Disclaimer: Not Mine!

NOTE: Okay, I apologize for the wait, folks, but here it is. This chapter will be done from Harry's POV and will be based on the Chorus of 'Memory' by Sugarcult. This will be the only time I use the Chorus for Harry's POV. Also, loves, you can listen to the song as much as you like and get a general feel for where this is going but I'm the author and you never know what deviations I might take! Funnily enough, I don't own that CD, nor do I have the song readily available on my computer, so if I want to listen to it I have to settle for this weird version of it. Not that you care.

Thanks to:

Angel: I appreciate the review!!! You're the very first person to review this.

Potterfan8807: I think the point was to be dramatic and foreboding but soap- opera-ish works too! Thanks for the review!

Tsuyuno: Really? I'm glad it's not a one shot too. So the update wasn't exactly soon but it's good enough.

GothicAnn87: Why thank you! You know, I really am proud of the style of this one. I'll see about those fics, okay? ::Wink::

Anyway, here I give you the Golden Boy of Gryffindor.

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So get back, back, back to where we lasted.

Just like I imagine.

I could never feel this way.

So get back, back, back to the disaster.

My heart's beating faster.

Holding on to feel the same.

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Shock. Complete and total. When he had defeated Voldermort he had gone into shock; when Draco had kissed him for the very first time he had gone into shock; so it only makes sense that when Draco stood there and stonily told him that they were finished, that he couldn't handle this relationship because it just wasn't working, and that, in fact, they couldn't possibly have been 'meant to be', he went into shock. He just stared as Draco stood there, ripped out his heart and trampled it into the stones of Hogwarts.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Draco was supposed to love him. Draco was supposed to need him. He certainly needed Draco. Even as he stood there, that much was evident. A mountain, a sea, a world of things he should have done just now toppled over him. Why had he let Draco slip through his fingers like that? Draco was everything just now. At 18 years old Harry had already fulfilled his only purpose in life, and now he didn't have Draco. Why did he feel so confused inside?

Draco . . . gods, Draco . . . he was blind, wasn't? Oh yes, that's right, he was Malfoy again. Harry stared bitterly down the hallway several minutes later. He stalked towards advanced potions without realizing it. He'd left him . . . it was unbelievable. Draco broke up with Harry! But he hadn't screwed up or around . . . He hadn't said anything he shouldn't have . . . so why? Was he really that unhappy? Wasn't Harry good enough for him? Wasn't Harry good enough to him? Harry hadn't neglected him . . . Harry hadn't suffocated him. So what went wrong?

Draco went wrong, that's what. Draco and his stupid green-in-the- face, white-around-the-mouth 'I-love-you's, that was bloody what! Yeah, Harry saw it. Harry saw everything. Everything except why Draco left. Harry saw that he hated saying it. He just didn't know why. He didn't know why he asked, either. He never meant to. It just sort of . . . slipped out. Damn Draco into Hell . . . Harry wasn't as invincible as he assumed. He sat down in potions, miserably noticing the fact that Draco wasn't there. Draco was being bloody coward.

His friends pestered him about it in the commons. What did Draco say? Nothing. What's wrong? Nothing. Is it all okay Harry? Yeah, it's fine. Harry . . . do you want us to beat him up? No. Godric he didn't want anything. No . . . He wanted something. He wanted Draco to tell him it was just a bad joke. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find it wasn't real. He wanted to wake up to find out it was just a nightmare and there was a pale-skinned, pale-haired, pale-eyed boy lying asleep next to him. He felt cold all of a sudden and decided to get a head start on sleeping away his worries. When he woke up Draco would probably be nuzzling him for warmth and muttering sleepily 'wrap me up, you git. You always steal the blankets.' Thinking lazily about curve of Draco's neck, and the way his mouth parted ever so slightly and his brows knitted into a tiny frown as he slept, Harry drifted off into dreamland, and, just as he did, the same syllable that came again and again, though he wouldn't remember it in the morning, slipped into his mind. Love

Upon waking, Harry was still alone in his large bed in the Head Boy's suite. Of course, Harry was Head Boy. Who better for the job? Despite the fire that crackled in a defiantly merry way, he was cold. Despite the nice crimson furniture and numerous tapestries, the room was empty. That was lunacy! Draco was just some bloke. How could one person make any difference in how the bloody room felt? How could one person make him feel so . . . lost? What was he so empty? No, that was ridiculous. Harry could find some other bloke. Merlin, Harry might even be able to find a girl. Yeah . . . in fact, Harry would go up to Padma Patil today and ask her out. He knew she was single. It wasn't his style, she wasn't his type, but he had to try and get back on track. Obsessing over Dr- . . . his ex wasn't going to help anything.

He made a point to dress in the nicest set of school robes he had, as well as to polish his 'Head Boy' badge and pin it to his chest. He brushed his hair to no avail, cleaned his glasses on the hem of his sleeve, and set off down to the Great Hall. Who needed some pointy faced git anyway? But then he saw Draco, sitting at the Slytherin table, surrounded by his fellows for the first time in months, his confidence sunk along with his stomach. Draco wasn't a pointy faced git . . . he was an absolute vision. Not even Botticelli could touch that. He shook his head roughly and put on a grin to go sit by Ron and Hermione.

Immediately Hermione frowned. "Harry, what's going on? Dra-"

"Malfoy and I aren't together any more, Mione." A scowl grew on Harry's face and writhing began somewhere in his bowels. "You don't have to call him by his first name any more."

The both of them looked shocked and Harry's insides continued to wage war.

"But, Harry, you two . . . I thought . . ." Ron stumbled along.

"Harry, is this why you were so upset yesterday?" Hermione gave him a sad, questioning look and placed her hand lightly on his forearm.

His stomach gave what had to be its most daring move yet.

"Oh look, Padma just walked in. I'll be right back." He stood up with a bright smile.

This did not feel right. He threw a side-glance over at the Slytherin table where a pair of grey eyes was watching him. A pair of mercurially grey eyes . . . that he was no longer allowed to gaze into, wondering why he was never good at reading those things. He focused his sight ahead of him. A pretty, olive-skinned, raven-haired, chocolate-eyed, well-endowed girl seemed to notice that he was smiling congenially at and approaching her.

"Good Morning." He had to look down at her as she was at least five inches shorter than he. There wasn't this height difference with Dr-Malfoy, but he liked it better this way. Yes, yes, of course he did. Denial, it always works.

"Good Morning." He received a look of surveillance.

"You're single, right?" Ah, Harry, Harry, Harry, the copying of other boys' lines is such a sad state of affairs. Then again he couldn't just stutter through this like he normally would. He had to go for confidence, arrogance even. He had to be the charming savior of the wizarding world.

"Yes . . ." She shifted suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'd like you to go out with me." He gave her a grin, hiding the sinking feeling in his gut. He felt dirty, suddenly.

"Everyone knows you're seeing Malfoy." She rolled her eyes.

"Not anymore." He continued smiling. Why did it feel like there had been a small explosion in his stomach? That wasn't supposed to happen when you sounded as happy as he did.

"Really?" Her face lit up.

"Really," despite himself Harry liked the look on her face. He just needed a nice girl like Padma. He'd get over this just like a case of the flu. "So will you go out with me?"

"Of course I'll go out with you!" She attached herself to Harry's arm.

She was discomforting him. The looks Ron and Hermione were giving him were discomforting him. They were the same looks they'd had when they'd first found out about Malfoy. Padma was suffocating him . . . thank Godric they didn't have many classes together.

Thirty-six hours more proved that classes truly were the only places he could escape her constant attention. 7 o'clock had found them snogging in a broom closet, and 8 o'clock brought the only time Harry had ever retreated from anyone. Drowsiness was a great excuse. At eleven the Harry's bedroom was screaming at him. He couldn't sleep with all that noise, so he left. He draped his invisibility cloak over himself, and left. He needed to clear his head. Maybe he'd take a nice, long walk. He needed to forget everything. Everything, everything, everything to do with . . .

He gasped audibly.

Draco . . .

"Is that you, Potter?" He sneered. That wasn't the type of voice that should be coming out of that mouth.

"Yeah," Harry whipped off the cloak, wearing a mask of aloofness.

"Taking a late night stroll, I presume." The angel was for some reason hostile.

"You always liked those didn't you?" His mind wasn't functioning properly anymore. His heart was pounding in his throat. His stomach was doing back handsprings. When would his organs cease this tirade against him?

Flashes of the breakup were blinding him. The things Draco had said were buzzing in his ears. No . . . they weren't together any more. Obviously, Draco didn't actually care for him. So why had he looked so sad? Why did he look so upset now?

"In fact, yes. Of course, they're better when uninterrupted." The blonde brows flew upwards.

There it was. The old malice with a new edge.

"Does it have to be this way?" He whispered, not sure whether or not Draco should hear.

He really shouldn't feel this way. He should be indignant, he should be angry, not . . . broken. He just couldn't hate Draco. He couldn't. He just absolutely couldn't. Not after kissing him and meaning it. Not after running his hands over every inch of him. Not after listening to him moan his name in the most beautiful way. Harry couldn't fight it any more. He couldn't tell himself otherwise. He couldn't make it without Draco. Not really. He might be alive, but he wouldn't live . . . not without Draco.

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NOTE: Argh . . . do you people know how hard I have to work to get into the mood to write in this style? No? Well it involves an hour long shower, turning off all the lights so that the only available illumination is the harsh glow of my computer screen, and then spacing out to the 'punk goes acoustic' version of 'Memory' until I am seeing flashes of Harry and Draco crying and/or making out. Then I have to work myself into a mild state of depression over their situation . . . I have to live in their world before I can write. So, that would be why it's past midnight.

If you consider this a cliff hanger then . . . HA! I smite you. Yes, that's a period not an exclamation mark. Ugh . . . now I have to sleep off this self-induced trance before I do something stupid. Or just get bored. You'll get more after I update Love is Misery's Mask and Taint It. Ciao.