Draco staggered forward, hands clutching his belly to keep his entrails from spilling out through a jagged wound across his gut. "Help me," he pleaded, collapsing into Harry's arms, blood slowly warming his chest as he held him.

"Please," he begged, clutching at Harry's robes, a desperate look in his eyes. "I don't want to die like this."

Harry's trembling legs gave out on him and he fell to his knees, Draco still in his arms.

"It's going to be okay," Harry whispered as he lovingly brushed blond hair out of the boy's eyes, leaving an angry streak of crimson across his pale face.

"I'm not ready to die," Draco pleaded weakly, breathing shallow and labored. "Please don't let me die."

Harry choked back the sob that was struggling to escape, trying to keep a brave face. "I won't," he promised, picking up the boy's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Draco let out a relieved sigh, his body relaxing, his chest settling into stillness. Harry clutched at Draco's lifeless body, tears streaming down his face as he screamed.

A hand on his shoulder forced him to glance up through blurry tears. Sirius was grinning madly down at him.

"Oh no," the man exclaimed in mock surprise. "Have you gone and got another one of your friends killed?"

Harry turned away, burying his face in Draco's hair, gasping as he sobbed. His heart felt like it was being squeezed, he couldn't breathe against the pain of it.

"You know how to stop this," Sirius taunted, his words tickling Harry's ear. He took a shuddering breath and nodded, never looking up. Bony fingers crept around his neck from behind. He didn't fight them.

He awoke with a gasp, tears refusing to stop.

/

"Meet me in the abandoned classroom at the end of the hall," Harry whispered in Draco's ear before walking out of the door at the end of class.

Draco followed a moment later, wondering why he had chosen that particular classroom. It was the one he had attacked Harry in several months ago. His stomach twisted itself up at the thought of going back there.

When he entered, Harry appeared anxious, eyes darting about nervously as Draco closed the door behind him. "I need you to make more," he requested in a rush without looking at him.

Draco's eyes widened in shock. "That should have lasted you a whole month," he exclaimed loudly.

Harry shifted nervously, studying his feet with a guilty expression. "I know," he admitted with a shudder. "The dreams... they're getting worse. I can't do this anymore. I just need some more... just enough until I can get over this... this thing I have going on with me."

He looked up at Draco, shadows dancing across his pleading eyes. Draco's breath caught in his throat at the sight of his desperate expression. He studied the boy in silence, weighing his options.

"No," he firmly replied after he had made up his mind. "I'm not going to help you kill yourself."

Harry's face morphed into an angry scowl. "Why the hell do you care? We're not friends, remember?"

Draco looked away, his stomach sinking at having his thoughtless words thrown back in his face. "I just..." Draco started, voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard and continued. "I just don't want to see you die, okay?"

He squirmed in discomfort as Harry continued to glare daggers at him.

"I'm dead anyway, so what does it matter?" he spat bitterly.

"That's not true," Draco exclaimed. "You'll probably defeat the Dark Lord and leave this whole thing behind you."

Harry snorted derisively, his eyes bright with the threat of tears. "Oh, I'll defeat him all right. There's no question there."

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion at what was left unsaid, at the bitterness that was pouring off the boy. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Harry clamped up, expression growing cold. "Just forget I said anything," he snarled before heading towards the classroom door. "I'll just ask Hermione instead."

Draco studied his back as he left, reeling from the shock of their exchange and all the unanswered questions still plaguing his thoughts. He needed to talk to Granger, even if that meant admitting to his crime. There was more going on here than Harry was letting on. For the briefest second, he paused to wonder why he should even care.

Hermione and Ron were lounging on a bench, enjoying the surprisingly pleasant weather. The air was a tad chilly, but the sun overhead kept them bathed in warmth. Hermione shivered as a cloud passed over the sun, the temperature dropping suddenly.

Malfoy stalked towards them with a determined expression, his eyes fixed on her boyfriend. "I need to borrow Granger," he snarled.

Ron glared back in a threatening manner, his teeth grinding and body tense. "Not going to happen, mate," he shot back.

"It's about your friend," Malfoy elaborated with a disdainful toss of his head. "And I'd rather not discuss it with you. I don't fancy getting punched in the face again."

Hermione placed her hand gently on Ron's arm as he bristled at Malfoy's tone. "It's fine," she assured him, standing to follow the blond, curious at what could have brought him out here.

"Hermione, don't," Ron pleaded, but she continued walking.

They stopped under a nearby tree that was within Ron's line of sight. Maybe if he could see them, then he wouldn't get too mad. After a quick glance in his direction, she looked up at Malfoy with a questioning expression on her face, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

"I have something I need to tell you," he grumbled, eyes downcast. She waited patiently for him to continue, heart still atwitter.

"I've been making Harry the Dreamless Sleep Potion off and on since Winter Break," he admitted, biting his lip nervously.

She gasped in surprise. That was a restricted potion – difficult to make and extremely dangerous. He shouldn't have...

"I know," he spat, cutting her off before she had a chance to say anything.

"That was completely irresponsible," she scolded, finally finding her voice when the initial shock wore off.

"I know," he repeated, voice rising in agitation. "I was hoping that if he just got some sleep, it would clear his head and help him sort things out. It didn't. He started getting reckless with it, so I cut him off... again. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case he asked you to make it for him or worse, tried to make it himself. You've got to find another way of dealing with his nightmares. I'm no good with that kind of stuff."

She shook her head in disbelief at the anxious expression on Malfoy's face.

"You really do care about him," she remarked – it wasn't a question. He growled at the accusation but didn't deny it.

"We'll think of something," she promised reassuringly, her hand twitching with the need to comfort him. He would not like that and neither would Ron whose eyes had never once left the pair as they conversed.

When it looked like Draco had nothing more to say, she turned to go back to her boyfriend worried at the agitated look he wore. Draco grabbed hold of her sleeve, causing her to stop and turn around in surprise.

"I also wanted to know something," Malfoy asked, earnest eyes on her. "Why does Harry keep implying he's going to die?"

Her stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. If Harry hadn't told him, she didn't feel it was her place to say anything, but those wide, fearful eyes were making it very hard for her to hold her tongue.

"Please," he begged. "You know something, don't you? Tell me what it is."

She nodded, heart hammering in her chest.

"There was a prophecy," she replied evasively. If he wanted to know more, Harry would have to be the one to tell him. She broke away from him and returned to her scowling boyfriend.

Draco was skulking about the halls on the third floor in frustration, lost in thought over the day's events. If there was a prophecy that said Harry was going to die, why hadn't he told him? Oblivious to his surroundings, Draco failed to notice two boys approaching him. The larger boy grabbed him from behind, arms wrapping under his to hold him still.

"Look what we have here," he whispered in Draco's ear, causing him to startle in surprise.

"Not so high and mighty now?" the smaller boy questioned, moving into his line of sight. Draco barely recognized him – definitely a Slytherin, but probably from one of the less prominent families, so not worth his time.

"I'm sorry," Draco replied with a yawn as he forced himself to relax, his heart still thundering in his chest as he bluffed. "What was your name again? I don't think I ever bothered learning it."

The smaller boy clenched his fists at his sides, eyes flashing dangerously. The larger boy tightened his grip until it was painful, his body shaking with fury. Draco knew he was going to regret the insult, but he was in a reckless mood. He forced his expression to remain neutral.

"It doesn't matter who I am," the boy spat with an angry flush. "What matters is what we're going to call you? You're not a Malfoy anymore, so..."

The boy grinned maliciously and signaled his friend to hold Draco still. He pulled out his wand and lifted Draco's shirt. Where wand met skin, Draco felt a searing pain, the words 'Potter's Pet' being etched into his flesh. He grunted against the pain, jaw clenched tight, tears pricking his eyes.

"That way you won't forget it," the boy informed with a wicked grin.

"Let me have a go," the larger boy whined, shoving Draco into the smaller boy's arms where he was spun about, almost falling.

From the end of the hallway, they heard Professor Snape's voice. "What do you think you are doing here?"

Both boys exchanged worried glances before they took off running, dropping Draco to the floor. From his vantage point, he saw mis-matched shoes with brightly colored socks approaching. A dreamy voice asked, "Are you okay?"

Confused, he glanced further down the hall, looking for Professor Snape. The blond girl began to giggle at him. "Sorry for the trick," she explained, holding out a hand to help him up. "I changed my voice to scare them off."

Draco ignored her offer of assistance and stood, wincing momentarily at the pain in his chest.

"The name's Luna - Luna Lovegood," she informed in an airy voice.

"I'm Dra-"

"Oh, I already know who you are," she said, cutting him off with a leisurely smile.

She rifled through her bag, pulling out a jar that looked suspiciously like the one that Professor Snape had given him. "Let me help you with that," she offered, indicating the wounds that were bleeding through his shirt.

Draco took a step back, shaking his head as she approached. "I'm fine."

"It will hurt less if someone else does it," she coaxed, opening the jar as if she didn't intend to give him a choice. He vaguely recognized her as being a part of the Harry Potter Fan Club.

"Fine," he grumbled, lifting his shirt. He didn't have the energy to get into a pointless argument right now.

Her fingers were cool as she smeared the salve onto his chest. He shivered at the sensation.

"You know," she remarked, her expression dreamy once more as she put the lid back on the salve. "You have more friends than you realize. There's a lot of people that are really thankful you saved Harry's life."

She didn't wait for him to respond as she stood and wandered off, leaving Draco dumbfounded. Why were Harry's friends so fucking weird?