:: "The Italian Institute for Magic" (translated from Italian)::

The building appeared to be a museum. It was covered in police tape and 'condemned' signs. The pillars out front were chipped and colored by graffiti. The steps had huge chunks taken out, as if partially under construction. Windows were shattered and the entire place seemed dilapidated and rotten.

Harry marched up the steps, shot off the chain holding the old dark doors closed and stepped inside. It was beautiful. Artwork covered the marble walls and the mosaic floor and golden statue in the centre of the welcoming hall all contributed to the beauty. Harry ignored it. He walked in and looked around quickly for any sign of students.

"Are you a student here?" One painting asked.

"Yes, yes, who are you?" Another questioned.

They all began speaking to him, asking questions and talking to each other. The noise echoed through the room and seemed to grow with every second.

"My name is Harry Potter and I'm looking for Sasha Corona, a student here, a Seventh Year." He quieted them.

They looked at each other, the paintings did, and nodded, "For you Mr. Potter, we will do anything." They whispered among each other in Italian or Latin, Harry was unsure.

"The boy you are looking for is this way," one said and walked through his painting into the next, then the one after that. Harry followed. The figure, an old man with red eyebrows, stopped outside a classroom. "He's in there. Be careful, it's a hexes class."

Harry thanked the man and pushed the door open.

He stepped in and saw Sasha immediately. There was no teacher present so Harry stepped in further.

The young man stood.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where's Draco?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sasha answered, "I haven't seen him in months."

"That's a lie, Blaise said you were in London yesterday and got in a fight with Draco. Now he's missing, what have you done?"

"What are you talking about?" Sasha stepped back, "I've been here all weekend, ask anyone."

"I don't believe you."

"Look," Sasha walked forward, "I know you don't like me, I get it, okay. I'm not a bad person, I swear and I'm telling the complete truth when I say that I haven't seen Draco since last year when we met accidentally in Finland."

"Then where were you yesterday?"

"Here," he said, "We had a polagerus match. That's what I was doing all day."

Harry glared at him, rage bubbling but he could not justify attacking the other boy, yet. "I don't believe you."

Sasha sighed, "I don't know how to convince you."

"Where is Draco?"

His gorgeous brown eyes filled with distress and confusion, "I have no idea, really, I don't. If I knew I would tell you."

"Then help me find him."

Sasha looked over his shoulder at a young man who looked suspiciously similar to Blaise. "You really want me to help you?"

"Yes."

He turned back to Harry, "I don't think that's a particularly good idea. Draco hates me."

"You're the reason he is upset so you're going to come with me."

Sasha shook his head, "I really shouldn't skip class…"

"I don't see a teacher," Harry snarled.

"She's just late I-"

"No, Sasha," the Blaise look-alike spoke, "Go find Draco. We'll cover for you."

Sasha stepped out of the room with Harry, "I don't know why you want me to come with you, I'll only upset him-"

"I don't want you to come with me, I want you to tell me what happened. I need to know what went wrong with you two and I need to know you've let him go." Harry said, "I want things set right between you so you can both stop holding grudges and move on but that's not my place. I know you don't care but it is important to me that you two get over this petty little squabble. Tell me what happened."

Sasha shook his head, "It's not that easy," he said, "There was more to it than what I'm sure you've heard."

Harry crossed his arms.

The Italian boy motioned and they walked down a hallway into a sitting room.

"Please, sit," he said and Harry did, anxious to find Draco but curious about what he had to say.

"I met Draco the summer he turned thirteen. It was the Havershaft Gala and, in case you didn't know, the Havershaft is the most incredible of all events. It is exclusive, posh and unforgettable…

"He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at all us humans like we were pitiful. His smile appeared like a gift from the gods and everyone turned and raised their glasses to him. We had to toast him, I mean, his mother planned the thing and his father was…is Lucius Malfoy. Draco's uncle, Octavio and his wife and their son, Julian, were all there and so were the cousins and everyone, really.

"The guest list was strictly limited to purebloods and people of great merit. I was there as an escort for a female friend. Draco was there as a major guest, obviously.

"He began to descend and paused so the great men of magic could greet him. They stood up and down either side of the grand staircase, talking to women and each other and making sure they were first to say hello to important people such as Draco or his parents.

"His friend, Blaise, was standing near me in the crowds, downing martinis and flirting non stop with some woman.

' "Looks like my friend is here," Blaise said and walked towards Draco.

"I was smitten from the first instant I saw him at the top of the stairs. He was gorgeous…still is really. Anyways, I followed Blaise and introduced myself.

' "Excuse me?"

' "Yes?" He turned and stopped. We just stared at each other.

"I fell in love then.

"I spent the next two years in love with a boy who almost ruined my life. It was okay at first but then the media, the blitz, the awful pressure of it all started to sink in. I couldn't come to classes without people threatening my life or someone snapping a photo and selling it. I was followed, stalked, attacked and used. I'm not saying it justifies what I did or how I treated Draco in the months after that. I know I'm an awful human but I've tried not to interrupt his life or hurt him or do anything to upset him. I hurt him and I miss him but…he's happier now and I knew he would be."

"You broke up for your own protection?"

He nodded. "I took him to dinner in Venice, I asked him if I was important to him, what length he was willing to go to for me. He said he would do anything, that I was more to him than even I knew. I loved him but I couldn't keep going. I told him. I told him about the pressure and the fear and the pestering. He laughed. He said it was part of being pureblood, that I would get used to it. I tried to make him understand that it was ruining my life. He didn't seem to care. I insisted and he just told me it was foolish, that it was nothing. If I couldn't handle a little media attention, how could I conceive of being with a pureblood, that I hadn't seen the peak of it. I told him I couldn't do it anymore. I broke up with him."

"How did the Imperius story get started?"

"What?"

"That Draco had you under a curse and you finally broke free. That's what the tabloids said," Harry reminded him, "You lied."

"No," Sasha shook his head, "I don't know where you heard or read that but I never, ever, said anything like that. I broke up with Draco and haven't given an interview since. I don't want that life."

Harry sighed, "So you just broke up with him."

"That's all."

"Why is he so upset with you then?"

"Because he hurt more than I did."

Harry and Sasha just looked at each other for a moment. It was tense. Harry's arms were crossed. Sasha bit his bottom lip. Harry observed him.

Sasha was beautiful. He was as gorgeous as Blaise. They both had not only perfect features but an indistinguishable quality that attracted people to them. Sasha's round brown eyes turned away and he scanned the walls. He seemed ashamed and truly upset. Harry could not tell the validity of his emotions. Draco was always a wonderful actor, perhaps Sasha was too.

"Do you think he's still in love with you?"

Sasha met his eyes, "For your sake, I pray that he is not."

"Are you still in love with him?"

This made the Italian pause a little longer, "No matter who they are, you always have feelings for your first love. I will always care about Draco but I could never be in a relationship with him."

Harry frowned, "Do you know where he went right after you two broke up?"

"To England, to talk to his mother."

"Thanks," Harry turned and left, pushing into the hallway where he saw the boy who looked like Blaise.

He stepped forward, towards Harry, "I'm Mercutio, a friend of Sasha's, I just came to see that he is all right."

"He's fine," Harry said, looking the boy over, "Thank you for your help."

He nodded, "Anything we can do."

Harry stepped around him. Then turned back as the boy spoke.

"Do you know Blaise Zabini?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "I do."

"Can you give him this for me?"

Mercutio produced a folded piece of parchment, It was worn, wrinkled and a little water stained. Harry took the paper, "Yeah, I'll give it to him."

"Thank-you."

Harry walked away and felt worse than he did before.

::Wiltshire Manor, Cemetery::

The statue of Narcissa was almost glowing. The sun was beginning to set. Draco sat at her feet, watching the ground and glaring.

"Drake?"

He looked up at Harry.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

Draco stood, blinking in the light rain that was beginning to fall.

"How did you find me?"

"I had some help…from Sasha."

"What?" Draco recoiled, his face forming the harsh glare Harry had seen directed at others many times before.

"I went to talk to him…well…I had meant to hit him but I asked him and he said he was in Italy yesterday…Drake, I don't think it was him you saw in London."

"How can you say that?"

"He was there, everyone vouched for him. He had no idea what I was talking about and when I talked to him he seemed too sincere to doubt. I mean it Draco, he says he hasn't seen you since Finland and I believe him. I know you're angry, Draco but-"

"Shut up," Draco snarled, "You went to Italy just to talk to him? How dare you! I don't go visiting Cho or Ginny randomly and you should never have gone to see him. If you knew I was upset with him you should have talked to me, not him."

The rain grew harder and more insistent, pounding away on the ground and Harry's back.

"How am I supposed to talk to you?" Harry asked sharply, "You lock yourself in your room and run off to London or here and I can never find you. I try, Draco, I try so hard to be there but you push me away. You snarl and pout and lock me out, what else was I supposed to do? I had no choice. Blaise and Theo didn't know where you were. I didn't go to become his friend; I went because I was worried about you. I thought he had kidnapped you or something."

"If you care about me at all you would have waited for me, trusted me," Draco screamed. He clenched his fists, "I hate it when people think they can go behind my back and do things that affect me and then expect me to be fine with it. My mother had a bloody child, sacrificed herself, died and Severus left for a month, you went to see that cad and everyone just thinks I'll be fine with it. I'm not fucking fine with it. I hate it all. I hate being a bloody orphan and I hate not having anyone and I hate him."

Harry could not help but roll his eyes, "You're being immature, Drake. I've been an orphan my whole life. I've never had anyone and I don't like Sasha either. You think we're all that different? We're not. Draco, seriously, you're being dramatic."

The wind picked up.

"Shut-up," he yelled, "Don't fucking talk to me like that. We are different. I'm so screwed up and people, you, refuse to see it. You think we're the same? You're parents died sixteen years ago. It's not been a year since my mother died. My father may as well be dead, he lives in Poland and never talks to me. You'll always be a hero. I will always be a druggie whore with a lot of money. That's all I'll ever be in the eyes of the world. You don't get it, Harry, you just don't understand. It seems like you don't want to understand either, like you're happy with not knowing that much about me."

"If you let me know," he yelled back, angry and cold, "Then I would. You're so protective and secretive and cruel, Draco. I care about you so much and you just keep secrets and hide from me."

Draco glared at him. "Then maybe you should just leave me."

"What?" Harry drained of rage.

"You heard me, Potter, get lost. If you think that way then I don't want this anymore."

He flinched at the use of his last name.

"That's not what I want, Draco."

The storm was full force now, soaking both boys through.

"It's what I want. I can't trust you, Potter, so just leave. Get out of here."

Harry stayed still.

"Get out," Draco screamed at him and he felt the ground quake beneath him.

Harry turned. He looked over his shoulder in shock and regret and began to walk away.

Draco stood at the foot of the statue, glaring at the dark, retreating form. White hair lay flat against his forehead and neck and the shirt he wore was stuck to him, cold and uncomfortable. He breathed raggedly, glaring and almost crying.

"I hate you," he whispered. He was unsure if he meant it though.