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Chapter 22

--Somewhere off the coast of the North Sea—

Harry awoke to the chilly night air, by the setting sun he figured it was just after six p.m., and by his calculations 2 weeks into his imprisonment, or at least that's how many "bonding" sessions he's counted. The "bonding" sessions were named by Bella, which of course were actually torture sessions. He was held for different amounts of time, and therefore he only guessed how much time had passed by.

Harry shifted against the cold stone wall, sighing despairingly into his dark cell. Dingy stone walls boxed him in, they held a smooth surface from years of water damage due to the gaping holes the walls held, each were too small for Harry to escape through but they allowed him to see his surroundings mildly. The stones held a greenish-brown tint, a heavy fungus growing on the ceiling and the walls. The cell itself contained only the bare essentials, a flea infested cot sat off to the side that Harry doubted could hold his miniscule weight, not that he dared try to rest on it, considering the fleas seemed to have made a nice home for themselves that he didn't see the need to destroy by testing his theory, on top of the cot sat a moth eaten blanket that was so thin and filled with holes it was of no use but to mock him with an unfulfilled promise of heat.

The only thing clean and in working order in the small dilapidated cell was the toilet that sat on the opposite side of the cot. It showed that evil as the deatheaters were, they weren't inhuman, or at least they didn't want to have to clean up any unsanitary conditions, considering Harry was forced from his cell by deatheaters, they perhaps didn't want to chance having to touch a soiled prisoner, especially since they were prohibited from having their wands on them when transporting him, on the off chance that he may attempt to steal them and escape.

A cold wind raped through Harry's body carrying a salty scent, waves crashed in the distance, and seagulls clucked angrily below the far wall of the cell. In the darker times, usually after a bad session with Bella he reflected on what Sirius use to tell him Azkaban was like, and compared it with his current surroundings, there were a lot of similarities, but Harry doubted he was in Azkaban, because it would have been all over the Prophet if the ministry had lost control of it. But, the presence of dementors was all too obvious to Harry. They weren't close enough to cause his mother's dying screams to play over and over again in his mind, but he could make out the tingling feeling of despair eating away at his resolve, or perhaps he was just slowly losing hope of escaping and was giving up. Either way, he had a slow dull ache eating away at his brain, which set him deeper into depression.

But wherever he currently was he knew it was not Voldemort's headquarters. His knowledge of this came to him as he reflected on what he knew of his current location on the second night he was here. That was when his vision from the summer had resurfaced in his mind and realized that Voldemort's lair was hidden away in some unknown forest, and was concealed by the Fidelius Charm. He in fact had only seen Voldemort once, and that was on the night he was brought here. Voldemort had gloated superiorly and mocked him. Harry of course mocked him back, and shot insults in between kicks issued by Bella. It was once he was sure that Harry was completely disarmed and that no one had followed them that Voldemort announced Harry's fate: They were instructed to keep Harry alive and Bella was instructed to compel Harry to beg for his life or death, which ever one came first, and only then was he, Voldemort, to be called. And once Harry had been broken, his fate would be revealed.

At the time Harry had scoffed and declared he would never beg for his life, or death, Voldemort would spend his life waiting on that. Of course he had laughed, and merely replied that he had time to spare.

Harry shifted again against the wall, the cool stones dulling the pain of the large gash across his back. It had been left open, but a blood clotting spell had been used to stop the bleeding so that he wouldn't bleed to death. His clothes were ripped and barely covered his body. Luckily, Harry had his eyes repaired, because he doubted his glasses would have survived his imprisonment.

And as Harry sat in his cell he couldn't help but ponder on what Voldemort was currently up to. It had surprised Harry, and he hid it as best as he could, that Voldemort hadn't immediately killed him upon his arrival, or that he had bestowed the torture onto someone else's shoulders. Did Harry feel neglected? No, actually, he was ecstatic when he found this out; he had already resigned to the fact that he was going to die in a matter of minutes as he was marched towards the room that held Voldemort. But, it would seem Voldemort had other plans in the works that were dependent on him surviving, and Harry took that knowledge and ran with it. He insulted every deatheater and their mother, and staged several attempts to escape, not that he got far, and he was severely punished for it, but nothing he couldn't survive. And he was rewarded for it when several times the deatheater's in charge of dragging him to his appointment with Bella, refused to touch him, considering the damage Harry had caused them. He was especially proud of the broken nose and arm he inflicted Avery with on one of his more recent escapes.

As such he doubted the accuracy of his count of how long he had been here. It also didn't help that they rarely gave him food, not that he ate it. Surprisingly, they were trying to get him to eat; they even went as far as to supply him with edible food, some what reminiscent of the food his aunt would give him during Dudley's "Dieting." It wasn't up to par with Hogwarts food, but neither was it inedible.

When he wasn't busy torturing himself with thoughts of mass killings and what ever else Voldemort could be up to his mind lingered on his own stupidity. He was still cursing himself for kissing Hermione, and even more for running away instead of confronting her about it and apologizing. He still couldn't believe he had been so childish and acted like a 3rd year, instead of the 6th year that he was. As for how he had ended up here, he still didn't understand what happened, why did the deatheaters agree to the vow, and how exactly did they phrase it? Did it matter? Harry himself had only agreed to go with them without a fight, which, to him meant he could escape without breaking the vow and cause him to die or worse.

As his headache increased he lingered on the possibility that he could use legimency to contact someone and tell them that he was in fact alive, and give them flashes of where he was. And he would sit there for hours focusing in on Fred, trying to push his conscience towards the Weasley twin, trying to remember what it felt like to take his memory of Hermione and Ron's breakup. But, the only reward Harry got was a greater headache, and an intense feeling of frustration. Some nights he would convince himself he could hear large crowds and voices arguing, but even he couldn't believe it entirely.

A loud clanging sound issued into the otherwise silent area as the outer cell door began to open, Harry sighed and prepared himself for another round with Bella.

--Hogwarts, Hospital Wing—

"Headmaster, since the news of young Mr. Potter's death, she hasn't eaten, talked, or even moved. All she does is cry, we have her sedated, and we're giving her nutrient potions every eight hours, but if she doesn't snap out of it soon we'll have to either send her home, or worse, to St. Mungos. This isn't healthy at all." Madam Pomfrey said sadly in a gentle whisper.

Dumbledore frowned observing Hermione, it had been nearly a month since Harry had been taken, and nearly three weeks since the Prophet ran an article that Voldemort was claiming Harry's death. A confirmation of this claim was given by Severus, whom stoically reported that by every deatheater's account, Harry had been killed within hours of his capture. Voldemort hadn't been seen since that night, but it was rumored that with Harry's death he was implementing a large scale attack.

Upon hearing the news Dumbledore had confined himself to his room, and it had taken nearly the entire staff and a grand total of five days to get him to leave it. And only now was he freely walking around without the aide of someone else. He was completely depressed, he had failed to protect Harry when he needed him the most.

Harry had saved the students in a brave, courageous act, while he, Dumbledore, had been tricked into fighting off a dozen dementors entering Hogwarts Castle through the first year's entrance.

The students were distraught as they retold their encounters and what they had witnessed. The auror's were quickly sent off to St. Mungo's and all made full recoveries, but each one had felt a great remorse for failing. More so, young Nymphadora had cried for nearly two days straight upon hearing that Harry had sacrificed himself for her life and the students as well, and once news of his death spread she dove headfirst into depression, refusing to eat, and crying until the tears would no longer come. She now walked around the castle, a depression following her and infecting anyone within range. She no longer spouted her crazy hair colors, or cracked jokes. She seemed as lifeless as the statues pretended to be.

The Gryffindor's had taken to walking around as if on eggshells whenever in the presence of the Weasley's, any of them, considering once the news had spread Molly had moved her entire family to Hogwarts, the twins had closed up shop, and morosely told anyone that asked "not the same without Harry." The only good part in all of this was that Percy, whom had distanced himself from his family, had come to pay his respects and had embraced his family with sorrow.

Strangely enough the tragedy of Harry's death had not affected Remus at all. He stated quite plainly that until he saw a body, Harry was alive, and he wasn't about to take the word of deatheaters or he-who-must-not-be-named with out substantial proof.

Even stranger was that Harry's death had somehow bridged the gap between several houses. In fact several Slytherins were seen eating at the Gryffindor table looking just as sad as they were. It would seem to the teachers that Harry's club, the DA was not only popular, but had made a positive impact on house relations. Or perhaps they just missed Harry. What ever it was, each member almost religiously attended the meetings (even after they were unofficially cancelled) and worked harder than they would have before. Each of the teachers had made an effort to take over a day to teach the club, but Shacklebolt was the most hands-on with the club.

However, the strangest of all was how Harry's death was affecting Fred Weasley. While Fred had taken it as hard as the rest of his family, it was causing the young man to hallucinate. He was constantly talking about visions of water, and long hallways; and it was causing him to hallucinate the smell of strong salty sea air. Consequently, he awoke several times during the past few nights complaining that the waves he kept hearing were causing him to use the bathroom more frequently that usual. The strange thing about it was he was still experiencing these "dreams" while sedated with a sleeping draught.

"Headmaster?" Madam Pomfrey asked gently.

"Hrm? Ah, yes, well keep me informed, Poppy," he said nodding slightly towards her as he turned to leave the Hospital wing. He headed out the door and made his way back towards his office where he was free to wallow without the teachers asking about how he was feeling. Lousy, he would like to reply. Miserable, he would like to reply. Hallow inside, wishing to die, he would like to say. But instead he would reply he was coping as best as he could, and that he knew it wasn't his fault, even though he knew it was.

---Diagon Alley, Weasley Wizard Wheezes—

"George, have you packed up everything from the backroom?" asked Fred sadly.

"Yeah," replied George just as morosely. "I can't believe its over," he said shaking his head sadly, "it was fun while it lasted though. Are we absolutely sure we should close?"

"It just doesn't seem right to stay open with Harry gone," Fred replied frowning, "I mean, he gave us the start up money, and was really the only one who believed in us. Do you remember what Mom said when we told her we wanted to open a joke shop?"

"Before or after the screaming?" Laughed George before frowning losing himself in memories.

"Best day of our lives was when we helped him on the train," said Fred smiling.

"Helping him with that trunk, thing was bigger than he was," George said nodding.

"He was determined to lift it though," laughed Fred. "I can still see him all out of breath…"

"Huffing…"

"And puffing…"

"And now he's gone!" Wailed Fred and George together.

"…Give in Potter!"

"What!?" Asked Fred suddenly.

"Now Harry's gone?" George responded uncertainly looking around the empty shop one last time.

"No not that, what did you say just now?" Fred asked frowning.

"When?" George asked perplexed.

"Before, after we said, "And now he's gone," together, you said something else," said Fred impatiently.

"No I didn't," George said looking at Fred as if he'd grown another head.

"Yes you did, I heard you say, "Give in Potter!" Fred exclaimed exasperated.

"Well if you know what I said, even though I didn't say it, why are you asking me what I said, when I know I didn't say it!?" George replied huffily.

"What!? That didn't even make sense, You did say it, I heard you!" replied Fred.

"I think you're cracked in the head, that's what I think," George replied angrily. "I didn't say anything!"

"I'm cracked? You're talking to the dead, how cracked is that!" replied Fred pushing George slightly.

"I'm not talking to the dead, you're hearing voices that don't exist, whom are talking to the dead!" George said snappily.

"Oh I'm hearing voices, I'M HEARING VOICES!? I'll show you voices!" Fred yelled as he launched himself at George.

Fred sailed into George and they tumbled to the ground wrestling, all the while screaming at each other.

"…and you know what else, you have a big head!"

"We have the same head, you moron!"

"No, yours is way bigger than mine!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"IS T—"

"…Beg for your life Potter!"

"Shhhh…." Said Fred suddenly, pausing in his wrestling with George, "did you hear that?"

"What the sound of your sanity flying out the window? Nope, must have missed it." George said pushing Fred off of him.

Fred stumbled slightly before motioning to George to be silent, "Hello!? Is someone there?"

"Okay," said George backing up slightly, "it's St. Mungos time for you."

"Shh…" insisted Fred. "Harry, is that you?"

"If you're hearing voices talking about Harry, how could it possibly be Harry," growled George annoyed, "Stop acting stupid, we have to finish packing up the apartment."

"No, I heard someone say, "Beg for your life Potter", I'm not crazy," Fred insisted, putting one finger in his ear and the other hand above his head.

"Now what are you doing?" Asked George trying to hold back his laughter as Fred began to jump up and down on one foot.

"Trying to get a better reception," He said moving his hand above his head like an antenna.

"Okay, that's it; you're going to see Madam P.! Right now!" George said grabbing Fred forcefully and pulling him towards the floo."

--Hogwarts, Great Hall—

Severus Snape was not having a good day at all.

Today he had to breakup no less than 5 fights, in his own house no less and all were over the same subject, Potter. Even in death the brat was a thorn in his side.

Sure, he felt some pity for the whelp, but he had really brought it on himself. What adolescent takes on a Dark Lord? Preposterous, of course he was going to lose. It was all a matter of time. Sure he escaped death a couple of times, but his luck wasn't going to last forever. And really, that's all Potter ever had was luck.

No skill what-so-ever, and now the entire world knew it. Albeit, no one seemed willing to discuss his lack of skill, heck, the vast majority of the wizarding world painted him as a martyr, and mourned his death, brought on by his own stupidity. Amazingly enough, his own house was amongst them.

Well, a larger amount than he would have expected. The fights were over how 'brave' Potter died.

Severus scoffed slightly into his tea as he remembered the latest fight he broke up between two seventh years, Micheal Devers; a member of Potter's pathetic defense club, and the other Jonathan Moon, the older brother of Daphne Moon a member of the 6th years, and no doubt a future deatheater.

Devers stood by the thought that Potter died fighting, while Moon insisted he died cowering in fear at the Dark Lords feet.

Of course Severus was with Moon on the course of death Potter had taken, however, not one deatheater, or the Dark Lord himself, would verify the manner of death that had taken the brat's life.

No, despite ever effort to obtain the facts, Severus had been denied details. He was merely told that Potter had been killed, and only a few were there to bare witness to the boy-who-lived death. Upon asking where the body was, and hinting that a public display of it would deter people to follow in his footsteps, it was Lucius Malfoy that pointedly told him that there was no body to display.

Returning to inform Albus of the boy's death was harder than it should have been. He had hinged all of his hopes on him being alive, and had already gathered more people to mount a rescue mission than should have been possible. He was a child after all; it wasn't like Albus himself had been captured. The war did not hinge on the brat's life.

Not that Albus's reaction to the news had confirmed that. It took nearly five days to coax him out of his office, and even then it was evident that he was not well. Albus rarely smiled these days, and even rarer was when he ate. His condition was severely deteriorating, and the only person to blame was dead.

It was an entirely selfish act that ended Potter's life. He just had to play a hero. Wanted all the attention for himself. Now who was he impressing? He was dead, and Granger was slowly killing herself with grief. Albus walked around like a zombie, going through the motions, and acting every bit his age. The man had even taken to using a cane. He no longer offered those annoying candies to anyone within reach. Yes the brat was entirely selfish in getting himself killed.

Severus frowned deeply into his cup of tea, and despite how much he hated the brat, he had to admit, albeit begrudgingly and not outloud, he missed the brat. Not in the sense that he liked having him around, or that he missed him in the same manner as Granger, or Albus. But he missed torturing the kid. That angry expression of righteous indignation and his angry comebacks were a treat in an otherwise boring class. Now without having Potter to pick on, his 6th year Potions class was morgue silent, and his star pupil—not Granger, the annoying know it all, But Draco Malfoy had seemingly fallen into the background, and into a depression that not many could see. But, even he could tell the young man didn't understand where he stood without Potter there to fight with.

Draco Malfoy lived and breathed to challenge Potter. But with Potter gone, who was left to challenge? No one…

"…Shut up Fred, I do not have a big head!"

Severus looked up from his tea to the commotion he hadn't noticed due to his musings. Fred and George Weasley, the two most annoying people next to Potter and Black, who was also was dead- and not missed at all, thank you very much, were arguing loudly in the entrance way of the Great Hall.

"Yes you do, and it's disproportionate to your body! You have a big head, and little arms!" Fred Snapped.

Severus scowled in annoyance, although now that he mentioned it, he could see where (was it Fred?) got that from.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not hearing imaginary voices!" snapped what Severus believed to be George.

He raised an eyebrow slightly at that.

"One voice! And I'm not imagining it! It's real," Fred growled.

"Oh yes, and so are the 'waves' you're hearing nightly, or how about the 'salty air' you swear you smell when you're no where near water!" George scowled.

"Those are real too! I'm not making it up! I swear I'm hearing a woman's voice!" Fred implored angrily.

"Woman's!? You thought I was talking to you earlier!" Snapped George in an affronted tone.

"Well yeah, not only is your head to big for your body, but you have a woman's voice," Fred said mockingly.

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do t—"

"Boys," Albus's voice cut across the two's annoying bickering like a wave across the sand. All at once the Great Hall was silenced, only a feat Severus had seen Albus capable of. "What are we arguing over today?"

"Fred's hearing an imaginary voice, which is talking to the dead," George said crossing his arms huffily.

"Well that is… strange, when did this start Fred?" Asked Albus, a hint of a smile, no doubt seeing the joke for what it was. Severus, however, saw no humor in making fun of the mentally ill, no matter how close these two idiots were themselves to having their very own suite in St. Mungos.

Fred shot an angry look towards George before replying, "The voice started today, but I've been seeing stone walls covered in moss, hearing waves, and smelling salty air for almost a month."

"I see, and what is this voice saying?" Asked Albus no doubt waiting for the punchline.

Severus scowled, "Let me guess, Buy Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"

"No," Fred (or at least he was pretty sure it was Fred) replied sending his own scowl at Severus, "But, I don't think I should tell you." At this Fred looked around nervously.

"Now come Fred, if you're hearing a voice, its best we know what it's saying, in order to get rid of it," The annoying twins mother said, no doubt thinking the two were up to something, which was most likely the case.

Fred frowned, "I've only heard it twice. Maybe it's gone, perhaps I've eaten one too many of our products…"

"Fred, just tell them!" Snapped George, "Or I'll do it for you."

Fred frowned, before mumbling something. Severus scowled, "Well, that was informative."

"Severus," Albus said in a warning tone, "Mr. Weasley we didn't quite catch that, mind repeating it?"

Fred took a deep breath before saying in an even voice, "Give in Potter, Beg for your life Potter."

Albus went from serene to angry in a split second, and Severus couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him this angry. As Albus was about to begin to berate, and possibly hex the incompetent twin something unexpected happened, Fred grabbed his head and let out a horrible scream of pain before collapsing to the ground.

"Don't you hear her!?" He screamed in agony.

"FRED!?" George practically flew to his brother's side, "Fred, what's happening!"

It was than that Severus' stopped breathing, Fred took on a deathly calm façade before a terrible voice, not belonging to the boy being held up by his twin, escaped his lips.

"Baaabbbbbbyyyyy Pooooottttteeeerrrr, stop fighting and give in, beg me for your life!" And with that Fred passed out.

---Hogwarts, Library---

Draco Malfoy sat on the floor, a most undignified display if he must say so, near the most unused section of the library. No tables sat this far back, so therefore it was unlikely that he would be discovered here, unless by a wandering first year, which would be easily enough scared away with a brandish of his wand.

However, it was unlikely that anyone would come wandering back this way, considering it was dinnertime. He himself had opted to skip dinner and instead dive into various books concerning life after death. He had even gone as far as taking books from the Muggle Literature section of the Library, he had overheard several first years talking about certain 'religious' books that the Gryffindor's had taken too since the news of Potter's death had reached the castle.

However, none had given him the answer he was searching for, a way to contact Potter. He knew that there had to be a way, after all, his father had told him all about ancient rituals that contacted the dead. A way to ask spirits for guidance.

Potter couldn't be dead, he just couldn't and by finding a way to conclusively prove this was the only way to get rid of the guilt he felt.

His father after all had been the one to take Potter. Not to mention he himself ran and hid at the back of the store while Potter sacrificed himself. True, he wasn't a fighter, hell he wasn't much of a dueler, he's known that since 2nd year, but then again he could have done something. Potter saved his life after all.

Draco had done it out of instinct, saving Potter, he wasn't conscience of the decision until it was to late. Potter, however, did make the decision to save him, and for that he owed him.

But, that wasn't the reason he was willing to prove his theory—ill conceived as it was, that Potter was still alive, wrong, because if it turned out that he was in fact dead, he could still seek guidance from his long time rival.

For his entire Hogwarts career Draco had one thing going for him, he was Potter's equal.

Alright, not equal in the sense that he was on Par with Potter's abilities, or charisma, but that Potter thought enough of him that he fought with him.

That was proved as soon as Nott had tried to take Potter on. It also gained the slowly depleting support he had back. When his father was imprisoned he lost major status points in his house. Even his lackies, Crabbe and Goyle, had jumped ship, but as soon as Potter took a stand and refused to see Nott as an equal, his house started to support him again. Not to mention, when Nott lost to Potter it was enough of a blow to send him straight back to the top of the food chain. But as he sat in the hospital wing with Potter he saw a side of him he didn't know could exist, he was nice to him.

5 years of fighting, bickering, and all out death threats, and Potter was nice to him. Nott had blinded him, and Potter defended him. Potter stood up for Nott, and kept him from being suspended, and to top it all off, took Nott as an example as why the students needed to learn to defend themselves. It was enough to make him sick, Saint Potter. But, for the first time, his father was wrong. There was something remarkable about Potter, he was able to forgive, when he himself would have been itching for revenge.

So where did that leave him now? Potter was gone. He had no one to challenge. He joined the Quidditch team to compete against Potter. He took all the same classes as Potter, except ED101, not that he didn't try to get in it. Damn regulations. But Potter was gone, so what was he suppose to do now?

Really, what future did he have now, he was expected to join the Dark Lord, and he had no choice. When he saw the future before, he saw himself joining the Aurors' in order to keep an eye on Potter. (The Dark Lord pulling strings to get him accepted of course). And of course once the Dark Lord was defeated, (because even he wasn't naïve enough to believe the he would be victorious), he and Potter would battle each other for promotions and assignments. But now Potter was gone, and so was any hope of being assigned the job of spy.

Draco sighed slightly as he threw 'Buddhism for beginners' to the side and picked up 'Wiccan Beliefs: the Muggle Perspective' as he paged through the index looking for the 'death' section he over heard several voices making their way towards him.

"Of course Harry and I were destined to be together," a female's voice sobbed sadly. "We were perfect for each other… thanks," the sound of a nose being blown was heard slightly to his left, beyond the next stack. Draco scowled slightly, he couldn't believe some of the stories he'd heard over the past month about secret love affairs Potter had been supposedly having.

Please, if any girl was having an affair with Potter it was Granger, whom had been moved to the Hospital Wing, and rumored not to have eaten or stopped crying since the news broke, or Possibly that normally Pink Haired Auror, she had stopped eating, and had a depressive quality whenever she entered the room… but then again she had been seen being comforted by Professor Lupin, or as Draco liked to call him, that werewolf, so what kind of sick love triangle did Potter get himself into. Draco shuddered with disgust, gross, Potter could have caught something! And if it was true, damn it to hell, Potter had all the luck, he hated even more.

But despite knowing that this girl was probably lying, he was still intrigued to hear the latest bit of gossip, so he lowered his book and strained his ears to catch the conversation.

"I didn't know you two were dating," replied a voice Draco recognized as Lavender Brown, of course the gossip queen would be the one this girl would 'confess' to.

"Well, of course we were, he was around my house all the time, you really think he came around just to see my brother?" she sobbed dramatically.

Was that Red? Weasels little sister? Potter and her weren't dating, were they? Okay, that was more plausible than the 5th year Ravenclaw that claimed they were having a love affair, but really, He never saw Potter really talking to the girl, sure they'd have a moment or two when Weasel was around, or Granger was next to them, but not anything intimate, and Potter was never really involved in what she was saying, he was always off in his own little world.

And he wasn't obsessive, just observant. After all he didn't fancy the girl, just happened to notice whom she talked to, and how she acted around them. And she had dated Dean for a while at the beginning of the school year, hadn't she? So would Saint Potter really steal another bloke's girl. Well… no, maybe, okay he didn't know. But it didn't seem like a move Potter would make.

"Really? You're not taking it as hard as Hermione, we all kind of thought…" Another voice, if he had to guess, Pavarti, one couldn't see Lavender with out her tag along close by.

"What? That they were together?" Red scoffed annoyed, "She's always been obsessed with him of course, this is just a pathetic cry for attention, if you ask me. Like Harry would ever go for a plain girl like her."

There was a silence for a few seconds before Lavender said, "Merlin, Ginny, I thought you two were friends."

"Oh we are," Red said hurriedly, "Don't get me wrong, love her to bits, but she was the reason we kept it quite, Harry knew she was in love with him, and didn't want to hurt her feelings. And I understood at the time, but now that he's gone…" she sighed dramatically here, "I just wish I had more time with him, and that we didn't have to hide our love. He wanted to marry me of course…"

Draco scowled at that, before slamming his book shut. He scooped up his scattered books and stormed out of the library, he didn't know what made him so angry, the fact that deep inside he was uncertain as to whether or not she was lying, or the fact that Potter got one more thing he wanted. And damn it, he was dead, well Potter was going to get an earful when he contacted the bastard!