Snape snapped up and ran over, he caught the blonde and lowered him to the floor. "What's going on?" Harry yelled.

"I don't know," Snape looked more afraid than Harry had ever seen. But there was not any time.

"He needs help," Dumbledore stated and grabbed the Potions Master, "come with me."

Harry watched as they ran off, Malfoy held in the black haired man's arms. Pansy screamed behind him as she saw what was happening. Blaise grabbed her arms, restraining her from following.

"You did this!" she screamed, turning on Harry. "To hell with trying to be his friend, you just wanted to progress your little Light side objectives," she was hysterical, whirling and twisting to break from Blaise's grip. "You attacked him I know it! What did you do? Help him, save him or I'll kill you myself!"

Harry backed away from her, highly worried that Blaise would simply let her go. "I didn't do anything to him, I swear it, we were just trying to-and- but then- and Dumbledore- we- I- I didn't do anything," he answered, adrenaline hurtled through his veins and he could tell this wouldn't end well.

The black haired girl screamed, but this time in fear she backed into Blaise's arms and Harry felt someone's presence behind him.

"Foolish boy," Harry turned to see a huge man, cracked white mask falling away, leaning over him with a dagger, the same or similar to the one used to cut his arm in the graveyard. He raised it high and, with a cry of triumph, thrust it into the space behind Harry's collar bone, just next to his neck. Harry screamed grabbing the hand to try and keep him from pushing it in deeper.

The sensation of blood spilling over him was sickening and at the same time Harry felt it drift away from him as it began to affect his mind right away. The man fell backwards as a spell hit him, the face appeared as the last visages of the mask shattered. The very tall man who had spoken to the traitor Scotsman before the meeting of Death Eaters, only a week ago, lay before him. This man must have been called after the meeting and assigned the job, given the dagger, a team to attack with.

Is this what you're reduced to Lord Voldemort? Attacking me physically because we cannot fight magically? Harry thought bitterly before he collapsed to his knees, the dagger's cold black handle still protruding horribly from his shoulder.

"Damn you," he muttered, the edges of his vision swirled, just as Blaise came into view.

"Good gods," Blaise had reached out to touch him, the black cloak hid the growing amount of life that ran onto them. The carpet of the train aisle began to stain and darken around the Savior of the Wizarding World's knees. Blaise retracted his hand immediately and stared in completed horror at the blood he had pulled away.

Pansy screamed again somewhere in the background.

Footfalls thundered as the train floor caught him, not softly, as he fell forward at the feet of Blaise Zabini.

The Death Eaters, both afraid for their lives and eager to give the news to their master, were struggling like fat, immobile inch-worms, wriggling and crawling where they lay. All but the tall man who had stabbed him.

That man lay motionless, no breathing moved his chest.

Harry's vision was comprised but he retained some vague thought.

He worried that he failed Sirius, Ron, Hermione, the other Weasleys and the world. His friends, Remus, Tonks, Snape and Mrs. Malfoy even, they were all compromised now, because he was not fast enough, he was not good enough.

The footfalls were almost deafening now. He felt someone grab his numbing arms but the motion caused him to loose the world completely.

:Hogwarts School Hospital Wing, 2.29 AM, September 13th:

Harry inhaled sharply, breaking the charm used to keep him breathing. He felt the air singe his dry throat and slip into his lungs, painfully.

There wasn't sunlight yet, only a white line that crossed the floor from the window at the far end of the Hospital Wing, it cut the room in half, between the two occupied beds.

With enormous effort Harry forced his eyes to open and he saw a swirl of dust above him. Had he been collecting such a layer this whole time? Harry of course assumed he had been saved by Dumbledore and Pomfery, the poor woman must have been going mad to save the two boys at once. Regret edged into his emotions as he thought of what the woman must have gone through. Harry searched his fog shrouded mind for any recollection of what happened.

The tall Death Eater had escaped his bondages and stabbed Harry. Immediately he wanted to check the wound but found he could not move his right arm nor could he feel it.

Panicking he turned his eyes towards the right to search for the appendage. He saw it lying faithfully beside him and he was then able to see the clean white bandages wrapping it firmly to his side and the bandages circled up around his shoulder and chest. Harry inhaled another time and knew why it was so painful to do so on his own, the bandages allowed incredibly little motion, including expansion for lung function.

Without a second thought he reached up to touch his scar but stopped halfway. His hand looked very different, almost deformed, was it truly changed or was it the novelty of seeing it for the first time in so long that made it strange?

Hopefully the later as Harry seriously disliked the idea of being mutated by stab wound.

"Mr. Potter?" a voice reached him over his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"You're actually awake?" Madam Pomfery moved from her quarters, lighting torches along the wall as she approached. The light made the concern, astonishment and wonder in her eyes visible.

"I am," he nodded and grinned, this took some effort but he did it nonetheless.

"How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?"

"My throat's real dry," he said and she conjured some water, carefully assisting him drink, "I remember being stabbed but I can't really feel my arm, what's wrong with it?"

The mediwitch cast her eyes to the limb, "it's extraordinary really, the stab wound destroyed the muscles and nerves that control your arm. I've been giving you potions to rejuvenate them. I think with a just a few more doses you'll be back to using it rightly. You'll have a nasty scar from the stab and probably have a little restricted movement in this arm but otherwise I'm expecting you to be fine." She sounded quite bored with the whole thing, as if she'd either said it a lot or it was something that happened every day.

Harry gave her a quizzical look and she laughed a little, "I've told you that same thing ten times, you wake up for a few hours, do the same thing and then fall asleep again. Then you don't remember a thing. I do hope this is the final time that happens, it's rather worrisome."

"I can imagine," Harry said, worried himself.

"You're still far better off than Mr. Malfoy," she assured him, though it did not do much good.

"What's wrong with him?" Obviously Harry had not taken an interest in Malfoy the other times he had been awake.

"Oh, well, we're not sure exactly. Just won't wake up. Snape wants to perform a Legillimens to find him and make him wake up but Dumbledore won't allow it. Snape's planning to come in some night and do it alone, dangerous thing, but he's willing."

"How long have we been asleep?"

"Twelve days, it's just become the thirteenth, you were attacked on the first."

"Is everyone else okay?" Again she seemed surprised at the turn of conversation.

"The Death Eaters were all taken to the Ministry, put on trial and sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss immediately, it was performed. The man who stabbed you, named Vargial by the way, was dead when Dumbledore arrived. Turns out he had a spell on himself, once the dagger left his hand, he died."

"Really?"

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes still observing Draco Malfoy, "I wish I knew what was wrong with him," she sighed. "What will you want to eat?"

"Anything, everything," Harry answered, recognizing his stomach's loud call for food.

She smiled at him, "I'll tell the elves," she walked back to her quarters, footfalls loud compared to the silence of the Wing.

"Help," a rasp echoed in the new silence that enfolded him. Harry jerked and looked to where the other figure was struggling, entangled in their sheets.

"Malfoy, don't move," he called.

"What the-? Potter?" he saw a head raise into the darkness, only visible by the tiny sparkle of moonlight on the white hair.

"We're in the hospital wing, we were attacked on the train, do you remember?"

There was a long pause and he saw the blonde reach up and hold his head, "yes, I do, I remember we sent Pansy, Blaise and Theo to tell Dumbledore there were Death Eaters. We were fighting them and something, a-a red and gold curse it hit me but nothing happened. I didn't realize until the fight was over that I was hit but, it happened, I'm sure. I know we won but it gets blurred just after that. What else happened?"

"You passed out and were rushed here. Vargial, one of the Death Eaters, stabbed me after getting out of his restraints, that's why I'm here," he added.

"Vargial? Dennis Vargial? He was a Death Eater? He's a famous Quidditch player for an Irish team, I would never have guessed."

"He's definitely a Death Eater," Harry confirmed, "he's dead now, the rest of them that attacked us were tried and given the Dementor's Kiss."

"Good," he nodded in the moonlight and then lay back down, "is the mediwitch awake?"

"She was just ordering me some food," Harry answered. Malfoy nodded again from where he was.

"Is anyone else injured?"

"Not that I know of," Harry answered and surveyed the Hospital Wing, no other beds were occupied.

"Good," Malfoy repeated. "How long have we been here?"

"It's the thirteenth, so about as many days," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine. I assume they have no idea what happened to me?"

"Not that Madam Pomfery told me," he said.

"Mr. Potter, who are you talking to?"

"I-"

"Madam?" Malfoy sat up again and she shrieked in either surprise or delight.

"My good graces boy, are you all right?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered and she was at his side, prodding with her wand and lighting torches to observe him better.

The Malfoy heir was thrown into the light and he squinted at the other boy, who looked at him oddly. Potter's black hair was unkempt and wild, like always but this was an unnatural version, the lack of maintenance had changed the way it sat on his holy little head. He didn't have his glasses on, this was expectable. They most likely were broken. The new ones were nicer than the originals and it was a shame to loose them. Malfoy noticed the heavy bandaging, the layers of white gauze that wrapped his arm to his side and climbed up his chest, flashes of sun bronzed skin between streaks of white.

Harry observed the blonde, his skin had returned to the sallow look it had in the summer before Harry had left. His hair was imperfect, had the heir been fully conscious and able to, this would have been righted immediately. He was still striking though, the blackened lashes were thick and though Harry could do little more than see the general colorings and outline of the boy Harry could see the eyes in his mind. The ones from just earlier that day, storm clouds sliding across the sky in a pattern of dark and light, highlights and shadows and swirls of heavenly gray.

"The elves are bringing food up soon, do you feel well enough to eat? We should fill you both up," she said, sort of babbling, probably ecstatic about both boys waking up at once and Harry appearing to be planning on staying awake this time.

"Yes ma'am, I could eat a dragon," he said and she laughed, patting his shoulder lightly.

"I'll just call the Headmaster and your Heads," she said and puttered back to her quarters.

"Could you really eat a dragon?" Harry asked jokingly.

"It's not good meat, too stringy and tough, more like leather than real meat, only certain ethnic groups eat dragon meat and even then they don't do it but for bi-yearly ceremonies," he answered.

"You've had dragon meat?"

"I have, yes, for your information," Harry sensed the blonde's shields suddenly fly up, as if he realized what was going on.

"We're friends Malfoy, no need to be hostile," Harry said.

"Friends? I'm no Gryffindor, we don't need to be enemies but don't know that I'm willing to say we're friends yet," he said.

"We're acquaintances then, there's no reason to be hostile or guarded."

Immediately Draco noticed the Gryffindor's observation about guards. How could Potter be so keen on sensing shield people put up around themselves, Draco could see the boy had his own, building slowly since he'd awaken, but those were subconscious, ones he had to protect himself again everyone not just enemies. Draco had, of course, realized that he was conversing with a Gryffindor, the Savior, about dragon meat, and immediately he had reverted into a well defended form of himself, one reserved for when his father, Voldemort and his juvenile arch nemesis were around. The shield used by purebloods were hard to detect, it took training, tutoring, Potter had never known before this summer. Something happened and it dawned on Draco in a moment.

Someone tried to make him a pureblood.

The stance, the wardrobe, the reading of expressions (which Draco had noticed him doing when their eyes had met on the train), the recognition of shields, and it appeared Potter had constructed himself one or two which were appearing as he saw Draco's own expression shift from light hostility to confusion to shock to curiosity, all diluted but still there.

"What happened to you this summer?" Draco asked. Blunt and to the point, he was far too tired to play the game of guessing and over analyzing words and answers to vague but meaningful questions.

"What?" Harry's own shield flew up and Draco saw it, splendid, confirmation that he was taught. Now the only questions were who taught him and why…

Holy Crap.

I didn't check my e-mail the few days after posting because homework tried to suffocate me. When I did I had forty three emails, forty one of them were for the last chapter. Since then I have gotten at least seven more.

I assume that's because of the cliffhanger and I'm sorry but I didn't want to give it all away at once and that was the best stopping spot I could find without making a too short chapter.

Here's the next installment, I was very encouraged to write because of all the reviews, thank you, I love you.

Draco and Harry are :ehem: away so I can't provide you with a witty and suggestive dialogue, however Professor Snape has offered to give a lecture on the uses of Merperson scales in potions.

Professor? Professooooooooor?

Snape: What? Oh, yes?

FireStorm: Eh….where were you? You were supposed to lecture on Merpers-

Snape: Oh, that, well, terribly sorry but 'Cissa's ehm, well, you know…you don't deny that woman anything. :coughs with emberssament: Must be going.

Firestorm: .O oh, sorry.

Snape: Yes, well AH:Narcissa drags him away:

Draco:walks out of his room mostly naked: EEEW!

Narcissa: Shut up.

Bernard: DO IT LIKE BUNNIES!

Draco:Hucks a large book at Bernard: she's my mother!

Firestorm: Sorry this is weird!

:A war between Bernard and Draco ensues, one throwing books, the other throwing carrots: