Draco sat morosely in the chair next to Potter's bed, watching the rise and fall of the other boy's skinny chest beneath the sheets. Potter's hands were swamped in bandages and he looked very small and frail against the pillows, the familiar zigzag of the scar burning red in the paleness of his forehead.

Blaise had been here a few minutes ago bringing a potion for Potter but Draco hadn't had a chance to talk to him before he was sent out again to fetch Granger and Weasley. He'd managed to ask for a clean shirt although he'd forgotten to ask for his wand back and no one had yet offered to perform a cleaning spell to wipe the blood from his skin and hair. In fact, no one seemed to be paying him much attention at all, fussing around Potter like he was a baby; pouring potions down his throat, covering him in cream, bandaging him, putting needles in him, prodding and poking and looking at him, stripping him (Draco had had enough decency to turn away for that bit) and tucking him into bed before starting all over again.

McGonagall and Snape had both arrived with Blaise and the potion and they were now all in the adjoining office with Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey discussing what to do with Potter. Draco felt forgotten and out of place, a feeling he was unused to and made him feel grumpy and fractious. How dare they forget him? He'd just saved their precious Potter's life! He deserved a medal! He wondered if he should stay or leave, what was expected of him in this sort of situation? He'd saved Potter from himself , was that enough or did he have to sit around in the dingy infirmary for another couple of hours before he was allowed to exit.

Potter gave a small moan and shifted in the bed slightly, his eyelids flickering. Draco felt his throat constrict and looked away, flicking his attention to a very interesting piece of wall and then back to Potter lying amongst the wrinkled sheets. I wonder what made him do it, he thought. Potter had never seemed the type who would top themselves to get out of a situation. He had always faced things head-on before – Draco should know – why give up now and call it a defeat? Because that was what killing yourself was all about, admitting defeat and failure in the face of things. Potter had never done that before. Draco supposed that the death of Potter's godfather at the beginning of the summer might have had something to do with it but his father was in fucking Azkaban – thanks to Potter – and he wasn't going around moping and trying to kill himself.

Potter moaned again and arched his back off the mattress, his throat stretching and his brow furrowing. Where was Blaise with that shirt? If he didn't get here soon Draco would have to leave without it.

The door to the infirmary opened and closed and footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. The green curtain tweaked next to his head and Draco looked up expecting to see the familiar brown wave of Blaise's hair and instead being faced with the affronting red of Weasley's. He felt his lip curl in distaste as the other boy's eyes darted from the black-haired boy on the bed to Draco's face and back again, his face a mixture of confusion and worry. Finally he seemed to reach a conclusion.

"You bastard."

"Sorry?"

"You Bastard!"

"What the fuck?"

"What have you done to him, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Weasley but if I was you I'd lower your voice."

"Oh yeah and why's that?"

"Because then someone might hear you and neither of us would want that would we?"

"We wouldn't?"

"I always said you were simple Weasley. No we wouldn't. Because a) that person might be Potter and if we wake him up he might get upset and we all know what happens when poor ikkle Potty gets upset and b)if it's someone else they'll interrupt all our fun"

"Fun? Malfoy? You're… What the fuck are you talking about?"

"We're going to fight."

"We are?"

"Yes. Shall we take this outside?"

"Ok"

Harry's eyes flickered open to the muffled thumps and grunts that signalled two people fighting nearby. A candle in the bracket above his head, made fuzzy by his lack of glasses, flickered in an unfelt breeze. Outside the castle the shouts and laughter of children told Harry that it was still late afternoon. Harry's head was filled with fog and he found it hard to focus on anything. The high white-washed walls and shadowed ceiling merged into the pale green curtains surrounding his bed. Giving up on sight, he closed his eyes. He had been in the medical room so many times before that he didn't immediately question why he was there this time. Only slowly, helped along by a series of crashes and oophs! from outside did he remember what had happened in the forest. His eyes snapped open and he forced the fog from his mind and did another body check. He felt fine all over not counting a strange heaviness of the limbs and he wondered tentatively what was going on in his wrist area. It was useless; anywhere south of his elbows was a no go zone. Both his wrists and hands were completely numb and as he tried to lever himself up he collapsed back onto the bed and a drip that stood near him rattled. He stared at it blearily from his pillows and wondered crazily if he wasn't in Hogwarts at all but in a muggle hospital somewhere in Scotland; he had never known wizards to use drips before. But it would make sense he supposed – a direct supply of potion (and on closer inspection it was a potion, green and bubbling and making Harry feel quite queasy just looking at it) to the blood. He managed after some squirming to get himself propped up onto the head rest just as two boys crashed through the curtains dividing him from the rest of the infirmary. The both landed on the floor in a pile and Ron stood up first, dragging Malfoy up by the hair before Malfoy kicked him viciously in the shins and they both stood back panting a little.

"What the hell" said Harry slowly, slurring the edges of his words a little "Are you doing?"

Both Ron and Malfoy looked up at Harry, Ron's face a picture of pleasure, worry and surprise, Malfoy's look was unreadable. Ron spoke first.

"Harry" it was filled with suppressed emotion "I thought you were dead. I thought he'd killed you"

"And I've been trying to tell the stupid bastard that I was saving your life but he won't fucking listen."

"It wasn't me who started a fight!"

"The hell it wasn't! I only suggested we fight..."

"There, what did I tell you"

"Metaphorically"

"Sure, now it's metaphorical"

"And the stupid bastard jumps me before I get a chance to get to my wand"

"So that was your plan you slimy tosser, should've known.."

"Shut up." Harry's voice was quiet and angry and immediately the other two boys stopped talking. "And someone give me my glasses I can't feel my hands"

There was a long pause. Malfoy was nearest Harry's bedside table and Ron seemed to be deliberating which was worse; having to squeeze past Malfoy or having to watch Malfoy have body contact with Harry.

"Oh for God's sake" Malfoy snapped and picked up the pair of glasses on the side and sliding them carefully onto Harry's nose. For a moment Harry felt Malfoy's cool slender fingers against his temples, he swallowed. Everything came into sharper focus and Harry was able to look around him properly. His wrists were swathed in bandages and his arms were lathered in cream – supposedly the cause of the numbness. Malfoy was still topless and had a black eye and some pretty impressive bruising to add to the blood caked in his hair and smeared across his cheeks, chest and arms. He looked like he'd just done battle with a terrible monster and Harry almost smiled to think that the terrible monster was himself. Ron hovered near the edge of his bed, his lip cut and bleeding down his chin, his blue eyes smarting.

"It's true." Harry said after a while, looking away from both of them and staring at a point in the distance. "He did…save my life."

At that point the door opened and Blaise Zabini came in followed closely by Hermione and Ginny. Malfoy's face lifted as soon as he saw Zabini and he flicked a strand of blood-stiffened hair out of his eye before walking over to him. Blaise was carrying a clean shirt and handed it to Malfoy with a laugh when he came near enough. Malfoy scowled and Zabini reached out a hand and rubbed with his thumb at a smear of blood on Draco's collar bone. Malfoy smiled a bit then and said something which made Zabini glance over at where Harry was lying. And then he was engulfed by the girls.

"Harry!"

"Harry, what happened? I was told to come to the medical room. Are you all right?"

"What happened to your wrists?"

"Why is Malfoy here?"

Harry was saved from having to answer any questions by the appearance of Albus Dumbledore in the doorway of the office.

"I don't see why I'm being prevented from healing him. It's a simple enough spell and with the right potions and lotions he won't even have scars."

"It's not that simple Poppy. Tea anyone?"

"Ooh yes please"

Minerva McGonagall gave a sharp nod of her head and Dumbledore turned expectantly towards Severus Snape.

"No thank-you"

"He has obviously been self-harming for a long time now. If we just made the scars and cuts disappear it would be as bad as if we just dismissed them straight out. It would be missing the problem entirely. Those cuts aren't just physical Poppy, they are mental. It is Harry's way of expressing his pain and we can't just wipe it clean and pretend it doesn't exist. It would only enhance his levels of mental anguish." Dumbledore leant forwards across the small round table and handed Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey both a cup of tea.

"Milk and two sugars for you Poppy and just a slice of lemon for you Minerva. Biscuits?"

"Thank-you. Do you have any shortbread?"

"Rich tea please. Well I don't know about psychology headmaster but what I do know is that there is a hurt boy in that room back there and that although it is in my capacity to heal him I am being stopped from doing so. Am I supposed to just stand by and watch as he cuts himself to pieces?"

Dumbledore pauses in the middle of pouring himself a cup of tea and makes a shocked face, "By all means no!"

"Then what do you propose I do?"

"You may give him blood-replenishing potions and the potion which Severus has given you to quicken the blood clotting process, and you may apply cream to his cuts which will stop them stinging so much but you may not under any circumstances heal them completely."

Madame Pomfrey shifted in her chair and made a harumphing sound but didn't protest further.

"Now that that issue is sorted I propose we discuss what to do with Harry once he has recovered fully physically and yes Poppy I do consider physically recovered to include scars and cuts. It never stopped anyone before."

"Can't we send him back to his guardians?"

"Oh no we can't, they're positively dreadful. They wouldn't take him anyway."

"Well we can't have him around other students. What if he tries to hang himself in the Great Hall next? Or worse…"

"I still say we can't send him back to his Uncle's. They're muggles and with you-know-who around and fully acknowledged we can't just abandon his most wanted wizard in the home of some basically incompetent muggles who frankly wouldn't know a death eater from a boggart, that's supposing they know what either of those are…"

"But how are we supposed to stop him cutting himself? If we can't stop him doing that then who knows what will happen to him…"

"Colleagues, friends, please. Can we just address this in an orderly fashion. Although I agree that in his present state it would be dangerous to allow Harry to mingle with the other students it is also my view that we can not extradite him from the wizarding world. And the matter of how to stop him self-harming is exactly the one we are here to discuss Poppy."

"I appreciate your points headmaster but how are we to stop him self-harming if he so chooses? And if you aren't going to expel him from Hogwarts how do you propose we prevent him effecting other pupils?"

"Valid points Severus. I was wondering if any of you had suggestions."

There was a long pause in the study. Dust motes swirled in the shaft of light that came in through the window. There was a shriek of laughter and a loud splash as someone jumped into the Lake outside.

"If we can't send him to his official guardians then why can't we send him to stay with Lupin? We are assuming that the reason for his behaviour is out of distress at the death of his godfather. Lupin has been effected badly as well. Couldn't they comfort each other?"

Snape said the word comfort with a sneer of disgust that no one in the room seemed to notice.

"It would only be an opportunity for them to mope together. We don't know what Remus is going through, he could be the last person Harry needs to be around. Anyway I thought we had decided that we were going to keep him in Hogwarts."

"It is a good idea Severus but I think that it would be a bad idea for Harry to stay with Remus, considering where Remus is staying at the moment and the unknown quantity of his own mental health. Anymore suggestions?"

Another pause filled the study. Madame Pomfrey moved one of the doilies around the table and sipped at her tea. Professor McGonagall took a bite of her shortbread and smiled quietly to herself. Snape stared at a particularly offensive ornament of two little china children kissing rather too enthusiastically on a bench. He looked away.

"There are potions I can brew that divests the drinker of their free will. Alternatively there are ones that will make him permanently happy, or smother his emotions completely."

Professor McGonagall put down her tea cup into it's saucer and swallowed before dabbing at the crumbs around her mouth.

"I hardly think that would aid the matter. If Harry knows what he is feeling but can't feel it, it would only plunge him deeper into depression when he wasn't on the potions." One of her steely eyebrows raised just a fraction, "And as for the free-will one, isn't that illegal?"

Snape raised an eyebrow in return and the corners of his mouth quirk, "Maybe."

"I think that we should at least hide or prevent him from being able to reach sharp objects that he could use to cut himself with" Madame Pomfrey interjected, determined not to be left out of the discussion – after all, she seemed to be the only one caring about the boy's physical well-being.

"I was thinking just the same thing Poppy" Dumbledore said kindly

"No offence Headmaster, but how do you propose we do that? We can't hide all the knives and forks, what will the rest of the student body eat with? Not to mention the professors."

"Isn't there a charm or something…?"

"I think there might be a spell we could cast that would prevent him from self-harming"

"Isn't that just like taking away his free will? I thought you said that was against the law Professor."

"It is. I'm sure there's a paragraph about that in the Wizard and Witches human rights convention."

"Of course, we will ask Harry for his own decision on the matter. Whatever we think may be the best way of dealing with it. It is after all Harry's life."

"Yes well he doesn't seem to be taking much care of it does he?"

"That as may be it will still be his decision. The school is entitled to government funded counselling. We have mostly used it in the cases of homesick first years but I think that now might be a good time to call in Professor Waterman, that is if Harry agrees. I believe that there are also some anti-depressant potions you can brew Severus?"

The Professor nodded his head slowly, looking down his long nose at Poppy's hand rearranging the doilies decorating the table.

"Good. Well I shall present Mr Potter with his options when Madame Pomfrey deems him fit but until then I think that by the racket going on in your infirmary that Mr Zabini must have arrived with Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Shall we go out and greet them? I think they have a right to know what has been happening with their friend."

Dumbledore unfolded himself from the small chair he had been sitting in and walked calmly towards the door.

"Why is Malfoy here?"

Harry was saved from having to answer any questions by the appearance of Albus Dumbledore in the doorway of the office.

"Children, please quiet down. I'm sure Harry is feeling quite bombarded by your questions."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and his eyes twinkled behind their half-moon frames. Harry looked away. Here we go, crunch time. His eyes fell once again on Malfoy and Zabini on the other side of the room. Malfoy was pulling his shirt on gratefully and smiling while Zabini talked, his head bent close to Malfoy's and his longish brown hair falling slightly in front of his eyes. He had almost exactly the same haircut as Malfoy Harry realised. Dumbledore was talking again but Harry was distracted by the sight of Zabini beginning to button Malfoy's shirt. Their heads were very close now and their foreheads were almost touching. Zabini was still talking but suddenly Malfoy's head turned to face Harry and their eyes met. Harry felt something strange twist in his chest. He had been trying not to think about what had happened immediately before he had fainted but he couldn't help it now. What did it all mean? He had never kissed or been kissed by a boy before. He'd never even thought about it. And this on top of everything else he had been feeling recently was just too much. What was Malfoy trying to do to him? They hated each other and then that?! And now this? Harry looked away, straight into the blue eyes of Dumbledore and realised that everyone was staring at him.

"Harry, are you OK?"

"Yeah." He said uncertainly, adding "I can't feel my hands."

"Do you feel up to telling your friends what happened to you today Harry?"

Harry looked around at the expectant faces. He thought about telling them to sit down, breaking it to them gently.

"I tried to kill myself."

The shocked looks on their faces was worth it. None of them seemed able to say anything; it was almost funny. He heard a snort of laughter from across the room but forced himself not to look.

"I was going to suggest putting up the wall of your cubicle and giving you some privacy first." Dumbledore said quietly. McGonagall and Snape were standing behind him – when had they appeared Harry wondered– and McGonagall looked as shocked at Harry's bluntness as the rest while Snape looked faintly amused. Finally his friends seemed to find their voices.

"Harry!"

"How? Why? I mean, thank-god you're alright."

"What were you trying to do? Are you retarded or something?"

"Ron! Harry how could you?"

"What's Malfoy got to do with it though?"

"I would have succeeded if Malfoy hadn't found me and sent Zabini to get a teacher. You can thank him if you like."

Everybody seemed to involuntarily look towards Zabini and Malfoy – who now had his shirt buttoned up – who were smirking.

"Feel free, don't be shy. I don't bite."

Zabini snickered quietly and Malfoy seemed to reconsider, he was about to say something when Dumbledore interrupted.

"That's enough Mr Malfoy. I think it was time you had a shower. Thank-you both for your help now Goodbye."

It hadn't been so hard. Ginny had cried, Hermione's eyes became watery as she clung to Ron's hand, both their knuckles white. Ron had repeated everything Harry had said until Harry was exasperated enough to shout at him.

They all left pretty soon after that.

Now he was lying in bed, the sun's last rays casting shadows across the ceiling, the shouts from the grounds finally stopped as everyone made their way inside for dinner. Madame Pomfrey was doing something to his wrists, and he was staring at the ceiling, waiting for the worst bit to come.

"Hello Harry, Poppy." Dumbledore put his bearded old face through the flap in the curtains and then drew the rest of his body through. Why did everyone enter like that? Harry wondered. "Poppy, I wondered if I could have Harry alone for a few minutes."

The medi-witch smiled knowingly and then left them alone. Harry avoided Dumbledore's eyes. He was overwhelmed with the urge to apologise but bit his tongue and just listened as Dumbledore began to talk about therapists and anti-depressants. He let his mind wander slightly and when the meeting was over he smiled and said yes and please and thank-you like the golden-boy he was. Just as Dumbledore was leaving he seemed to pause and think.

"Oh and Harry?"

"Yes Sir"

"If things become too much there are some potions that Professor Snape can brew to detach you from your emotions or make you feel only happy."

"Thank-you Professor but I don't think I'll be needing them."

Liar. Harry looked away from the sad blue eyes and instead turned his stare to his bandaged hands. Professor Dumbledore stayed hovering in the doorway for a few more seconds gazing sadly at the frail boy with the tousled black hair surrounded by white. And then he was gone with a swish of the curtains.

Over the next few days Harry stayed in the medical room, his friends visiting occasionally. Ron talked to him about safe things like Quidditch – "Angelina is having a spaz attack. Do you think you'll be well enough to play in the match against Slytherin? Ginny's taking your place for the moment but she's not really as good as you." – whilst Hermione brought him homework and chattered nervously about books and school work. Surprisingly it was Ginny's visits that brought him the most pleasure. She told him news and gossip from Hogwarts and made him laugh with her stories of the mishaps of other people. He felt more relaxed in her presence and laughed a little easier. For the brief hours she spent with him he was able to forget about his attempted suicide, Malfoy, the War, Voldemort and the numbness of his wrists. Although that could be the effects of the anti-depressant potions he was imbibing every twelve hours.

On the fourth day his bandages were gently peeled away. He had avoided watching when Madame Pomfrey dressed them each day but when they were finally removed and the numbing spell taken off them he forced himself to look. His skin was pale and white where it had been hidden from the sun and the scars and cuts criss-crossed the skin in angry red lines. His wrists' cuts were a dangerous purple colour and the skin around them was puckered and swollen. He looked away. Even the anti-depressants couldn't stop him from feeling the raw ache inside him at the sight of his mutilated limbs.

When Ginny visited him that afternoon, she tactfully didn't mention his arms, avoiding them with her eyes, and handing him a small package.

"Madame Pomfrey told me they might look a bit…so I bought you these." She smiled shyly and Harry noticed her hair shining copper in the light. He tried a tentative smile back and clumsily began to unwrap it. His fingers got caught in the ribbon and Ginny blushed and started forwards.

"I'm sorry, I'm so stupid. Here let me help."

Her fingers were delicate and dry against his as she gently teased open the knot and she guided him through the paper.

"Ginny, thank-you" Harry smiled when he saw what they were "They're great. Perfect."

The black wrist bands lay in his lap amid a tangle of ribbon and paper. They had green stitching round the edges and Ginny helped Harry slide them over his hands onto his wrists, covering the ugly scars. He looked up and was close enough to see the freckles across her nose and the small silver studs in her ears.

"Ginny." She touched the side of his face carefully and looked tentatively into his eyes. He had never noticed the colour of her eyes before he realised, they were a beautiful greeny-blue. She leant forwards, her eyelashes touching her freckles and kissed him softly on the lips. It was a soft, slow kiss and her mouth opened for him when he pressed his tongue against her lips. She tasted different to Malfoy, he couldn't help thinking, and Cho. And Mandy. And Pandora. But it was a good different and he leant into their kiss.

"Ahem." Ginny sprang away blushing. She took a few hurried steps backwards and picked up her bag. Madame Pomfrey stood in the entrance of his cubicle looking faintly amused.

"Uh, see you Harry!" Ginny said before running out of the cubicle, her hurried footsteps receding out of the infirmary and down the corridor. Harry groaned and fell back amongst his pillows.

"Sorry Harry but I allow no Hanky Panky in my infirmary" Madame Pomfrey said unforgivingly "Those are the rules." She turned and left him to his growing feeling of despair.

The next day he was released.