I force myself to remain conscious as I am suddenly lifted off myfeet and dragged out of the locker room and into the nearest bathroom. I can feel a trickle of something, either sweat or blood, running down the back of my neck. That hand is still clamped over my mouth, but I don't think I could've screamed if I'd wanted to. I am paralysed with fear. I know who's hand that is, I recall that same moronic voice and laugh that is whispering in my ear. I don't even know what he's saying, everything is happening so fast, I can't seem to focus on any one thing.

The door slams behind us, and I am spun around and pressed against the cold tiled wall. All three Carnal Boys are leering back at me lasciviously. Their leader, Bailey, is the one holding me.

"Harry Potter," he purrs. "You are just too tempting to resist. So innocent and young. I would even bet that you're still a virgin, aren't you?"

I know he can feel my body shaking in his grasp, but I force myself to stare him directly in the eye and not make a sound.

Bailey narrows his eyes and slams me back against the wall, my head bouncing off of it with a loud thud. Stars swim before my eyes.

"Not feeling talkative, Potter?" he sneers, regaining his composure.

I don't know what made me do it, perhaps I have a concussion, but the simmering anger in me suddenly erupts and I spit into his face with all the contempt that I can muster.

Bailey's eyes widen, as if he's not exactly sure what just happened. I brace myself as he lifts a hand and slowly wipes my saliva from his nose and cheek.

"We're going to have to teach you some manners, Potter," he whispers, his calm voice sending chills up my spine. "We still owe you for the last time, and now…you'll wish you'd never been born Harry Potter."

"Too late," I mutter darkly.

Bailey smirks and turns around to face the others, his strong grip still keeping me in place.

"John, I believe you get the honour of going first."

The daft-looking John chuckles and steps forward, brandishing something that I soon recognize as one of the wooden clubs the guards keep in their belts.

I struggle within Bailey's grasp as John stalks closer, stroking the club with reverence.

He suddenly lurches forward and jabs me in the stomach. I gasp as my breath abruptly leaves my body in a jolt of pain.

John chuckles again, pleased.

Bailey smirks at me. "Told you he was a fun little toy, Ricky."

The third Carnal Boy nods enthusiastically, pale blue eyes never leaving my face.

John licks his lips and raises his club again. I shut my eyes bracingly.

This time the blow strikes me in the side of the jaw, and I know it's broken.

Bailey releases his hold on me and I sink to the ground, one shaking hand clutching at my face.

"Careful, John," Bailey warns. "We don't want him to lose consciousness just yet."

I stare listlessly at the floor as they continue to discuss my upcoming torture. I don't know why I ever bothered to fight back, at any point in my life, it never seems to help. I survive one fight only to find another one staring me in the face.

Maybe someone's trying to tell me something; that I should just give up and lose the fight. Constant struggle starts to wear on a person's spirit after awhile. If I survive this day, then what's next? Being sent to Azkaban? Why should I even try? I don't want to fight anymore…

Bailey seems annoyed by my lack concern.

"Give me the stick, John."

I don't want to fight anymore…

The pain soon meshes together as they take turns beating me with the club and their bare hands, kicking, punching… Their skin shines with a layer of sweat, little rivulets running through he grime on their skin, sick smiles twisting their faces, yellowed teethe bared.

"There should be ample lube, eh, boys?" Bailey laughs perversely.

Through the haze of agony, I wonder what he's talking about. I am now lying on my side, and my eyes drift downwards towards the floor to stare at the dirty and cracked tiles. I try to shift my broken arm slightly to ease the burning ache, and my hand slides slickly over the floor.

My eyesight is growing blurry and clear in turns. I glance down and see that the floor under my hand is red with blood. I want to throw up as I recall Bailey's last words.

The beating, I can handle, I'm used to it. But I don't want to be raped…I don't want…

A tear finally makes its way from the corner of my eye and runs down into my hair.

I don't want to fight anymore…

I'm slowly losing my battle with consciousness, which is a blessing.

I close my eyes and will my body to slip away. Into death or unconsciousness – I don't care.

There is a loud bang and the ruthless assault on my battered body pauses. I can hear yelling and cursing all around me.

I wince at the sudden noise and draw into myself.

I can hear and feel the rumble of feet moving around near my head, shuffling, fighting.

The sound fades, moving further away from me.

Gentle hands are suddenly on me, turning me onto my back.

I hear an audible gasp, then more shouting; frantic, worried.

"Harry!"

The pain is receding, replaced with a welcome numbness. I reach out for the dark, the nothingness just on the edge of my consciousness.

"Harry, don't you fucking give up!"

What's Malfoy doing here?

"Harry?"

I don't want to fight anymore…

"Harry!"

My fingers finally reach the nothingness. It envelopes me, takes me away. I sigh and accept the offered peace that is surely awaiting me.

"Harry!"

And I remember no more.

ooooooooo

I am aware of sound before anything else. Then smell.

My nose wrinkles slightly as the smell of antiseptic invades my nostrils.

I must be in the infirmary.

I don't remember being in a Quidditch accident. Why am I…?

Someone is now standing over me, touching my cheek, holding a gentle wrist to my forehead.

Madam Pomfrey.

I open my eyes a crack, expecting to see my old school nurse, and am met by the face of a stranger in a grey uniform.

"He's awake,' the woman announces, hazel eyes watching me intently.

Someone else is in the room, and they quickly rush over.

"Harry? Thank Merlin." Remus Lupin's face is pale and drawn as he cautiously perches on my bedside and picks up one limp hand in his own. "How are you feeling?"

How many times have I gone through this exact moment? Me, lying in a hospital bed, friends and family hovering, asking how I feel.

My life is one big case of deja vu. And I fucking hate it.

"Fine," I answer dully.

Remus strokes my fringe away from my face in a very fatherly gesture.

I turn my head away and close my eyes.

"I know you must be tired, Harry," Remus says. "We'll talk later."

I don't want to talk. Ever.

I hear him leave the room after a few moments and I gradually slip back into sleep.

The next two days pass in much the same way.

On the fourth day, I open my eyes and Remus is already sitting at my bedside, reading the Prophet. I can see my own picture staring back at me from the front page.

"How did they find out?" I rasp out, throat sore from disuse.

Remus looks up and smiles. "Morning, Harry. What did you say?" He sets aside the newspaper and holds a glass of water to my parched lips.

I gulp down the cool water until the glass is empty.

"Better?" Remus inquires, taking the glass away and putting it on the bedside table.

I nod, wanting to lift my hand to wipe at my wet mouth, but my arm feels like lead.

"Why can't I move my arm?"

"You're under a restriction spell so that you won't move unnecessarily and further damage your healing injuries," Remus explains.

"How long have I been in here?"

"Almost a week. Six days, to be exact."

I don't want to ask the next question, but I do, with great reluctance.

"Am I still in Grace?"

Remus frowns. "Grace?"

"That's what we call it, the Woodward Institute."

"Ah." Remus nods in comprehension. "Yes, you are."

I try to swallow my disappointment. I was hoping that they'd taken me to an outside wizarding hospital. Even if it was for just a few days, it would've been nice.

"Do you want to talk about what happened, Harry?"

I want to close my eyes again. It's so easy to feign tiredness so that people will leave you alone.

"Why?" I ask wearily, looking away.

"The officials need to know what happened so that we can send those men away. Away from you."

Another day, another fight.

"I don't care what happens to them."

"Harry-"

"If it's not them, then it'll be others. There will always be more."

"But-"

"No," I say firmly. "I'm tired. Can't this wait?"

"Of course, Harry." Remus' brown eyes are full of worry.

I only ever cause other people pain and suffering.

"Thank you," I say with finality, turning my head away and once again pretending to sleep.

"I hope you feel better, Harry," he whispers, squeezing my hand. "I'll be back later."

I hear him stand and leave.

I lie restlessly for a few hours before succumbing to the exhaustion of speaking and staying awake for the first time in almost a week.

I continue to heal for another week in the prison infirmary. I still don't know the nurse's name, she didn't bother to introduce herself and I didn't bother to ask.

Remus hasn't returned like he promised, but I soon realize there is a full moon approaching and he must have had to return home.

I miss his presence, but not the incessant questioning that it brings.

On my last day in the infirmary, one of the guards (the one who kindly unlocks the cuffs from my wrists when I'm in the visitor's room), enters - with Malfoy.

I look up in surprise in the midst of tying the laces on my shoes.

"Mr Malfoy will be helping to escort you back to your cell, Mr Potter," the guard announces. "I thought that perhaps you would like a friendly face to help you."

I am too stunned to speak, so I nod and stand, ready to leave.

I fall into step beside Malfoy, ignoring his little glances as we walk. The guard walks ahead of us, leading the way.

The bleak and depressing atmosphere of Grace almost chokes me as I enter the familiar corridors. After two weeks in a room so separated from the main building of the prison it was all too easy to believe that I was somewhere else, but now, I realize what a mistake that was, for the reality of it crashes down over me and I just want to curl in on myself and scream my protest to the world.

I close my eyes and try to slow my panicked breathing as I enter the cell. I want to turn and bolt. I don't want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here…

Malfoy gently takes my arm and leads me over to the lower bunk bed. I let him ease me down onto the thin mattress in an unresponsive and submissive manner, not really focusing on him.

"Do you need anything, Harry?" he is asking, in a most unfamiliar way. Like he actually cares.

"Leave me alone." I turn away, using the same strategy of feigning exhaustion as a way to end any difficult conversations.

There's a pause, then, "Alright, Harry. I have to report for laundry duty now, but they said that you can have a few more days to rest if you want." He pauses, perhaps to see if I'll answer. "I guess I'll see you later," he finishes quietly.

I don't make any motion to indicate that I heard him, and he eventually leaves.

The next two days pass in virtually the same way; I wake, I walk to breakfast in a stupor, ignore all questions and attempts to draw me into conversation, ignore the worried looks shared by Jack and the rest of them, walk the yard in never-ending circles, return for lunch, lie on the bed in the cell, walk to dinner, return to cell, sleep – or at least try to sleep.

I bear the nightmares in silence. I bear the day in silence. Inside, my brain is a mess of memories and painful thoughts, and other times, it is quiet and still, dark, sad.

Self-pitying and depressed are two words that jump to the forefront of my mind when I think about my recent behaviour, but as someone who has sunk this low, I just don't bloody care.

I will be happy again when I have something to be happy about.

The strangest part during this period is Malfoy's disturbing behaviour. He is quietly helpful and watches over me everywhere I go. I am grateful for the fact that he never allows me to go to the loo or the showers alone. He might not know this, but I appreciate that more than I could ever say. The only time I ever feel anything is when I step back into that shower room and the memories assault me, but Malfoy's hand is there on my back, urging me forward in silent encouragement.

I guess he was serious when he said that he would try the whole 'friends' thing.

And still, I can't feel anything but sad that that is all that he can offer me. So I block him out, and tolerate his gestures of friendship with silent detachment. I would rather that he just go back to the way things were. I could ignore him a lot better if he were stoically ignoring me right back.

I'm so tired of these feelings, like a Dementor is perpetually following me around, sucking out the happiness, filling me with the gloomy and the morose.

How long can I possibly be expected to endure this?

I don't want to fight anymore…


.

A change of perspective…

I sit on one of the stone benches located out in the desolate yard of Grace, my eyes very intently watching one lone figure wandering as though lost far off in the distance.

All my thoughts as of late, have centred around one Harry James Potter.

I have never felt this kind of concern for anyone ever in my life. The feeling is so alien that it took me awhile to place it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not some cold-hearted bastard, I might've played one really well in life, but all in all I am not. I've never been in the position to…care for someone until now, I suppose. Then along comes this heroic Gryffindor, trying to worm his way into my heart, and I think on some level, he succeeded.

It was just too much too fast. I just didn't understand him, his need for comfort and a friendly face in the midst of all this madness. I admit it – it scared me. And then him forcing himself on me that way…well, it scared me shitless. I hadn't even thought of him that way until that moment. I was still trying to warm to the idea of us being friends.

Then suddenly – bang! He kisses me.

I lied.

Him kissing me wasn't what scared me shitless, finding myself kissing him back was what did it.

Of all my father's traits, I refuse to let this one be passed on. I've worked extremely hard to do that very thing, even sleeping with Pansy to do it. I'm not going to let some cute, adorably self-less and heroic Golden Boy, change that. I don't even know if I like him that way, sure I might've enjoyed the kisses, but that's purely physical.

I shift on the cold bench and pull this pathetic excuse for a cloak closer to my body.

Damn Potter for coming out here in this weather. I have a good mind to just leave him alone.

Okay, I lied again. I do that a lot.

Harry finally turns and heads for the entrance doors.

I breathe a sigh of relief, mentally making a note to make sure that I force the daft boy to put on a cloak next time.

I stand, my limbs frozen and numb. I curse Potter again and walk swiftly towards the door.

Upon entry, one of the guards approaches me.

"Malfoy, you have a visitor."

I raise a brow in surprise. I haven't had one visitor since my incarceration. It must be Dumbledore. Hopefully he can reach Harry and knock some sense back into that boy.

I remove my cloak at the door to the visitor's room after my cuffs are unlocked. The guard opens the door and waits for me to pass.

"Professor Lupin?"

Remus Lupin is sitting at the table, the frown that had been previously marring his face disappears as I enter.

"Hello, Draco." He smiles kindly.

I sit in the chair opposite and wait for him to explain.

"I'm sure you know why I wanted to speak with you," he says.

"I suppose it has something to do with Ha- Potter."

He nods, ignoring my slip-up. "I'm very worried about him."

"How's that my problem?" I sneer. I may be having a change of heart where Harry is concerned, but that doesn't extend to his adopted family of Mudbloods and werewolves.

Remus looks a little taken-aback by my sharp reply. "I just want to know if he's acting like this all the time, or if it's just around me."

"You mean, like the walking dead?"

"Yes."

I almost feel sorry for the guy, he looks so upset, and it's obvious that he is still recuperating from the last full moon. If Harry's not careful, he's going to inadvertently drive his mangy friend into an early grave.

"He hasn't spoken a word since he came out of the hospital," I say, feeling magnanimous.

Lupin sighs and rubs a weary hand over his eyes. "That's what I was afraid of." He looks back up at me. "Do you think it's the attack that's causing his withdrawal, or…something else?"

I really should be honest, maybe this man can help Harry far better than I can.

"I think it's an accumulation of things," I reply evenly. "The attack was just the last straw, so to speak."

Lupin nods, thinking. "I'm just so thankful that he wasn't…hurt further," he says with emphasis.

I nod before I can stop myself. I feared we were too late already when I arrived at that horrendous scene. The smell of blood, Harry lying in an unmoving heap…

I shake my head with a frown.

"If you can get us out of here right about now, it would really help," I say dryly.

Lupin smiles weakly. "Wish it were that easy, Draco."

"Me, too," I say, one corner of my mouth curling up with reluctant good-humour.

"Did Harry tell you about the probation deal?"

"No." I frown, quickly losing any trace of a smile.

"I guess he didn't have time, it was the same day as the attack," he says, distractedly. "I am in the middle of a series of meetings scheduled with Fudge, trying to broker a deal with him and the Ministry into letting the two of you out and kept elsewhere on probation."

"Like where?" I ask, coolly distant, not wanting to show any spark of hope at his words.

"I suggested - and the headmaster agrees – that Hogwarts would be the best location. It is secure enough for the Ministry's liking, and familiar enough for you and Harry to feel much more comfortable in."

"That's an understatement." I snort.

Lupin smiles. "I don't want to get your hopes up needlessly, but…" he pauses, smile growing, "it looks really good."

I nod interestedly, but inside I am a flurry of excitement and would like nothing more than to jump for joy. A dignified smile and a nod is my outward reaction.

"My time is almost up," Lupin says, disrupting my internal happy dance. "I also wanted to thank you again for helping Harry that day. Who knows what would've happened had you not alerted others to the situation and came to his aid. It's because of you that those sick and twisted men have been sent to Azkaban."

I shrug, nonplussed, but feel a small spark of pleasure at his words.

"I also have a favour to ask of you, Draco," he continues.

It's disconcerting how he keeps using my given name in such a casual way, like we're old friends. It's hard enough getting used to Harry acting friendly, or the way he was acting before he fell into this pit of depression, without having others treating me like an honourary member of the Gyrffindor family.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I ask indifferently.

"I would be eternally grateful to you if you could keep an eye on Harry for me. I know it goes against your usual habit, but if you could try to bring him out of this and be a friend to him, he could really use one right now. And make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Perhaps it's his last words that cause me to let the mask fall and be truly honest. I never even considered the idea that Harry might give up and…and…

"I already am." I look into his eyes intently, honestly.

Lupin smiles and looks as though he wants to say more but doesn't. "Thank you," he says simply, conveying a lot with those two words.

I nod again and rap on the door to be let out.

Maybe if I tell Harry about the very real possibility of us being released on probation, then he'll snap out it and speak to me, or even smile again. I'm ashamed to admit it, but…I've missed that goofy smile that is so uniquely Harry. That care-free lopsided grin that is so innocent and open, especially for one who has seen the worst the world has to offer.

I've always admired that about him, his will to smile and go on as though the future had already been written and he'd peeked and seen that it had a happy ending.

He can't give up now, not after everything he's been through.

I've got to make sure of that. Somehow. After awhile my attempts at friendship have got to get through to him, I refuse to believe that all this kindness on my part is going to be for not. I've been making myself sick lately with all of this caring and-

I jerk my head up in surprise as a loud exclamation of fear pierces the air.

I recognize that voice, even if I haven't heard it in about two weeks.

Harry.

Without another thought, I take off running for our cell, paying no heed to my accompanying guard as he chases after me.

I reach the top level and see Harry standing horrified on the deck just outside our cell, staring inside with his hands covering his mouth.

I sprint over to him and grab him by the shoulders. "Harry! Are you okay?"

He nods shakily and points a finger behind me.

I tear my gaze from his wide green eyes and glance into our cell. I gasp and almost cry out myself.

One of our barmy cellmates is hanging by a sheet from the barred window. His lifeless body dangling off of the floor, eyes open and unblinking.

A few of the guards, including the one that had been accompanying me from the visitor's room, push past us to deal with the situation.

I turn back to Harry.

"Are you okay?" I ask, trying not to sound as worried as I am.

His dull eyes are staring as though still seeing the man hanging there in front of his eyes.

"Harry?"

I just hope this incident hasn't given him the final push towards wherever it is that he has been steadily working his way towards disappearing to.