Chapter One

Draco Malfoy walked down the corridor, grinning to himself. He was in a good mood. Quidditch practice had just ended, and he had picked a good team. He was going to defeat the Gryffindors this year, see if he didn't.

He passed the abandoned bathroom occupied by Moaning Myrtle. Normally he wouldn't use it, but he was in such high spirits he felt that he could handle a weepy ghost. Even one who brought back memories of the worst time in his life.

--I tried to kill Dumbledore.--

Scowling, he pushed away the memories, and pushed open the door.

As he entered the bathroom, he heard a startled curse, and one of the stall doors slammed closed. But not before he saw familiar jade green eyes, and an equally familiar glint of liquid emerald –

"Bloody hell, Potter, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Without stopping to think, Draco gave the door of the stall a hard kick. It swung open, and he knocked a small vial out of Harry's hand. The glass shattered on the floor, and a translucent liquid, in a shade of iridescent green unlike any other, spilled out.

"What am I doing?" Harry looked incredulous. "The question is, what are you doing, Malfoy? I had a bloody hard time brewing that potion!" The Gryffindor dropped to his knees on the broken glass, but he seemed oblivious to the pain. All his attention was on the green liquid as it fizzled on the stone floor, then rapidly evaporated.

"I'm saving your worthless life, Potter," Draco informed him coolly. "How thick are you? That was poison!"

A silence. Draco's head began to pound. He came here ready for Moaning Myrtle and got Harry Potter at his most idiotic. The hell with it. He turned to leave the bathroom, then Harry spoke softly behind him.

"I knew it was poison."

Draco halted. The Poison of Painless Death, to be specific. He had brewed it for himself last summer, when he had failed to kill Dumbledore and he didn't think things could get any worse. That was why he had recognized the potion immediately. But he had a reason to be suicidal. Harry didn't. Why was he trying to do?

Draco took a deep breath and turned. "Right, Potter. Explain to me why you're trying to commit suicide in a bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle."

"I sent her away," Harry said. "She didn't want to leave at first but when she heard what I was going to do she was delighted. She said she'd give me privacy so I'd get it over with quickly."

"Which doesn't explain why you wanted to kill yourself in the first place."

Harry's tone was dull and lifeless. "Sod off, Malfoy. You've ruined it. Now I have to brew the whole potion again."

"Damn it, why?"

"Because I'm a coward. I'm afraid dying might be painful. Else I would have already stabbed myself, and been done with it."

Draco hadn't been asking why Harry chose the Potion of Painless Death to kill himself with. He had been asking why Harry wanted to kill himself at all, and Harry knew it. He was being dense on purpose, and Draco glowered at him. "I don't care how you commit suicide, Potter! I want to know why. If you don't tell me why you were about todown poison, I will kill you myself, Potter, and save you the trouble!"

Harry's laugh was short and bitter. "That's not a bad idea. Then it wouldn't be suicide."

Draco watched him. If he had found Harry about to guzzle any potion but the one he had once wanted to drink himself, he would have left him to it. Now he was involved, and he hated it, but he knew what it was like to want to kill yourself. "Potter – "

"Look, Malfoy, why do you care?" Harry stood up. He had stopped smiling, and there was pain in his eyes, pain he was clearly trying to conceal. But he couldn't. Draco vaguely recalled Snape telling him what a failure Harry had been at Occlumency.

"Thanks for the additional day to live," said Harry. With that, he left.

Draco stood still as Harry brushed by him. Then he heard the sound of the door closing, and Harry's footsteps receding down the corridor. His mind worked furiously...

A last resort came to him.

"I'll tell Weasel and the mudblood!"Draco yelled, as loud as he could.

A few moments later, the door opened again. Harry stood there, his eyes blazing. There was blood on the knees of his robe."What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"Nothing." Draco gave the incensed Gryffindor his trademark smirk and left the room. He walked slowly, waiting.

Harry caught up to him. "Look, Malfoy, please don't tell Ron and Hermione. They'll – they'll never let me do it."

The desperation in Harry's voice made Draco want to shake him. "And why should they? There isn't any reason for you to kill yourself, you limey prick!"

Harry said nothing.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Hope Granger and Weasley go easy on you, Potter, when they find out what you were trying to do." He started walking again.

Harry went after him. Grabbing him by the arm, he wheeled the Slytherin around to face him. Green eyes met silver ones.

"I'm a Horcrux."

Author's Note:
I've been thinking about it, and Harry could be a Horcrux. Maybe an accidental one. Maybe Voldemort thinks that it's time to transfer the piece of his soul that he inadvertently put inside Harry on the night of his first downfall, and that's why he wants to kill him. That's whyVoldemort won't let anyone else kill Harry.