written

flashbacks

dreams

'thoughts'

Warnings for child abuse, language, rape, violence, self-harm, suicide, insanity, murder, character death and torture.

Do you want to know a secret? I really wanted to be friends with Harry Potter. Not just since first year but ever since I can remember. That sounds so stupid doesn't it? But I remember hearing about him as a child.

I never told anyone this but when I was small I'd imagine we were friends. We'd do everything together. In my head. The real Harry was something of a shock.

He didn't remember all our thousands of adventures. He didn't want anything to do with me, obviously.

He detested me. So I detested him back.

Madam Pomphrey had kept him in the hospital wing nearly two weeks. He'd told his house mates he'd had wizarding flu. No one had questioned the excuse.

The great hall was full of sound but none of it registered.

"Drakie eat something, you look like a bag of bones!" Pansy sniffed, prodding him with her fork.

His mind was a million miles away, his attention on the Griffindor table.

But it was a lie. And I'm tired of lies. I'm tired of everything.

Harry was always ment to be the one to stop You Know Who, wasn't he? I wanted to help him. Cause I wasn't going to be a death-eater. I knew that much.

He met the dark haired boy by the quiddich pitch, had been waiting for him really.

"Potter."

"What do you want this time Malfoy?"

"I... I wanted you to know that I'm on your side."

"My side?"

"I don't want You Know Who to win."

"What about the purity of blood, mudbloods and all that?"

"I don't believe in it. I'm not a death-eater and I don't want to be one either alright?"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"Show me that you don't have the mark."

He hesitated for a long moment. Harry turned to leave.

"Wait!"

He pulled up his sleeves.

The dark mark was absent. But from wrist to elbow his arms were covered in a dense lattice of pale scars and rust red cuts. The two deep slashes were now livid pink marks.

The Slitherine boy turned and walked quickly away.

"Draco wait."

He stopped, looked back at Harry. The bespeceled boy led him away from where someone might see them talking.

"Why are you hurting yourself?"

"Because at least this way... I'm the one doing it." he whispered in reply.

"You shouldn't. Things will get better."

He laughed, "really? Cause recently they've only been getting worse."

Awkwardly Harry pulled the other teenager into a hug. Draco stiffened, then, after a moment, relaxed and started to cry.

I believe that Harry will kill The Dark Lord. He's so stupidly nobel and despite myself I love him. But I don't know how he could stand to touch me. I'm so soaked in darkness. And he's a shining light. He's everything I never was. I wish I could be him. And that Draco Malfoy had never existed.

I can't cope anymore. I'm sorry.

Harry will kill You Know Who. And the world will be bright and happy. But there'll be no place for me. I want to close my eyes, fall asleep and never wake up.

Harry will make everything ok. But I could never be ok.