When he shall die
Take him and cut him in little stars
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun...

06.25.

Precision is necessary.

06.26.

The night was refusing to wear off as the darkness still gleefully took reign of the sky, even though morning was due to come any minute. Shadows swayed hypnotically to non-existent rhythms and the contents of my room looked mysterious under the gloominess of the upcoming day. Shades of midnight blue were the only colours that seeped through the fabric of my curtains, casting my bedroom in a navy glow. Every three seconds without fail, the hem of my curtains would billow softly, ever so insignificantly, before floating back to their old position again. I knew this because I'd been lying on my back and watching it happen for the past ten minutes. I couldn't do anything else. This is a routine and precision is necessary.

06.27.

I sometimes had brief split-second moments when I thought about breaking the routine. I'd grown up having those quick flashes as well. All my life I've been told that I have to be delicately precise in my actions. How to sit in a chair at the dining table so that the cutlery was mirrored exactly right according to the angle I was perched. How to walk at a steady pace so that it didn't look like I was in a hurry, yet far too busy to talk to people not worthy of my standards. And how to give off a perfect sneer. A superior flicker of a smirk with a carefully raised eyebrow that concealed all feelings and emotion.

I'd been watched under the meticulous eye of my father for so long that I used to doubt whether I had any emotions or thoughts of my own anymore. When I encountered brief thoughts of breaking the routine I dismissed them as quickly as they came, anxious and afraid that father would discover them. Sometimes, I even –

06.28.

Two minutes left, although this was the real start of my routine. I started by firmly pushing my elbows into my mattress and lifting myself up to a thirty degree angled half-sitting position. Then, balancing on my left elbow, I removed my right elbow from the mattress and replaced it with the sturdier stability of my right hand. Doing the same symmetry with my left hand, I then pushed myself up into an eighty degree angled sitting position.

06.29.

My right leg shuffled itself from the bed first, tiptoeing tentatively until it found the floor. I turned my body forty-five degrees, before the left leg joined its counterpart. Then, with a heavy push off my bed, I walked over to my cabinet, which took exactly twelve steps, and reached my destination with one second to spare.

06.30.

Precision is necessary.

I took the small tube out of my cabinet with shaking hands. I'd repeated this process for almost two weeks now and could do it in complete darkness. However, for the next step I needed light and I scrabbled around my desk before I came into contact with my wand and lumosed light into my room. At once the shadows disappeared, casting my room in an Earthy bronze colour. Now I had light I slowly unscrewed the lid with the lightest force I could muster. I placed it squarely in front of me and then peered into the capsule.

Nine pills left. They'd last me three days, but I wanted to go back to Dr. Warner before then to get a refill. I'd been on them for this long; I wasn't going to break the routine yet. I knew they were working. I didn't bruise as easily, I didn't suffer from night sweats as much anymore, and I felt longings for apple pie again. I knew they helped me, but it still scared me to take them. I was trusting muggles more and more by the day, but their medicine techniques still petrified me. Why did I have to swallow these pills? Why couldn't it just be as easy as placing a finger in a copy of Diagnosis SOS and having your symptom cured through there? Why were they so behind in cure rates? I threw these thoughts aside and dry swallowed the pill without any water in exactly the same manner as I did yesterday and every other morning at 6.30am sharp. I willed the pill to work, to find the entire range of evil leukaemia cells and kill them off, dissolving the disease into nothingness and giving my body immune system new strength. My doubts got the better of me and dampened the hopes I had. I began to feel hot tears leak out the corner of my eyes and I scolded myself sharply.

Don't you dare fucking cry. You've got it a lot easier than most people in your situation, so stop that silly snivelling at once.

I did as I was told straight away. Not through harshness, and not through the fact that Malfoy's never cry either. It was due to the fact that the image of Katy kept swimming into my mind and invading my thoughts. She was worse off than me, yet still managed to maintain a smile and a happy outlook on life. I was going to stay strong, for the pride and strength she had in herself at least.

I pondered what to do now. Though I didn't feel particularly tired, I knew it would be best to get at least another half an hours rest before I got ready for school. If I didn't manage to fall back to sleep, at least I could give my body a rest for the long day ahead. I put the tube back into the cabinet and mentally reminded myself again to get a refill from Dr. Warner before I ran out. The light from my wand was beginning to fade slowly, so I grabbed it and walked back over to my bed. I was about to stop the spell and get back into bed before I noticed something peculiar out of the very corner of my eye.

On my pillow were fine strands of hair. Though the light was artificial, there was no doubt to whom the strands belonged too. The unmistakable shade of brilliant blonde was a Malfoy trademark, though they now lay perfectly inconspicuous and independent as if arranged there delicately and purposely. Though it wasn't a significant amount, my hand still raised itself quickly to my head of hair and felt around nervously.

It did seem to feel thinner than usual, but was that just my paranoia? After all, there wasn't a lot of strands on the pillow at all and I probably wouldn't even be able to feel any difference if they had fallen from my head. I knew that it was a side effect from my chemotherapy if it had happened so I wasn't worried about that. But I was scared of losing my beautiful hair. It was my best feature, everybody said so. Pansy often liked to stroke it delicately...

A shiver ran down my spine and I forced the image of Pansy's fingers entwining into my locks out of my mind. That sickening thought was the last thing I needed to think of right now.

"Reflectos," I commanded sharply, my voice cutting through the silence of the morning. At once, my reflection appeared in front of me and I peered forward to examine my hair. I managed to stifle a sob that caught in my throat by dragging the image of Katy's completely bald scalp into my mind. That stopped my initial reaction to my reflection straight away. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as hers was. Situated to the left of the centre of my head was a thinning patch where strands of hair had fallen out. It must have been the way I slept because no other bald patches were apparent. It wasn't unfixable though and using my wand I summoned my hair gel over.

It hovered in the air patiently as I delicately brushed my hair in different directions with my fingers, trying to find the best way to cover the empty spot. I finally found a solution, and biting my lip in concentration, I scooped a glob of gel into my hand and applied it softly to the front of my hair. I slicked my hand all the way to the back of my head and suddenly bit my lip hard in horror. Warm blood instantly filled my mouth but I didn't notice as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. And this time I let them.

The length of hair that I had just applied gel to had stuck themselves to the fucking stuff. I was now completely bald save for a few wisps on the entire right side of my head. I howled as I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew I was being selfish, vain, and self-centred and I didn't care. I looked like a fucking freak. With my sunken hollow eyes, fading bruises and slightly patchy skin I looked like the very epitome of disease and illness. I grabbed my wand tightly, forcing it to dig into my palm. It didn't hurt nearly enough as I wanted it to so I used it to shatter the fucking substance that had ruined me. I screamed and roared my anger and pain as glass flew in all directions. I caught sight of my tear stained face in the reflection and I hurled abuse at myself.

"You fucking bastard I fucking hate your fucking guts you fucking cunt."

I pointed my wand at the reflection and it shattered into a million pieces. I cried bitterly as I watched myself being shattered into oblivion. I felt like I had been torn into a million pieces. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and stamped upon. My pride and joy had fucking been destroyed. I fucking hated this thing inside of me; it was ruining my fucking life. I hated it so much. I thought I would be prepared for any side effects that might occur but all preparation was forgotten as I remembered the sight I had caught of my hair. I collapsed into a sitting position on the floor, and after a while my sobs subsided and all was silent except for the occasional sniff from me. I sat there, cross-legged, rocking myself soothingly. I was feeling dejected, I felt so numb, as though nothing was really happening and I was just part of my body without a soul. I felt that way until I heard the early noises of a couple of people in the room below mine, and then some more until the usual babble of noise rose to a loud level.

The noises had long gone and I knew that I was going to get into trouble for being late if I didn't make a move, yet I couldn't will my body to work. My entire weight felt heavy and it was an effort to even breathe. I'd calmed down now though. Katy's hug kept niggling me in the back of my mind and every time I started to feel sorry for myself, the memory gave me a short sharp shock back to reality.

I closed my eyes and conjured up a reflection spell again. My voice sounded dull and I knew that it was going to hurt to do this, but it was the only way I could feel in control, the only way I could feel like I was winning. Opening my eyes, I took another look at myself. The bald patch looked sore, yet it was surprisingly soothing compared to the rest of my head. It felt like it was on fire in comparison, it was so itchy and I had been scratching the hell out of my scalp for the past few days I had suddenly realized.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, my fingers slowly rose to the front of my hair. I grabbed a fistful of it and squeezed my eyes together tightly. I swallowed and pulled as hard as I could. They came out much easier than I expected, and, with my eyes still shut, I continued to do the same to my whole head. When I finally dared to open my eyes, I didn't look at my reflection. I instead focused on my lap and the hill of blonde hair that lay there. With grim determination I continued to find stray strands, pull them out softly and add them to the pile. When convinced that there was nothing left to pull, I looked up in front of me slowly.

It looked worse than I imagined. I couldn't even pretend to comfort myself as silent tears flooded down my face, hanging momentarily on my chin before falling into the hair on my lap that was no longer mine. I wasn't me anymore. I looked horrible. I sucked in a deep breath and forced the image of Katy into my mind. I felt guilty for thinking of myself and a stab struck my heart. A second stab struck me again as I felt more guilt for using her to make myself feel better. I took another quick glance at my reflection. I couldn't go out in public like this, no way. People would surely laugh and being laughed at was never on a Malfoy's agenda.

My hand-drawn timetable rustled impatiently on my dresser informing me that I was late for my first lesson. I threw on my robes and yanked a hat onto my head. It looked impractical and professors were no doubt going to moan but I didn't care. I had to keep my standards high.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. How lovely of you to grace us with your presence!" Snape's voice came in sardonic tones. I was not in the mood.

"You're welcome," I murmured, settling into my seat. I was horribly aware of Pansy's wide-eyed stare of wonder staring at me. She had a million questions to ask, I could tell, and I was in no mood to answer any of them.

"And what time do you call this?" Snape was not letting me off easily.

I shrugged. "Nine o'clock?" I guessed, not hiding the boredom in my voice at all. Snape pursed his lips together as if suppressing his anger before withdrawing a breath. "Get on with the work I set you," he snapped to the entire class, indicating he was finished with humiliating me.

I got my parchment out moodily and noisily, willing Pansy to suddenly come down with a bout of laryngitis or something. I could only dream.

"What's the matter with you Drake?" she whispered.

Fuck off.

"Nothing," I mumbled back.

"Why are you so late?"

Mind your own business.

"I just am."

"Why didn't you come down to breakfast?"

The sight of you with melted butter dribbling down your chin isn't something I want to see first thing in the morning.

"Wasn't hungry."

"Astral brought you a letter at breakfast today."

"Did he?" A flicker of interest rang in my voice at this. Astral, the family owl was only used to deliver letters when it was important and written by my parents.

"Yeah, but I told him to come back tomorrow."

Interfering little bitch.

"Great."

"Why are you wearing that stupid hat for?"

"Just shut the fu-"

"I was about to ask the same thing," a slow voice drawled from behind me. Pansy and I turned around and was greeted with Snape's cold eyes burning into us. "Humour me, please. Why are you wearing that thing on your head, Malfoy? I'm sure you're horribly aware that it looks awful on you."

"Because I want to," I scowled, turning back to my desk. The entire class had stopped working and the scratching of quills had dropped to a level that blatantly let them eavesdrop on the conversation that was taking place. Their heads were bent over their desks as if they were lost in their work when all they were really lost in was my fucking private conversation. I wanted to stupefy them all. Only Potter dared to look at the scene between Snape and I. His unconcealed interest didn't make me want to hex him though. His was a look of concern, not nosiness. I could tell by the way his emerald eyes were narrowed in confusion ever so slightly, his head cocked to one side, trying to figure out what was happening. His eyes darted back and forth, hatred for Snape and ... sympathy for me? No, not sympathy. Concern.

Without warning, I felt something rise slowly from my head. With my recent hair loss, I could quickly tell that my hat was slowly being removed from the way the fabric rubbed against my ever-so-slightly bristly scalp. I gave a quick scream and yanked it back down over my ears. Everyone turned at the sound of my squeal. I started to burn up, my face feeling red-hot and my heart pumping loudly. I turned around venomously and saw Snape standing there with his wand pointed at my head.

"Remove it before I do it for you Malfoy," he said quietly.

"NO," I yelled defiantly. You could have heard a pin drop now. Snape's favourite student audibly refusing a command from his favourite teacher was not something to be missed, apparently. I took a brief moment to deliver dirty looks around the class, my hands still holding onto my hat tightly. Finnigan started to snigger, prompting a few more people to do the same. Fucking bastards.

"Malfoy I have asked you to do something and I expect you do to it," Snape hissed in a single breath. I shook my head vigorously. He bristled with anger and pointed his wand inches from my nose threateningly.

"If you do not comply I will not only take off your hat but your entire head as well," he snapped. I didn't react in the slightest as I continued to shake my head from side to side. I knew he wouldn't carry out this empty threat anyway.

He let out an angry hiss and pointed his wand at my hat. I felt it struggling against my grip to break free and my head thrashed from side to side as I struggled to conceal my shame.

"PROFESSOR, STOP!"

The spell broke as Snape removed his gaze from me. My arms immediately felt free from a heavy weight and I turned to see the direction of the shout. Potter was standing there, breathing heavily and trembling slightly. I looked behind me and saw the look of utmost disgust on Snape's face. His nostrils flared and his mouth twitched as though he was trying to bite back what he really thought of Potter.

"Just like your father," he finally drawled after an uncomfortable silence. "He never knew when to keep his mouth shut either. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

There was an immediate outbreak of protest over this. Snape roared and waved his wand through the air. Windows clattered loudly and the candles extinguished, dropping the lights in the room to a minimum. It shut everyone up instantaneously.

"A further thirty points should do the trick," he said in a soft and careful voice. The Gryffindors knew not to react and Harry slumped back into his seat fumingly. People from my own house threw me grins as if I planned it all. I smiled weak, watery smiles back at them. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed and nudged me chuckling and I elbowed them sharply, trying to get rid of how I felt inside ...

... Inside I felt like shit.

"Malfoy!"

I stiffened at the sound of my name being called. After class, when I grabbed my things and bolted from the classroom as fast as I could, Pansy had yelled it but I shut her up with a "Piss off Parkinson."

But now it was being called by someone else. I didn't have to turn around to know that I was going to come face to face with tufts of uncontrollable raven coloured hair. But I did. And I was greeted with the sight of flaming red and uncontrollable bushy hair as well. I felt marginally better about my own hair situation upon seeing Potter's lackey's styles.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounded breathless as though he had just competed in a race. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were wide behind his spectacles. Granger looked at me critically while Weasley scowled a few paces behind with his arms folded.

"Fine," I said indifferently.

So far, so good Draco. You haven't said anything nasty. Now just turn and go ...

"Did he hurt you?" Potter was walking next to me, trying to keep up with my brisk pace.

"No," I said through clenched teeth.

Keep it together Draco.

"Why didn't you just take your hat off?" Granger interjected accusingly.

"Why don't you just shut the hell up?" I said spitefully, turning round and almost bumping into her.

Weasley stepped up with his fists clenched. "Who's going to make her Malfoy? You?" He was quick off the mark to defend Granger. He must have heard about the little chat we had under the willow tree about five weeks ago. Stupid mudblood, running off and telling tales.

"You can't do anything without your little cronies or daddy helping you," he sneered, walking over to me. "Everybody knows that. You need help all the time."

"If you tried asking for help maybe you wouldn't still be stuck inside those robes," I smirked disdainfully.

I felt a dizzying pain as a punch landed squarely in the bridge of my nose. My vision blackened and I slumped to my knees feeling disorientated. A wave of nausea came over me and I gagged, thinking I was going to vomit. A pounding pain pulsated in my head and the screams of anguish from Granger weren't helping. I could vaguely hear Potter in the distance yelling at Weasley but I couldn't make out the conversation.

"... Bastard deserved what he got ... do it again ..."

"... Ron you can't ... you hit him ... trouble for sure ..."

"... I care? I ... give a flying ... tell them that as well."

I groaned groggily and as my eyes focused back into place I saw Potter's face inches from mine peering into my eyes anxiously. Those glittering green eyes were dancing with stars and I struggled to keep my focus on them.

"Are you okay?"

I groaned in response. I looked up weakly and saw Weasley pacing back and forth, pounding his fist into his hand threateningly.

"Shit, Malfoy, are you okay?"

I was horribly reminded of the time he had asked me the same thing after I fell off my broomstick. I took help from him then but I certainly wasn't going to take help from him now. I was stronger than that.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Fuck off."

Weasley gave a disgusted sigh. "He's not worth it Harry, just leave the creep to crawl back from the hole he came from."

He stomped off and Granger followed timidly. I watched them go and then looked back at Harry who was throwing anxious glances between both of us.

"Just go," I exploded. If he was scared of what his friends thought then I didn't give a flying fuck. I didn't want him to hang around pretending he cared. "I'm fine, I don't need no help from you Potter so why don't you fuck off back to licking Weasley's arse?"

He flinched at this remark. "I was just seeing if you were okay, that's all," he murmured. He opened his mouth and shut it again, as if deciding whether to say what was on his mind. He opened it again but shut it straight away as he got to his feet and started to walk away.

"Well, I'm fine," I spat after him. He stopped and turned.

"I'm ... just worried about you," he said in a tight voice, before running off to catch up with his partners.

Disconcertment came over me. Potter wasn't pretending to care at all.

He really did.

Hey guys! I'm in two minds about this chapter. I like the first half, but I think the second is a little rushed because I was trying to upload it onto here by tonight. Oh well, I'm still pleased with it. Well, hope everyone has a happy christmas and I'll get the next update on here sometime next year! Take care and please review, love Jordan x x