Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or places. Nor do I own anything owned by Linkin Park.

Story Talk: This chapter is to explain some things from the last chapter and hopefully I will establish a plot.

Chapter 2

Because I like you.

Harry woke up the next morning to find that he was no longer in his room. He was in a place that had become very familiar to him over the years. The hospital. It was kinda sad that he knew that just by looking at the ceiling.

The raven-haired boy couldn't remember why he was there. But he brushed it off. He usually had to be told why he was here. Or he would see something that reminded him. It was just a matter of time before he knew.

Harry was about to close his eyes and go back to sleep, when he felt someone moving next to him. He turned to see a white blur lying on his bed. Confused, he reached for his glasses. When he put them on he saw his white blur, was Draco Malfoy.

Last night came back to him, in a rush of images. Lupin, crying on Malfoys' shoulder, trying to kill himself, and Malfoy stopping him. Harry looked down at his wrist to see nothing. There was no cut, no scar, no nothing. The cut on his upper forearm was gone as well.

He was still alive. "Damn it." He said aloud. The one time I get even courage to go through with it, I'm fucking stopped. Stupid bastard.

Harry knew that he wasn't likely to get as far as he did again. He was so close. So close to leaving this place with all its' pain. So close to getting the ones he loved out of danger. So close to saying good-bye to it all.

Harry looked over at the blonde sleeping peacefully on his bed. He noticed how innocent he looked when he was sleeping, how happy he looked. Harry reached out to the blonde, then roughly pushed him on to the floor.

As the blonde recovered from the fall, Harry lay back down and crossed his arms over his chest. He placed a scowl on his face and glared at the flustered blonde, who was now picking the chair back up. He looked at Harry questioningly, then at the chair, then the floor. He looked back to Harry and asked,

"You pushed me didn't you?"

"No it was my imaginary friend. She doesn't like you." Harry replied, sarcasm dripping of every word. To Harry's surprise the blonde didn't get angry. He looked sad.

"I figured you would probably be mad at me, but I couldn't let you die. I'd rather have you be alive and hating me, then not be alive at all." Harry looked at him questioningly.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"Nothing."

"Last night you told me, I disgusted you, and now you're saying that you didn't want me to die. And I wake up to find you on my bed. Of course you wouldn't be up to something."

"I'm not up to anything. I really don't want you dead, I lied last night when I said you disgusted me. I lied every time I said something bad to you." Draco didn't want to say any of this. He hated making his emotions so open, but he knew if he didn't he would never get Harrys' trust. Therefore never getting Harry and that was the goal, to get Harry.

"Why did you say it then?"

"Because, my father. He would kill me if he found out."

"Your father is still alive, isn't he?" Draco nodded. "So why aren't you afraid of him now?"

"I am, but I don't care anymore. After I saw you last night, all I wanted to do was help you. I felt bad for what I said. I was coming to your room to apologize and well you know the rest."

"That reminds me. How the hell did you get in my room?"

"I . . . Er . . . . Know thy enemy."

"How long have you known my password?" Harry asked slightly angry.

"How long have you had the room?"

"What, were you planning to kill me in the middle of the night?"

"No, I . . . Damn it. Harry, I like you. Are you happy? That's why I knew your password. That's why I was going to your room. That's why I don't care what my father thinks. I spent the whole night at your bedside because I was afraid to leave you alone, because I like you." Harry just stared at him with wide eyes.

"Now if you will excuse me, I have to go away." Harry didn't respond, he just let the blonde go.

This is bad. He thought. Real bad.