Yeaaa I'm back, and here it is! Chapter eleven! I love this chapter, wheee! Erm, but that's just me. I hope you love it too! (or just enjoy it, really)

I Don't Want To Feel

Chapter Eleven

--

and he can't tell anymore
who he really is and who they believe him to be

--

Harry arrived in the dungeons to find Draco Malfoy sitting on the ground, leaning forward on the cell bars with his head leaned in between two bars. Harry almost laughed at the sight; but instead made his way over to the bars. "Hey..." he whispered, and surprising both himself and Draco, leaned down and gave Draco a peck on the lips. He moved to sit on the wooden chair, his face turning red. He had no idea why he had just done that; neither of them had ever discussed the last kiss they had, which had happened about a week ago now. When Harry had done every single thing he could have possibly done to not look at Draco, he sat down on the ground and found Draco staring at him, wide-eyed. Harry leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Sorry. I don't know wh--"

"It's fine." Draco said quickly, and a small smile appeared on his face. "Really."

"Okay." Harry whispered, smiling too. "So how are you doing?"

"Splendid. How's the planning coming?"

Harry frowned. "Um."

"Just kidding." Draco added, and Harry visibly relaxed. This last week Harry and Draco had just sat and talked for hours; they knew a lot about each other now, but whenever Draco brought up anything to do with Death Eaters, Harry freaked.

"You look exhausted, though. Don't you get any sleep?"

Harry ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and grimaced. "Not really. I've barely slept this whole week."

"Well, go on! Sleep now!" Draco exclaimed, looking at the dungeon around him. "It's not like I can get out of here anyway. Have no fear."

Harry grinned slightly, but shook his head. "No thanks. If Nott or somebody else finds me asleep, my death threats would have been useless. I would be the sleeping pathetic-excuse-of-a-human-being."

"Who cares? It's just Nott; he's an idiot. I'll just make a loud banging noise to wake you up if anyone comes."

"No, really, Draco; I'm fine. I'd rather be awake anyway."

"Missed my company?" Draco said mockingly, batting his eyelashes.

"Ha! You wish."

"Hmph. Well! How rude." Draco replied, scowling.

Harry smiled slightly and sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. He ran another hand through his hair, and the black sleeve of his Death Eater's robe slid down slightly.

"What's that?" Draco suddenly asked loudly, his eyes narrowing at Harry's arms. Harry looked up to see what Draco was looking at and in one quick motion brought his arm close to him and pulled down his sleeve.

"Nothing."

Draco continued staring, his mind flashing back to a scene about a month ago; one of the first days he had seen Harry. "Do you like to hurt, Potter?" came his voice, and Draco shuddered, remembering the cuts he had seen. And there they were again; except there were more. A lot more.

"Oh Harry--" Draco began, but Harry interrupted him quickly.

"Don't, Draco. It's not even worth it."

"What's not even worth it?"

"Bothering."

"Yes it is."

"No, it's not worth your time. It's just an old habit; and old habits die hard."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Harry questioned slowly, stalling.

"Why do you do it?"

Harry shrugged. "Because."

"Harry. Talk to me."

Harry looked up defensively. "Why should I?"

"Because." Draco replied, copying Harry. He sighed. "Harry. Please?"

Harry lifted up his sleeve and began to run his fingers over the cuts. Draco winced.

"It's my release, I guess." Harry started softly, refusing to look at Draco. "It helps me feel...real. In control. A step away from death."

"Is that what you want?"

"What?"

"Death?"

Silence.

"I don't know. Sometimes."

Draco's heart sank. He stared at the young man in front of him and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He knew Harry wouldn't want him to, but he couldn't help himself. Harry just looked so alone; so broken.

"Nobody would care anyway." Harry continued in a mere whisper, but Draco heard. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when he saw that Harry was going to say more. "It started after...he died. I felt like it was all my fault; I still do. This helped me feel, in a way, closer to him. Like I was on the brink of death, and approaching him. We could be together again." Harry paused, taking a deep breath. "You know, I was never able to tell him I loved him. I loved him so much."

"Love, Harry. You still love him; and he still loves you."

"No." Harry said firmly, shaking his head and staring down at the cuts. "I don't love anyone. I don't need love."

"Harry, you of all people need love."

Harry ignored him.

"After that, Voldemort grew stronger and I felt the burden that had been placed on me grow stronger and stronger as well. The whole world was waiting for me to save them; to be their hero. I'm just sixteen, you know? That's a lot to place on a sixteen year old's shoulders."

"But you're no longer with...them." Draco put in, and Harry nodded.

"Yeah."

Silence. Draco was no longer sure what they were talking about; why Harry cut himself or why he became a Death Eater. The two seemed to coincide.

"...And?" Draco spoke up, curious but not trying to sound too pushy. Harry just sighed.

"I had a lot of thinking time that summer after our 5th year. I just realized how many depended on me to kill one man; and wondered why it had to be me. I kept getting letters; hundreds of them; aurors, so-called friends, Dumbledore--stay safe they told me. How are you? they asked me. All lies. Nobody cared how I was or if I was safe; not personally. They wanted to make sure I was safe so that I would be there to kill their fears; so that I would be there when they actually needed me."

"When did you become a Death Eater?" Draco whispered, and Harry looked up sharply.

"A month later." He replied after a few seconds, looking back down at the cuts on his arm. Draco realized he must still have been talking about his cutting.

"I began to sit up at night; replaying my life in my head. I wondered what had been worse; my life with the muggles or at Hogwarts. I realized how naive I was to think that at Hogwarts life was different; life was good. It came to me then that my five years at Hogwarts had not just been innocent schooling; it was a preparation. They were training their saviour. To them I wasn't just Harry, that kid with jet-black hair; I was Harry Potter, the boy-who-will-save-us-all. And I didn't want to be him; I didn't want to be their fucking saviour, their martyr." Harry paused, looking up to meet Draco's eyes. "You know I tried the innocent path; I tried to tell myself that they didn't only think of me like that, that they really did care for me--but how in the world could you really convince yourself that when there were a thousands things contradicting you? So I was in the bathroom the next day, and the house was empty. I was digging through the basket under the sink when my wrist grazed something sharp. I got up to wash the blood off, but found myself entransed. I couldn't stop staring; it felt so right. I found the object that had cut me, a razor, and produced a few more cuts. I was surprised when I barely felt anything. And well--after that it was all normal. It was my escape; it was what made me know I wasn't perfect like they thought I was. I wasn't their perfect little hero."

Draco waited for more, but nothing came. That was how they stayed for about half an hour. Harry staring at his cuts, and Draco staring at Harry.

"You asked when I became a Death Eater." Harry spoke up, with more of a statement than a question. Draco nodded. "It was when I woke up one morning and asked myself why I was still alive. Why I hadn't just fallen asleep and never gotten up again. Why I was still here when all my family wasn't. Why I was just going along with their martyr training. That was the day I decided to die."

Draco flinched.

"I was ready to do it too; my life was flashing before me. I stopped, however, when a vision of Voldemort reached me. I wondered why I should hurt myself in a way of torturing them. Isn't that what they were planning? For me to eventually die anyway? I decided I couldn't let them have that. I couldn't let them see me weak; dying. So I asked myself; how can I stay alive without being their saviour?"

"Join Voldemort?" Draco inquired, and Harry looked up. He nodded and pulled his sleeve down.

"Yes."

Draco breathed in, then out. "That actually makes sense." He admitted, but regretted it right after.

"I know." Harry replied simply, and Draco could have hit himself. Way to make him feel good about being a Death Eater, you idiot! a voice called out in his head, and Draco grimaced.

"But...you still do it. I mean, you still cut yourself."

Harry froze.

"For multiple reasons. Not all the same one."

Silence. Draco had a feeling Harry wasn't going to emphasize.

"But you're still their saviour. They're still waiting."

"And won't it be a joyous moment when they see me side-by-side with Voldemort, holding my wand towards them?"

"This world will never be at peace, Harry."

"And that is NOT my fault!" Harry spat, glaring at Draco. "This is their fault."

Draco sighed.

"This world does not give a shit about me; so why should I give a shit about it? Do you know how many nights I've stayed up wondering if I'm doing the right thing; maybe regretting my decisions slightly? Do you know how many days I have woken and wondered if it would have been better if I'd have just died. I stop though, after a while. I stop the regretting for a few hours; when I see them. When I see the way they look at me; waiting for the moment where I save all their lives. Ron and Hermione with their fake looks of concern, Dumbledore and his fucking twinkle; it's like he's proud of the wreck he has made me. He has created a strong fighter; that's what I really am. A pawn. A fucking pawn in their war. It comes back though; the regret. In tidal waves--with Sirius' voice. He keeps asking me why I did it; why I'm doing it. That's why I don't sleep. They haunt me, Draco. They're always there. But you understand, don't you? Don't you see why I'm doing this? Nobody cares, Draco! Nobody! If I happened to survive, they wouldn't have looked at me twice. Only then would I become 'just Harry'--the neglected hero. How long do you think they'd celebrate my victory after the deed is done? They'd have their peace, their safety--and what would I have? A lightning bolt scar and the vision of killing someone who once was a human, just like me. I wouldn't have anything, Draco."

Silence.

"Don't be on their side, Draco." came Harry's whispered voice, and Draco felt like his heart had sank down to his feet. Harry got to his feet and walked over to Draco. He sat down right in front of the cell, and stared into Draco's eyes. Draco was overwhelmed by the storm of emotions in the emerald green eyes before him.

"I'm not." He whispered back, leaning forward. Harry smiled and leaned in to kiss Draco.

Draco wasn't so sure why, but he felt like his world exploded when his lips met Harry's. It just seemed so...right. He couldn't believe that just a few weeks ago he had hated this boy with a passion. Or had he?

It hadn't been too hard for him to deal with the fact that Harry might have been the one to save him. Even though he hadn't. He was still in prison. Kissing his enemy. Kissing the person who was keeping him from freedom. Kissing the person who was feeding the rest of the world lies.

Kissing the person that made him not mind being in prison.

Oh my God...Draco thought to himself; how in the world had he gotten himself in this mess? And what in the world had he meant when he said he wasn't on their side? And why had Harry believed him? Of course he was! He was a prisoner of the Dark, after all! Draco was confused. Whose side was he on? He was definitely not on Voldemort's side; nor was he on Dumbledore's side, really. Draco was side-less, as stupid as that sounded. No, came a voice in his head. You are not side-less, as you call it. You are on Harry's side. Draco's eyes flew open and he stared at the closed eyes of Harry Potter as he continued kissing him.

Yes. Harry's side.

Their kiss and Draco's thoughts were broken when Harry let out a hiss, and grabbed his arm.

"I have to go." He whispered, and Draco gave him a small smile.

"All right."

"I'll see you later, yeah?" Harry kept whispering, slowly getting up.

"Of course." Draco replied, smiling. Harry gave Draco one last peck and made his way towards the stairs. Draco stared as he walked away and closed his eyes slowly. Realization struck him; and he now had a million more reasons to hate himself. Why was this happening to him? "I love you." he said in barely a whisper.

Harry stopped on the first step.

"What?"

Draco's eyes flew open.

"What?" Draco repeated back at him, fear rising inside him.

Harry turned to face him.

"You said something."

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just a crazy prisoner."

He tried to smile. Harry smiled back.

"You know that's not true."

He turned and walked up the stairs, disappearing from sight. Draco fell back onto the floor.

"Sure." He whispered, and closed his eyes again. I love you.

Well? How did I do! (insert huge grinning smiley here) Please please review and tell me what you think! Next chapter coming soon.

Much love.