up to lean against the pillows on his back, and turned to retrieve his glasses. He could not see a damn thing without them. As he turned, he noticed a figure in the corner of his eye. He was sure it was a figure because that blob of green was never there before. The boy squinted to try to prove his speculations.

"Put your glasses back on already." The voice belonged to no other but Malfoy. Harry immediately shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Malfoy." The blonde disappeared behind the white curtain, only to reappear with two glass cups in his hands. Harry quirked one eyebrow.

"Drink," he said. Seeing no response from Harry, the blonde added, "They're not poisonous. Madame Pomfrey said to tell you to drink these when you wake up. Would I be stupid enough to poison the mighty Boy-Who-Lived in broad daylight?"

Harry went on staring at the potion. As much as he would like to believe Malfoy had poisoned the potions, the Slytherin was right; they were in the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey would be back any minute now. Hermione would agree with him. Ron though, would probably act otherwise. Being poisoned, however, was not his worst fear.

He took the cups from the blonde, and winced at their smell. He took a sip, licked his lips, and drank the first glass in one gulp. The second one soon followed. He did not particularly like the taste linger on his tongue, but it was not as bad as he had imagined. He set the glass cups onto the table on his right. Faint footsteps could be heard from just beyond the entrance. Moments later, Madame Pomfrey came into sight

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I believe you've drank the potions?"

"Yes, I have," Harry said, gesturing to the empty glass on the table.

"Good." With a flick of her wand, the glass rose into the air and landed in her outstretched hand. "I have informed the house-elves of your stay here. They will be bringing your meals in shortly. Now rest." She turned to look at the blonde as well. "You too, Mr. Malfoy." With that, she walked off.

Harry turned his head, but Malfoy had already vanished behind the white curtain, leaving the fabric swaying back and forth. A tiny pop caught Harry's attention. His eyes travelled to the corner where the noise came from, just in time to catch two house-elves Apparating, each holding a tray full of food. One of them disappeared behind the curtains and the other came towards Harry's bed and laid the tray down on a stool beside it. Harry thanked the house-elf, who hopped in glee and Apparanted. The boy took the tray to put on his lap, and began eating, taking a sip of the glass of pumpkin juice once in a while. The taste of Cornish pasties had definitely rid his mouth of the foul-tasting potions.

The boy could not help but steal glances to his left, even knowing that there was a curtain between his cubicle and the next. He would catch glimpses of platinum-blonde hair at times, but that was all.

His curiosity was at work again; Malfoy had not put on that get-out-of-my-way, don't-mess-with-me, or sod-off look. In fact he seemed a little too quiet, a little too subdued, in comparison with the Prince of Slytherin that Harry had grown to know so well. Yet the Gryffindor knew — just knew — that the blonde on the other side was Draco Malfoy and not some imposter.

He could not remember how long he immersed himself in those thoughts before the house-elves reappeared again. Harry handed his tray to the elf that came forward to collect it. It was the same elf from earlier, he noted. With a small nod, the creature left the ward and Apparanted out of the Infirmary. The other house-elf soon followed, hopping and nearly toppling the tray she was holding. Harry traced her movements with his eyes until she Apparanted, a frown between his brows. The food on the tray she carried was barely touched. Before he had time to let loose his thoughts, Madame Pomfrey entered his ward again, with two glasses of potion in her hand. She came up to him and handed him a glass.

"This will make your wounds heal a little faster, though you will feel a little drowsier after drinking it." She smiled, and handed Harry the potion. She took his empty cup and marched off to Malfoy's ward. "You too, Mr. Malfoy," he heard her say. Moments later, Madam Pomfrey left with Good-Nights to the two of them. With a wave of her wand, the flames dimmed until there was only darkness.

Harry slid deeper into his blanket, removing his glasses and tucking the sheets under his chin as he turned on his bed. He could hear the rustling of the fabrics against one another from Malfoy's ward. Soon, the room was once again seeped in silence. Despite the potion, his mind was still agitated. No, he decided, the potion was not working yet. He closed his eyes.

The gentle breeze brought with it murmurs of leaves and quiet hooting from outside. Harry let go of his thoughts and dived himself in its harmony. If he stopped thinking of random things, maybe the potion would be able to take affect much quicker.

"Potter." Harry opened his eyes slowly. Was it his imagination, or was Malfoy calling him? "Potter." The blonde's voice sounded again. This time, Harry's mind snapped back in place.

"Potter."

"Malfoy, I heard you" Harry rolled around to face the curtain between his and Malfoy's bed. "What is it?"

"Why did you do it?"

Harry frowned. "Do what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You just caught me, Draco Malfoy—a Slytherin, your nemesis, someone who hates you, someone you despise—falling from a flight of very long staircase."

The brunet frowned. "What kind of question is that, Malfoy? What, do you think I'd stand there and do nothing?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I expected you to do. I wouldn't be here asking you that if I knew the answer now, would I?" Harry could hear familiar pride ringing in Malfoy's voice, dabbed with an underlying tone of suppressed anger. "Just answer the bloody question."

Harry rolled his eyes, despite the fact that Malfoy could not see any of his actions. "Would you quit being a prick, Malfoy? Just because we're enemies doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you soaked in blood—" He stopped, regretting ever letting those words escape through his lips.

"That doesn't sound exactly convincing to me, Potter. Not after all those nasty things you and your friends have done to me." Harry felt an uncomfortable churn added to his already-sick stomach. The memories of his detention with Malfoy lashed back at his mind like whips. He forced his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. Yet, the scenes kept coming back to him.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He heard the rustling of sheets and the pattering of barefoot across the marble floor. Before he had time to react, Malfoy had flung aside the curtain, standing in front of him with a look of utter annoyance.

"Would you stop with the fucking apologies?" Malfoy's voice was even and cold. "I'm sick of hearing 'sorry's from you. It's just a word; It can't change anything. So stop it already." The Slytherin walked back behind the curtain. "Thank you for saving my arse, Potter, but that's the last of it. Whatever happens to me, that's my business."

Harry felt a tightness in his chest, almost resembling pain. Even though Malfoy had been a twit, he could not bring himself to feel angry; if he did, he would probably hurt Malfoy again. The Gryffindor removed his glasses and pulled the blanket over his head, waiting for sleep to take him.

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Draco casted a Silencing Charm on himself the moment he walked past the curtains. He gathered his clothing as quickly as possible, and pulled the robe over his shoulders. As soon as he slid into his shoes, he left the ward. There was absolutely no way that he would spend the night in the Infirmary, not when his very comfortable bed was still intact to the grounds of the Dungeon. Not when Potter's sleeping in the ward next to mine.

After making sure Madame Pomfrey was no longer in the Infirmary, Draco left the Hospital Wing and headed for the Dungeon. The fact that it was still meal-time made it much easier to maneuver around the castle.

The blonde halted in front of his destination and whispered the password, then walked inside. Surprisingly, no one occupied the common room. Usually, the Slytherin would take the opportunity to have the space for himself, but today was not the day. He walked to his dormitory, tossing his clothing and robe at the edge of his bed while throwing himself onto the mattress.

Draco pulled the blanket over himself and buried his head in the nearest pillow. He knew why that bloody Gryffindor had saved him; he could see it in his eyes. Potter had done it out of pity. He could not bear to remember the way sympathy seeped through his eyes. The emerald orbs had been so clear that the emotion magnified. No. The blonde shut his eyes. Don't look at me like that. That's not the way I wanted you to see me.

The blonde took out the pendant from his drawers. It was becoming a habit now, for him to see it every day. He let an odd smile touch his lips. It was so unlike himself, getting so attached to something. Even if it was from a Gryffindor. With the last thought still ringing in his mind, the boy stashed away the pendant. I won't let Potter take pity on me again, Draco thought, and closed his eyes. I won't.

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Harry stuffed himself with yet another mouthful of oatmeal. He did not particularly like the taste, but he knew it would keep him going for the day, so he repeated the motion.

The boy had woken up early to go back to his dormitory to get dressed, only to find that Malfoy was already gone. It was a minor matter, he knew, but he kept thinking about it.

Until Malfoy himself walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

The blonde looked over at the Gryffindor table and met Harry's gaze with a sneer, then walked to his own table.

"What does he want anyways?" He heard Ginny say, and seconds later realized that she was talking about Malfoy.

"What else?" Ron snorted. "Everyone knows he wants to drive Harry insane in the worst way possible. Pity. Something he can't buy with money." Hermione sent him a glare and that was the last of his comments.

"Harry, how's your injuries?" Ginny asked.

"No worries," Harry replied. "I'm good as new." He had only told them that he accidentally fell off the stairs and had stayed in the Infirmary until morning; Malfoy was, of course, left out of the picture.

Just then, an owl swooped down and dropped a tiny package onto the empty spot beside Harry's bowl of oatmeal. The boy knew what it was. He sighed and peeled away the brown packaging.

"I think I should act jealous for the next few hours," Ginny said jokingly. "Thirty pendants in five days."

"It's not like I asked for it." Harry stroked the surface of the pendant and it turned to dust instantly.

"George and Fred must be making Gallons after Gallons." Ron said matter-of-factly. "But Harry I'm really curious. Whose name's on your pendant? It's just about the hottest topic in Hogwarts."

"So much for not gossiping." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not gossiping! I'm simply wanting to know my best mate better. Don't you agree with me, Gin?"

"I don't think speaking with a primary source is considered gossiping, either," Ginny said. "Besides, I've never heard Harry talk about this before."

"Well, suit yourselves. I'm all finished here," Hermione cut in. "Time for me to go to the Library."

"I'll go with you," Harry offered, happy to get out of the situation.

"Hey, don't think you'll get out of this one so easily."

"I'm not! I've got to research for my Herbology essay. You know Ron, it's due tomorrow." Hermione looked at him disapprovingly, but said nothing.

"You mean you still haven't started? Hermione actually made me finish it in one sitting yesterday. Fine. I'll let you go this time."

"Chit-chatting can wait until later. Somebody's got an essay to finish." Hermione stepped up to leave.

"All right, mate. I'll see you at lunch." Ron waved the two of them goodbye as they left for the stairs.

"I think I can help you with the assignment," said Hermione as they turned a corner. "Besides, I might learn a thing or two."

"As if you don't know enough already."

Madame Pince quickly looked over at the two of them as they entered the Library, but let her probing gaze drop after spotting Hermione. They walked over to the far side to look in the plants section.

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry spoke softly so the Librarian wouldn't hear. "The essay was long done. I just wanted to get away from the two of them."

"Well, I'm surprised. I thought you'd want to spend more time with Ginny."

"Yeah, I thought I did." Harry leaned onto the bookshelf and sighed. "I guess I just wanted some space for myself."

"I understand. I would probably feel the same way in that situation." A grin formed on her face and she began chuckling softly. "Oh, the look on your face made it sound like such a big deal. Now I want to know, too"

"Not another one," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. He carelessly picked a title from the shelf and began flipping through the pages.

"I was kidding. If I were really serious, you'd be confessing under Veritaserum. Besides, it's probably one of those things that's so unexpected that it becomes expected in the end. I wouldn't be surprised if the name carved on your pendant was Malfoy's."

The boy froze. "Don't be stupid. Why would I want anything to do with Malfoy?"

"Come on. You're obsessed with him." Harry opened his mouth but Hermione continued before he could make a sound. "Don't even try to deny it. The whole school knows about it. I mean, every time he challenges you, you accept it without even the slightest doubt. And this year, you're practically following him every second you've got. Do you know how much time and energy you've put into all this?"

"We're rivals. What do you expect?" Harry felt every muscle in his body tensing involuntarily, but there was little he could do to ease the tension and the growing nervousness. "And just because you don't believe me about his involvement in Voldemort's task doesn't mean he isn't involved."

"We've been through this, Harry! You're not being practical. How is he supposed contact anyone outside of Hogwarts without being monitored?"

"Have you thought about Dark—"

"Shh!" The two of them turned around to find Madame Pince standing right behind them with pursed lips, looking as stern as ever. "This is a Library," she hissed, then whirled around to face Hermione. "I didn't expect this kind of behavior from you."

The girl blushed in embarrassment and muttered something that sounded like "sorry, Madame", then nodded to the Librarian and left without having to be told, while Harry followed behind.

When he turned the corner, Hermione was already out of sight. Sighing, the boy headed back to the common room.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he heard loud giggles coming from inside. He peered inside and found Ginny sitting with her group of friends on the couch. They seem totally ignorant of his presence at the moment.

"So?" the brunette on the far side asked. "How does it feel to be girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Don't call him that! He doesn't like it very much." Harry was glad that she had defended him.

"Never mind that! Can you stop changing the topic? You're always avoiding us when it comes to your boyfriend." Ginny's cheeks coloured at the comment. "What? It's not like you made a Vow with him."

"Okay, all right." The redhead raised both hands in mercy. "Ask away."

"I've always wanted to know," the short-haired blonde spoke excitedly. "How did you guys ended up going out? I know he's your brother's best mate and all…"

"Well…" Ginny looked away, "I asked him if he wanted to go out with me." The two other girls squealed.

"Anything exciting happened since you started going out with him?" The question only made Ginny blush harder.

"We had a really nice dinner. Here, at Hogwarts of course. And then we…" she muttered something inaudible.

"What?" The two girls leaned in closer.

"I said we kissed!" Ginny said, shutting her eyes in embarrassment. Her face was flushed a deep pink. The girls only screamed louder.

Suddenly the portrait swung open, and a few third-years walked in. The girls spun around and spotted Harry among the crowd.

"You guys should spend some quality time alone. We'll catch you later, Ginny!" With that the two girls fled upstairs.

"Have you been eavesdropping on us the entire time?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"No. Only parts of it." Ginny quirked her eyebrows. "Anyways, where's Ron?"

"Up in his room. Reading Quidditch Through the Ages for the thousandth time, I reckon. How come you're back so early? I thought you had to research for your essay." She leaned back on the sofa, throwing both her arms behind her head.

"The research is done, thanks to Hermione," Harry lied. "But unfortunately, I was being too loud and we got kicked out." He strolled over to the armchair right next to her and took a seat. She took the boy's hand and placed his palm on top of hers. He closed his eyes and indulged himself in the comfortable silence and her warm touch.

"You still owe me an answer, you know that right?"

"What?" The boy opened his eyes lazily, like a bear coming out of hibernation.

"You still haven't told me whose name's on your pendant yet." Ginny shot forward and leaned in towards him.

"I thought this conversation had ended when I left to go to the Library."

"Well, it hasn't." He felt the pressure increase as Ginny's fingers squeezed his own.

"Why do you want to know so badly, anyways?" Harry mimicked her movements as he pulled himself away from the cushions. "It's a minor matter."

"I want to know more about you, Harry. What you like to eat, your favourite class, your hobbies—"

"Ginny. I love Quidditch, and that's about all the hobby I have."

"I mean, sure we're in a relationship now, and we used to be pretty good friends, but if you really think about you, I don't know very much about your interests, or your past, at all." Harry noted the restlessness in her voice; he was almost certain that there was desperateness mixed in there somewhere, as well.

"What else is there to know about me? I'm who I am. None of my interests, or my past, affects me as being who I am. Just because I don't know your whole life doesn't mean that we can't get along with each other."

"I can tell you—"

"That's not the point, Ginny!" The boy threw his arms out in frustration. "Why would knowing the name on that pendant be such an essential piece of information?"

"Because I'm your girlfriend, that's why!" Ginny jumped out of her seat as she spoke. Harry could barely recognize the words that came out of her mouth. He could barely recognize her with the expression on her face. "I ought to have a right to know these things! If it really were such a 'minor matter', like you said it was, then why won't you tell me?"

"Ginny, it's my choice to tell whom what. It is not of your concern—" Ginny closed the distance between them as she approached with raised arm. Her palm landed on Harry's cheeks with a loud crackle, sending him a few steps back. Harry stared at her with bewilderment, and she stared back with an equal amount of shock. He opened his mouth to speak, yet the words on the tip of his tongue did not emerge. A long moment of silence engulfed them both, and neither seemed to have the intention to break free from it.

"Oh Merlin," were her first words. Or at least that was what Harry thought she had said. He saw her lips move but, oddly, he could hear no sound. Ginny began to shake her head. She seemed to be apologizing. Tears dripped down the sides of her cheeks, yet he could not find the need to comfort her, or to say anything at all. He felt almost impassive towards the Ginny that he was seeing right in front of his eyes. How very strange, he thought, I would never treat Ginny like this before.

And she hadn't demanded you to answer something like that before, either. The voice, after disappearing for so long, seemed to have finally come back to life.

Harry snapped out of his trance as he noticed Ginny taking a step forward, and he instinctively backed away. His retreat rendered her from coming closer. Without another word, the girl fled upstairs, sobbing as she did so.

Anger settled in his belly. He could feel it bubbling, sizzling, but much to his surprise, Harry did not feel compelled to let his anger run mad like a hurricane. He climbed back out the portrait hole and decided to go to the Quidditch pitch to do some flying. Flying kept him in order and his mood intact. If he were lucky, no one else should be occupying it at this time of the day, and he would be able to have the whole field for himself.

Once he reached the shed, he took out the Firebolt and mounted on top. The blast of air he encountered as he kicked off felt refreshing as it hit his face. It felt like ages since he last flew. Ron had always said that he belonged in class Aves.

He performed loops and dives one after another, many of which he had become quite familiar with over the few years. Yet he was thrilled to execute them again and again, as if they gave him a new set of feelings every single time. As he spent more time flying in the sky, the incident earlier was slowly forgotten and his mind also began to clear up. Somewhere in the process, Hermione's words came back to him.

You're obsessed with him.

I most certainly am not! The Gryffindor shook his head, knowing fully well that he could not get rid of his thoughts just like that.

Am I?

Sure, he had been busy hunting hard evidences of Malfoy actually associating with the Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself, but he was far from being obsessed. It was too strong of a word.

Then what do you think this is? The voice in the back of his head asked.

Curiosity.The voice did not comment again, but Harry knew he had lost the argument. The force that drove him was not curiosity. If it were indeed, he would not be trying to make up for his misdeeds, even knowing that Malfoy would never forgive him, least saving his life.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in both his stomach and his chest. The Slytherin had rejected his amendments. It was not so much that he could not be forgiven, but the fact that his efforts were being ignored.

Feeling that he had stayed up in the sky long enough, Harry navigated his Firebolt to ground level and dismounted. He wiped off the sweat from his forehead with his sweater, and put away his broom back inside the shed. He preferred to take the shower in his own dorm, where the water was warmer and more comfortable.

As he began his journey back to the castle, he noticed someone else coming his way. He recognized the face of the familiar blonde, wearing a grey blouse and dark slacks, and, of course, the trademark expression of absolute zero. The grey tinge in his skin was almost gone, but somehow the blonde radiated a sense of fragility, even with that haughty posture.

Maybe Malfoy's back on his "mission". The thought alerted Harry, but he decided not to make any abrupt moves just yet. With each step, Harry felt an unnamed anticipation.

The moment finally came as they came steps away. Harry slowed his strides to a stroll. He expected insults being hurled at him and the exchanging of venous words.

But none came his way. Malfoy continued to walk down the field, like he had not noticed Harry's presence. It felt like a bucket of cold water dumped on top of him. He was disregarded, completely.

Malfoy…

"What?" Harry was startled by Malfoy's voice. He veered around and saw the blonde looking over his shoulders.

"What?" The Gryffindor questioned back. "Did you want something?"

"You were the one who called me."

"Oh," Harry said after a long moment. He did not realize that he had called Malfoy's name out loud. Then it occurred to the brunet that this was perhaps the most stupid response he had given to Malfoy. I have to think of something to say, fast.

"If you ever find your words, let me know. I'll make sure to help you throw them away permanently." The Slytherin had beat Harry to the finish line. "If you will excuse me." Malfoy wheeled around.

"Wait, Malfoy—"

"You thought that I'd be throwing insults at you, didn't you? You thought — or shall I say, hoped — that things would just go back to the way it had been?" Harry heard Malfoy laugh. "Aren't you naïve. Maybe you can, but there's no way I can go back. And I won't." The blonde at last turned around, revealing nothing from his expression. His grey eyes were passionless, yet there seemed to be another layer on top of his iris that kept his emotions trapped inside, like an artificial filter almost.

"Nothing is ever too late." Harry heard himself say.

"I don't want to hear something like this from the source of my misery." The blonde said nothing more, and continued down the path. Harry watched the other boy as he walked further away, until he disappeared into the broom shed. The Gryffindor left and headed inside the castle.

Later that day, Harry had lunch at the Great Hall. Ginny was not there; Ron said that she never came down from her room since morning. Harry would stare outside the window from time to time. Sometimes he would even catch a glimpse of a broom sweeping by in the air. He half-hoped that Malfoy was riding that broom and that the blonde would get his weird "conditions" again and fall off his broom. It would never happen, he knew.

He thought about Malfoy's last words. You thought — or shall I say, hoped — that things would just go back to the way it had been.

I know, Malfoy. It would never happen.