A/N: Hello again everyone! I hope you were all anxiously awaiting this chapter. I read and loved all the reviews for the last one, but I don't have time right now to answer them. So in general, I will say that no, I am not going to kill off these magnificently sexy and wonderful creatures. They will most probably see each other again, but I can't give too much away, now can I? I know what's going to happen in the next chapter, and the amount of reviews I get for this one will dictate just how fast Chapter 7 gets written and posted. I am not above flattery and bribes. ;)

Warning: Yep, same warnings still apply. Bad language and slash. Also, beware of spelling and grammar errors. Those sneaky devils have a tendency to work their way into my stories.

Disclaimer: I am a poor college student, thus, I have no claim or right to the characters and world of Harry Potter. I simply borrow them for my own pleasure and amusement.


Lost Without You
Chapter 6: What Have I Done?

Wiping the rivulets of tears cascading down his face, Harry shook his head. He didn't have time right now to dwell on probably the worst conversation, worst moment, and worst decision of his life. The die was cast, and he was leaving in a few hours. Idiot! A part of him yelled. "Shut up," he muttered aloud. Standing, he looked around at his room and reflected on when he first arrived in the dorms of Hogwarts. He had just come from one of the best meals in his life and collapsed on the four-poster with the wonderful velvet curtains. Reaching out, Harry ran his fingers down the velvet curtains right now, just relishing in the touch of the soft material on his fingers.

Hearing the door open forcefully for the second time that morning, Harry turned to see Hermione come rushing at him. Grabbing him tight in a hug, she held him close. "Oh Harry! It's so awful! Dumbledore's just told us!"

"Yeah," was all Harry could say. Really, what else could he say?

Sitting down on the bed, Hermione led Harry to sit beside her. Ron leaned up against the post of the bed, his arms crossed across his chest.

"I'm so sorry Harry! Ron asked if we could go with you, but Dumbledore said no."

Harry looked skeptically at Ron. Only an hour or so ago his best friend had been yelling at him for keeping secrets.

"I did ask, mate, I swear. I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking. I guess all this bloody weird nonsense that's been going on has something to do with this. Even though I don't know what's going on, I'd go with you no matter what, you know."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione again. "I'd go with you too, but Dumbledore says you have to go alone, something about someone's safety."

"Yeah," uttered Harry. "I'd like you guys to go, too," he lied. Sure it would be nice to have them go, but it was obvious who he really wanted, needed, to come with him.

"I didn't get it though, why do you have to go alone?" Ron asked.

"Because I'm like a beacon now for Voldemort. Anyone who's with me is endangered by just sitting with me. I think Dumbledore's hoping to be able to hide me, in a way, but even he doesn't know how well it'll work."

"And it's a test," Hermione added. Under Harry's questioning eyes, she continued. "Well, that's what I assuming, at least. He needs to see if you can handle what the world needs you to do, and if you can't, he has to make you ready for it."

"So it's like asking the mouse if he's ready to be eaten by the snake," Harry said dryly.

"No, it's well—kind of like—" words failed Hermione when she couldn't deny his statement.

"It's okay 'Mione, I get it. Besides, this is what I have to do, and I agreed to go, after all."

Ron sat down next to Harry. "I'm sorry, mate."

Harry shrugged. "Not your fault." Looking around, he sighed. "I gotta pack."

"Here, let me," Hermione replied. Waving her wand about the room, she pointed at the trunk, saying "pack." Harry's clothes and belongings piled themselves perfectly in the trunk. In spite of himself, Harry smiled sadly, remembering when Tonks packed his trunk. It had been haphazard to say the least, but Hermione's work was absolutely perfect, like everything else she did.

"Thanks," said Harry, without any real feeling. Was this actually, really happening? He kept waiting to wake up from this nightmare. He would wake up next to Draco, snuggle close to his warm, spicy scent, basking the heat radiating from their entwined bodies. This was no sleeping disillusion, though, it was a waking nightmare from which he could see no escape. Here he was, leaving his only true home, and leaving behind his only true love. And as if that wasn't enough, he had no idea how long he could actually physically live apart from Draco.

Seeing the sadness in Harry's eyes, Hermione looked up at Ron. "Hun, do you think you could give us a minute? I'll be out soon."

Nodding, Ron hugged Harry. "I'll see ya', mate. I'll start working on Dumbledore to at least let us visit."

Harry's eyes suddenly lit up. Of course, maybe Draco could come visit him, sometime, hopefully. Even if it was only once a week, he would take what he could get. Another sad thought occurred to Harry, though…what if Draco wanted nothing more to do with him? He had silenced their mental contact with two sharp words, showing no emotion. What if Draco didn't love him any more?

Slowly he looked at Ron. "Oh, yeah, that would be great, really."

Hugging Harry one last time, Ron stood up and left the room, his head hanging low.

Once the door had closed, Hermione grabbed Harry's hands. "What did he say when you asked if Draco could come?"

Blinking, Harry didn't reply right away. What the hell kind of question was that? He said as much to Hermione. "What the hell kind of question is that? You want me to ask Dumbledore if Lucius Malfoy's son can come with me to escape Voldemort?"

"But it's different now!" she exclaimed.

"And you want me to tell Dumbledore the whole story? No, that would be telling him a whole lot of things I don't think Draco would like me saying."

"But you two –have- to be together!"

"Well…we won't be. We'll just have to deal."

"Well Draco could tell Dumbledore the story, and tell him how he defected to our side."

Laughing darkly, Harry shook his head. "Who said he defected to our side? He never mentioned anything about becoming a good guy."

Shocked, Hermione merely stared at Harry. "But, you two are…but he has too…"

"He has to nothing, Hermione. Besides, even if he's thinking about joining our side, we never had any time to talk about it."

"Well talk right now," she said, nodding her head in the direction of Harry's head, indicating their mental communication.

"I can't, he cut us off."

"What!"

"He put a barrier up between our minds, and I don't think he'll ever take his down."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said yet once again, hugging him close. "I'm so sorry!"

Shrugging, Harry weakly returned the hug. He was kinda damn sick and tired of hearing people say "I'm sorry." Did they think it helped anything? Did "I'm sorry" make everything all better? Who the hell even invented those lame, empty words that fixed nothing?

Hermione stood quickly when the door opened again. Remus Lupin entered the room, nodding at Hermione and saying hello to Harry. "Okay, I guess I'll be going," Hermione said, giving Harry one last hug. "Get word to me if you need anything at all, Harry." She left the room slowly, dreading taking every step away from her friend.

Remus presented Harry with a cup of tea and bar of chocolate. "I see you're all ready to go."

Harry accepted the tea and chocolate, remembering the first time Lupin had given him chocolate. He would rather face a fleet of dementors now then go through with leaving. Harry nodded to Remus, and then sniffed the tea.

"It's a special recipe; I thought it would help soothe you."

"Oh," Harry said, swirling the tea. Something just wasn't right about it. Since when did Lupin bring him tea along with the chocolate? Lifting an eyebrow, Harry chose to ignore his instincts and drank the entire contents of the cup. "Yeah, I'm ready to go. My stuff's all…" Harry trailed off, his head suddenly heavy and woozy. "…stuff's all…there. Where are we…goin…" he couldn't even finish the sentence through this foggy haze. His eyelids were closing and blackness was claiming him. Shit, it was a sleeping draught in the cup, that's what was wrong with it. Too late to think about it now.

The last thing he heard before the darkness claimed him was Remus' voice saying, "I'm sorry…" Those words again.

xXxXxXx

"Ugh. Oh God…" Harry muttered. Waking up, Harry moved his head, and instantly wished he hadn't. It felt like three thousand tiny elephants were stampeding through his head, crashing into his skull. Laying his head back down quickly, Harry fought sudden waves of nausea. That was some sleeping potion.

Laying perfectly still to avoid the stampede, Harry opened one eye to total blackness. Peeping the other eye open, Harry stared into the darkness. Not able to see a thing, Harry decided to concentrate on his other senses. Beneath him was a bed, hard, but comfortable enough. Moving his hands and feet, Harry found them free. Next to his right hand was his wand. Relief flooded his body when he wrapped his fingers tightly around the wood.

Concentrating on his ears, Harry could hear voices, close, but far away enough that he couldn't distinguish any real words or voices. What was the last thing he could remember? Ah, that's right…nothing. The moment he blacked out was the last thing he could recall.

"Lumos," he said aloud, quickly shutting his eyes at the flare of bright light from his wand. Braving the stabbing light, Harry opened his eyes again. Illuminated in the magical glow of his wand was a bedroom, normal enough. A dresser stood against the far wall, a mirror to the left of it. On the right wall was a door. The left wall had a window, or used to have a window. Blocking the glass were slats of woods, effectively limiting any views out or in. Underneath the boarded up window was a desk, which held all of his school books. Looking towards the foot of the bed, Harry saw his school trunk lying open. To the left of the bed was a nightstand, complete with the picture of his parents.

"Well, no time like the present," Harry said, to no one in particular. Sitting up ever so slowly, Harry fought back wave after sickening wave of nausea. He was going to kill Lupin. Standing hesitatingly, Harry found his legs weak and wobbly. His muscles felt as if they had gone unused for some time. Shaking the life back into his limbs, Harry made his way towards the door. About to place his hand on the handle, Harry had a sudden thought, and was immediately ashamed and flabbergasted it had just occurred to him. What if he wasn't safe here at all? What if during his transport he had been captured? What if outside he heard the voices of the Death Eaters, waiting for him to open the door to curse him into oblivion?

Nonsense, he told himself. They would have killed him long ago, and wouldn't have gone through the trouble to lay out his personal belongings. Nonetheless, Harry moved to the other side of the bed, crouching down towards the ground. Better safe than sorry. Dousing the light on his wand, Harry whispered the spell to open the door. When he was satisfied nothing was lying in wait outside the threshold, he stood up and walked out of the room.

He found himself standing in a hallway, the side of the wall that held the door to his room also contained numerous other doors, extending both right and left. In front of him was a railing made of wood in an ornate design. Walking to the railing, Harry looked down into a massive room, complete with statues, furniture and a fireplace. Across the room was a similar hall to the one he was standing in, doors all along. To the left, down the hall, a grand staircase connected the two parallel halls. Signs of neglect showed throughout all the magnificent structures, though.

Still holding his wand, Harry made his way towards the stairs. At the foot of the stairs, he found numerous rooms adjoining this main room. A large library, sitting room, a lab, and a room with Muggle-like exercise equipment. Walking into the kitchen, Harry saw Lupin talking with Moody and Mr. Weasley.

"Oh, hello Harry. How are you feeling?" Arthur said.

"Like I just got beat and dragged through a quarry. Just wonderful," he said sarcastically. He was in an absolutely terrible mood, stemming from his current predicament, the ache of being away from Draco for he wasn't sure just how long yet, and the fact that he waltzed downstairs to see everyone talking cheerily, while he felt like hell.

Moody's magical eye looked Harry up and down, inspecting him thoroughly. It would have unnerved him if he hadn't gotten used to it in the past few years. "Well it's bound to get a lot worse," Moody said, his eye brows twitching together in an expression Harry couldn't quite grasp. He looked irritated and disgruntled.

Lupin pursed his lips at Moody, his eyes radiating displeasure at Moody's words. "Arthur, Alastor, could we please have a few words…alone?"

"Of course," said Mr. Weasley agreeably. "Harry, I'll talk with you later."

"Yeah, okay," said Harry darkly. He felt bad for being so mean to a member of his adoptive family, but nothing could make him happy at all right now. Slumping down on a chair, Harry looked malevolently across the table at Lupin.

"Would you like something to drink, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'd just love some more tea, really. It puts a great kick in the day."

Lupin sighed, putting his elbows on the table and his hands in his hair. "I'm sorry Harry, truly I am. It was for your own good, though."

"I just love it when people say that. It's like they're looking out for me, but not really. By the way, how long was I out for?"

Lupin clenched his fingers tight in his hair, fighting the urge to just stand up and yell at the silly boy for making this so damned hard. "Three days, give or take a few hours. Harry, I know this is difficult for you, but you need to understand some things."

"I don't want to unders—"

Slapping his hands down hard on the table, Lupin matched Harry's glare in strength and intensity. "Now you listen here, Harry! You agreed to come here of your own free will, understand? We had to keep you unconscious during the trip so if Voldemort finds some way into your mind, he won't be able to find you. Now, I know this is difficult for you, one of the many hard obstacles you've had to overcome in your life, but you know this is as necessary as we all do here. And there are lots of people who are putting their lives on the line by being here to protect you."

"I didn't ask them to!" said Harry, his hands gripping the table's edge so hard his knuckles were white.

"Well they did!" snarled Lupin. "Because they care about you, Harry. Not you as the savior of the wizarding world, but you for who you are! So you can either accept their vows to help you with a smile and thank-you, or you can choose to be a damned nuisance in this whole affair. I've known you for five years now, Harry, and I've never seen you act in a manner such as this."

"Things are different now," Harry said through gritted teeth. He was an intelligent person, though, and he had to acknowledge the truth in Lupin's words. No matter how miserable he felt, it seemed some apologies were in order. He would not, however, under any circumstances, tell Lupin of the main reason for his uncharacteristic actions.

"How so?"

"They just…they are." Ruffling his hair, Harry pressed his fingers against his temples. He had the father of all headaches right now. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting, Professor Lupin. You're right, of course. This is for everyone's good."

Standing, Lupin walked over to Harry's seat. Placing his hands on the back of Harry's shoulders, Lupin leaned down to kiss the top of Harry's head in a touching, fatherly manner. "I knew you'd understand, Harry. You're a good boy, and you're growing into a wonderful man." Chuckling to himself, Lupin added, "And you're a hell of a lot more patient and understanding than your father was."

Harry nodded to himself, glad that Lupin wasn't going to still be mad at him. "I think I'd like that drink, now, please."

"Of course," Lupin said, going to get Harry a drink.

xXxXxXx

Panting and sweating, Harry threw himself back down on the exercise mat, absolutely exhausted. He was dying, he just had to be. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony; tendons and ligaments felt limp, taut, and detached, all at the same time. Breaking into his thoughts of pain was a stern voice, "That was only 149, Potter! We aren't stopping until at least 150!"

Rolling his eyes towards Moody, Harry glared ferociously at his physical trainer for the day. "Sod off, Mad-Eye," he said, clenching his teeth. Gods, even his jaw muscles hurt!

"Keep going, Potter. You have to be in—"

"Peak physical condition; yes I know. But if I die between now and then, it won't make much difference, now will it?"

"A little exercise is not going to kill you, Potter. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

"Sod off," Harry repeated, sick of hearing this same lecture. What none of these people here understood was the mental agony he was suffering with every day, every night, every single, aching, throbbing second of the day. He wanted to break down, curse, scream, fight his way back to his mate and claim what was rightfully his. He was always being denied what belonged to him, what he had to have, needed to have!

Mad-Eye could see the anger building behind the eyes of Harry Potter. He watched as the emerald orbs almost seemed to boil with intensity and ferocity. "Are you mad, boy? Angry at me, at the world, maybe?"

Curling his lip back behind his teeth in a silent snarl, Harry could only glare at Moody. He shouldn't be so upset, but Gods, how he wanted someone else to feel the pain that he was, the suffering! Every day for the past week was this awful routine. Magical training, physical training, agility, stamina, patience, curses; he had to learn it all. And this gods cursed ache he felt, yearning, desire, ripping at his mind, threatening to tear him apart if he gave it any room at all. He wanted to fight; fight!, screamed every fiber of his body. Fight! Fight! His chest heaving in anger and aggression, Harry stared Moody down.

Moody's reaction was not what the pissed off Harry was wanting. He wanted respect, submission, anything but—laughter. Slapping his knee in humor, Mad-Eye chuckled loudly to himself. Laughing! at Harry Potter! The audacity! The magical eye whirring about in Mad-Eye's head suddenly fixed on Harry. Their gazes locked, all traces of laughter gone from Mad-Eye's face. "Then fight, boy! Fight! Let your anger go to use!" Standing up, Moody taunted Harry. "Come on boy, fight! Hit me, come on! Give me your best shot!"

Confused only momentarily, Harry jumped to his feet as fast as possible. It wasn't quick enough. Bam! He was knocked down on the ground by a swift kick to his steadying ankles.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody roared, much like teaching the curses 3rd year. Well God dammit, Harry stood up to those curses, then, and he wasn't going to lose now! Leaping up at Moody quickly, Harry struck out with his fist, only to have it slam into a glittering green magic shield.

"Use all—I repeat, all—of your abilities, Potter!"

Roaring in fury and frustration, Harry's last threads of control vanished. Raw magic blasted out of him in a wave, literally shaking the room. The physical room faded away from his sight, instead replaced by a world of black, white, grey, and some shades of green. Red, in places he looked, he saw red. Attack, urged a part of him. Bathed in red was Moody; he should suffer for the hurt he caused! Leaping at Moody, Harry only partially heard the crack of his teacher's Disapparation. In his place was a large punching bag, life sized, with limbs and a face.

He didn't have a moment to contemplate this change for the dummy was yelling, taunting, hitting, kicking. Transferring all of his anger into his magic and physical abilities, Harry fought back, his eyes shining in a lust for the kill Moody found absolutely astonishing. He knew the kid was powerful, and angry…but even this was beyond what he had been hoping for by provoking Harry. This past week Harry and trained and trained, but with no enthusiasm. Moody had to get a spark out of this boy, but what he got instead was a raging inferno, threatening to take down the entire forest if it wasn't calmed soon.

The dummy exploded, limbs flying into the air like an exploding piñata. "Harry!" Moody yelled, trying to bring him back to reality. "Harry!"

Whirling, Harry's vision took in Moody as no longer red, an enemy, but orange…a potential threat. "Harry, come back!"

No! yelled part of him. This fury, this uncontrollable rage was comforting, in a way. Here his instincts ruled; here was no more thought, no more pain. Anger he could handle, and anger wielded him where it wanted to.

Making a hard decision fast, Moody Disapparated once again, sealing up the room as he did so. To make any more contact with the boy was trouble waiting to happen, to say the least. Better to close off the raging fire and let it burn itself out in its own time.

Finding himself alone, the mists of the uncontrollable fury began to recede. Throwing himself down on the mat, Harry began to do push-up after push-up, only stopping when he passed out from physical exhaustion. But oh God, how this mental agony was so much worse!

xXxXxXx

"Is it your intention, Malfoy, to fail out of school? Because that is the appearance you are assuming," Snape said to his godson. He was standing in Draco's room, talking to the boy through the curtains of his four-poster bed.

Pulling his pillow further over his head, Draco didn't respond. Stupid question, he thought to himself.

Pursing his lips tightly, Snape frowned at the covered form of Draco. Damn that stubborn boy. Pulling the curtains back, he asked his question again. "I said, Malfoy, is it your intention to fail out of school? You haven't made it to class in over 3 days, and I come to find you lying in bed. Miss Parkinson informed me you haven't left your room at all."

"Pansy is a snotty know-it-all," Draco retorted, still avoiding the question.

"Draco Malfoy, look at me," the professor commanded.

Throwing the pillow off his face, Draco's eyes fixed on Snape's. His skin was tight and drawn across his cheekbones, which jutted out from his face like a cliff, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes. The spark of mischief and life that once flared in his eyes was replaced by a dull glow, like a dying ember. Smirking at the look of shock on his godfather's face, Draco said, "Is this what you wanted to see, Professor?"

"And why aren't you in the hospital wing, Draco?"

Snorting in disgust, Draco rolled his eyes. "Like she could help me." Rolling over, he said over his shoulder to Snape, "Go away now. Leave me alone."

If any other student had dared to speak to Snape so, he would have them in a months worth of detention before a chocolate frog could jump away, but Malfoy had always gotten away with more. "I demand that you tell me what is going on. I will not leave this room until you satisfy my curiosity, for my sake and yours."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"And satisfaction brought it back," quipped Snape, not feeling like dealing with the dramatics of any student, even his godson.

"You want to know?" snarled Draco, sitting up in bed throwing off his covers. He actually looked like he was wasting away. The skin clung half-heartedly to his bones, and although he shivered with cold, his skin radiated the heat of a high fever. "Ask that old jackass of a Headmaster, if you want to know!"

"And what, Draco, does he have to do with your current state?" Despite his calm words and voice, Snape's heart thudded quickly in his chest. This was not right, this was not good, to say the least.

Deciding to have a little bit of fun before he wasted away, Draco smirked to himself. Leaning back against the headboard, Draco pulled his knees up to his chest. "What do you know about my mother?"

Narrowing his eyes at Draco, Snape sighed loudly, "What does she have to do with this?"

"Did she ever mention she was a veela to you, Professor?"

"If you expect me to believe some farfetched tale about veelas as an excuse for missing classes, you must be mistaken, Malfoy. I let you get away with too much, but this will not be tolerated!"

"Did you know Lucius isn't my real father?" he asked, watching Snape's reaction.

Snape's eyebrows snapped into a harsh triangle, his eyes narrowed. "What?" he whispered.

"Mom was a half veela. She had me with another half veela, who Lucius killed. Thus, I," he said, waving his hand through the air, "am a half-veela myself."

Snape wanted to deny the words, but he had no breath left in his lungs to argue back. Really, it explained much more then it didn't.

"Three weeks ago I found my mate, and three weeks ago I was ripped away from him, by that withering tottering idiot who runs this school."

Veelas can't be separated from their mates, everyone knew that; Snape knew that. Snape also knew Dumbledore knew. "Why would he separate you from your mate, Malfoy?"

"Because," Draco laughed darkly, "because my mate…is Harry Potter!" Collapsing back on the bed in a fit of insane laughter, Draco didn't see the look of shock, disgust, horror on Snape's face. "And now I'm dying! Isn't life simply excruciatingly wonderful?" he yelled sarcastically, and began coughing deeply.

Pushing himself away from the bed, Snape made his way out of the room, leaving Draco to his choked, hacking sobs.

xXxXxXx

Turning the ring over and over in his fingers, Harry sat alone in the library of the strange house, his sanctuary and his penitentiary. "Oh Draco, where are you, what are you doing now?" asked Harry quietly, clutching the ring to his chest. Do you feel like I do? Are you dying with me, dear Draco? I can't eat, I can't speak, I can't breathe without you here with me, my love. Inside I die…I need you to live. Hitting the arm of the chair he sat in, Harry cursed every second of his life, cursed his fate, cursed himself for killing the perfect love of his life.

Sobbing to himself, Harry let down the mental barrier in his mind that had cut off their contact since that Gods-cursed day in his room when he left. Draco may never let his guard down, but Harry had to, needed to be that much closer to his love, even if Draco never wanted to speak to him again. Every minute of the day he felt his spark for life flickering away, a small candle in the middle of a windy storm. He was not the savior of the wizarding world, he was the plague upon this earth, sent here to ruin the life of the most perfect being to ever caress its surface.

"Draco!" Harry yelled aloud before letting himself collapse onto the floor, curling up around the ring that was now the only thing close to Draco he had to hold dear.

After watching Snape leave, Draco lay quiet on the bed, staring up at the top of the bed. My dear Harry, where are you now? What tortures are they making you suffer through now? You give so much to everyone, and no one can give back to you. I can't even give you what you need. My darling, please forgive me. I die alone, without you, without anyone. I want no one but you. I shouldn't need you, but I do; Gods know I do. I can only bring you more pain, but I have to have you. Cursing himself for his weakness, Draco slowly let the barrier in his mind down, expecting to still feel the emptiness in his mind. Surely Harry would still have his mental shield up, not needing Draco.

Much to his surprise, Draco felt a yanking behind his navel, jerking his body in his bed. Shuddering in pain and pleasure, Draco's head was ripped open by the terror, longing, misery in his mate's mind. Harry was there, waiting for him, needing him, calling for him!

Oh God! Harry! Draco cried out in his thoughts. Harry!

Looking up from the floor, Harry's eyes flickered in pain as that pulling yanked at him, shaking his body from head to toe. Draco! Dearest Draco! My God, what have I done to us?


A/N: And how does everyone feel, what do you think? Please review and let me know. Your opinions are highly valuable to a little college student like myself. :)