A/N: Hey guys- I hope that you all are enjoying this story, and thanks again for the reviews. If you want you can check out the other H/D story I am posting, it is very different from this one as it takes place during Hogwarts, and only from Harry's POV, and is much more romantic- let me know what you think!

Chapter 25:

Draco Malfoy was a monster.

He looked in the mirror and stared at his face dispassionately. He knew that there were many magical creatures that were gifted with attractive features in order to lure men to their deaths. Veelas. Vampires. Sirens. Demons. The Black family. Draco poked at his blemish-free cheek, watching it turn red around his nail, watching it react. He was lovely, he supposed. A lovely, vacant shell without a single, solitary emotion worth saving. Creamy, peach and white skin, unusual grey eyes, white hair, balanced nose and interesting sharp chin. A lovely, beautiful monster. Yet two wizards had risked their lives for him.

Draco noxed the candles in the cheap, tiny bathroom of the St. Mungo's hospital room and went back over to Harry's bedside.

Harry's body was surrounded by an orb of light that reminded Draco of the time that he had seen aurora borealis in an projection charmed picture book that his parents had brought back from one of their holidays. Draco had sat up for days; staring at the red and greens, mesmerized by the light show, until the charms in the book had died out and only the one dimensional engraving of Antarctica had remained. It wasn't a positive recollection- to have Harry surrounded by the northern lights of a cold, distant land in of a picture book that his cold, distant father had once given him.

Draco took Harry's hand, warming him with his own. Harry was supposed to be warm, warm and free. That was what Harry had fought for- for all of them, and now he was lying in a hospital bed, adjacent to the Janus Thickey Ward because Draco had attracted the last of the Death Eaters into his life. Because Draco had attracted Harry into his life. If only Draco had listened to his own instinct and let Harry alone, and lived his own quiet, dull little existence; if only he had learned his lesson about being selfish- if he had truly learned it Algernon would have been alive and Harry would be healthy and fine and everyone would be alright-

But Draco loved him. He loved Harry and he had gone after him, the first time he'd kissed him he'd wanted him. No, that was a lie, he would have to go back to the beginning. He had wanted Harry for his best mate as a child, and when that hadn't worked he had nursed a chip larger than his old vaults at Gringotts and it had led him down this path, everything had lead him down this path, and that was fate, if one believed in that sort of nonsense anyway-

But all Draco wanted was Harry.

Now Draco was so desperately tired. He hadn't slept in three days, except in stops and starts, in case Harry woke up. The Healers said that it would take two more days to see any results from their procedures and the potions, but they didn't know Harry. Draco knew that he would be fine. He just did.

"Potter," Draco said, accio'ing over his hairbrush and beginning to brush out the little tangles in his hair just for something to do. "You're going to wake up and the first thing we're going to do is take Teddy out for ice cream. The poor child has been worried sick about his precious godfather. Next, we're going to get you a haircut, and then we're going to my flat and we're to-"

"Malfoy," Weasley said, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to get out his wand or get out another hairbrush and start helping Draco out. Draco scowled and put the hairbrush aside, even though he didn't unthread his fingers from Harry's. Harry had changed his emergency contacts from Weasley and Granger to Draco. Draco didn't know when Harry had done it but a part of him resented that Harry had without telling him- it felt too much like Algernon changing his will and that whole fiasco-in fact, the only good point to all this nonsense was that the Weasleys couldn't have him forcibly ejected from Harry's beside.

No, Draco smirked, a little maliciously. They all had to dance to Draco's tune for once, and Draco had always been terrible at sharing.

"Weasley," Draco said evenly. He wasn't sure if Harry could hear or not. When he had been under stasis he had heard, once- but it could have been because his daft mediwitch had missed the top-up on his charm. Draco didn't know, but he resolved to keep Harry's beside peaceful, or as peaceful as he possibly could without having to give in to Mother Weasley's demands that she said to her son in Draco's hearing but never addressed to Draco himself.

"Malfoy," Weasley looked lost. Draco sighed and pointed to a bag of Expandable Armchairs on the high dresser that the late night mediwitch had left for Draco when he had seen the size of the family that came in and out of the bedroom. Weasley shrugged, embarrassed, and tapped his wand against one toy-sized chair, returning to the dimensions needed for a fully-grown adult's bottom.

"He looks well," Weasley tried, and Draco snorted, picking up the hairbrush again. That was a lie, and a stupid one. Harry didn't look well, and he didn't look like he was resting, or comfortable, either. Harry hated looking weak, and he hated being made the butt of a joke- Draco ought to know, he had made Harry the butt of enough jokes throughout the years. Harry also hated to rest; he loved working and planning and feeling apart of something. He was at his best at his job, or flying, or in bed. Not confined to a bed.

Look what you did to him, Draco said, forcing himself to stare at the scar tangling on Harry's neck, the one that snaked all the way down to his navel. Look what you did to him, and to Algernon. No wonder your own mother can't stand the sight of you, Draco Malfoy- remember your father?

"Malfoy," Weasley said hesitantly. He looked old in his red robes. Old and sick, too. Draco had no idea what Granger looked like; whenever she came in the room they both avoided each other's eyes- the accuser and the guilty party. "Malfoy why don't you go home for the night? Or to visit Mrs. Tonks and see Teddy?"

"No," Draco hissed, turning away. He couldn't stand to see Teddy crying again, his sad little baby curls turning as grey as an old man's beard. And he couldn't stand for Harry to wake up and be alone or with the Weasleys, and think that Draco had deserted him, when he couldn't. No, Draco had made precious few stands in his life, and that had been his mistake; but this would be one of them. The Weasleys couldn't be rid of him, and Harry wanted him, and Draco was staying. This time he knew what he wanted.

Weasley must have seen something in the set of his jaw that made him smile because one did flirter across his face, even though it was only momentary. Draco scowled again; Weasley didn't leave, but he stand.

"I'm going to the canteen," Weasley said, stretching. "We're going to need something stronger than this piss-water tea on our vigil, Malfoy."

"We are?" Draco repeated incredulously, but looked at Harry's face. His long, dark lashes stood out in stark relief to his colorless skin, like ink-less vellum. Draco wanted to kiss him back to life- he wanted to slap him, to do anything that would wake Harry up and bring him back to the frustrating, amazing, wonderful person that he had known. Draco looked back up- Weasley was staring at him, and Draco didn't like it. It was far too knowing a look.

"I'll bring you a coffee," Weasley said gruffly, as though he had been forced to adopt a rabid crup. "And a few biscuits or something- maybe even a whole tin; I don't know if anyone's ever bothered to tell you, Malfoy, but you're too thin by far."

"I'm not thin," Draco said to Harry as soon as Weasley left.

"Was that some sort of Weasley ritual, attempting to fatten a bloke up?" Draco asked Harry, but of course he didn't answer. The hand holding the hairbrush trembled and all Draco could hear in his head was it's your fault-it's your fault -it's your fault on an endless, horrible loop.

Aunt Andromeda forced Draco to Kent the next day. Draco had been showering in the communal staff showers at St. Mungo's; a young spot-scarred Healer had taken pity on him or Harry and had given Draco the ward code to their break room. But that wasn't enough for Aunt Andromeda- Draco needed to rest, he needed to wash his hair, he needed to eat the roast that Aunt Andromeda had left under heating charms in the small kitchen. Draco had finally relented under her merciless gaze and the Weasleys scornful, vicious glances that all spoke with their eyes of their thoughts; how they wished that it was Draco in that cot instead of Harry.

But it didn't upset him not nearly half as much as it would have. He hated the Weasleys out of rote now but Draco knew in his heart of hearts that he deserved to be in a hospital bed, and Harry deserved to be free of him. Draco was just too Slytherin to leave him alone.

Draco let himself into the cottage and threw down his keys with their sparkling DA. Every time Harry saw the key ring he looked as though he was going to start a fight he didn't know he could finish, and Draco loathed that. He loathed the fact that he couldn't go there and have that argument, he loathed the fact that Harry could actually be a coward about that one bloody thing, and he loathed the fact that now he clung to Algernon's old gifts when he should have been a better lover to him.

Without looking in the mirror, Draco turned the shower on high and stepped inside, practically boiling his skin off of his bones. It felt cleansing, and he felt as though he needed it, as though even down to the marrow of his bones something was wrong with him.

Bones, Bones, Algernon Bones. Draco's head chanted. Who once had ten fingers and ten toes.

Lithia water. Draco hadn't left the hospital in three bloody days, which meant that he hadn't taken his potion in just about that long. Draco grimaced; what he needed what his potions and a good night's sleep, but he doubted he could sleep now, and he couldn't apparate over to his flat in such a state without splinching himself and ending up in a worse state than this one.

Draco pushed open the door to his old bedroom and smiled. On the bed was a small vial of Lithia water, as well as thick duvet that had been folded on edge of the bed. If Aunt Andromeda had been sending a clearer message she would have had to take out an advert in the Daily Prophet.

When Draco woke up from his slumber it was to an unnatural sensation- firstly, he realized that his neck ached from being twisted to one side. Secondly he realized that Weasley was sitting at the edge of his bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Do you know that that crack looks just like Snape's nose from this angle?" Weasley said, stuffing a crisp into his mouth.

Draco had always thought that was a sign of his madness, but perhaps he was hallucinating Weasley as well- but if that was true he hoped he would end up in the Janus- Harry. Merlin, what was wrong with him? Draco sat up and fumbled with his wand, trying to accio his shoes out from under the bed.

"Calm down," Weasley said, alarmed by Draco's reaction. "Malfoy, seriously, calm yourself down, you're going to give yourself the Dolorious Dolorums."

"I've got to get back, Weasley," Draco said, exhaling. He was clean, vaguely refreshed, and luckily he had pocked his potions before Weasley had shown up at his aunt's cottage. "Why are you here- unless Harry has woken up?"

That would be the utter worst- Harry waking up to a sea of red and no blond in sight.

"No," Weasley admitted, looking very put out. If Draco had any space left inside himself to feel miserable for anyone else but himself and Harry; he might have extended some pity for Harry's best mate. "Hermione sent me over here to rest, I almost fell asleep on one of the armchairs and it shrunk around me."

Draco smothered the ghost of a smirk and Weasley smiled tiredly. "Is this your bedroom?"

"Was," Draco shrugged, gesturing to the NEWTs award on the wall. It felt as though it belonged to another boy, who had belonged to another bloke. "I'm going to leave-you can sleep here, Weasley."

Weasley raised an incredulous eyebrow and then laid down on the bed slowly. "You should get something to eat before you go, Malfoy."

Draco closed the door, and took an apple off the kitchen table, just so Harry wouldn't be too upset.

Granger was in the hospital suite when Draco arrived, along with Nott's ginger bint. Draco felt as though all his hours of sleep bled away from him at the sight of them gossiping over Harry's prone body as though it was a Gryffindor Quidditch match and Harry was an issue of the Quibbler. Granger didn't even look up when Draco came in and Draco nearly laughed- how very civilized of her to ignore him, but she hadn't been able to ignore him when he had been riding Harry.

The night that Algernon died, Draco's mind reminded him ruthlessly. Draco turned away from her and from Ginny Nott's curious, envious eyes. How could she be jealous of him? How- when everyone in the Weasley family and the world now knew what Draco had done just to get Harry?

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," a bland, lime-green robed wizard smiled genially. "So good that you're back- we need you to sign off on some parchment scrolls."

Granger snorted and Draco made sure to smile brightly at the Healer, ushering him inside. He knew that he was being beyond petty but Granger reminded him of all his failings and as long as she did that he would never, ever be able to forgive or even tolerate her.

"How's Harry doing?" Draco asked, watching Granger's bushy head and Nott's sleek coif bob up as if on a cue. Aha- they couldn't stand Draco, but he had them by the ends of their wands.

"Mr. Potter will be taken out of stasis in the morning," the Healer smiled excitedly and Draco sneered; he could tell exactly what type this dolt was and he was simply begging for an autograph and a photo when Harry woke up. When- Draco almost smiled; but then he remembered that he wasn't alone and forced it back down.

"The internal injuries have healed as far as they can under stasis," the Healer continued, paging through a scroll in his hand. "As for the rest, it's going to have to be a daily potion for a week along with a modified workout plan, and probably desk duty if he chooses to return to work- personally I'd like to see him on a holiday for as long as he's on the potion."

"Good luck with convincing him," Draco drawled, relieved and elated. Then he motioned to the scarring. "Can anything be done for that?"

"It's superficial, not magical, so it should fade with time. You must have had glass in your house, Mr. Malfoy. Although you can try Gregorian's Liniment if Mr. Potter would like to lighten those up before his natural healing time would have occurred."

"Yes," Draco thought, looking over the paperwork and signing his name over the standard release forms over and over again. He wondered if his Aunt Andromeda had felt this overwhelming sense of joy, love and accomplishment that he felt now when she had taken him from the hospital all those years ago. But then again, Aunty hadn't known at the time how close they would grow to be, and how much Draco would grow to care for her. But Harry knew how Draco felt about him.

Harry knew and Draco would have to find the way of making everything else right. The weight of it all felt impossible, but he had failed too many times before not to make a success now.