Author's Note: Hope you like this chapter. I'm still not sure what's going to happen in this story. Perhaps I won't write anymore, perhaps I will. It might have a happy ending, it might have a sad ending, or it might not have any ending at all! I was just going to do a short thing where Draco tries to commit suicide, and Harry saves him – but then loads of people reviewed and I felt inspired to write more! Maybe it still will be very short, but just not as short as I'd originally intended!!!! I'd like to thank the following people for reviewing:
One-Winged Angel – where do I get my ideas from? Other people's stories of course, where else?! Thanks for reviewing all my chapters (two, wow, lol).
MiSt – glad you like this, I do too!
Totaloser – You think this story's Perfect? …well ok then!
Rocket Chick – glad you like the descriptions, and I hope you do come back to read more!!
Xani girl 7 – snazy is my middle name :D
Dracoluvah – ah, another fan of draco I see? I hope you got my email. Bitter Sweet – the title of my life story.
Twiglet – tee hee, loved your name, hooharrhar! Thanks for reviewing!
Acerbitas – oh I wonder who o_O glad you liked it molzi. Write more poems please and I hope you read more of this and tell me what you think!!
PrincessofBarzel – intriguing name, I must say. Im the best author? What, ever???? Well golly gosh, I'm blushing, and thank you SO MUCH but I'm not the best author ever! What about Catherine Fisher, JRR Tolkein, Philip Pullman, Susan Cooper, and, of course, JK Rowling?!! Cheers :D
Mistal:Abyss, Water Fairy – and another one with a parculiar name! more soon there is, just read on!!
A/N: please review! Hope you like the chapter! ~rowanx
Chapter three - Your Heart
Herbology is boring. We're not doing anything. Professor Sprout is going on about the reasons why the Porfren is called Porfren. Don't ask me why, I'm not listening. Crabbe and Goyle are having quite an amusing fight about who's the largest. Both have grown quite a lot over the past few years and I would say both look about the same build. Perhaps Crabbe is slightly taller. It's hard to tell; his hair is so muffed up it looks as though inside of brushing it, he rakes it up instead so that it sticks all over the place. Honestly. Some people just have no dignity at all.
As much as I hate Crabbe and Goyle, it is useful to have them around. I am quite strong, but with them around, no one bothers to start any fights with me. I smile. Unless of course I let them.
This thought for some reason makes my musings wonder back to Potter. Most unfortunately, we have Herbology with the Gryffindors. He's looking at me. I give him my meanest, most-deadliest stare possible, and he simply looks away and at Madam Pomfrey. I frown in annoyance. He didn't look embarrassed that I caught him staring, and he didn't look annoyed when I sent non-verbal death threats to him. But then again, he did kind of save my life…
Not that that's a good thing. But I don't think I did it properly – and someone would have found me eventually, wouldn't they? Good thing Potter didn't blab. If people knew I had tried to end my life, then…well, it would be weird. Everyone hates me, that's no secret, and people would feel awkward whether or not to feel sorry for me. Oh, and if father ever found out… Who knows what he would have done.
Herbology has finished. I look up, confused. Everyone's gone, and Crabbe and Goyle are still bickering. I sigh and push them out of the greenhouse. When we get outside they turn to me. "Where are we going now?" Goyle asks.
"Transfiguration," I answer. They look blank. "Remember? Where you turn things into other things? It's our next lesson." They look blank still but when I sigh and walk away, they follow me. Don't ask me how they pass the end-of-year-exams. I expect their fathers have something to do with it.
When I reach the main doors and step inside the entrance hall, Potter is standing there, as if he were waiting for me. I stop still and stare at him. He stares back. I cross my arms. "Crabbe, Goyle, go," I say.
"…Where?"
"Just go!" I yell.
They leave up the stairs. At least they've started off in the right direction. I shake my head as they leave then turn and walk towards Potter. "Well?" I ask.
Potter opens his mouth but I cut him off with a swift wave of the hand. "Don't ask me why, because I'm not going to tell you, and I know you already have your own ideas as to the answer to that so whatever I say you won't believe me anyway."
After a moment, Potter nods. "Ok," he says. He doesn't walk off, he simply stands there, as if waiting for something.
"Well?" I ask. "Go away."
"Why don't you go away."
"Because you're waiting for me to tell you something and if you're the first person to leave, that means you've decided not to ask me, but if I'm the first one to leave, then you'll only ask me later anyway, so what is it?"
Potter smiles in a scornful yet amused way. It's a bit eerie actually – he looks a bit like me when he does that. "Ok then," he says. "I was just wondering – are you glad I saved your life or not?"
I frown. "Shut up you did not save my life."
"Yes I did. If I hadn't taken you down to the hospital wing, you…"
"Wait, did you carry me?"
Potter shrugs. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? I couldn't just leave you there with blood all over you."
I instinctively look at my hand and suddenly wish I hadn't. Potter's eyes travel down to where it hangs at my side and gasps involuntarily. "Malfoy you stupid…" Potter stops and shakes his head, returning his gaze to my face. "Whatever. I'm sure you had your reasons. I just would never have thought it of you, that's all."
"Thought what of me?" I ask instinctively.
Potter almost grins, then doesn't. "I never would have thought you would be one to run away when it gets tough."
Anger. I do not run away from stuff. I clench my fists at my side and then yell aloud at the pain that runs through my arm. I lift up my hand and look at it, running my fingers along the scars. I really wish I hadn't done that.
"Does it hurt?" I turn. Potter is suddenly at my side.
I frown. "No, it doesn't. I gasped because I was practising some lines for a play in which my arm does hurt."
Potter frowns at my sarcasm. "It was a stupid thing to do."
"Oh, and you'd be the expert on killing yourself, would you?"
"Well, all I know is that if I'd really meant to kill myself, I wouldn't have only cut my hand."
"Where would you have cut then?" I ask in my drawling tone. As if Potter really knows anymore than anyone else.
"I would have slashed at what you obviously hate most. Cutting up your hand isn't going to make you feel any better."
Potter turns and starts to walk up the stairs. Not wanting to yell out, I do anyway – curse my curious nature. "And what would that be?"
Potter turns on the stairs. He smiles wryly. "Your heart," he says. Potter walks away, and I frown after him, my fingers subconsciously tracing along the deep scars on my hand. They move to my chest and trace along the deep invisible scars of my detested heart.
