Okay, I'ma bitch, mmk?

I know that I've been behind in promised updates lately. I'm just pretty frustrated as there are over 2000 views on this fanfiction, and about 10 people have commented, some doing so over and over. While I love and thank those people, the others I'm a little disapointed in. I realize that you have your own lives, but so do I. I take time out of my schedule to write, and I don't get anything but the satisfaction of knowing I made people happy from it. So, please. It takes you under 3 minutes to write a review, and me about 30 or 40 to write a fanfiction. You do the math. I'm not going to bribe you anymore, but IT REALLY IS NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW. Thanks,

Eve

Plus, I'm sorry I wrote the word faggot. For the record, I don't think that it's ever okay to call someone that, but Lucuis might say something like that.

...

Harry wanted to kill himself. He wouldn't, shouldn't, and couldn't, but he wanted to. He hated this game he was playing, and he hated Draco Malfoy and his stupid father. His head was getting cold, and lying on a tiled floor was not a good idea, but he wanted to do it. And when Hermione found him and told him that she would do the cooking later, he still didn't move. Ron had to drag him up to his room, because he felt that his legs would no longer work. And when he lay in his bed, knowing that he would have to see Draco Malfoy again in several hours, he wanted to go back to the day 16 years ago and just be killed and not- not have to think about Draco fucking Malfoy anymore.

Draco wanted to kill his father. His face hurt from the slaps he had endured, and he could no longer stand, so he fell to his knees, sobbing. "Dad, please- I'm not, I'm not-" Lucuis sneered at him, face cruel. "Don't flatter yourself, Draco. I won't touch you any longer." Lucuis didn't seem to care that they were in an abandoned classroom. "You're no son of mine. Do not call me your father, you disgusting faggot." He swished out of the room, taking extra care to tread on Draco's hands. Draco couldn't move. The pain, both emotional and physical, was too much. So he just lay there, listening to the treading of feet. "Draco?" A female voice echoed, and he tried to sit up, blood trickling down his chest. "Er-ermion!" He croaked. Hermione ran into the room and gasped at Draco's lifeless form, before draping her cloak around him and hugging him.

"You're horrible, and had you not just been beaten on, I would so totally punch you." She said, moping up his face with a conjured washcloth. He winced. "Sorry." She stopped. "You need to aplogize to him, you arse." Draco put his head down and tried to stand, getting up rather well, but obviously in pain. "I know. This is how it's going to work, isn't it? I fuck up, and then I make it better. I call that torture."

She smiled, thinking of Ron. "I call it love."

He held her arm, limping towards the door. "Alright, let's go get my man."

Harry was getting dressed for the dance. There was nothing that he wanted to do less, but heartbreak wasn't going to stop him. He was NOT going to think about that fucker Draco Malfoy. Ron was right, he was a wanker. Ron- oh christ. Ron knew, didn't he? Hermione must've told him. He turned around to face him. "Ron- you know that..." Ron came over, and surprisingly, hugged him. "Yeah. I know about you and Malfoy." Harry was astounded by the gesture, but hugged him back.

"Thank you." He whispered. Ron smiled. "I don't care if you love Draco. Let's just say if you're the man I love most in the world, and you're the man he loves most in the world, we can get along." Harry's eyes widened and he pulled back. "Do you really think?" He asked. "Yes," Ron said simply. "I think that he loves you. And I think that you love him. So, I want you to go to the dance."

And so he did. Half an hour later, Harry was shyly dancing with Ron and Hermione. His heart was beating about a million miles an hour, and he both wanted to see Draco and didn't at the same time.

Draco was going to make this better. He was going to open the door, and he was going to kiss Harry Potter, and he was going to fix everything.

Some things take a certain type of courage. Not the kind you need to hurt someone, fight a battle, or win a war. The most rare and unusual type of courage: the type it takes to say I'm sorry and mean it more than anything on earth.

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath. This was what it was. Wanting to be with someone so much it hurt. That was the thought that let him turn the doorknob in front of him.

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Sorry this was so short! Hey, least you got an update. I'm on a bit of a kick. I can't really believe that we're so close to the end. There'll be two more chapters, and I can see myself finishing them today, so check back if you can. I really need you guys to review, however. About 10 out of a thousand people have, and that's nowhere near enough. Please review, it takes you about thirty seconds.