One Last Message
By Skye Rocket
Thursday, November 08, 2001
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy (but one can dream, right? Um, never mind that.).
A/N: Yeppers peppers, you can bet that this is definitely not the kind of thing I usual write, but hey, change is good, right?
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It was back; that awful pain. The one where it felt like he was being poked by millions of white-hot needles, all over his body. His grunted and rolled over, staring out the window, trying to escape from this place, even though he knew he couldn't. He couldn't simply fly out of his sick, weathered body and escape. He knew the end was near, but why not now? Why did he have to wait?

It was behind him. "Oh, sorry, I guess this is the wrong room," the man in the doorway said apologetically. The man in the bed turned to see the stranger.

"That's-," his voice froze suddenly, wanting to go on, but couldn't.

"Malfoy?" the voice questioned incredulously.

"Potter?" he asked. The man in the doorway asked. "What are you doing here? In a Muggle hospital?"

"I was sent to visit some Muggle children who have no idea who I am," Harry said, amused. "And what are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked. Draco sighed and laid back in his bed.

"Dying, obviously," he drawled. Harry stopped. "Yep, that's me. Didn't you hear? They stripped me of my powers, and by then, the money was all gone, and...here I am."

Harry stepped towards him. "And why would they do that?" he asked. Draco shook his head, doing his best to forget.

"Nothing, just forget it, the point is, I'm not the same as anyone else now." Draco knew he had to face reality.

"You never were," Harry pointed out. "And we never ht it off, like I guess you planned, that day at Diagon Alley."

Draco folded his arms. At least he had something to distract him now. Even the doctors had no idea what was the matter with him, although he had the idea he wouldn't be bothered with it for too long after a while. He'd been here long enough. Tests after other test, gallons of blood drawn, but still, not so much as a diagnosis.

"Harry?" he said. There was something he had to say. And he had to say it now. Things were slowly, but steadily fading away.

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"Um, I-I," he stammered. "I never hated you. I wanted to be friends, or at least like the famous Harry Potter." Harry sat, somewhat stunned by this revelation.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Draco said weakly. He whimpered and closed his eyes. Harry held his hand, somehow knowing what was coming. "Bye, Harry," he whispered. Harry's mouth slightly opened.

"Draco? Draco?" Harry cried. But it was to late. Draco was gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. He sat there, holding his former-nemesis's hand, crying his name, over and over again.
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Skye's Corner
Oh, look at that. I've depressed myself. *Takes a swig of Diet Dr. Pepper* I need to write something happy now! I'm sick again. I hate the common cold! But now I feel like I need to chuck up, but I don't feel like getting up. I do have an empty cup here. Okay, that was gross. Before I go, I want to ask something that's been bugging me.

If Draco and Harry were friends instead of Ron and Harry, do you think Mr. Dursley would have accepted the Malfoys, even though they were wizards? I mean, the Malfoys ARE rich...

If you want to respond, you may do so in your reviews. It's been bugging me for a while now. Anyway, I'm out. Bye! *waves*