Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, and those who tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.

"And so I said to that stupid old bat that if she didn't give me a higher mark then I'd write to my mother and tell her that she was a rotten teacher. I mean, who does she think she is, failing me? The work might not have been up to scratch, but at least I go to her shitty lessons! Believe it or not, reading signs from a tea cup is not the highlight of my life! She should be grateful that I'm turning up to her lessons in the first place! Doesn't she know that Slytherin's don't believe in all that star-gazing crap? We control our own destiny. We control our own future. We don't need some astrology nonsense telling us when we're going to die or how much success we're going to achieve! I think we should boycott Trelawney's lessons for being a dopey old cow!"

Pansy's pathetic speech was met with thunderous applause from the entire common room, except for me. I gave a loud sneer and turned a page of Quidditch through the ages, rustling it loudly hoping to attract someone's attention so they could see how I disapproved, but nobody gave me the slightest bit of attention and they hadn't for some time now. Though there must have been a specific point where it had happened, the gradual change in the power shift of Slytherin had happened over such a long period of time that it had gone unnoticed by me and I was a little surprised when I found I was no longer considered the leader of Slytherin house. I didn't care. I didn't need any of those losers anyway. But I still couldn't hide my fury, my utmost shame that my successor was Pansy fucking Parkinson. I couldn't stand to see her pug face smirking as she rallied up the troops for a spot of Gryffindor taunting. Although it was me doing the very same thing last year it seemed more horrible when she did it, gleefully conjuring up ways to make some innocent first or second years life hell because of the house they were sorted into. I'd voiced my opinions loudly on this a week ago and had been met by a crowd of twisted smirks.

"Awww, is 'ickle Draco sticking up for the goody-goody Gryffindors now?" Pansy had said in a childlike voice that made me want to smash her face in. "Hoping to get in Dumbledore's good books?"

"I've saw him talking to the boy wonder a couple of times," Blaise contributed spitefully. He was a true Slytherin all right; ready to turn on someone whenever necessary to save himself.

Pansy tutted. "Well, that won't do at all," she had said, shaking her head with a look of fake concern on her ugly face. "We can't have traitors in Slytherin. We all need to stick together. Isn't that right?" The gaggle behind her murmured their agreement. I stared at them through venomous slits. "So what shall we do to teach him a lesson?" Pansy pondered, examining her nails with a cruel smile playing upon her lips. Crabbe and Goyle stepped up menacingly behind her, cracking their knuckles with sneers on their oafish faces. My wand was in my robes over the other side of the common room and although I could have summoned it over to me in an instant, it would most likely be intercepted by someone in the crowd, so I'm not ashamed to say that I was feeling a flurry of fright in the pit of my stomach as they walked up to me threateningly. I looked over at Pansy's gleeful smile. She was enjoying the fact that I was at her mercy. I knew that she knew that I knew that she could call off Crabbe and Goyle at any moment, just like I could have done a few weeks back, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. I'd rather have had the brainless bastards slit my throat and leave me to bleed to death than to beg her for mercy.

Luckily at that point Professor Snape had walked in and immediately suspected tension in the room. "What are you all doing in here when you are expected to be in my lesson in no less than three minutes?" he asked crisply. Nobody answered and I couldn't help feel a slight twinge of victory that Pansy "the leader" had now hidden herself in the midst of the crowd so as not to get in any trouble. Professor Snape ushered us all out and the beating never took place and still hasn't up to this day. I don't know whether Pansy called them off or whether the stupid fuckers had enough brainpower between them to know that attacking the former leader of Slytherin wouldn't be the wisest thing to do under the watchful eye of Professor Snape. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

It still cut me up to see her showing off, though. That story about Trelawney was a complete lie, no doubt. She wouldn't dare have the guts to say that to anyone. I satisfied myself by throwing a few more disapproving looks and omitting sneering sighs in her direction. After one particular loud sigh she stopped in mid-fabricated story and glared at me.

"Do you have something to say, Draco?" she asked pointedly.

"No," I said flatly, looking at her through a steely, yet bored gaze. "I don't."

"Good," she replied. "Now why don't you just go back to reading your pathetic little book while I talk to people that actually matter."

I tried to reply back that nobody used to like her until she obtained all this power but I was drowned out by the loud snickers of Pansy's supposedly cutting remark to me. I sighed frustratingly - for real this time. Was this how everyone used to act around me? So scared of getting pushed out of the so called popularity group that they were willing to drop all their own thoughts and feelings? So scared of the Malfoy wealth and name that they would do anything to be on its side? It was pathetic to watch, yet even more pathetic to think that I once relished in it. I gave them all a fuming glare and went back to reading my book, habitually feeling my head to see if my hat was in place. It was still there. One of Pansy's new regimes since gaining power was to try and take off my hat. Try as she might there wasn't a pulling spell strong enough to be able to snatch it from my head and I must admit to enjoying sitting with a bored expression on my face as she grew frustrated and flustered, blaming her wand for not performing the right spells properly. None of the half-wits managed to think that I might have put a reversing charm on the hat. If any of them had a single brain cell they might have worked out that performing a spell that pushed the hat further onto my head would actually be the key to taking it off.

"... And that's when he got down on one knee and said, 'Pansy, without you my life is incomplete. Please don't leave me!' Then I said, 'Darling I have to, but I'll be back soon and then we can marry,' and then I rode off without looking back once! I mean, he may be the future King of England but he's still a dirty muggle!"

I guffawed loudly. I couldn't help it. It was so hilarious to not only hear Pansy's outrageous lies, but for the idiots to drink it all in with looks of glazed adoration on their faces. Pansy stopped blabbering and glared at me, a twisted contemptuous look of hatred contorting her features. Her fists were bunched up so tightly her knuckles were turning white and just when it looked like she might break her fingers from clenching too hard, she flew out of her seat and stormed over to me in a rage. I lazily grabbed my wand from my robe pocket and muttered a quick incantation that left her rooted to the spot, her pig-like face just inches from mine. If possible, she looked more uglier than ever.

I rose slowly from my seat, grabbing my book in one hand and still holding my wand in the other. I met the whole rooms eyes but none of the fucking cowards dared to look into mine. Their heads drooped low as I passed them and they knew I still had power over them.

Katy was weak.

There was no doubt about it, she was losing this battle and we all knew it. I wasn't sure whether she knew it herself. If she did, she certainly kept up her bright little façade, joking, laughing, singing and dancing her way through life. If she knew, then she was one of the toughest people I had ever met. It was hard to think that when I saw her with Jake two weeks ago she was playing happily in a park and when I saw her yesterday, she was bed-ridden.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind; they were making me cry and I didn't want to fucking cry in the middle of the library where everybody could see and laugh at me. Jamming my hat further onto my head I walked sharply to the medical section and threw myself onto the floor there. I wiped premature tears away fiercely with the back of my hand and pulled a book from the shelf to get engrossed into. It was a battered copy of Diagnosis SOS but it would still work. An idea had recently formed in my head. It was a sickening thought and I didn't really want to know, but like watching a car crash, I just had to. I needed to know. I brought the book close to my lips.

"Diagnosis: Muggle disease, Leukaemia," I whispered softly into the pages, "Symptoms: Excessive bleeding from the gums and nose, very easily bruised, complete loss of appetite, night sweats - both hot and cold, severely aching joints and bed-ridden."

I pulled the book away and looked into the pages, wanting nothing more than to hex the book out of my sight. But before I could even ponder on this wishful thought, the looping calligraphic letters formed slowly on the yellow pages. They were about to inform me of Katy's situation.

"Malfoy?"

I jumped like a gunshot had fired off behind me and threw the book onto the shelf.

"Potter!" I exclaimed breathlessly, and then recomposed myself. "Potter," I repeated coolly. "What do you want?"

"What are you doing?" Potter asked enquiringly, looking at me through narrowed emerald eyes. His face spelled suspicion but his tone was soft.

"Reading," I said shortly. He didn't reply for a while and just stared at me through those glittering green spheres. He gazed at me for so long I grew uncomfortable and shifted my position slightly. I was still sitting down and having him tower over me didn't do much for my confidence. He took his eyes away from me and let them slowly wander to the book I had just threw on the shelf. It lay there alone, accusingly staring up at him and I felt my face redden.

"What do you want?" I snapped hotly causing him to focus his gaze on me again. "Did you just come here to spy on me or was there an actual reason?" I stood up quickly, ignoring the loud cracks in my knees and came face to face with Potter.

"No, there's a reason," Potter said politely. He reached over and selected a book from the shelf. "I need this to do my homework."

"Oh," I said, feeling suddenly foolish. "Oh. Well, okay. Right. Well, I need to go anyway."

Potter nodded, looking at the lone book on the shelf and then back to me. "Okay. Bye, Malfoy."

"Yeah, bye," I called over my shoulder, pushing past him and making my way to the exit fast. I still didn't feel comfortable around him. He was my nemesis after all, he was my number one enemy yet at the same time he was the only one that understood. He was my complete opposite, everything he believed in I didn't and vice versa. We were equals yet at the same time it was so unequal between us. He was Potter, I was Malfoy. He was Gryffindor, I was Slytherin. He was the boy who lived ... And I wasn't.

Fuck. I hated getting jealous over Potter. I couldn't help it though. Just one single thought could lead me to him and before I knew it, I was thinking, no, obsessing over him and that stupid scar. He had the whole weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders because of that lightning-shaped permanent imprint tattooed on his forehead, yet I envied him so much.

People only like him because he's famous, I thought viciously as I stomped down the twisting dungeons to my bedroom. It was true. Though he hadn't been attacked with the ugly stick, no girls would fawn around him like they did now. That Chang girl would never have looked at him twice had it not been for that fucking scar. It must be that, he has nothing else going for him.

And what the hell did he mean when he told me was worried about me, I thought, reflecting back on the words he had said to me a couple of weeks back. In all honesty, there hadn't been a day gone by where they hadn't echoed through my mind. The words were few but effectively powerful and I hated him for saying them to me. I didn't want him to fucking worry about me. I wanted ... Well, I don't know who I wanted to worry about me, but not him. Anyone but him. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay but not fucking Potter. Never.

I stomped into my room, annoyed and agitated at being so obsessed with that freak. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I drilled into my head as I paced up and down my room with clenched fists. But the fact that I couldn't even lie to myself properly riled me up so much I kicked my bed hard as I passed it.

The truth was, I didn't know if I did hate him or not anymore. He was Potter. Annoying, goody-goody, scar-ridden, four-eyed, messy-haired, golden boy Potter. But he was the only one who knew something was wrong with me. I hadn't made it easy for him. I hadn't made it easy for anyone what with putting all these barriers up around me, but he was the only one who had the persistence to break them down gently, and although I hadn't exactly opened up to him yet, he was closer to the real me than anyone had ever been. Maybe closer than I had ever been with myself. And that scared me. It really petrified me, knowing that my cool, calm and collected façade could be shattered at any moment. By none other than Harry fucking Potter. And I think that's what infuriated me the most. I wanted someone to care, but why did it have to be him? Couldn't he just mind his own business for once?

I flung myself onto my bed. My lower back was in severe pain, but I had grew so tired that I couldn't be bothered to adjust my position, I didn't have the energy at all. I felt my eyes closing slowly, powerless to stop them and fell to sleep with Potter on my mind.

The sight of food made me sick.

I had suffered a serious loss of appetite since being diagnosed and could now only manage half a meal a day, if that. But what I hadn't realised was that not eating would actually put me off the stuff altogether. I don't know if it was the actual food or the sight of my peers shovelling it in so greedily inside their mouths that made me nauseous, but either way, I couldn't bear it. Unfortunately, Professor Snape, who had taken a great disliking to me since I "publicly humiliated him" as he put it in one of my many recent detentions, insisted that I come down to the great hall anyway, "even if I did want to look like a skeleton."

Trapped between the bulging figures of Crabbe and Goyle wasn't my idea of a fun way to while away an hour. They kept squashing me mercilessly with their fat figures, Pansy throwing me triumphant smirks from across the table. I rolled my eyes and looked down at my plate. The food tonight matched the meals that were held on special occasions such as the first and last day of term, but I still couldn't bring myself to eat it. Instead, I pushed it around miserably with my fork, trying to ignore the various kicks that were viciously aimed at my shins while people stared at me innocently through wide eyes.

After one particular violent kick, I winced. Pansy snickered. I threw her a dirty look, but then narrowed my eyes at a sight behind her. It was Potter and he was ... well, watching me. He wasn't even trying to hide what he was doing either, he was blatantly staring at me. The weasel and the mudblood were engrossed in their own conversation and didn't register what Harry was doing. But I did. I gave him a funny look and glanced down at my plate again. A few seconds later I brought my eyes back up to the hall slowly and found myself staring into his gaze again. What the fuck was he looking at me for?

A sharp kick that connected with my kneecap made me jump sharply and my full cup of pumpkin juice ended up in my lap. Pansy led the whole table into erupting laughter as she shrieked unnecessarily loudly. I gave everyone a disgusted look and got up from the table, feeling both Snape's and Potter's eyes on me. I marched out of the hall defiantly and only broke into a run when I was out of the pair's prying eyes.

When I reached the end of the corridor I heard footsteps coming after mine. I didn't dare turn around, fearing that I might trip and then Professor Snape would really let me have it, so I carried on running. I tried to will my body to go faster, but my legs were beginning to be bogged down with the familiar dull ache. Snape would really lay into me once he caught me, but right now I didn't care, I just needed to get away.

"Malfoy!"

To my horror, I didn't hear Snape's usual drawl. Snatching a quick look behind me I was greeted with the sight of Potter trying his best to catch up with me. I hurled myself out of the nearest door to my left and ran outside into the rain.

"Malfoy, stop!"

"Leave me alone, Potter!" My voice was shrill and pleading but it was no use, Potter didn't relent as he sprinted after me, getting closer by the second.

"Malfoy, I just want to talk!"

"Fuck off!" I screamed into the wind, bullet-like raindrops hitting me in the face fiercely. I took another chance and glanced at Potter behind me as I ran. He was only a few feet away now.

I turned back around and registering it a split second too late, spied the uneven bump in the ground. I tripped over it, pain shooting up and down my leg as I fell to the floor. A second later, Potter was crouching over me.

"Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly. And I don't know why those four words made such an impact but they did. Maybe it was because I was tired of running away from everything and everyone. Maybe I was tired of falling when I thought I was on an optimistic rise. Whatever it was, they hit me in my heart hard. My face crumpled up and I remember seeing concern wash over Potter's face before he turned into a tearful hazy blur.

"No," I howled between loud sobs. "I'm not all right. I'M NOT FUCKING ALL RIGHT."

Potter didn't respond.

"I'm -"

Say it.

"I'm -"

Say it.

"I'm ... I'm ..."

I suddenly felt my hand being clasped by Potter's. They were warm despite the cold weather and it suddenly made me realise how freezing mine were.

"You're not all right at all are you?" Potter said quietly. It was a statement, not a question.

Gulping, I shook my head. "I'm not," I whispered, echoing him. The rain was beginning to clear now and the dull grey clouds that had dominated the sky were being pushed aside by fresh white ones.

"Malfoy, I -"

"Don't," I spat quickly. I knew what was coming and I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the jaw as hard as I could to stop him saying the next sentence.

"Malfoy, I-"

"Don't, stop it. Just don't say anything," I warned him insistently.

Don't speak

"I know, Malfoy."

I know just what you're saying

"You don't have to hide it anymore."

So please stop explaining

"You can get some help."

Don't tell me cos it hurts

"I'm really worried about you."

I bit down on my lip hard to try and stop the tears flowing down my cheeks but it didn't work. I fell into Potter's arms, crying a mixture of bitterness and gratefulness.

Don't speak

I know what you're thinking

And I don't need your reasons

He took off my hat slowly and I felt his fingers stroke the few strands of hair on my head delicately. I cried harder, knowing that I was loved and didn't deserve it. I thought back to all the times I had been horrible to Potter and sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't react for a few minutes, just therapeutically stroking my scalp. He then cupped my chin and forced me to look up at him. His eyes were red too, but there was strength in them whereas I looked through eyes of failure and weakness.

"When did it happen?"

I gave an embittered laugh and looked down to the floor. "You mean when did I turn into an ugly cunt with no hair that bruises and bleeds a lot?"

Potter gave a low, sharp gasp at this and I looked up at him again. His face was a picture of disbelief.

"Malfoy ..." he began in a choked voice that implied that I'd really offended him with what I said. I just knew why he was so hurt and didn't want to hear what came next.

Don't tell me cos it hurts.

"...You're beautiful."

Lyrics taken from Don't speak by No Doubt. I'd never even thought of using a song in a fic before but as I was writing this last scene, I had this song playing and I realised that it just fit in with the whole scene - well, I thought so anyway. An update won't be coming for a while, I'm afraid... Take care guys and please review. Love always, Jordan x