Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's.

I decided to answer my reviewers at the end of each chapter.

5

Harry sat in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch after dinner. He was working up the nerve to talk to his friends and the isolated pitch seemed like a perfect spot for his private pep talk. He reminded himself that the sooner he did it, the better. His friends would be supportive. Still, Harry didn't budge. He would take a little time to relish the last few moments of quiet before his life was going to change again. Perhaps he should go to St. Mungo's on his own terms before Healer Grunwright, or McGonagall or the Wizengamot, whoever they were, forced him.

Harry had contemplated suicide over the past six weeks of school. More than once. But he had always resolved that it would be a sign of disrespect to Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore, Remus and everyone else who had died to protect him. But now, perhaps suicide would be the most effective way to respect the cause that the Order had fought for to begin with. Harry grinned at the irony.

"Something funny Potter?" Harry jumped and looked at Draco Malfoy as he walked gracefully down the aisle, picked his way through the seats, and sat down next to Harry. He placed his legs on the seat back in front of him before he continued. "I know it's ridiculous how badly Gryffindor lost to Ravenclaw last weekend, but grinning about it is a little odd. It's what I should be doing."

Harry stared at Draco with his mouth open, not registering what the boy was saying until the tall seventh year stopped. Draco stared at him with the classic Malfoy gaze of condescension. Harry stared back blankly. Malfoy was the last person he expected to talk to this evening. In fact, Harry hadn't given Draco a second thought since this whole episode with Snape. Now, while Malfoy sat in a languid pose, staring out at the darkening sky, Harry's gaze rested on the boys' lips and his thoughts flashed back to the night at the greenhouse. It seemed so distant, and yet his face grew hot thinking about it.

"Look, I know you've lost some marbles up there, but have you lost your voice too?" asked Draco smirking.

"I…can I help you with something?" asked Harry with a glare. He didn't feel like listening to Draco's insults, despite the nice view that always accompanied them.

"I see. You're far too busy pitying yourself to participate in idle conversation. Well, by all means, don't let me stand in your way. You know what is best for your health. I am sure no one else in all of Hogwarts has the faintest idea what you're going through. I mean, no one else has killed anyone or lost someone they care about deeply. No other single student has been tortured, manipulated, confused, afraid, or faced death besides you. You're just an anomaly, Potter," said Draco his tone full of sarcasm, and his eyes blazing as he stared at Harry.

Harry went pale.

"Fuck off. You've got a lot of nerve to-"

"To what? To speak to you? To give you my bloody opinion that you're acting like a first year the way you're moping about. It's unbelievable."

"Look, Malfoy, just because you turned against the deatheaters. Just because we fought for the same thing that day, doesn't give you the right to stick your nose in my business. Not only do you have no right, you've got no idea what you're talking about!" shouted Harry as he leapt out of his seat. "The majority of time we've ever spoken to each other is to fling curses or insults. How could delude yourself into thinking, you understand me. You've got no conceivable idea of what might be going on with me. So. Sod. Off!"

Draco appeared unimpressed with Harry's angry poise and remained in his seat, regarding the Gryffindor with cold, grey eyes before he replied in a neutral tone.

"It's quite typical of you to throw the deatheater card in my face. I think it's rather a trite and immature way to make me feel uncomfortable. That is what you are trying to do – insult me so we don't actually converse about the issue at hand. Well to answer your question. Actually, Potter, I think you're pretty easy to read. Just because your blockhead friend Ron can't, does not mean the average dolt cannot clearly see you're basically starving yourself, not sleeping, and going partially insane. You have spent the last six weeks trying to distance yourself from every type of contact, and with what result? You nearly killed a professor, a comrade in arms, and you think I'm impressed with your ability to handle yourself. Maybe you should stop wallowing in self-pity and start talking to someone about how fucking angry and confused and guilty you feel."

Harry looked murderously at Malfoy. He was trying very hard not to lobby a number of curses at the smug Slytherin who was still sitting nonchalantly in his seat. He closed his eyes to calm himself.

"How angry and confused and guilty I feel? Who are we talking about exactly? You think I'm pretty easy to read? You've got me all figured out. You think you can relate to me, and therefore understand me. That's fucking stupid. According to that logic, the fact that I hexed a few deatheaters, and killed the Dark Lord means I should understand what it feels like to kill my own father!" Harry shouted, and immediately regretted his choice of words, as he watched Draco's body tense, and a look of sorrow flickered past his eyes before they became neutral again. The silence was eerie as Harry eventually slumped back in his seat and stared at the quidditch pitch like Draco was doing.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up," said Harry after a long time.

"You would have made a good Slytherin," mused Draco and Harry turned to watch him thoughtfully. "Not many people in my house know how to throw me like that." He continued with a wry smile. Harry smiled back.

"Yeah, the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"What?"

"Yup. I just pleaded with him for a long time. The last thing I wanted was to be in the same house as you," ended Harry as he grinned at Draco. The Slytherin looked at Harry with wide eyes. Harry enjoyed the rarity of Draco looking flustered. The Slytherin was usually so talented at hiding his emotions. It intrigued Harry to see Draco in any state besides the usual smug, angry, mocking, condescending, bored or belligerent. Now he looked highly uncomfortable at having his guard so easily broken through twice in one conversation. Draco reigned in his emotions before he spoke.

"It's interesting to think about what would have happened if I hadn't approached you that evening before the sorting ceremony, and you had been placed in Slytherin. I wonder if we would have become friends, or enemies, both warring for our place in the house."

"Well, I think you would have won that war. I had no idea what I was doing first year, let alone be able to win some respect or social status in Slytherin. It's funny, I used to think about that too – what would have happened if I had been in Slytherin, but I never really looked at it like that. I just assumed I would become friends with everyone and maybe turn into a deatheater. I used to have nightmares about it, and wake up remembering I had become a servant of Voldemort and killed Hermione or someone else."

"Harry, that's insane. Whatever house you landed in, wouldn't have made a difference. The outcome would have been the same – you would have been opposed to Voldemort. It's just a matter of how many other students from Slytherin would have switched to join you."

Harry looked at Draco in wonder. He had never even considered that point of view. He had always thought that even with all the mistakes he'd made in the past, the stubbornness he had exhibited at eleven on his first night at Hogwarts had been one of the luckiest decisions of his life. He had always assumed that being placed in Salazar's own house would have meant an automatic victory for Voldemort. He would have become Voldemort's servant, not his rival. The idea that Harry's presence in Slytherin might have altered some of his classmates views, opinions, or changed the fate of some of their short lives was… Harry put his face in his hands.

"Oh my God" he said softly and he inhaled a shaky breath. He was trying desperately to calm himself. He was not going to cry in front of Malfoy. He fought to keep back the tears and shielded his face from Draco's searching eyes.

Draco was abashed. One minute they had been discussing hypotheticals, and now Harry's breathing was uneven and he was attempting to hide his face from Draco. What had Draco said to cause this sudden shift?

"Potter, are you alright?"

"I can't believe I never thought that… I mean, all those people, they might still be alive. Blaise and Goyle and Crabbe and," Harry said and then shuddered before he could list any more of the dead seventh year Slytherins. Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"You're being completely irrational, as only a Gryffindor can be. How can you even begin to assume that those people would be alive if you had been sorted differently? What if you had succeeded in making someone change their mind about blood and its importance, about their loyalty to the Dark Lord. If anyone's parents had discovered this insubordination, it might very well have meant their death! You might have made new friends with some, and more powerful enemies of others. You would have been a lot more easily accessible to the Dark Lord for kidnapping or murder by a student if you were sleeping in the Slytherin dormitory. The only thing we can probably say for sure, is Slytherin would have won the Quidditch Cup for the last six years or at least until you were snuffed out."

Harry was staring at Draco as the blond stood, and made his way down to the balcony overlooking the pitch and turned to face Harry.

"Potter, your logic is completely flawed and self-centered, as usual. The universe does not revolve around you and your 'mistakes'. The war and everyone who died during it was not all directly a result of you. If you had ended up a stupid little squib and had never been invited to Hogwarts, the school would have gone on without you. In fact, Voldemort would have come to power a lot more quickly, and perhaps more people would have died. You are not to blame for everyone who died, Harry." Draco spoke the last sentence softly and he looked up at the black sky. "If I hadn't been so completely stupid, and had an ounce of backbone, Dumbledore might still be alive," whispered Draco.

Harry sat riveted to his seat. The last few words Draco uttered reverberated through his head. He suddenly was flooded with remorse for Draco. Standing in front of him, tall, handsome, with his long white hair and his flowing robes, was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had everything. But, this young man had lost a lot in the war. His mother had been murdered. And on the final day of battle, Draco had dueled his father and cast an unforgivable, the killing curse, on Lucius. The deaths of Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise, three close friends were also a considerable loss. The only people Harry could even remember Draco being close with that were still alive were Snape and Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco, you shouldn't feel responsible for-"

"Shut up, Potter, I don't need your pity, for fuck's sake. Nor do I need a little speech on why I shouldn't feel guilty. I am doing fine addressing my own concerns. The question is why don't you address your own. Why don't you listen to your words of wisdom for a change, and stop loathing yourself. If not for your own sake, for the sake of everyone else who has to live with you moping about."

Draco gave Harry a withering look and strode out of the stands. Gazing out at the dark field, Harry sat alone, and contemplated Draco's words.

Besatt- Thank you very much for your enthusiasm. You sound like me after I've had lots of coffee!

Queennarca - thanks!

gbheart - i updated soon, i hope you approve

Please review, I like constructive criticism as well. xxo