A/N Sorry about the extremely long lapse in updates. blushes sheepishly I swear the next one will not take as long. I'm hoping to have it up by next week.

mojo-jojo241 – Of course you can recommend my fic. I never say no to free publicity. ;)

Just a thanks to everyone that's reviewed so far. You've all been so nice and supportive, and I just luv ya!



I should've known I was used for amusement
Couldn't see through the smoke
It was all an illusion



Draco shut the door behind him and walked through the softly filtered moonlight towards the hospital bed. He lowered his weary body into the chair at Harry's bedside, grey eyes heavy with exhaustion and concern for the sleeping angel. He itched to slip into bed beside Harry and take him into his arms, to wipe away the past with a kiss and the strong embrace of his arms.

He stood and stepped closer to the side of the bed, leaning over to gaze down at Harry's pale face, the moonlight illuminating the slowly fading bruises and marks of the past. In only a matter of hours he would be back to normal, free of the physical scars of the events of the last few months. But the scars of the Gryffindors mind and heart would take more than healing salve to fix.

Draco rubbed a hand over his stinging eyes and kneeled down to lean on the edge of the white sheeted bed. He reached out a hand to touch Harry's face, but stopped and drew back his trembling fingers, wishing only to touch Harry with permission when, and if, he was ever ready to accept it again.

Draco let the tears fall down his face as he laid his cheek against Harry's immobile hand; warm and soft beneath his skin. He closed his eyes and sighed, allowing the moment to stretch and grow until his knees ached from the stone floor, and still he sat, drinking in the moment he had at hand and forgetting for once that there would be a tomorrow with painful conversations and admissions to endure. Those green eyes would look at him with anger and pain then, not the love that he wanted to see now.

But you can't stop time and the world will awaken the dreamers once more to face reality.

Draco lifted his tear-stained face and was greeted by the sight of a slowly rising sun, the sky changing from darkest blue to pink and orange.

It would be a beautiful day.

He looked back to Harry and rose to his feet, legs stiff from kneeling for so long, and backed up until he was a safe distance away once more. He wrapped his arms protectively around himself and kept his regret and remorse inside, safely hidden away from the rest of the world.

A gentle knock on the door disrupted the silent solitude, causing Draco to jump and quickly wipe at his eyes.

"Mr Malfoy."

Draco turned and greeted the headmaster with a tired nod, arms still tightly wrapped around his body, not quite meeting those kind blue eyes with his own.

Dumbledore closed the door softly behind him and walked past Draco to the empty chair at Harry's bedside. The wizened old man patted Harry's hand gently, eyes taking in the small droplets of water still glistening on the pale skin, evidence of the scene that had taken place before his arrival. He discreetly wiped away the tears with his thumb and watched Harry's chest rise and fall rhythmically before him.

"Thank you, Draco."

Draco dabbed at his eyes some more and stayed back in the shadows. "For what?" he responded quietly.

"For telling me all that you did," Dumbledore said, eyes still on Harry as he slept. "I know it wasn't easy."

Draco shrugged.

"Are you planning on starting up your relationship with Harry again once he's recovered?"

Draco looked out the window, past the thin white curtains and into the slowly brightening sky beyond. "If he wants to."

Dumbledore turned in his chair to regard his young Slytherin student seriously. "I know you're sorry for your past mistakes, Draco, but I would advise against it."

"And why is that?" Draco frowned.

"Because there are just too many factors against the two of you."

Draco uncrossed his arms, suddenly angry. "The world does not dictate what I can and can not do. If I love Harry - and believe me, I do - then I will do whatever it takes to make our relationship work. We were just fine before everyone else found out, and we will be fine again."

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "It's not just the matter of two rivals being together, it's that he is Harry Potter and you are Draco Malfoy. The future defeater of Voldemort and a prominent Death Eater's son, and no matter how hard you try, you can't change that."

"I thought you would be the last person to buy into all that bullshit," Draco remarked coolly.

"It's not how I usually think of you or Harry, but in this situation, I must. I want you to fight for our side, for Harry's side, but not at the personal risk of yourself or anyone else."

"Professor Snape puts himself in harms way for your side," Draco pointed out.

"Yes, but that decision only affects himself. Voldemort is a believer in blackmail and won't hesitate to use it against, Harry. You would be an invaluable spy for us, Draco, but he can't find out that you have any kind of feelings for Harry other than hate."

"Who says I'm going to fight at all? Maybe I'll just stand in the background and not choose a side at all."

Dumbledore gazed at Draco over the top of his spectacles. "You and I both know that's a lie."

Draco ran an agitated hand through his mussed up hair and paced back and forth in front of the window. "I don't care what you say, my life is my own, and you can't stop me. You can't stop us."

"I only ask that you think about it."

Draco stopped his pacing. "I don't need to."

Dumbledore sighed and stood with deliberate slowness. "I guess the decision rests with, Harry."

"I guess it does," Draco remarked with finality.

Dumbledore walked towards the door.

"Sir?"

The headmaster paused and turned.

"What exactly happened to Harry tonight? With that magic...explosion, or whatever it was."

"I would like to talk to Harry about that first, and then he may choose whether to tell you or not. But I can tell you that he will be fine...as far as his physical health goes."

Draco nodded, the headmaster's last comment not slipping by without a sharp stab to his guilty conscience.

As the door shut behind the old wizard, Draco walked back over to Harry and stared down at him. Harry's face was now washed in the warm glow of the rising sun, the bruises having all faded away to reveal the almost porcelain tone of his skin. Draco couldn't resist leaning down to ghost his lips over that soft mouth below, his touch as light as a feather, barely brushing them at all, but it was enough. For now.

Draco straightened up and grasped a hold of the next bed, pulling it over with the screech of metal on stone, until it was right up against Harry's. He pulled back the starchy sheets and only paused to remove his shoes and cloak before climbing under and lying back against the clean smelling pillows.

He lay on his side, facing Harry. A sad smile graced his face as he slowly drifted off to sleep. It felt as if he was sharing a bed with Harry again. It was as close as he was going to get tonight, but hopefully not forever.

The sky outside the infirmary tower turned a cool blue as morning slowly greeted the castle. It was a cold, crisp December day, and the sun shone down on the frozen grounds and sparkled on the frosty grass.

The two dreamers slept soundly, content to stay in the moment until they were ready to face reality again.



...........................

A warm beam of sunlight slowly crept over the white sheets of the infirmary bed until it touched upon the face of the young man sleeping there, the beam growing and lengthening as the sun rose in the sky outside.

Harry's eyes twitched beneath his closed lids, the sunlight gently waking him with its soothing warmth. He sighed in his sleep and slowly opened his emerald eyes. He blinked sleepily up at the ceiling, his body warm and comfortable, and for once, free from pain.

"I'm dreaming," he thought with a contented smile, closing his eyes against the sun's bright rays and revelling in a long, luxurious stretch.

Harry opened his eyes again and smiled. His brain was trying to remember what had happened the night before, he knew it was something important...

He quickly pushed those troublesome thoughts away and turned his head to look out the window. The only thing he was able to see from his low viewpoint was the huge expanse of sky above; a canopy of blue with thick white and grey clouds floating by. There was a layer of frost decorating the edges of the glass window, sparkling as it melted and ran down in little rivers.

Harry slowly sat up and was surprised at how weak and light-headed he was. He shook his head to clear his vision of spots and leaned back against the pillows, content to stay there forever as he closed his eyes once more and sighed.

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes flew open at the sound of that voice and it all came rushing back.

The spell was broken.

He turned his head to the right and saw Draco sitting cross-legged on the cot next to his, staring at him intently.

"You're awake," Draco observed unnecessarily, flashing a nervous smile.

Oh, God. Harry quickly ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to be unconscious, oblivious to the real world again. To be doing anything rather than sitting in front of his ex-boyfriend burning with humiliation and anger and-

"Harry?"

Harry felt his cheeks redden as he tried to block out Draco's voice. He flipped over onto his side so that his back was towards him, hoping that the Slytherin would take the hint and leave.

Draco sighed. "Please don't be like that, Harry. At least hear me out first, or talk to me, yell at me if you want, just...anything. Please."

Harry ignored his quiet pleading and pulled the blanket tightly around his body.

Draco shook his head to keep the tears from coming, but it still hurt to see how much hate and pain was directed his way from the other boy. He stood up and walked around to the other side of Harry's bed and kneeled down, staring into Harry's closed-off face; eyes squeezed tightly shut and jaw tight with tension.

"I'm going to talk and you don't have to say anything," Draco began softly. "Just listen."

Harry remained motionless.

Draco took a deep breath and continued. "I guess I should start with what happened after...well, after what happened in the Great Hall. I don't know if you remember, but you knocked Ethan unconscious-"

Harry flinched.

"- and then you fainted. Madam Pomfrey said that you were exhausted and drained from that power surge, and you've been asleep now for almost three days. You had everyone pretty worried there for awhile, Harry. Especially me."

He paused to take another steadying breath.

"Ethan-"

Harry flinched again.

"- was arrested and taken into the Ministry's custody. He's awaiting trial now, based on the information I gave them about...Lupin and that other man. I'm sorry about Remus, Harry. I never got the chance to tell you, but he was a good man and I know it must've been hard to have another tragedy piled onto you after...after everything that's happened."

Draco saw Harry swallow and saw the gathering of moisture beneath his lowered lashes.

"Once you're ready, Dumbledore said that they need you to come and stand against Ethan in court, you know, as a witness or whatever. But only once you've recovered."

Harry opened his eyes and Draco was surprised to see fury there instead of sadness.

"Oh, I see," Harry said. "Let me lie around for a few weeks and I'll be right as rain. Once he's put into jail, I won't ever think on it again. Wiped from my memory. I'll be back to my normal cheerful self in no time."

"Harry, I know it's going to take time-"

"No, you don't. You don't know anything about it. I'll never forget it - for the rest of my life! And I won't be going to the trial. I don't want to see him again - ever."

Harry angrily flounced onto his other side, leaving Draco once again faced with his back.

"I don't want to see you again either," came the muffled command.

Draco bit his lip and slowly stood up. "Fine, if that's what you want."

"It is."

Draco blinked and hurriedly walked past the row of beds towards the door. He pulled it open and glanced back over his shoulder. Harry wasn't even looking at him, he was staring out the window.

Draco turned and shut the door. He nodded to the headmaster, who was just coming up the hallway to see Harry, then stalked past without a word and headed for his room.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, feeling a sense of torn compassion for the young Slytherin. He knew that it was best that Draco and Harry distance themselves from each other right now, and avoid the heartache later on when Draco would join in the fight against Voldemort and not be able to be with Harry in the way that Harry needed.

But he also knew that it would take more than a stubborn Gryffindor and an insistent headmaster to convince Draco otherwise.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned carefully, entering the infirmary and softly closing the door behind him. "Feeling up to a little chat?"

Harry's eyes flicked over to Dumbledore's face, his expression carefully impassive. "I guess," he answered non-comittally.

The headmaster smiled gently and lowered himself into the chair at Harry's bedside. He looked into Harry's face and was relieved to see that all the bruising and cuts had faded away until the only visible mark to Harry's perfect complexion was the famous lightning bolt scar on his pale forehead.

Dumbledore adjusted his robes comfortably and sat back, turning his head to gaze out of the window and gather his thoughts before speaking.

"Did you speak with Mr Malfoy?" he asked first.

"Not really," Harry answered honestly, averting his eyes when Dumbledore once again turned towards him.

"Oh?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Are you sure that's how you want to leave it with him, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. He wants me to forgive him, and that's something that I will never be able to do."

"I understand," Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"Do you?" Harry asked, icily.

"While I've never been in your particular situation, Harry, I can still imagine what you must be going through. Although you might find it hard to believe, I was once in love-"

Harry snapped his eyes back to Dumbledore's face. "Who said anything about love?"

The headmaster looked slightly taken-aback as he answered. "I just assumed..."

"Well, don't. Malfoy doesn't love me, and I certainly don't love him."

Dumbledore sighed and paused, considering Harry's hard expression. "Although I don't condone a relationship between the two of you, for various reasons which I'm sure you are aware of, I should tell you that Mr Malfoy has been sitting by your bed night and day since you've been here, and I don't think he's doing it out of guilt."

Harry swallowed and shook his head, rejecting Dumbledore's words. "No..."

"Harry-"

"No! I don't want to talk about it!" Harry exclaimed loudly.

"Fine, we won't discuss it further if you don't want to," Dumbledore assured him calmly. "But just know that you can talk to me about anything anytime you wish."

Harry took a deep breath and slowly let it out, forcing himself to calm down.

"Now, I would like to discuss something with you, something which I think you must be quite curious about."

"What?"

"How you managed to knock out Ethan without the aid of a wand or spell, and whilst you were tied to a chair."

"Oh, yeah," Harry exclaimed quietly. "I forgot...how did I do that?"

Dumbledore smiled affectionately. "By sheer will, my boy. You have amazing power stored inside you, Harry. Magic you haven't even begun to tap yet is sitting there just waiting for you to discover and explore. While I didn't know that you possessed this particular gift before, I must confess I'm quite excited about it now."

"It's a gift? What does it...do?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's wand-less magic, Harry. Magic performed by the power of your mind and heart."

"Can't everyone do that?"

"In small doses, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "But to actually call up the magic to stun another wizard, that takes a great talent."

Harry frowned as he processed this information. "Why couldn't I do it before?"

"The first time it appears in a wizard, it must be under certain circumstances. A sudden bout of happiness or anger – the big emotions of life."

"I was angry," Harry murmured. "Angrier than I've ever been..."

"You see." Dumbledore nodded.

"And now I can do it whenever I want?" Harry asked, interestedly.

"Well, yes and no. You must train to use the power accordingly."

"What? Why?"

"If you don't learn how to control it, it will eventually control you. You could become a danger to yourself and to others around you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Like the time I blew up my aunt?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not quite like that, dear boy. But to a larger degree, yes." Dumbledore turned serious again. "There have been incidences in the past of wizards casting Avada Kedavra when all they really wanted to do was punch somebody in the face. You must learn how to use it correctly."

"How?"

"After you're seventh year is over you have the choice to attend a special training school. There are still a few left for this particular gift, I believe."

"What do you mean 'still'?"

"It's not a common gift-"

"Like Parseltongue." Harry smiled wryly.

"Yes, like Parseltongue. Not too many schools exist anymore, there's just no need. There are less and less every year and I'm afraid that one day this magic will become non-existent. So you can see why I was excited to learn that you possessed it."

"It's not something that Voldemort passed on to me, is it?" Harry asked, anxiously.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "No, in fact it was passed on to you by your mother."

"My...mother?" Harry asked in shock. "How come you didn't tell me before?"

"There was no need to, but now..."

Harry shook his head in disbelief and stared down at his hands resting on the bed sheet.

"She was an amazing woman, Harry."

Harry smiled at his hands. "Did she go to a special school, too?"

"No, she went to a trainer in Ireland to be given private instruction."

"How come?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he answered. "I don't think she wanted to move too far away from your father."

Harry's smile widened as he glanced up at Dumbledore's face.

"He was an old friend of mine, in fact," Dumbledore continued, thoughtfully. "Quite a good man, by the name of Julian Price."

"Is he still around?"

"Oh, my, yes. Still teaching, even at his old age. A better instructor you'll never find."

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. "Would I be able to go to him?"

"If you want to," Dumbledore answered, looking pleased by the idea.

"I think I'd like to do that," Harry replied. "I think I'd like to learn from the same man my mother learned from, since it was her gift that was passed on to me."

"I'll contact Julian and see if he's available next year."

Harry's eyes dimmed slightly and he instantly returned to staring at his hands.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in concern.

"No, I'm just...tired, I guess," Harry answered, emotionlessly.

"I'll leave you to rest then."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry looked up as his headmaster stood to leave.

"Yes?"

"Could you tell Madam Pomfrey that...that I want my glasses back?"

"Your glasses?" Dumbledore repeated in confusion.

"Yes, she repaired my eye-sight awhile ago," Harry spoke, looking at the floor. "But...I don't want it anymore."

"I never even noticed," Dumbledore murmured. "Is there a problem with your eyes the way they are now?"

"No, I...I just want my glasses back."

"Of course. I'll tell her straight away."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore turned and quietly left Harry to himself.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief once Dumbledore had gone. He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

An image of Ethan flashed before him and he instantly snapped his eyes open.

He shook his head and looked around for any nearby bottles of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Unfortunately, there weren't any.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to think of something else. He pictured his mother and imagined her training in Ireland. Then he pictured himself training there. A wise old man with a gnarled cane and a grey cloak whipping around his frail body was barking out orders to an older version of himself. They stood on a mountain top and a harsh wind blew all around them, but it didn't distract the older Harry.

He smiled as he saw himself as an older man; taller, with a very determined face and graceful movements. In his mind he saw himself practicing martial arts stances and fighting moves, substituting those images for the real training that would be awaiting him, because he had no idea what it really looked like or what it even involved.

He finally drifted off as he saw his mother smiling and congratulating him for such hard work, and for carrying on her gift with great skill and responsibility.



............................

Harry slowly swam to the surface of consciousness some twelve hours later, leaving behind a strange and complicated dream in the murky depths of a deep sleep. As the silence of the infirmary closed in around him he became acutely aware that there was someone else in the room besides himself.

He immediately tensed and kept his eyes shut tight.

It took him a few heart-stopping seconds to remember that Ethan was in Ministry custody and that it could in no way be him breathing softly by his bedside, which only left one other possibility – Draco.

Harry clenched his teeth and felt anger beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach. How dare he come back here again. He didn't want to see, let alone speak to, Draco Malfoy right now, or ever.

Trying to control his rising fury, Harry finally opened his eyes to the inevitable.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

The headmaster smiled down at him. "Good evening, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"I-I'm okay," Harry stammered, glancing around the infirmary for anyone else that might've been lurking nearby.

It appeared that he and the headmaster were indeed alone.

"Glad to hear it, my boy." Dumbledore smiled.

Harry turned to Dumbledore and found that he had to lower his eyes from that cheerful grandfatherly face. He was disappointed that the man who had known him the longest and who knew more about him than he did himself, was so easily fooled into thinking that he really was fine.

"I'm sorry to say that this isn't a social call," Dumbledore sighed, smile fading quickly. "Fudge wanted to come and talk to you personally, along with his entire entourage, but I told him that you weren't quite up to a mass of questioning Ministry officials and that I would speak with you myself."

"About what?" Harry asked in confusion. "You know more about what happened-"

"No, not about that." Dumbledore shook his head and watched him carefully. "We already have all the information we need concerning that night from Mr Malfoy, and Ethan himself is not disputing the account of those events."

"So, what do they need me for?"

Dumbledore regarded him sadly and Harry was surprised to see that it looked as if the old man was holding back tears. "Harry, we know Ethan has caused you more pain than what you endured four days ago. Madam Pomfrey told me that she found evidence of abuse that looked as if it was from month's ago..."

Harry stared hard at his hands, clenched tightly around fistfuls of bed sheets.

"You don't have to tell me about it now unless you want to," Dumbledore assured him gently. "The trial will be in two days time-"

Harry snapped his head up anxiously. "Two days? That's all?"

"I'm afraid so. They need him to be tried as quickly as possible so that they can imprison him and see what information he may be able to provide our side. Fudge is quite certain that Ethan will be a big help in finding Voldemort and ruining his plans, but I have my doubts."

Harry squeezed his fists even tighter and twisted the white cotton back and forth, his hands damp with sweat. He wished the headmaster would stop saying Ethan's name. Every time he heard it aloud it made him flinch, it was like an automatic reaction, as if someone was sticking a red-hot needle into his skin.

This seemed to go un-noticed by the headmaster.

"But they need your testimony so that he can be rightfully charged. You don't have to worry about a thing, Ethan will-"

Flinch.

"- not walk out of that court a free man. He is already charged with two counts of murder, to which he quite readily boasted about to the Ministry. You don't have to be afraid."

"Too late," Harry thought bitterly.

"You won't even have to go near him."

"But he will be there?" Harry stated more than questioned. "In the same room."

"Yes, under Ministry guard."

Harry swallowed thickly and shoved his now trembling hands beneath the wrinkled sheets. "Who else will be there?"

"The Wizengamot of course, and myself, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger-"

"Why are they going?" Harry frowned.

"If not for the efforts of your friends, two murders would never have been solved. They are the ones that went to Ethan's home and delved into his past...something I wish I had done myself, before any of this happened."

It dawned on Harry then, that his greatly respected and revered Professor had made a mistake.

It came as a huge blow to his already fractured perception of the people around him.

Nothing is as it seems.

Harry shook his head and turned to look out the window. He suddenly felt swamped with angry thoughts and accusations. It's Dumbledore's fault that Remus is dead. It's Dumbledore's fault that Ethan came into the school. It's Dumbledore's fault that I'm lying in this bed right now...

No. Harry knew that that wasn't fair. The headmaster had a brewing war to contend with, he shouldn't have to worry about constantly baby-sitting the Boy-Who-Lived as well.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and re-focused on Dumbledore's concerned face. "Sorry?"

"I asked if you wished to have anyone in particular at the trial with you for support."

"How about Sirius? Or Remus? Or maybe my parents?" Harry wanted to snap. "Oh, wait, that's right – they're dead."

"Harry?" Dumbledore prompted with a frown.

"Uh, no," Harry mumbled.

"Well, if you're sure-"

"No, I mean, I'm not going."

The headmaster slowly leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully, eyes practically boring into the side of Harry's down-turned face. "And why is that?"

"I-I just don't want to."

Dumbledore leaned forward once more, his blue eyes serious and piercing. "You do realize that if you don't show up to charge him, then he'll get away with it."

"But he'll still be punished for the murders," Harry pointed out quietly. "What would one lesser charge do anyway?"

"Closure, Harry," Dumbledore said, wisely. "He needs to know that you aren't scared of him now. He needs to see that he didn't break you, that you're strong and confident. You need him to know that, or it will eat away at you."

Harry bit his tongue as his inner voice once again said the words he longed to say out loud. "But I'm not strong and confident. I am still scared of him. I'm scared of what would happen if I saw him again...he did break me..."

"You don't want that do you, Harry?"

"I dunno..."

"You do want him to be punished, right?"

"I don't care."

Dumbledore stared in shock. "Harry..."

Harry finally looked up. He was angry and tired and confused, and didn't want to have to talk about it anymore. "I never said he did anything to me anyway, you just assumed it was him."

"Then where did you get all those marks from?" Dumbledore asked, sceptically.

"Maybe it was self-inflicted."

"Don't joke about that, Harry. Look, Ethan-"

Flinch.

"Stop it!" Harry shouted.

Dumbledore looked taken-aback.

"Stop saying his name," Harry demanded desperately. "I don't want to hear it again...and I'm not going to the trial. I don't want to charge him with anything."

"But-"

"No! I don't care, alright? I. Don't. Care."

Harry flopped back onto his side and closed his eyes.

The headmaster stood slowly and gazed down at Harry's agitated face.

"At least think about it," he suggested quietly.

"Done," came the quick and hard reply.

Dumbledore sighed and left Harry all alone in the shadowed hospital wing.

Harry cautiously opened his eyes and watched the door close behind the headmaster. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

The tears came easily as he couldn't help wondering when this would all be over.

Unbidden, an image of Remus rose up in his mind and he closed his eyes to try and shut it out.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed brokenly. "It's my fault, it's all my fault."

Harry rolled over and clung to his pillow as he cried into the white fabric, muffling his sobs as it all came pouring out.

Slowly his tears subsided, leaving his eyes red and swollen. He rolled onto his back and took in a shuddery breath.

He didn't feel any better.

"Mr Potter?"

Harry lifted his head and looked over at Madam Pomfrey as she entered the room. She was carrying a silver tray with various potions and a pair of round glasses sitting on it.

"My glasses!" Harry exclaimed upon seeing the familiar frames.

"Yes, the headmaster told me that you wished to have them returned to you," she said, setting the tray by his bed. She noticed his swollen eyes, but refrained from comment. "Drink this potion and your vision will return to its previous state."

Harry accepted the yellow potion and immediately drank it down. It tasted of mint.

"Good, now I'm leaving you with some vials of Dreamless Sleep Potion just in case you need them, but don't take them for at least half an hour, they don't mix well with the Vision Potion."

Harry placed his now empty vial back onto the tray. "Alright, thank you."

"The potion should take effect within the next ten minutes or so. A House-Elf will be by with your dinner soon. Call me if you need anything else, I'll be in my office."

Harry nodded and delicately picked his glasses off of the tray, inspecting them closely.

Madam Pomfrey stopped and turned in the doorway. "Oh, and Potter?"

Harry looked up.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that we can have a therapist brought in from St Mungo's if you wanted a professional to talk to."

Harry's eyes widened in panic.

"Good-night, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey smiled and exited into her office, shutting the door behind her.

Harry fought down his rising panic. There was no way he was going to tell anyone what happened, especially a complete stranger.

He lay back down onto his back and absently fingered his glasses as he stared up at the ceiling again, lost in thought.

He brought up one hand and rubbed his temple, groaning inwardly at the beginning twinges of one his headaches.

"Great, that's all I need now," he thought sarcastically.

He turned his head and gazed longingly at the shiny vials of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"I wonder what would happen if I drank one?" he mused thoughtfully. "Would it kill me or just make me sick?"

He bit his lip and toyed with the idea for a minute, but eventually sighed and returned to staring at the very dull and uninteresting ceiling.

He closed his eyes and tried to will his headache away, but it seemed that concentrating like that only makes it worse.

Harry draped one arm over his eyes and carelessly tossed his glasses onto the bed-side table. He heard them land on the table with a clunk and then the sound of shattering glass as they bounced off and hit the stone floor.

Harry laughed helplessly and kept his arm over his eyes. "What did I ever do to you?" he asked his broken glasses.

He gasped and jumped as his glasses were suddenly slipped into his right hand. He took his arm away from his eyes and sat up.

And there was Draco, kneeling on the floor and staring straight back at him.

Harry let out another snort of bitter laughter. "And just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse..."

Draco stood up and silently removed his wand from his cloak.

Harry froze. "What are you doing?"

Draco held his gaze for a moment then flicked his grey eyes to Harry's hand and touched his wand to the broken glasses still lying on his open palm.

"Oculus Reparo."

"Oh." Harry let out the breath he had been holding and curled his fingers around the perfectly repaired frames.

Draco backed up and sat on the next bed, facing Harry as he re-pocketed his wand. "What did you think I was going to do, kill you?"

"Why not?" Harry replied defiantly. "Maybe you came to finish off the job."

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I fix your glasses and you bite my head off?"

"Sor-" Harry clamped a hand over his mouth. "Damn it, Draco, I shouldn't have to apologize to you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"Good." Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his pillow.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I didn't come here to argue."

"Oh, yeah? Then what did you come for?"

"I just want to talk."

"I'm not going to forgive you if that's what you're looking for."

"I don't expect you to, that's not why I'm here."

"Oh, that's right, you came to talk," Harry said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Funny, I thought I told you that I didn't want to see you again, and yet, here you are. Did you really think that we weren't going to argue?"

"Would you just shut-up and listen?" Draco exclaimed.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut-up!" Harry shouted furiously.

"Well, I can never get a word in edge-wise!"

"Maybe because I don't want to hear what you have to say!"

Draco stood so fast that it caused Harry to jump. "For once in your life, just shut your mouth and fucking listen, will you?"

Harry kicked off the covers and stood up, swaying slightly but remaining upright as he stared angrily up at Draco.

"Don't yell at me. I saved your life, remember?"

"Oh, and I suppose I was just there for my health?" Draco snapped. "I was trying to save you, you stupid git!"

"Didn't do a very good job of it, did you? And it's your fault I was there in the first place."

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry before you'll let that go?"

"It'll never be enough," Harry said with a shake of his head. "You could apologize every day for a hundred years and it'd still never be enough."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Draco cried in frustration.

"Just walk away, Malfoy. That's the best thing you could do."

Draco shook his head. "No, I can't."

"You don't have a choice."

"Yes, I do. What if you hit me?"

"What?" Harry frowned, thrown by the sudden turn.

"Hit me, punch me, hex me, anything. It'll make you feel better."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Be serious."

"I am," Draco said, earnestly.

"I'm not going to hit you."

"Why not?"

Harry sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Because you're not the one I really want to hit."

Draco tentatively sat down beside him. "I am sorry, Harry. Even if you don't believe me."

"I do believe you, that's the problem," Harry smiled wryly. "Doesn't mean I forgive you, though."

"Well, it's a start." Draco smiled.

Harry shook his head and rubbed his aching temples, his headache now ten times worse thanks to all the yelling. "No, it's not a start, it's a finish. I meant what I said earlier, the best thing you could do is just walk away."

"And I meant what I said, too," Draco replied. "I can't do that."

"Well, you don't have a choice. I'm leaving to go study somewhere else next year."

"So we have a year," Draco said.

Harry blinked as the room swam in and out of focus. "No, there's no 'we,' Malfoy."

"Stop calling me that, we're not strangers."

Harry put his glasses on and the room returned to normal; the Vision Potion taking its full effect. "Yes we are in a way. I thought I knew you, but I was wrong...again."

"What do you mean 'again'?"

"Well," Harry began, eyeing the Dreamless Sleep Potions. "Back in first year I thought you were a snobby, stuck-up, little brat. For the next few years I saw that you really were a snobby, stuck-up, little brat, and I decided that that's what you would be for the rest of your life. I figured I knew who you were and I decided that you were someone that I should hate, and so I did."

"But then, last summer I saw a different side of you. I began to wonder if maybe you hid the real you way deep down under layers and layers of denial and the need to fit in, in your house and in your family. You were caring and funny, and just outright friendly, and I thought if you could be like that around me (your mortal enemy), then that must be the real you. So I let myself believe that, I let my guard down, and there you were – telling me that you cared, that you loved me."

"Harry-"

"No, let me finish," Harry said softly. "You were the first person to ever say those words to me and I felt safe in the thought that no matter what other people did or said to me, you loved me. Ever since I learned about my past, I've never really felt safe in my life – except when I was in your arms. I guess I fenced myself in."

Harry paused and took a deep breath, his voice flat and emotionless as he continued.

"And then you turned away from me, left me abruptly in the worst possible way, at the worst possible time. The people I cared about were dying all around me and what I really needed was someone to hold me. I needed you...but you weren't there anymore."

Draco closed his eyes in pain.

"So I had to change my view of you yet again. So you became a heartless, cruel, stuck-up bastard. But what did I care? I had found someone else who didn't care if other people knew that he loved me. But I was wrong...again."

"I guess I just don't understand people. I thought love was something special, something to cherish, but it's just a lie. People use it to get what they want and they don't care who they hurt along the way. So now I don't care. Love is just a game and I'm tired of playing it."

"Harry..." Draco whispered, grey eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm sor-"

"No," Harry cut him off firmly. "Don't say it. Don't try to convince me that you're someone you're not. I don't even think you know who you really are. So don't apologize until you're sure you mean it."

"But I do mean it."

Harry looked up at Draco's face sadly. "I wish I knew what to believe."

They silently stared into each other's eyes, both thinking over what Harry had said.

"Mister Potter, sir?"

The two boys looked up, startled, and saw Dobby nervously standing by the hallway of the infirmary holding a large tray of food.

"Dobby." Harry greeted with a weak smile.

Dobby instantly broke into a grin and walked over. "I have your dinner, sir."

Draco abruptly stood up and walked over to the window, trying to disguise the fact that he was wiping his eyes.

Harry ignored him and reached out to take the heavy tray from the grinning House-Elf.

"Thanks, Dobby. This looks great."

"Thank you, Harry Potter, sir." Dobby bounced on the spot with pleasure. "How is Harry Potter feeling? Dobby was most awfully worried."

"I'm okay." Harry poked at the steaming vegetables on his plate.

Dobby glanced fearfully over at Draco, then whispered to Harry, "Is you wanting to be alone, sir?"

Harry glanced up at Draco, the blond staring stoically out at the grounds below.

"That's okay, Dobby. He was just leaving."

"Alright. Goodbye, Harry Potter, sir." Dobby bowed and smiled as he exited backwards from the room.

Harry gave a careless wave and pushed his food away once Dobby was out of sight.

"You'd better eat that or Pomfrey will have your head," Draco said, not turning around.

Harry shrugged. "You can have it, I'm not hungry."

Draco finally tore his eyes away from the cold grey landscape outside and turned back around, fully composed and eyes dry.

"You should be. You're way too thin, Harry."

"I can eat later. I think I'll just take a nap." Harry reached out for one of the vials of Dreamless Sleep.

Draco stepped forward and yanked the tray away before he could touch it.

"It hasn't been half an hour yet."

"How did you know about that?" Harry frowned.

"I pay attention...and what do you mean 'how did I know'? What were you trying to do? Mix them on purpose?"

"Forget it," Harry huffed, flopping back on the bed.

Draco set the tray down and sat on the end of Harry's bed. "You can have one in ten minutes."

"What am I supposed to do for ten minutes while my brain tries to pound its way out through my skull?"

Draco hid a smile. "You can listen to me."

"Oh, joy." Harry rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"I came here to talk to you about the trial."

Harry's expression immediately became closed off. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Good, because you don't have to talk. Just listen."

Harry glared and pressed his lips together.

"Dumbledore told me that you had decided not to charge Ethan, and that you refused to go to the trial."

"So?" Harry challenged.

"So why would you do something so stupid?"

Harry gaped in outrage. "What?"

"You practically kill the guy and then turn around and say that he never hurt you? It doesn't make sense."

"That's because you don't know what I went through..."

"So tell me."

"Yeah, right."

"But you do admit that he hurt you?" Draco prompted.

"No...maybe. What does it matter? I'm alive, so it couldn't have been that bad, right?"

"Harry, people can live through the Cruciatus Curse but that doesn't mean you can go around using it on everyone."

"Not according to your father."

Draco breathed out calmly. "That's not going to work. This is about you and Ethan."

Harry flinched and balled his hands into fists at the reaction, unable to prevent it and frustrated at not being able to control it.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Draco asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Harry ground out through clenched teeth.

"Are you afraid of all the people that will be there listening to you? Because you only have to tell them as much as you want to."

Harry looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, technically you only have to show up and say that Ethan physically abused you without going into detail and he can still be charged."

"And they'll just take my word for it?" Harry asked sceptically.

"They should. They have Madam Pomfrey's medical report which backs you up, and I think I heard Dumbledore say something about using Veritaserum. Ethan will be forced to prove you right whether he likes it or not."

Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"You want it all to be over, right?" Draco asked gently. "Now here's your chance. You can put Ethan behind you, knowing he's locked away forever, and start fresh."

"A new beginning..." Harry mused aloud.

Draco smiled encouragingly and nodded.

Harry sighed and played with the buttons on his pyjamas. "I could cut all my ties to this life and start anew somewhere else."

Draco's smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when I move away next year, I could just stay there...forever."

"What about Voldemort and the war?"

"He can come to me," Harry smirked.

"And where will that be?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? Is it top secret?" Draco smiled.

Harry lifted his emerald eyes to meet Draco's teasing gaze.

"No, it's because you're one of the ties that I have to cut."

Draco swallowed and felt as if the earth had dropped out from beneath him.

"A fresh start, remember?" Harry reminded him quietly.

"But..."

"I need this, Draco. You understand that there can never be an 'us' again, right? It just wouldn't work and...I don't want that anymore, and I know deep down that you know it too."

Draco shook his head and stared down at his hands.

"You can tell Dumbledore that I'll go to the trial, but once it's over then I'm clear of any responsibilities concerning this whole thing."

Draco nodded.

Harry watched him sympathetically, but couldn't force any words of comfort. He knew the only words befitting this situation would be 'I'm sorry,' but he swore to himself that he would never say those words to the Slytherin ever again.

"He deserved what he got," Harry thought. "He should've thought of the consequences while he was busy breaking my heart."

If Harry only knew that Draco was thinking the same thing at that moment.

"Could you pass me a bottle of Dreamless Sleep?" Harry asked. "It's been ten minutes."

Draco blinked and snapped out of his swirling thoughts. He stood and handed Harry the glass vial of purple liquid.

Harry smiled for the first time and downed it one go. "Thanks."

Draco nodded and set the empty vial back down as Harry snuggled under the blankets and closed his eyes.

"Who knows?" Harry murmured sleepily. "Maybe once I'm gone you'll be able to find who you really are."

Draco didn't even try to stop the tears this time. They dropped from his eyes and trailed down his pale skin as he watched Harry drift into a peaceful sleep.

He reached out and stroked one finger down Harry's soft cheek.

"But I don't want you to go," he whispered brokenly.