Ugh, huge wait. Sorry about that.

Thank you to the reviewers :)

Three weeks had passed since the day that Draco had watched Potter down by the lake, and the Slytherin Prince was close to breaking point. The blonde still hadn't managed to come up with a plan for his mission, and was painfully aware that the Dark Lord would contact him in only 8 days.

Draco's worry was showing clearly, and people were frequently asking him if he was okay. The Slytherin knew that they had good reason, as he had lost even more weight since the school year had started. Draco's usually flawless porcelain skin was beginning to appear almost transparent, showing the boy to be nothing more than a shadow of his former self.

Draco was sat in Potions, keeping his eyes focussed on the desk in front of him. It was taking the boy's every effort not to fall asleep, which was no surprise to his fellow Slytherins. Draco had spent every night for the past week sat alone in the Slytherin Common Room when everyone else was sleeping, transfiguring water into coffee to keep him awake. His fellow house members were extremely worried, but the boy clearly had no intention of sleeping so there was nothing that they could do.

Now sat alone at his desk without and coffee, Draco was struggling to keep his eyes open. He slumped down on the wooden desk, trying hard to stay awake. Glancing upwards towards the small clock at the front of the room, Draco was grateful to find that he had only fifteen more minutes to struggle through.

Allowing his head to fall back down onto the desk, Draco heard Graham Pritchard whisper something about a "caffeine crash" to one of the Ravenclaw boys. The blonde didn't care what was being said – over the past week he'd heard far worse. Most of the taunts had been from fellow Slytherins, asking why a pureblood like Draco was using a muggle way to stay awake.

Draco had ignored those comments. The blonde wasn't stupid – he would have gladly asked Madame Pomfrey for some Pepper-Up potion if it hadn't meant her taking a full body scan to check his condition. Not only would the Dark Mark have shown even through clothes, but also with how severely underweight he was now, the strict nurse would certainly have opted to keep Draco in the hospital wing until he gained some weight.

Seeing as the hospital wing was no place to get any real thinking done, and the Dark Mark would definitely be seen, Draco had resorted to drinking black coffee to stay awake. It wasn't as effective as Madame Pomfrey's Pepper-Up potions, but it still helped a great deal in keeping him awake, even if the coffee did include the embarrassing side effect of making Draco need to dash off to the toilet every half hour.

He needed the toilet now, and couldn't help but squirm slightly in his seat. "At least I can't fall asleep whilst I need the toilet", the blonde thought, looking up at the clock again, smiling to see that there were only 3 more minutes of the lesson.

Professor Slughorn seemed to notice this also, and told the class to tidy away their books, promising the 6th years that they would have another practical lesson the following Tuesday.

Draco gratefully pushed his heavy textbook and sheets of parchment into his bag, silently thanking the gods that his lessons for the week had finished. Now that he was standing up, Draco felt much more alert and aware of his surroundings. He was also far more aware of his need to get to a bathroom, and began thinking of which could possibly be the closest.

The bell rang and the class filed out of the dungeon, all starting to walk up the cold stone staircase. Draco walked briskly up the stairs towards the second floor. His bladder was beginning to send urgent signals to his brain, and Draco began to curse the amount of coffee that he had consumed before his Potions class.

When Draco finally reached the second floor boy's toilets his heart seemed to skip a beat. The door was locked tight, and the sign taped onto it clearly read:

"OUT OF ORDER DUE TO VANDALISM"

Assuming that the door had been locked by Filch, Draco drew out his wand and tapped the lock, saying 'Alohamora' as he did so. The lock did not, as Draco had expected, open. Instead the door remained firmly shut, making it clear that there was no chance of entry for any student.

Draco let out a low groan, biting his bottom lip. The coffee had really caught up with him now, and he knew that the chances of him making it up to the third floor toilets in time were extremely slim. Catching sight of the girl's toilet a little way down the corridor, Draco took a deep breath.

Praying that he wouldn't be caught, Draco pulled open the door and looked inside. The toilets appeared to be completely empty. The Slytherin closed the door behind him and locked the door using the Colloportus charm. As soon as Draco was content with the knowledge that nobody would come into the girl's toilets and catch him, he ran into the nearest cubicle, unzipping his trousers as he did so.

When Draco had relieved himself, he stepped out from the cubicle and walked towards the sinks near the end of the room. He turned one of the taps, but no water came out. Draco shrugged and tried another tap. This one worked perfectly, and Draco washed his hands, flinching slightly at the cold water.

A swift look around the room showed there to be nothing resembling a towel and Draco couldn't remember the drying spell, so he had to be content with wiping his hands dry on his robes. His glance at his surroundings however, confirmed to Draco that this bathroom was rarely, if ever, used.

Realising that the likelihood of being disturbed was almost non-existent, the blonde decided to stay there for a while. At least there was nobody to worry about him, even if it did mean that he was locked in a girl's toilet.

Draco began to look around, and caught sight of his reflection in a dusty, cracked mirror from across the room. The boy walked towards the mirror, seeing properly for the first time just how tired and drawn he looked. Running his fingers through his hair, Draco looked a little closer at his reflection, staring into his own pale grey eyes.

"What's happened to me?" he whispered, moving his left hand slowly down his cheek and along his now prominent jawline. The blonde blinked, and stared at his own reflection for a moment longer, before Draco Malfoy, the self-professed Slytherin Prince, burst into tears.

Draco stood in the same position for a long time, just watching his reflection as tears flowed freely down his pale face. He had learned from an early age that Malfoys simply did not cry, or show any emotion for that matter. Draco had learned well from his father, keeping an iron mask over his emotions at all times, even when subjected to extreme torture such as when the Dark Lord had subjected him to the Cruciatus curse.

But for Draco, seeing himself in the mirror at that moment was too painful. He looked so weak, so gaunt, so pathetic. Seeing himself in the mirror at that moment, Draco saw that he was nothing more than a child. He looked so young, and so ill, as if he shouldn't even be allowed to leave his bed.

Although there was nothing that Draco could have done about it, he cursed himself for allowing the Death Eater's to give him the Dark Mark, for not finding a way to avoid being bound to the Dark Lord. Pulling back his sleeve, the boy looked at the unsightly mark on his arm, wishing harder than he had ever wished for anything before that he could take back time and avoid receiving the Dark Mark.

His sobs were now far from silent, and were causing his frail body to shake as he cried. Draco silently berated himself for being so weak, but really he was beyond caring about weakness. The Slytherin was more frightened than he had ever been in his life, and decided that he could worry about weakness another time.

There were only 8 short days left until the Dark Lord was to contact Draco, and the boy was already beginning to prepare himself for another round of the Cruciatus curse. With no plan on he was going to succeed in his mission, Draco knew that the little meeting with his Master would be far from fun and games.

Calling the Dark Lord his Master made Draco want to slaughter the man, if, of course, he could actually be considered as human. The blonde boy had no respect towards him, and had come to despise the man who had once been Tom Riddle. Every time that Draco bowed down before the monster that was the Dark Lord, he had to fight not to scream his hatred out loud.

Draco was no longer standing, looking into the broken mirror on the wall. He was sat again the cold stone toilet wall, crying freely with his head in his hands. Although the Slytherin was thankful that nobody could see him in his moment of weakness, a part of the boy wished for nothing more than to have a friend, someone who would be willing to share the burden that had been so unwillingly forced upon him.

Draco had never had a true friend, just a circle of people who respected him for his wealth. The truth was, the Malfoy heir in the past had been very demanding, and anyone seeking a real friendship had overlooked him instantly. Draco was known for his cunning and dishonesty, neither being traits to single him out as a potential friend. The blonde also locked his emotions away, making it difficult for him to be close to anyone. Usually, when Draco's thoughts turned to friendship he would convince himself that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's need no one. However, this time nothing that the Slytherin tried to tell himself was working, and he found himself feeling very lonely.

At the same time, Draco felt thoroughly calmed. The feeling of finally admitting his emotions to himself had reminded Draco for the first time since he was a child that he was human, and didn't need to hide everything all of the time.

Draco crying was a very rare occurrence, and never before had the boy noticed how relieving it was to shed his tears. Still crying, the Slytherin told himself that it had only been a matter of time before he broke down, having known deep down that there was no way that he could have kept his emotions and stress bottled up forever.

The boy eventually stood up and walked back over to the broken mirror. Looking at his reflection once more, Draco ran his fingers through his sleek blonde hair. The boy could see that he looked a mess, his eyes were bloodshot and tears were still flowing down his pale face. But somehow Draco thought that he looked better than before. Calmer. Maybe even a little bit happier. The Slytherin turned away from the mirror and took a step towards the toilet cubicles in the hope that they might have something to wipe his eyes with.

As he did so, Draco found himself face to face with a girl who had obviously been standing behind him. Draco screamed and turned away quickly, frantically wiping away his tears with his sleeve.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, his embarrassment at being caught crying quickly turning to rage. How dare this girl watch him as he cried? Who was she, and how did she get through the door without him noticing?

"How do you think?" she replied sarcastically. The girl had a high voice, and sounded almost as though she too had been crying. Draco turned back to face her, a confused but angry expression on his face.

"How the hell should I – Oh." Draco was cut off from his heated question as he finally noticed that the girl was in fact a ghost. She was also hovering a few inches above the ground so that the two appeared to be the same height, although now that Draco had noticed, he could see that the girl was clearly several inches shorter than him. She was wearing a pair of glasses with circular lenses, similar to those worn by Potter. Her long hair was in pigtails, and she looked as though she couldn't have been any more than a 4th year when she died. The ghost girl was also sporting a rather unattractive sneer.

"Oh, so you finally noticed did you? Well done." the girl said, hovering a little higher so that she could look down on Draco. The Slytherin felt his fury draining away at record speed, now feeling only grateful that this ghost wasn't an actual student. Considering that Draco had never seen her before, the chances of everyone in the school finding out about his little breakdown were looking to be pretty small. Because he had been crying and still wasn't feeling like his normal self (though he wasn't quite sure who his normal self was these days), Draco lowered his line of sight.

"I'm sorry, I was just scared because I don't cry very often and I thought someone from my year had caught me," he said, raising his hands a little as if to show the girl that he surrendered. Draco's curiosity was getting the better of him, and he added, "If you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

The girl seemed instantly delighted in both Draco's actions and his words, and descended until her feet were touching the floor. The sneer was gone, and had been replaced by a rather disturbing smile.

"I'm Myrtle. And this is my toilet," she smiled, waving her arms around the room in a gesture to show that everything in it was hers. "Who are you?…You're very sweet when you cry you know." She said, adding the last part as an afterthought. Draco frowned. He was a number of things, but sweet was most definitely not one of them.

"Okay then, um, Myrtle. I'd rather keep my name a secret if you don't mind, I don't want anyone to know that I've been crying in here." Draco muttered quietly, feeling his porcelain cheeks flush with a subtle pink tinge. The girl didn't look too impressed with this statement, but she didn't seem angered by it either. She simply looked at Draco for what felt like hours, before finally uttering her reply.

"Alright then. If you ever need to cry, you're welcome to come here. I won't tell anybody…I never get company anymore…" her sentence trailed off at this point and she began to cry loudly. Draco looked around himself, suddenly feeling very awkward. He didn't quite know what to do in the situation, as he'd never been faced with the sobbing ghost of a student before.

Luckily Myrtle made the decision for Draco. She sniffed goodbye, and disappeared through the wall at the far end of the girl's toilets. Draco looked around for a few moments longer before drying what remained of his tears on his already damp sleeve.

Taking a final look into the cracked mirror, Draco decided that his appearance was finally sufficient to leave the girl's toilets, and picked up his bag. There was barely any visible evidence that the Slytherin had been crying, and now that he had finally managed to compose himself, Draco decided to take a walk in the grounds to clear his head even further.

He unlocked the door using the Alohamora charm, and luckily found himself stepping out into an empty corridor. Making a mental note to come back to the second floor girl's toilets whenever he needed to cry, Draco closed the door behind him and began to walk casually in the direction of the main staircase.

Although Draco still felt far from happy, his mood had significantly improved over the hour and ten minutes that he had been crying. His mind felt as though it was working much faster, and although the Slytherin was still very much aware that he had only 8 days to come up with a good plan for his mission, 8 days suddenly felt just a little bit longer than it had before he had cried. Draco decided that maybe if he cried more often it could help things along a little – just as long as nobody found out about it, of course.

With that thought in mind, a much calmer boy began his walk down the stairs towards the Hogwarts Castle grounds.

Harry was walking hastily upwards towards the second floor with tears in his eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment. Keeping his gaze fixed to the stone stairs, the boy increased his pace, taking two steps at a time. Harry should have known better than to rush when not looking where he was going, but in his state of mind he simply didn't think.

For this reason, it came as a great surprise to Harry when he walked right into the boy who had been casually strolling down the stairs. The Gryffindor hadn't quite realised just how quickly he had been walking, but did so now as the two students both fell down onto the cold steps, Harry's glasses flying from his face and landing somewhere nearby with the tinkling sound of breaking glass.

Harry instantly jumped to his feet and squinted at the boy who he had knocked over. Even without his glasses the boy instantly recognised the other student by his platinum blonde hair. It was Malfoy, and he was alone. Harry was beginning to think that the Slytherin was as friendless as he was, as the blonde had been alone almost every time that Harry had seen him over the past two weeks.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, praying that Malfoy wasn't going to hex him. All that the Gryffindor wanted was to get inside the second floor girls toilets and burst into tears, and he was certain that with his fragile mood he wouldn't be able to withstand a fight with his nemesis.

To Harry's utmost surprise, the Slytherin simply nodded and passed the dark haired boy his glasses as he climbed elegantly to his feet. Without another word, Malfoy continued his walk down the stairs. The brunette allowed his eyes to follow the other boy until he had disappeared from view, silently thanking the Slytherin for not starting an argument as a result of Harry's clumsiness.

Taking his wand out of his pocket, Harry tapped his glasses once and clearly pronounced the word "Reparo", the repair spell. Now that he had taken care of that, Harry turned back to the stairs. He climbed the last few and turned right, into the empty second floor corridor. He looked left and right before opening the door to the permanently vacant girl's toilets and stepped inside.

This wasn't his first choice of locations to cry; Harry would gladly have spent the rest of the evening up in the dormitory had he been alone, but Dean and Seamus had been coming into the large room at various intervals to check if he was okay. Eventually Harry had decided to go for a walk in the grounds to clear his mind, but upon finding the weather to be dreadful, with heavy raindrops pounding on the ground, he decided on the next best place to cry; Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

The Gryffindor felt relief wash over him at the knowledge of being completely alone, and a tear spilled down his cheek. He had spent the past hour sat alone in the boy's dormitory, trying desperately to suppress the inevitable outburst of tears. During the past two weeks, Ron and Hermione had barely spoken to him, and this was starting to take its toll on the raven-haired teenager.

Harry had spent most of his free time sat alone in the boy's dormitories thinking. His thoughts had been on a number of matters, but one in particular stood out visibly from all of the others. Harry's worry was that when he had to defeat Voldemort, how would he manage to defeat the powerful Dark wizard without his friends?

This particular worry was extremely important, as although the Gryffindor had faced the Dark Lord numerous times in the past, he could not think of one occasion where he had attempted this feat single-handedly. Ron and Hermione had always been of great assistance to Harry, and without their help he was starting to worry that he would never accomplish the deed.

The Gryffindor's tears were falling thick and fast now, and he did nothing at all to prevent them. "What if Voldemort actually kills me this year?" he thought, knowing that he was undoubtedly an easy target without his friends to help him out. The idea that he might not live to be seventeen was not new to Harry, but shocking nonetheless.

Harry wanted nothing more than to live a normal life one day, finally be permitted a bit of happiness to make up for his less than enjoyable childhood. Harry had once asked Sirius to tell him if Dumbledore truly believed that he would live to complete his education at Hogwarts. The answer of course, had been a quiet no from his Godfather.

Thinking of Sirius brought back memories of the time they had spent together before his Godfather had died. Harry had tried so desperately not to think of Sirius at all, convincing himself that if he pushed the thoughts out of his mind, things would hurt just a little bit less.

This hadn't worked of course, but Harry had still attempted to keep his thoughts about Sirius to the absolute minimum, wanting to avoid breaking down whenever possible. Harry had thought that once back at Hogwarts, his friends would be able to comfort him, maybe help him get over the grief that he was feeling.

Unfortunately neither Ron nor Hermione had so much as asked him how he felt about losing the closest person that he had to family. Had they forgotten what had happened in the Department of Mysteries? How distraught Harry had been upon realising that he would never see his Godfather, his Father's closest school friend, again?

Harry knew that they couldn't have forgotten. But how could the newly smitten couple not have mentioned the events of that terrible night once? Just because they had fallen in love, it didn't suddenly make everything else in the world all right. The Boy Who Lived was beginning to feel sick of the sight of the couple, even go so far as to believe that he hated them – a feeling that Harry in the past had reserved only for Voldemort and Snape.

Harry's thoughts wandered, and he found himself crying progressively louder harder as the minutes passed by. By this point, the troubled boy was sat against a cold wall, not far from the sink where he had once entered the Chamber of Secrets. He felt alone, as if no other teenager in the world was experiencing depression and loneliness in the same way that he was.

Harry removed his glasses and wiped some of the tears from his eyes. The girl's toilet was as desolate as it had been when he had visited in his second year, and Harry was willing to stake money on the idea that it hadn't been so much as visited since. Harry was, of course, completely oblivious to the fact that Draco Malfoy had been curled up crying in the exact same spot where Harry sat now, only minutes earlier.

Reviews please? Like it? Hate it?