It's All My Fault

by Lying In An Angels Arms

Sometimes the right choice is wrong and the wrong choice is right. Draco's made a lot of wrong choices but they seem to be leading him right to where he needs to be. With Harry. Guilt's a funny thing though. It makes you feel like you're drowning. SLASH

3. Chapter Two

Title: It's All My Fault
Author Name: Lying In An Angels Arms
Rating: R/M
Spoilers: Books 1-6. Written After Half-Blood Prince.
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry
Summary: Guilt is a funny thing. It makes the world seem so much...colder. Draco's guilty. Two deaths are on his conscious and the closest thing to a father he has now is hanging between life and death because of him. Guilt is a funny thing, it makes you wish you were dead. Draco's drowning in a sea of coldness and he can't grasp onto something. Can Harry Potter be that something?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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/Warnings/

Slash! (Harry/Draco. Lucius/Severus)

Depression, Suicidal themes (no suicide depicted), Mild non graphic self harm

strong language, Sexual scenes, mild character deaths.

Chapter Two: Breathing In Your Everything

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I don't really remember a lot of things about my mother. We weren't always close. We fought a lot, especially throughout my teenage years.

Mother wanted one thing.

Father wanted another.

I just wanted to be left alone.

There are little things I remember about her. Insignificant things father would scoff at if he knew but to me they were special.

Like, how she'd run her fingers through my hair when I couldn't sleep.

Or how she'd always pronounce 'love' as 'luff' when we were alone together, just to make me laugh.

Or when she'd sneak into the potions lab when I was brewing something and try to help, most likely ending up ruining the whole batch.

Sometimes, when things got really bad or Father had been particularly cruel, she would come into my room at night, sit on my bed and hold me, as if I needed the comforting instead of her.

These are the little things I loved about her.

They are the same things that make me miss her so much.

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"-and there he was," Molly Weasley said to her husband. "He was just...lying there curled up with Snape as if that's where he belonged." She felt so tired, like the weight of the world was on her shoulder even though her burden to bear was not as bad as some.

"Hmmm," Arthur hummed. "I suppose it makes sense."

"What?" Molly looked confused. "What do you mean, Arthur?"

"Well," he murmured. "When we found them, they were together. Whatever they went through they were obviously together judging by their similar wounds. I suppose it makes sense that they want to heal together."

Molly sniffed, looking annoyed. "You make them sound like humans, Arthur."

"They are, Molly." He reached for her hand, grasping it even as she tried to tug it away. He gently drew her towards him and wrapped his arms around her.

"You sound like you don't care about Albus!" Molly accused, trying to push away from him. "They killed him, Arthur! He's gone! He's gone!" She hit his chest lightly, trying to hurt him but unable to do so. Her eyes were quickly filling with tears as she stared at his sympathetic face.

"I loved Albus, Mollywoddles," he whispered lovingly as he cupped her face. "You know I did but, like you said, he's gone and punishing them isn't going to bring him back!"

Molly sobbed and threw herself at her husband, allowing her tears to fall freely for the first time since they had received the news sixteen days ago. "Arthur," she cried, clutching his ragged shirt in callused hands. She buried his face in his chest and weeped.

Arthur sighed and gently wrapped an arm around his wife's shaking shoulders and drew her close. He whispered soothing words to her as he bit back his own tears.

Albust Dumbledore had been their beacon of hope in the war. Now that he was gone, their only hope for survival rested on the slim shoulders of Harry Potter.

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"Boy!" A bellow sounded from down the stairs, making Harry Potter wince.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" He called back, hoping his voice sounded meek and obedient. He was less likely to get in trouble if he was obedient.

"Petunia told you to weed the garden, boy!" Vernon yelled, glaring at his nephew who stood at the top of the stairs. "Why aren't you doing it?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot." Harry winced as soon as those words were out of his mouth. I forgot was not a good thing to say to his uncle.

"You forgot? You FORGOT? I'll give you something to forget, boy!" Vernon stormed up the stairs, his steps echoing loudly like a elephant's. Vernon grasped Harry by the back of his shirt, shaking him violently for a few moments. It lasted just long enough for Harry to become disorientated and therefore, the teenager did nothing to stop his uncle from dragging him down the stairs and towards the back door. Harry came to his senses just as they approached the door. He contemplated struggling but his uncle was stronger then him and Harry had left his wand in his room. Harry curled himself up as his Uncle practically threw him out of the house via the back door. Harry hit the ground, rolling to defuse some of the impact but it still winded him. He laid on his back, head tilted to the side so he could see his Uncle's furious, purple face.

"You will finish weeding this whole garden before you even think of coming back inside!" The door was slammed and Harry heard a snap as the lock slid into place, keeping him outside. He sighed and drew himself to his knees shakily. He felt weak and dizzy from lack of food.

No, his family was no longer starving him but he could not bring himself to eat. Albus Dumbledore, who was the closest thing to a grandfather Harry had ever had, was gone. Killed by two traitors who did not deserve to even walk on the ground Albus had.

Harry had been so determined at the end of the school year. He was going to find the horcruxes, he was going to save the world and someday, he was going to get the respect he deserved. But the holidays changed that. No letters from Hermione, none from Ron or any of the Weasleys. Nothing. It was like someone was cutting him out of the wizarding world..again. He sent Hedwing with several letters once a week. She always returned with no replies and none of the original letters. Harry knew his friends were receiving them but they were not replying.

He felt so utterly alone.

Harry sighed and stood up, stumbling towards the closet flower bed before sinking to his knees in the dirt. The baggy jeans that used to belong to Dudley had seen worse things then some mud on the knees, so Harry was not fussed. He reached down with shaking hands and grasped what he believed to be a weed. He gave it a sharp tug and winced as he felt spines dig into his palm. He jerked his hand back and stared at the blood which was covering the palm in slow, sluggish drops.

"Shit," Harry cursed, examining it carefully. Several of the plants spines were still embedded in his palm and he carefully plucked them out with blunt fingernails. He tossed the spikes to the ground and gently wiped his palm of his grubby white shirt carefully. A long smudge of blood colored the white t-shirt but Harry didn't care. There was worse stains on his shirt then a little blood.

Harry sighed heavily and, after examining his palm again carefully, reached for another weed with his uninjured hand. It had been more then two weeks since holidays had started and Harry was more then anxious to get out of his relatives house. However, he was not yet seventeen which meant he was still under the protection of his aunt and couldn't leave yet. At least, not without the Order Of The Phoenix's presence.

Like that's going to happen, Harry thought with a frown. He roughly ripped a plant, later noticing it was a flower and not a weed, from the ground in his angry. The Order is probably going to keep me stored away here until they've concocted a battle plan to win the war. I bet they wont even tell me! They'll just thrust me into battle to defeat Voldemort while they carry out their battle plan for the rest of the Death Eaters. That's all I am to them. A way to kill Voldemort. God, I wish I could just kill the bastard already! That way It would all be over and I could become a recluse. Harry smiled at that thought. Yeah, that's what I'm going to do. I'll buy a cabin somewhere no one ever goes and just stay there.

With Ginny? A voice questioned in the back of Harry's mind, making him frown.

Yes..well...no. Ginny likes going out, doing things with other people. I don't think she'd like the life of a recluse all that much. He sighed. Is this what my life is going to be? A constant toss-up between what I want and what other people want? I wish I could just...be normal.

Harry gave a vicious yank at one of Petunia's prize Petunias, pulling out at the roots. He knew exactly what plant it was. He knew that it definitely wasn't a weed but he wanted to hurt something and plants were the natural choice.

Harry couldn't hurt people on purpose. He'd been hurt too many times himself to purposely hurt someone.

Harry sighed when he heard his Aunt shriek from somewhere inside the house, calling for him as if expecting him to get through the locked door and appear in front of her.

Actually, he was sure she did expect that. His Aunt refused to learn anything about magic and believed Harry could do everything and anything he wanted.

If only, he thought getting up. He brushed mud of his knees and began a slow walk back to the house. If only.

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When Draco woke, he was wrapped around Severus. It took several moments for it to click as to where he was and what had happened to them both. Draco gave a sad noise from the back of his throat and gently raised himself up to his knees. He sat back on his heels so he could examine Severus.

Severus laid on his beck, his arms at his side as if he had been hit with a Perfictus Totalus spell. His face was drained of all color, though Draco supposed that was normal. The man's lips were tightly closed, the only sign of him breathing was the gentle flare of his nostrils and the steady rising of his chest. The elder man was covered by the blanket up to his shoulder blades, his arms out and bare. Draco hesitated, wondering if his companion would kill him if he checked his wounds. Draco decided that if Severus hadn't woken up by snuggling, then he wouldn't wake if Draco gently removed the blanket from his chest.

Draco gently moved Severus' arms so he could pull the blanket down. The boy still felt weak but he needed to know the extent of the damage the other had suffered. Draco knew how many times the cruciatas curse had been cast (seven) and for how long each time (roughly ten minutes each time). That alone could send a weak man into a coma that they'd never get out of.

But Severus isn't weak! Draco thought stubbornly. He gently drew the blanket off the other man's chest before instantly wishing he hadn't.

The chest was covered in slowly fading welts that stilled burned red. They were caused by a spell, Draco guessed because no other instrument could make a simple welt last for more then two weeks after casting. There was several bruises on Severus's chest that were faded drastically, having been caused by fists and not wizardry. A cut from Severus' shoulder to the opposite hip caught Draco's eye though. It was red and inflamed. It was going to scar and Draco winced. He gently reached out, hesitating before gently placing a hand over where Severus' heart beat strongest. He was careful not to press down in case he caused the other man pain.

"I-I," Draco whispered hoarsely, staring at the pale and lifeless face. "I'm so-sorry, Sev-Severus." He lowered his face until his blond hair covered his eyes before lying back down beside the man. "So...so sorry."

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When Draco woke next, the first thing he realised was that his throat was no longer raw. The pain which had previously plagued him no longer stung. Perhaps the Shadow had sneaked back into the room to feed him a potion. Draco rather suddenly wished he had not been asleep. He wished he could have talked to the Shadow, asked her why she stopped singing, why she stopped visiting. If Severus had not been gently resting beside Draco, he would have felt horribly alone.

Draco turned on his side so he was facing Severus, his nose pressed against the other mans bare shoulder. Draco sighed, unconsciously breathing in the comforting scent of the person next to him. Clean, crisp smell from the cleaning spells Draco was sure they were both subjected to during sleep but Severus have another smell which clung to him. Draco could no describe it but it was something completely and uniquely Severus.

"S-Severus," Draco whispered, testing his voice. The potion he must have drunk worked wonders. It no longer hurt to talk and, thankfully, his voice was no longer hoarse. It was, however, a tad huskier then normal but Draco was sure it would fade over time. "Severus," Draco repeated for no reason. He liked the way the name rolled of his tongue. In school, he had only ever called the fierce potions master Professor Snape but watching the man sleep quietly beside him, Draco could not force himself to say anything other then Severus.

"You got to wake up soon," Draco said wearily. He looked up at the older man with wide, semi-desperate eyes. "Mother is no longer with us, Father is long since lost. You're all I have left." Draco sighed and wrapped his arms around one of Severus' tightly. "I can't loose you too!"

Draco closed his eyes tight and moved closer to the other warm body. "Remember when I was younger, Mother invited you over and I blackmailed you into playing Tea Party with me?" He asked quietly, eyes still closed. "I was seven. You told me to never tell anyone ever that you'd been blackmailed by a seven year old. I was so proud." He sighed. "I did tell someone though. I told Mother. She laughed for twenty minutes after I told her. I didn't really know what was so funny then, I thought she would just be proud. Of course," Draco smiled and opened his eyes to look at Severus, "Then I discovered that I was the only person to successfully blackmail you since Father did so in your fifth year." Draco sighed and let his eyes drift close again, his lips still twisted upwards in a faint smile. "Oh, do you remember the time when I hit you with chocolate pudding? You were so mad-"

Draco didn't know whether it was because he read somewhere that talking to coma patients helps or simply because he was lonely but he spent a long time talking to the unmoving man. So long that his throat got hoarse again. Draco went through every memory he had, finding ones with Severus in them or with his family as together. He stayed clear of the ones that centred on his mother or father heavily. The grief was too soon for those memories.

Draco talked and talked until he fell asleep, unaware that a shadow stood in the doorway and had been there since half way through his collection of memories.

Draco was too sleepy to notice when the shadow gently closed the door or feel it when the shadow cast a spell, making a blanket fall across him. Draco gave a small sigh and curled up under the blankets with a faint smile.

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"Your Uncle has gone to get food with Dudley," Aunt Petunia announced to Harry, huffing. "Clean the dishes then go clean Dudley's room before they return." She glared at him, though without the usual malice. Harry didn't notice, he was simply staring at the ground. They stood in the kitchen, standing not a metre from one another. It had taken Harry half an hour to get into the house, having had to shimmy through a half open window and hurry to find his Aunt. Petunia hadn't said anything about her nephews ratty appearance and that alone gave her a particularly sour look on her long face.

"Of course, Aunt Petunia," Harry responded quietly. He just didn't have the will to fight them any more. He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, intent on cleaning his cousins room first before starting on the dishes.

Harry didn't see the sigh Petunia gave as she watched him go.

He missed the way her shoulders slumped and she furiously swiped at her eyes to dispel a glossy sheen they had acquired .

He never saw the way she sat at the table and buried her face in her hands as if she too had finally given up and lost the will to fight.

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Authors Note:

Okay, so not much happening in this chapter. It's mostly Character Developement. Hmm and it's short...sorry?

Thank you so much Ali-Chan et Vani-Chan for reviewing. Thank you for the encouragement :gives cookie:

Next chapter is still in Planning Stage so I'm not sure when it will be updated but it will be updated.

If you see any problems (typo's, grammar, random 'the's or 'a's, ect.) then please point them out. I am still without a Beta so all the mistakes are mine :grins sheepishly:

Review m'angels,

-Liaa

(I am still looking for a BETA. If interested, contact me either at my e-mail (on my profile) or Pm (also on my profile) or in a review. Thank you ;3 )