Dislcaimer: None of it belongs to me, obviously, or you would be paying to read this. Which you aren't (Unless you'd like to…)

A/N: This is the first I've written in a long-o time. So give be some slack because I may be a tad rusty. Currently I've written 3 first chapters, so I'll try to write them all at the same time..egads.

From a very young age, Draco Malfoy realized he was basically incapable of loving. He could like, he could become infatuated, but he could not love. To love was to commit and he couldn't do that. He couldn't let his guard down. How could he love someone else, commit to them, when he couldn't love himself. When he hated himself. He hated his actions, his looks, his hair and most especially, he hated his weight. He couldn't control anything. He couldn't control that he wasn't going to Durmstrang, but instead was going to some other wizarding school. He couldn't control the fact that his mother acted like he didn't exist and the fact that he was, and would never be, good enough for his father.

Draco couldn't understand why Narcissa ignored him. They were alike in so many ways. You could see her when you looked at him, the only thing that resembled his father was his hair, and an argument could be made that it was not from Lucius, but from Narcissa as they had the same hair color. Both he and Narcissa were trophy items. Of course, Narcissa was the trophy wife and Draco was the trophy son. Lucius only cared about either of them when in public, that was when he'd put on the fatherly love act. The act that made Draco hate himself even more. His father was rarely proud of him, if ever. In fact, Draco could not remember a moment when his father's eyes shone at him with love. Nobody's eyes ever shone at him that way. The way the majority of faculty at Hogwarts eyes shone when they looked at Harry Potter.

It killed Draco that he wasn't Harry Potter and that he never would be. It's not the fact that Harry Potter was famous, Draco was decently famous, it was the fact that people loved him. Although Draco would have died before admitting it, he wanted to be loved. That, however, did not make him a puppy-dog like creature, and just because he wanted love didn't mean that he went out of his way to get it. He realized, that, had he been friendlier, nicer, more gregarious he would've, no doubt, been loved. He wasn't willing to give up his mean streak for a feeling that he was almost sure he couldn't give back. For Draco had already accepted his fate, that he couldn't love and rarely liked. This acceptance made it more than easy for him to pick apart people, expose their faults, humiliate them. It was more than easy for Draco to hate and rat on those he hated. What did he care, they surely didn't care for him and would probably do the same thing if given the opportunity. As much as he wished it, Draco couldn't control the circumstances Harry Potter and Co. were given. Hell, he couldn't even control his own circumstances. He accepted it.

What Draco didn't realize or count on, was the fact that his acceptance just about forced everyone to accept it as well. After many years at Hogwarts, no one expected him to be nice, to play fair, or to act like he cared. After many years everyone just assumed that he would never change, and had it not been for an unlikely friend he probably wouldn't have changed. He wouldn't have had a reason to change. Draco had no reason to be better because no one expected him to be. He had no pressure to be nice, so he wasn't; he had no pressure to play fair, so he didn't. With this way of thinking Draco tried to control his life and those around him, but with little avail.

Control. Control was all Draco Malfoy wanted. That was all. Money gave him this control for a good amount of years at Hogwarts. Money gets old after a while, though, and buying your friends starts to look suspicious and pathetic. Around his 5th year at Hogwarts, he stopped using his money to get ahead in life because, in all honesty, it didn't actually get him ahead. He needed control in another way. That's when he started appearing unhealthy (though no one cared enough to notice or say anything) and started wearing dragon skin gloves at almost all times. He slashed his thighs, upper arms, and stomach knowing that if anyone found out he would lose his control. He would lose everything. Everything that meant anything to him, anyways. So he hid it, like most people with this habit. Self-injurers don't want to be found out, because then they lose control which is why they started in the first place. It was a vicious cycle.

What Draco understood, and what no one but a cutter would understand, was that he didn't want to die. Heavens, no. What a way to die. He just wanted to know, to assure himself, that if he hurt someone else he could hurt himself as a way of dealing with his guilt. He wanted to know that, though if he appeared heartless to others, he was still alive. He needed to know that if things got too bad he could hurt himself. Mostly he just wanted to know that he was human at the points in time where he couldn't tell. It seemed very logical. It looks very logical all written out, but on the inside, it's chaos. Draco was struggling, but he wouldn't let anyone find out. That was out of the question, as was help.

Secrecy was easy at the Malfoy Manor. His parents could care less what he was doing. That point aside, Draco had a nagging suspicion that, had his parents found out, they would simply hope he would accidentally cut a major artery and inevitably lead to his death. If that wasn't the case, they'd probably just comment that he'd need to clean up his mess after he was done (which he did, of course, not wanting to be found out).

Secrecy at Hogwarts was another matter. No one suspected him of having this habit, but this was mostly because he gave them no reason to. He wore gloves if the cuts were even near his hand. Nobody ever saw his thighs so this didn't matter. He couldn't even wear normal shirts because of the scars and the current cuts that were most likely near his elbows. Pansy would often try to seduce him, but he couldn't let her know. She had the loudest mouth in all of Slytherin and had a reputation for saying things that were told to her in the strictest confidence. Plus, he wasn't at all interested in her. She had a bowl haircut like a muggle boy (and he couldn't stand to look at her crap fringe for a long period of time) and, though she was some-what pretty, she was also a bit whore-ish. He would not get sloppy seconds (in Pansy's case it'd probably be more like sloppy twenty-firsts), he refused to be insulted like that. Besides, it went against his morals.

It's laughable to think that Draco Malfoy has morals, but he did indeed. They were warped and misshaped, but present none-the-less. For instance, he thought that true love, though somewhat idealistic and impossible to achieve, was only found by those who were true in general. Which meant that he would never get his share of true love, he was conniving and hateful, he lied to teachers and to some of his so-called friends. Draco also believed that if a girl is a slutty at one part of her life, it's inevitable that, if she turned from those ways and started dating someone, she'd just go back to her ways when there was a fight, just to spite her significant other. He would not allow himself to get involved with someone like that. He wouldn't chance being humiliated and he knew that if ever he did get involved with anyone, there would be fights. He was too realistic to think that everything would be perfect if he found love, even an intense like.

It was laughable to think that he could love, but by the time he was 24, he would have loved someone with his whole heart. He would've stopped his painful therapy. Draco Malfoy would be a different person, yet the same. He would still be horribly cruel to those he opposed, but he would be able to love those he deemed worthy. Draco Malfoy would learn what is usually taught when one is young. The ability to love and the golden rule. He would learn that, in this life, he deserved nothing but opposition. He would learn that sometimes you don't get what you deserve, and sometimes that's a good thing.

-&-

The world seemed to be crashing down all around him. His mother had owled him with something other than superficial nonsense (mainly, the love that she put on for show). He tried to steady his fingers as he opened the letter. It was not the normal envelope and had not a Malfoy seal. This one was different, and he knew it. As he unfolded the letter he realized that the script wasn't loopy and smooth, it was rushed and untidy. As he read the measly 5 letters that the message contained his eyes widened.

"Draco,

I love you.

-Narcissa"

He just stared down at the text, wondering if it was April Fool's Day, or something. Who had sent this? He held the letter up to the ceiling in the Great Hall (which currently was imitating the sunny, cloudless day outside). When he saw what he had been looking for he realized that this wasn't a joke. It was truly from Narcissa, or at least, from someone at the Malfoy Manor. He knew by the watermark. It was the Malfoy crest. Why would she send this to him, though? He asked himself that all day until he realized he had no answers. It made no sense. Maybe she was trying to make up for those years that she had been a crap-mother. No, she hadn't beaten him or physically hurt him, but she was practically non-existent in his life.

That morning, when he walked briskly out of the Great Hall, there was a curious pair of eyes following his stride. No, not Pansy, but a less likely suspect. She had seen the bewilderment in his face, the anger, the bitterness and the hope. In Draco Malfoy, she had seen what she had been feeling and what she was still feeling. She realized then that she and Draco were kindred spirits. They were almost opposite, but their personalities seemed to overlap. Draco was nearing the doors to the Great Hall when he turned around and met her eyes. She looked down and gasped. There was a trail of blood on the floor, every drop lead up to him. She looked up at Draco, his eyes wide, and she knew he saw it too. His eyes pleaded, told her not to say anything to anyone, but she had to know what was going on. She couldn't just let him walk out bleeding all over the place. She stood up and made for the doors, but a voice called her back to the Ravenclaw table.

"Cho? Cho, where are you going?" it asked, she just smiled and nodded her head towards the door. What nobody but a young Weasley saw was Cho's wand, feet above the floor , sending sparks of white towards the ground, obviously making something disappear. The young Weasley didn't know what, though.

"Malfoy!" Cho called out once she was out of the Great Hall. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Draco sneered, "Don't pretend that you care. I'm not a charity case and I don't need your help."

"I could've told a teacher what happened, what I saw, but I didn't. I want to know what's the matter."

"Oh, well in that case I'll tell you," he said politely. Cho tapped her foot and then waited for him to continue. Draco never did and just turned around and walked off. She felt tears welling up, how could he be so mean? She was only trying to help. "Don't cry for me, Chang, I'm not Potter. I don't care about your problems, about Cedric Flaming Diggory so save it for someone who will appreciate it."

"Why?" she asked, tears spilling onto her cheeks from the mention of Cedric's name.

"Why what?" Draco snapped at her and turned around, "Why don't I care?" he walked closer to her, for he had gotten pretty far when he was trying to storm of, "Why don't I want your help? Frankly, because you don't care, because you don't-can't-won't understand what I'm going through, I don't want to hear your problems, I don't need more things to worry about. I'm hated here, you think I don't know it? You, Chang, wouldn't understand what it's like to be an outcast. You, with your perfect life and your perfect face and your perfect friends. All the boys want to be with you and all the girls want to be you." He faltered, she was sobbing and she still looked beautiful. That made Draco even angrier, "Look at you, you're crying your bleeding heart out and you're still the prettiest girl at school. What the hell is wrong with you? People like you can't understand people like me, I'm different, I'm not normal, I'm not friendly and I don't even have friends who honestly care. You don't know what that's like, I'm sure the guys are all lining up to be your shoulder to cry on," he paused and glared at her shaking form, "So what, Cedric died, big effing deal. I AM GOING TO DIE, I'm going to bleed myself dry and, guess what, nobody is going to care. Sure, some of my "mates" will show up to my funeral and cry and say false things about how nice I was, and what I great friend I was, but it won't be true, and everyone listening will know it. At least, Cedric died knowing people loved him. People love you, Cho, and you can't have the faintest clue about what I'm feeling right now, so please, PLEASE, don't try to help." Right after his last word, he realized he had lost it. What his life was based on. She now had control over him, she could run off and tell a teacher or worse, her friends. He vaguely wished that she would stop crying. Surely, she had run out of tears by now.

To his surprise Cho marched over to him and slapped him hard on the cheek, "How dare you? HOW DARE YOU? How dare you even imply that you know anything about me? How dare you imply that you knew him. I don't know what you're going through? I don't know what it's like to be bitter, to hate, to feel alone? You don't think I'm bitter that Harry Potter lived and my BEST FRIEND died? You don't think that I hate Voldemort for doing this? You don't think I hate that I couldn't help Cedric, that he couldn't be saved? Love is supposed to be a strong bond but now I feel nothing like love. Nothing remotely like love. Do you know how angry that makes me? My friends can't understand what I'm going through. Most of them are jus annoyed by the fact that I cry so much. No one wants to help me, Draco, just like no one wants to help you. You think I can't understand what you're doing to yourself? You think that I'm going to believe whatever excuse you planned to give me? 'Oh no, Cho, I just ran into an extremely sharp edge TEN times, it's nothing, really.' Yeah right, Malfoy. Just like I ran into that SAME edge TEN times, as well. My, what a coincidence!" she unbuttoned her shirt to show deep cuts that were obviously recent. "You don't even know me, Malfoy." She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were still red.

Later, Draco would say that he had the perfect response for her outburst, but nobody will ever know if that's true because when he opened his mouth to speak he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

-&-

The hospital gave people an impression of sterility, but the point of view from the bed gave Draco Malfoy another impression. It was fake. He looked up at the ceilings and could make out a nearly transparent outline of a spiderweb. The spider, however, was no where to be found.

"You're awake!" a voice said from behind the curtains. Cho Chang's face was peeking out behind the curtains and Draco thought that there was no way he could mistake the look on her face. She was relieved.

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it," he drawled, "How long have I been in here? More to the point, what did you say to Madam Pomphrey?" Could he trust Cho? He'd soon find out. Did she keep his secret or did she tell the nurse?

"Draco," Cho started, but Draco interrupted.

"Why are you calling me Draco? We aren't friends and you don't know me."

"However, I know you better than your so-called friends."

"Whatever, go on,"

"I told Madam Pomphrey I didn't know what happened," Cho looked at him nervously, "but that I found you near a corner, that had a sharp edge. She asked if I remembered what corner, I said, that I didn'."

"I see," Draco said coolly. He looked at the blankets covering him and kicked them down. Around one his thighs was a thick bandage held together by spello-tape for magical wounds. He peeled off the tape and looked at the gashes on his thigh. "Yes, this sure looks like an accident," the gashes were in all different directions. No way would anyone slightly intelligent think this came from a "sharp" edged wall, a sharp edge, maybe.

"Malfoy," she smirked, "it was so bloody when she first saw it she just put the gauze on to clean it up and she hasn't seen the actual wounds, not in their entirety, at least. I can heal them, if you let me. I'm in a Medi-Wizard course."

Draco considered this, "Okay, but if you screw my leg up, you're a dead man, Cho."

"Okay," she said shakily, then, raising her wand she whispered a spell. Immediately the wounds started closing themselves up and all that was left were pink traces which soon vanished.

"Er…thank you, Chang." He said and then got out of his bed and walked off.

A/N; so how was it? At first this was going to be a Ginny/Draco fic, but then I decided to choose a pairing that doesn't get nearly enough love. Will they even get together, the future is uncertain. You'll just have to wait and see… I love comments and criticism, so if you'd be so kind, leave me a message!