Authors Note: i just wanted to say, that i hate this chapter. lol i couldnt get it to write like i wanted it, so im sorry if its a bit crappy. also, thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, i really appreciate it. thanks!

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The Christmas holidays dragged painfully for Harry. Hermione and the other students had gone home, leaving Harry and a few others behind. He didn't know any of the others who stayed, and mused that even if he did, no one was talking to him.

As midnight approached, Harry was yet again wandering around the many halls of Hogwarts, hidden under his late fathers invisibility cloak. It was Christmas eve, and he silently reflected back onto his previous years at Hogwarts. Usually around this time, he, Ron and Hermione would sit in the common room, curled up in blankets and wish each other a merry Christmas. It had warmed his heart, at the time, to know he was so well loved. Now, it simply hurt.

As the grand old clock of the main hall struck 12, Harry fell to his knees in pain. His scar felt as though it would split open, a scream that tearing from his throat. His vision blurred, sound rushing to his ears, and he could have sworn he could hear screaming. Not his mothers, as he would have expected, but someone else, someone young, someone lost.

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It had been little under a week, since the attack on Harry Potters mind. After passing out in the great hall, he had been found in the early hours of the morning by the squib caretaker Filch, his invisibility cloak resting next to him. Since then, he lay in the hospital wing, in a Coma.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Dumbledore sighed. Harry lay pale against the white sheets, eyelids flickering restlessly. It seemed he was in a magical coma, for his body refused treatment which would otherwise wake him. Voldemort had struck out hard on Christmas day, killing 10 muggleborns families. 6 of those had children in Griffindore, 3 from Hufflepuff and 1 from Ravenclaw. And Harry, poor Harry seemed to have seen it all.

This shouldn't have happened, this wasn't how it was meant to be damn it! Everything was going horribly wrong, and Dumbledore wasn't sure he could put this right.

"Any change headmaster?"

Severus Snape was well known for his dislike of the Potter brat. His arrogance and fame irritated him too no end, but even he could see that something had been very wrong with him since his return.

"No Severus, no there has not"

"I have the potions you asked for Headmaster, however I do not see how these can be of any help -"

"Hope Severus, they give me hope that he will wake, and they will be needed when the time comes"

Watching their sleeping saviour, the two wizards couldn't help but think that instead of when, it was more a matter of If.

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Flames, high and bright they twisted with their deadly dance. The entire house was aflame, trapping those sleeping inside. He knew this house, had lived here, suffered here. Harry Potter looked on in muted horror, as his relatives awoke. Screams rose, shouts for help. He was so close, he could feel the fire burn into his skin. He could feel their pain. He could help them! He could save-!

No, no he couldn't. He couldn't save them, couldn't save anyone. Not Hermione, or the Creevy brothers, or any of his other fellow students who had fallen. Why should he even try? It always ended the same. Death, destruction, pain.

Sitting cross legged on the lawn to his enforced home, he watched the fire consume those inside. He listened, surprisingly calm, as the screams pitched in agony, as they spluttered and died. Neighbours and muggle services littered the street, fighting to put out the fire which raged with magical strength.

None saw him, none but Lord Voldemort, who stood just behind him. He knew his pain, he had caused it after all. He dragged him here, into vision after vision, to witness the horror, the death. He wanted him to understand, that this was what life brought, that this, and only this, was real.

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It was dark, the shadows wrapped around him, comforting him. It wasn't often that he was able to visit this place, not anymore. Now his dreams were filled with the pain of others, not this calm void he had come to love. Here he could think, away from all the feelings which choked him endlessly.

He had no control of course. He simply drifted in and out of these visions, bracing himself for what was to come. To begin with he had tried to resist, tried to help those who needed it, tried to escape. Now though, he simply watched. Passive, defeated. He knew it was beyond his control, and that Voldemort would explain when he was good and ready. Until then, Harry watched, and he learned.

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Draco Malfoy glanced around his room with ill disguised unease. Today he would be returning to Hogwarts, and something just didn't seem right. His trunk lay open on his bed, robes folded and books stacked neatly inside. Everything seemed to be in order but.. What was he missing!

"Draconis, I assume you are ready to leave?"

Mentally, Draco cringed. He hated it when his father called him Draconis. It usually meant one of two things, either he wanted something, or he had done something wrong. Either way, it was never anything good. Turning he managed to keep his face clear of emotion. If anything was ever sure to piss his father off, it was emotion.

"Yes father I am"

"Good. The train leaves shortly, and I will not tolerate tardiness. Be ready to leave and be sure to say goodbye to your mother in the drawing room"

With a sharp look, the elder Malfoy left his son alone. Sighing in obvious relief, Draco spared one last look around his room before shutting his trunk and having a house elf take it to the train. Whatever he had forgotten would have to wait, he knew better than to go against his fathers orders.

Stepping into the lavishly decorated hall, he quickly made his way down the winding stairways leading to his mothers drawing room.

"Mother, I have come to say goodbye, I leave for the train shortly"

"What? Oh yes, ok dear, do have fun"

Narcissa Malfoy sat elegant as always, flicking through the latest French summer robe catalogue. The appearance, and imminent departure of her son concerned her little, as had much of his comings and goings throughout his life. She was a true believer in Pureblood ways, and the treatment of her son and heir was clearly shown as such. It should have saddened her, that she knew so little of her own flesh and blood, but it did not. After all, between lunches and important social functions, how could she be expected to chase him around as well? Ridiculous to be sure.

He hadn't expected anything more. Draco had learned long ago that his mother did not care for him as other mothers did. It did not lesson the pain however, the emptiness he felt. He wondered sometimes, what he had done, who he had pissed off in a past life to deserve this, but figured it didn't really matter anyway.

Draco didn't see anyone else as he flooed to the platform. Sitting in his compartment on the train, he wondered how Potter was. He had heard his father boasting about the attacks on the muggle families, and knew the raven haired teen would react to them badly, especially as Granger had been one of them.

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R&R!