Ok, thanks for the reviews. Just a warning: This chapter is kinda fluffy. Ok, you have been warned.

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Another dream. Children this time.

Harry struggled to disentangle himself from the sheets. Three of them. Only nine or ten. One of them younger. All of them were dead now, thanks to Him. Voldemort. That Bastard and his sick games.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, he hopped out of bed and into the Gryffindor Common Room. Looking around, he couldn't believe how foreboding the place looked at night. The moon cast grim shadows and every piece of blood red furniture symbolized more blood shed. In Harry's eyes, he himself was the cause. Every person killed by that bastard was only another lore, more bait. He was the fish, Voldemort the fisherman. Pathetic. Lives taken over a petty game of Cat and Mouse.

He walked out of Gryffindor Tower, not really paying attention to where he was going. He thought about all the people he knew who were affected by him. Hermione wasn't, really, but Ron was. The entire Weasly family but him was on high alert for Voldemort activity, and it was all anyone ever talked about at the Weasly dinner table. Ginny especially. She'd wanted revenge since second year. In fact, everyone wanted revenge for something or another. But then there were the Slytherins. Then there was Malfoy.

Malfoy. The iceberg-hearted angel who seemed to haunt his fantasies day in and day out. His father was a Death Eater. His mother was probably a Death Eater. HE would probably grow up to be a Death Eater. Harry felt sick as he thought of the Slytherin Prince murdering someone. Taking orders from that... that... THING.

He was outside now. He vaguely realized he was heading toward the Whomping Willow. His heart nearly stopped as he realized a certain blonde haired someone was sitting against it. Taking notes on the sky in his notebook. Malfoy.

Harry chuckled. Of course. Of course this would happen to him. After the Owlery. After the Boyfriend thing. After that Almost Kiss... Of course that very same blonde Slytherin would be sitting right in front of him.

***

Malfoy felt someone watching him. He smirked. No one knew his nightly refuge except...

"What are you doing out so late, Potter?" He asked, calmly.

"I couldn't sleep. You?" came the oh-so-familiar voice from behind.

"You can see andromeda the best you will in years tonight." He explained. Couldn't sleep, eh? Why do I think there's more to that than he's saying? He patted the spot next to him, and soon saw the Boy-Who-Lived sit beside him. Those green eyes flashed in his direction only once, and Malfoy saw they were filled with... was that Fear? Worry? Guilt? Whatever it was, Harry quickly turned his eyes to the sky.

"Andromeda? Where?" Asked the raven-haired Gryffindor. Draco sighed. Whatever he was hiding, Harry sure didn't sound like he was going to tell him.

"It's that thing, over there. See her?" He said, pointing to the left. Harry followed the gaze, and looked at the sky.

"I don't see it." he said, dejectedly. Draco laughed.

"Oh well. We can't all be perfect."

Harry smiled a little. Draco looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"I- nothing. Nothing's wrong." Harry looked down to the grass below them.

Draco watched the boy. Obviously something was bothering him. Those green eyes seemed full of sadness. Something was wrong tonight. Maybe he'd heard about the new death toll. They'd just put it in the Prophet that morning. Maybe that has something to do with it.

"Did you hear about the new death toll? Six hundred now. Can you believe-"

"Six hundred and three." The words were so quiet that Draco just barely heard them. He turned to Harry, surprised, and was again stunned to see the boy crying. What the...

"What?" He asked quietly, almost afraid to speak.

"As of about fifteen minutes ago," Harry started, wiping away some tears and taking a long, shaky breath. "It's six hundred and three."

Draco looked at the Boy Who Lived, and couldn't help but ask "How would you know?"

"Because he shows me. Every night, when I dream, he comes to me through our link. The Godforsaken Link he has with me. All because of this scar..." As he said this, Harry banged his fist to the ground. "And he shows me. Every night I see a new person die. Tonight it was children. Three little wizards children and I couldn't save them. I... I can't save anyone..." The last part was barely a whisper and Draco watched the boy weep.

Here he was. King of the Slytherins. Son of a Death Eater. THE Draco Malfoy. And he was watching this boy cry. This boy, who everyone saw as a tower of strength, was crumbling before him. He'd never realized the burden this boy had to carry. The facade this boy had to live. He realized that the world needed this boy. He was their hero. The Boy Who Lived. He'd realized this before, of course, and so had everyone else, but he'd never truly realized... never truly knew... that the Boy Who Lived needed someone else. Didn't he get enough affection from those muggle pricks?

"Do the muggles know?" he asked suddenly, not even knowing his voice was audible.

Harry looked up suddenly. "You think they care?" Draco looked at him, inquisitively. "For the first eleven years of my life I lived in the cupboard under the stairs."

Dracos eyes widened. As Harry told him about it all, about Dudly, and Vernon, and Petunia... Draco felt furious. Who the Hell were they to stick the savior of the wizarding world under the stairs and lock him there for eleven years?!

Harry finished, and noticed Draco had unconsciously draped an arm around him. "And then there's the whole prophesy thing...."

"Prophesy?!" Draco asked, surprised. At which Harry sighed, and recited the words that had been burned into his heart since he'd first heard them.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"

Draco took it all in, not being able to breathe. So Harry, My Harry, The Harry Sitting In Front Of Me This Very Moment, is the ONLY SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD.

"I mean... How could anyone trust so much in me? ME? I caused so many people to die! My Parents..."

Nope, that was Voldemort.. Draco thought.

"Cedric..."

Once again, Voldemort....

"Sirius..."

Why's he feeling bad for that guy? He had it coming.

Harry looked up at the stars, sighing. "I've always wished I could just... I dunno, Fly away on my broomstick and let the world forget about me. I wish I hadn't caused such misery. Sirius was my godfather and I had him killed. ME. The only family he had left!"

Wait, that psycho was his GODFATHER?!?

"Wait, Black was your GODFATHER?!?" Draco nearly yelled.

Harry smiled faintly. "Yes. And he's dead now, thanks to me..."

Draco looked at Harry. Who was this boy? So confident and happy during the day... yet at night, he deals with inhuman struggles and comes to no one for help. Who was this beautiful boy, who graced the earth with a destiny no mortal should have to handle? Who was this angelic boy, who's heart should not have to bare the task given to him?

Who was this courageous boy, who was brave enough to melt the ice in his heart?

"Who are you, Harry Potter?..." He muttered, not expecting an answer. But Harry turned to him, his emerald eyes glowing in the moonlight, a kind of powerful beauty that Draco had never seen before.

"I am a boy, Draco Malfoy." Harry started. "Just a boy with more than the average life and more than the average responsibilities." He then got to his feet, and began to walk away. But then stopped, and turned.

"And maybe more than the average crush. But lets just keep the game the way it is. No use changing it over anything I said tonight." He said, winking at a surprised Malfoy, and walking back into Gryffindor Tower.

Malfoy was stunned. He didn't stop to think about why Harry had just revealed his soft side to his worst enemy. Nor did he think about why he felt the way he did. He just drank in the moment, letting the night swallow the words.

He knew he would never forget them.

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Authors Note: Ok, ok, I know that was extremely fluffy *realizes the room is filled with cotton balls and stuffed toys* Oh crap. No more fluffy stuff unless I feel the story really needs it!!!!! Ok, review!!!