Chapter Three: Home, Horcruxes, and Hysterics

Hearing Draco Malfoy say thank you, had spurred Harry into a very frantic need to find a way home. He knew how desperate their situation was just by those two words, and not to say that he had not appreciated it--it had just, simply, unnerved him. It felt like a death sentence, and Harry wanted to avoid it at all costs.

The chances, of course, of them stumbling upon a wizard's residence were slim to none and as the sun set, Harry became fretful. What if they never found one? What if they were stuck out here? Why couldn't he Apparate???

Feeling desperate Harry made a sharp turn and trudged in that direction for a while. He abruptly found himself standing outside a small residence and knew just by looking at it, that someone magical lived there; the question was what kind of "someone"?

If Harry was lucky, a nice little old witch would live here; if not, it would most likely end up being a Death Eater and in his current state, they were sure to be caught.

Screwing up his courage, Harry stepped forward and walked towards the small lodge. All over the porch were owl droppings and left over mice. Harry spotted a fair amount of empty potions bottles in the window that cast a pretty, opalescent glow. This was a very inviting place.

Harry moved Draco just slightly so he could knock.

He then waited.

Draco had gotten heavy about two hours previous, and it was a struggle to keep his almost-dead-weight up. Dead weight, the thought caused a shiver to run through Harry.

Finally, the door opened and a sweet looking old witch poked her face out.

"Yes?" she asked in a feeble, little voice.

"Er, hi, ma'am. I was wondering: Do you have any Floo powder?"

"Oh, why, yes. I do!" she said excitedly. "I just bought some yesterday. Come in, come in." she said opening the door all the way and letting Harry and Draco in.

She pulled her glasses on and gave the two a once over. She clicked her tongue. "Should have known. Young ones out frolicking never can Apparate back. Why I always keep extra Floo powder handy." She walked towards the mantle and grabbed a jar. "Well, hurry up, you. I think your friend there needs some help. I'm sure his mother will be able to give him a good fixing up once you're home."

She handed the jar to Harry and stepped back, shooing him towards the fire place, which was already lit and crackling merrily. He pulled out a fair amount and threw it into the flames. They grew and turned green and he turned to the witch, nodded and stepped in.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place." Harry said quickly, efficiently, and quietly. He held tight to Draco with both arms and felt the familiar spin as he was sent through the Wizarding World's fireplaces.

Flooing had always been a difficult task for Harry, but never had he done it with a passenger; this, he was sure, should be an impossible feat. As they began to slow, Harry wondered, for a brief moment, how they were going to actually land, when suddenly their grate was up, and they were falling onto the floor of the kitchen in Number twelve Grimmauld Place.
It had caused quite a lot of worry when Harry had not turned up with Ron and Hermione. At first everyone thought Harry had gone off to do something reckless, but Ron and Hermione had put a stop to these suspicions quickly and only proved to worry everyone.

Ginny was upstairs in her own room, which was now heavily guarded and under constant care, but the second she had heard of Harry's disappearance she had come running from the room.

Mrs. Weasley had worried herself sick; Mr. Weasley, if he weren't already lacking so much hair, might have lost a fair few strands. Ron and Hermione had faith in Harry, but all in all, they were fretting terribly.

When the sound of someone arriving from the fireplace alerted the house, everyone rushed into the kitchen as though there were piles of gold within. Everyone spotted Harry, who was on the floor, rolling over onto a large bundle of what appeared to be robes.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "Oh, we were so worried! But we knew you'd be alright! Oh, what happened to you?" she asked as she came around the table to give him a hug.

Ginny was there first and had her arms around him in a vice-like grip to match Draco's.

Speaking of Draco, the blonde was still firmly attached to whatever part of Harry he could reach, which at this point was his back. Harry hadn't even gotten off the floor when Ginny had flung herself at him and no one had noticed Harry's traveling buddy.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted, and a wave of tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "Oh, god, Ginny, it's so good to see you. Are you alright? How are you feeling? I—"

"Harry," she said sternly, placing a finger to his lips to hush him. "I'm fine now; you're here." She smiled at him warmly, and he was grateful for her strength.

He looked around the room at everyone, glad to be back. "Sorry to worry you all. I don't really know what happened—"

"Oh, don't worry, dear. The important thing is you're back and you're safe," Mrs. Weasley assured. "Now, I'm sure you're hungry. I'll whip up something for you."

Harry suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten in almost two days. "Thanks Mrs. Weasley." Then Harry remembered Draco and sat up a bit straighter. The blonde still had his arms around Harry's middle from behind, and somehow no one had noticed. "Erm… Mrs. Weasley, could you make enough for two?"

"For two dear? Why you must be—" She stopped mid-sentence as her eyes fell on Draco. "Oh, my."

Ginny glared at the boy who was still clinging to her ex.

"Let him go." She ordered.

"Ginny—"

"Let him go," she said again. This time however, she accented her point by grabbing Draco's hands and throwing them off of Harry—or rather that's what she tried to do; Draco would not budge. The attack on his person was obviously not a good idea, however, and Harry quickly had to comfort him before he had another episode. The sight made everyone in the room give Harry a painfully confused look.

"Erm, long story short—Malfoy's nutters." Harry tried.

"Excuse me?" Ginny said. She was beyond furious. "You brought him here? How could—Harry, he's dangerous!" She was obviously upset with Draco for her current situation.

"Ginny, he is not. He's frightened, and he needs help. You don't understand—I stumbled upon him and Snape—"

"Snape?"

"He's dead. Any—"

"You killed Snape?"

"What?! God, no! I wouldn't. He was dead when I got there. From the looks of it, and the smell, I think he'd been dead for a good couple weeks."

"And you found Malfoy? You didn't think he'd killed him?"

"He is not in any condition to kill. Trust me."

"Harry, listen, I know that you think people can be—"

"Ginny, please don't. Malfoy is in trouble. He's been around a lot of Dementors for far too long and I think it's best if we just feed him and get him to St. Mungo's. I'd say, by the looks of him, he hasn't eaten since—I don't know, but it's been a long time."

"Harry?

"What?" he snapped, becoming agitated.

"Well, Malfoy is, um…clinging to you. Shouldn't we—"

"No. If you do he might have a panic attack. I swear, I haven't been able to get him to let go of me since last night, except when he didn't expect me to while he was asleep. Ever since I let go of him the first time, he's been clinging on to me for dear life. I don't know what's wrong with him, but it's bad. Really bad; I'm actually really worried."

Harry stood up and Draco followed suit, moving from behind Harry to in front without so much as letting go of the young man. He quickly proceeded to bury his face in Harry's robed chest. Harry let out a sigh and patted the shaken boy's back.

Ron looked utterly disgusted; Ginny looked a very unattractive combination of hurt, angry, and confused; Hermione, and most everyone else, looked worried.

Harry moved to a seat, trying to walk normally but having a hard time of it. Finally, he managed to sit and much to his chagrin, Draco Malfoy sat and curled up in his lap. Harry nearly pushed the Slytherin off of him, but caught himself. He groaned. "Just fucking great—oh, sorry, Mrs. Weasley." He amended.

"It's quite alright, Harry, dear, you just—relax." She said a little strained. She quickly busied herself with making Harry and Draco dinner.

"So, if he's so addled, how do you plan on getting him to eat?" Ginny asked, clearly trying to pick a fight.

"I'll manage," was all Harry said, or had the patience to say.

Ginny huffed and marched from the room; Ron looked ready to follow suit, but Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him into a chair.

"Ron, I know you're upset—, " she began.

"Upset?" Ron said, in an extremely controlled voice that was far more frightening than a shout. "That does not even begin to describe what I am feeling right now." He said, never taking his eyes off Malfoy. "I hope you know," he said, leaning in and addressing Malfoy, "that if it weren't illegal, I would use the Cruciatus curse on you right now—"

The threat registered with everyone in the room, who let out a gasp, but Harry was the one who had to brace himself as he felt Draco tense in his arms and begin to whimper. Draco buried his face deeper in Harry's chest, as though trying to burrow to safety.

"Ron," Harry said. "Fuck!" He accidentally shouted, unnerving Draco even more, who began to silently cry. "Oh, god," Harry bemoaned. "It's alright, Malfoy, just calm down." He really didn't have the energy for this. Not tonight.

"Harry, I realize that you think everyone has some good in them, or some hero bull shit like that, but this is Draco Malfoy and I couldn't give a rat's arse about him. It's just too bad the Dementors didn't kiss him when they had the chance."

That statement sent a chill through the room and Ron suddenly looked sick with himself, regretting the statement. However, no one regretted it as much as Harry who waited for Draco's response with bated breath.

At first, all appeared fine, but then Draco broke.

Sobs issued from the boy like nothing Harry had yet seen, and he was shaking so violently that Harry had to wrap his arms around him. His whimpering turned into pleading moans.

"Oh, no… no more… please…gods…make it stop….." he sobbed. "J-just kill me… don't let them come… back… no mo—more… can't take….. So dark…" Draco looked up suddenly, right into Harry's eyes and for a moment Harry was sure the boy could see him. "Help me." And a moment later he passed out in Harry's arms, though his grip did not slacken.

Draco Malfoy had begun to feel sick, as an odd spinning sensation took over his body, launching him to someplace unknown. He soon felt the spinning sensation slow and prepared for the pain that usually followed after falling hard. He did not feel anything, however, and he suddenly knew that his protector had once again done something amazingly kind for Draco: he had taken the full force of the fall.

He still had not let go of the welcome presence; he would not let go of it, no matter what. Then something was trying to pry him away from the presence, —who would do such a thing? —trying to take him away from the safety and warmth that was promised to him.

After what felt like an age, Draco won out and he tried to burrow deeper into the security that had been given to him. He felt an overpowering sense of negativity wash over him; an overwhelming sense of foreboding pushed against his body, making him uncomfortable and frightened. Different things moved beyond in the darkness: things that wanted to take him away from the safety and warmth offered by the presence, things that wanted to hurt him. No, they weren't going to win; the presence would not allow it.

Draco suddenly felt a shift, and he was sure that if he had a body, he would be sitting down. He felt the aura of the presence surround him, and he was glad for it; enveloped in safety and warmth, nothing could hurt him; nothing could get through to him, because the protection would not waver. Then an ominous force was thrown at him and he felt suffocated. He was being threatened by something, and he tried to find a way to hide—perhaps the presence could swallow him whole; blanket him in it and keep the threatening force from getting to him. Then the force gave an almighty push and he felt breath escape him. He became suddenly aware of his body and his breathing; he became aware of another body, a warm body, arms wrapped around him and a chest, breathing slowly and steadily; fabric covered him and the body he was in contact with; then the world came into blurry focus and he looked up. Green eyes met his and he suddenly heard someone speaking; no he heard himself speaking.

The last thing Draco heard as darkness took him was the only thing to make sense in his warped mind: "Help me."

Harry had been unable to get rid of Draco Malfoy; Draco Malfoy refused pointblank to let the other boy go. Not to say Harry didn't want to help, he did, very much, but he had never been this close to another boy before and the thought of being this close to Draco Malfoy for such a long period of time was grating his nerves down to a fine thin line, ready to snap.

Ron and Ginny had been furious enough at Harry's apparent audacity. Bringing Draco Malfoy back with him seemed an unthinkable, unforgivable act. Still Harry could do nothing about it, and it irked him that two people, who knew how important they were to him, would be so close-minded.

A St. Mungo's official had been dispatched to Grimmauld Place shortly after Draco had passed out. The official was not exactly a healer, more like the wizard equivalent to a nurse. The mediwizard performed a series of tests on Draco, the expression plastered on the young man's face changing so drastically, as he worked, that Harry thought he'd be sick.

Finally, his face had set in a strange mixture of worry and astonishment, and he had left only staying long enough to let Harry know that a team of healers would be sent to help as soon as possible.

Clearly, the news was not good.

So, Harry sat, and waited. He was uncomfortable, to say the least, but he managed. Draco's weight no longer bothered him; Draco's constant clinging was not such a nuisance; Draco's constant whimpering only further provoked Harry's need to help him.

In a few short minutes Harry was once again playing host to a variety of magical medical experts, who piled into his and Ron's room. Harry stared at the large group, feeling suddenly nervous and tense. Harry noted that each seemed to be upper level Healers with special training. He looked from one shiny St. Mungo's name tag to another, taking in names and statuses.

"Mr. Potter," spoke the first healer. The name tag on the man was gold and the name itself was brilliantly glowing. "I am Healer Witherweigh; I specialize in Dementor addled patients. These are my colleagues. Healer Deespaer, who specializes in The Kiss; Healer Mellonichick, who specializes in The Affected Memories; Healer Sarowh, who specializes in—" he cleared his throat suddenly looking uncomfortable. "The more uncommon affectation of Dementors: The Soul's Rape."

A collective shiver ran through the group at these words; Harry merely stared dumbfounded, though his body shook slightly—it did not sound pleasant.

"Wh-what is that?"

"I beg your pardon?" the man asked.

"Soul's Rape? What the hell is that? It's—" Harry shivered, stopping in his question unable to find the strength to speak.

"You've never heard of it?" Healer Sarowh asked; the woman did not look pleased at having to go into detail. "Well, then allow me to explain." She breathed in deeply and withdrew her wand, taking a step forward.

Draco's reaction was almost instant; he shivered, whimpered and burrowed his face into Harry, his hands gripping Harry's robes in a desperate attempt to stay attached; to not be torn away.

The woman sighed. "It's as I feared. From the description I was given by Mrs. Weasley, I deduced that Mr. Malfoy here was not experiencing some of the more common effects of Dementors. The Soul's Rape is rare, Mr. Potter. There are only about twelve other known cases of this—er, phenomenon. In every other case the victims suffered endlessly and died within a year to a year and a half; unfortunately they were not lucky enough to die with their souls intact." She paused to analyze Draco, stepping just a bit closer. She seemed to understand the severity of it all—this clear in her position—and was able to slowly approach without him over reacting. "Now," she continued, moving her wand slowly over Draco's body. "I wasn't quite sure what to make of Mr. Malfoy's sudden desire to latch onto you, Mr. Potter. In all my studies I have never heard of a victim of the Soul's Rape ever recovering, or even acknowledging other people—even family and friends who tried to keep them safe. Mr. Malfoy is probably unaware of what is happening to him, though from what I can gather, it appears he recognizes you as someone trustworthy and someone who would protect him.

"Mr. Potter, you of course, understand what Dementors can do, yes?" She waited for his nod. "As I thought. Well, the extent of the damage they cause is actually lost on many. A Dementor's worst weapon is not the Kiss, though that is it's second. The worst thing anyone can ever experience is the Soul's Rape. Similar to the Dementor's Kiss, Soul's Rape is the hollowing out of a human's body—in essence, their soul is sucked from their physical vessel, the body. However, this is a far cry from the quick and painless Kiss.

"Dementors have the ability to—how should I say this?—prolong the process and worsen it. It's like being stuck with hundreds of Dementors, feeling what they would normally do to one, while they steal one's soul. The soul's natural inclination is to exist within one's body as a whole. Soul's Rape, slowly but surely, rips the soul from the vessel, piece by tiny piece. This process can take up to a year. The longest ever experienced lasted about a year and two months—shortly after the last remnant of the soul left the body, the person died."

The woman paused in her speech to glance at Harry and Draco. She looked so crisp and proper; her stoic features and clipped tones made it almost impossible for Harry to like her, but when she gave him that look, her eyes shinning with something akin to sympathy and pain, Harry just looked away, casting his eyes downward, where they fell on the white-blonde head of his new charge.

"Mr. Potter, what is happening to Draco Malfoy, has not happened since the last time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reigned. It is most likely that the Dementors are acting on his behalf; to prolong such an experience is nothing short of heartless."

She reached into her robes at this point and withdrew a large bar of chocolate, which she handed carefully to Harry, who broke a piece off and put it to Draco's lips.

Draco must have known what was happening, why the chocolate was being given to him and he took the chocolate from Harry's fingers as though he were a frenzied, starving canine, accidentally biting Harry in the process.

Harry couldn't care too much about his slightly bleeding finger; the news was too much to take all at once. Draco Malfoy was now placing all his hope in Harry? For what? It made no sense—then again the woman hadn't really finished her speech, had she? Harry broke another piece off and gave it to Draco. Healer Sarowh again graced the boys with The Look before stepping back a safe distance in case her closeness agitated Draco.

"Mr. Potter, do you know the importance of your effect on Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head.

"As I thought." She smiled this time, though why, Harry could not guess, since the news was so mind bogglingly dreadful. All Harry wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. "Well, Mr. Potter, it allows us a faint glimmer of hope; you see, if Mr. Malfoy is physically clinging to you, then so is his soul—though why none can be sure—which means that his soul is fighting harder to stay within his body. There may be hope to save the last remnants of his soul—however large that is—and possibly restore him to full health."

Harry looked up at the woman, having been watching Draco as she went on with her speech. Draco was going to die? He was going to be hollowed out, and then left to die? How could this be? Why would anyone want such a terrible thing? Harry had thought he'd hated Dementors, had thought he feared them before now, but at this juncture, this sudden fork in the already long, winding, rocky road, he decided that his new feelings towards them surpassed his old ones in just how hateful he found them.

"So, what you're saying is: I might be able to save Draco Malfoy?"

"Precisely. I have been working on some theories, (which is what I do mostly, since this is such a rare occurrence), on how to heal or restore after Soul's Rape." She paused. "I will have to return to St. Mungo's for a time to work further on these theories, along with my team, but if it is acceptable, I would like to bring my top Healers and researchers here to stay for a time. I'll keep the number as small as possible, but I want to bring the work to Mr. Malfoy and yourself; this way it does not interfere with you or him and we can work on his condition."

Harry nodded mutely. "O-of course." He finally managed.

"Good." She smiled again, suddenly giving Harry a bit of hope. "I cannot impress upon you enough just how serious this is, Mr. Potter; your generosity and good will may just save his life. Mr. Malfoy is lucky to have you."

Harry was again unable to say anything and merely closed his eyes, nodding.

"We will leave you for now, Mr. Potter. I dare-say you are exhausted and the two of you need to eat. You should also eat some chocolate, but make sure Mr. Malfoy gets the most of it. I will see you again, perhaps in three days? Is that alright?"

"Yes," Harry breathed, his response barely audible.

Healer Sarowh nodded and the group departed, closing the door softly.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy--" Harry began, breaking off another piece of chocolate. Suddenly, as Draco's lips tentatively closed over Harry's fingers to take the piece from Harry, his teeth gently grazing Harry's thumb and index, the young wizard snapped. "Fuck!" he said, gritting his teeth and pulling the chocolate away from Draco.

Draco, as Harry should have expected, tensed and whimpered. He almost seemed to shy away from Harry, but Harry noted that he did not.

"Bugger," Harry cursed. "Sod this all to bleeding hell!"

Draco whimpered again; Harry scoffed in response, but his anger was cooled as he watched Draco, whose body had begun to shake in the wake of Harry's agitation.

"Oh, bloody fuck—it's alright, Malfoy," he said, though his tone of voice would certainly not have put a crying baby at ease, much less a so severely traumatized young man. Harry let out a sigh as his attempt to calm Draco proved pointless. "Alright, alright, I—I'm sorry."

A whimper escaped Draco, but then he spoke. "Wh—what did I do? Is something wrong? What's happening?" he asked in a meek and fearful voice, his eyes fluttering open to search the darkness that suffocated him. His pleading eyes were shining with the threat of tears, and Harry's anger abated entirely.

"Shh, no it's nothing you did. I'm just frustrated and—tired. But the good news is, I know what's happening to you, and I think that we can make you better…" Harry said, the hope in his voice causing it to go up a notch higher in pitch.

"Better?" Draco asked. "You mean… I—I will be able to—see and…You're going to save me? I won't have to stay like his forever? I won't die here?"

A tear escaped Draco, yet the hopeful smile on his face was what really broke Harry. He tried to smile, knowing that he couldn't make any promises, knowing that he might not be able to keep them, but oh, how he wished he could. His smile was crooked and strained, and it was just a good thing Draco was blind. Harry's voice shook as he spoke, "Yes, I'll save you. Y—you're not going—to die…"

For the rest of the night Harry sat feeding Draco chocolate; he sat with the boy in his arms, bringing chocolate to the now peaceful and, unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, happy boy, until he was too exhausted to lift his arms, and soon he lay down and fell asleep, Draco contentedly curled up against him, his face buried in the hollow of Harry's neck.

The next morning Harry was awoken by an empty feeling in his stomach. He grumbled as he made to get up, only to find that Draco was still firmly in place. His breath ghosted over Harry's neck, causing gooseflesh to break out.

Harry shivered and managed to lift them both up into a sitting position, but he still needed to actually get up, and if Draco was asleep he would be unsuccessful. He gently shook the boy, whose eyes were fluttering as though he were dreaming and whispered softly, "Wake up."

Draco stirred a bit; his eyes stopped their insistent movement, and finally they slowly opened to search that bleak darkness.

"Ar—are you there?" he asked, a note of panic rising in his voice.

"Of course, I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Draco visibly relaxed and let out a sigh. "Thank you," he breathed into Harry's neck, moving in to the warmth of flesh and protection.

"D-don't mention it." Harry said, feeling his face flush. "Well, are you hungry? It's time for breakfast."

Draco nodded, but made no move to get up; he merely curled his body against Harry's in a tight ball, not willing to move, almost begging Harry to pick him up.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do I have to carry you?" he asked, his voice noticeably teasing; there was no scorn in the remark.

Draco smiled, taking Harry by surprise. "Carry me?" he asked, as though this were some amusing joke. "I didn't realize bodiless entities could carry other bodiless entities."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Obviously Draco was trying to make light of his—their—situation, by joking. "Erm…. Malfoy, you have a body and so do I." Harry said feeling worried.

Draco furrowed his brow. "I—I have a body? But I can't feel it…"

Harry's heart nearly stopped. He shook himself from this shock induced stupor and made a note to tell Healer Sarowh of this when she returned. "It's alright, you have one, and I'm here. I'll just carry you then," Harry finally said, resigned to his fate; Draco really couldn't help it if he was in need and Harry just happened to be the only one able, or rather, willing to care for him.

Harry found, to his dismay, that Draco Malfoy was lighter when he wasn't dragging himself as though dead. In his arms, Draco was not such a heavy burden, which made it easy for Harry to descend the stairs without hindrance.

Arriving in the kitchen, Harry found that he was the only one there, although food was ready and waiting, a charm placed on everything to keep it warm and fresh.

"Erm…" Harry started, realizing how difficult it would be to make plates for the two of them while carrying the blonde. "Can I set you down for a moment?"

Draco clearly didn't like this, as his immediate reaction was to tighten his grip around Harry and mumble incoherently, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright, it's okay, I won't let you go. I'll just—erm…" Harry paused to think, then sat down, with Draco, once again, in his lap. "Use magic," he finally answered, pulling his wand from his robes pocket.

"M-magic?" Draco questioned. "Y—you can do magic?"

Harry blanched. Draco Malfoy didn't know about magic? Suddenly, the entire situation seemed worse. "Of course I can. And, might I add, so can you."

"I—I can…?" Draco said sounding quite skeptical.

Harry raised his wand and began making them one large plate that was overflowing with food by the time he had finished. He angled his wand, and the plate slowly dropped to rest in front of him and Malfoy.

"So, what do you prefer? Bacon or sausage?"

Draco did not get to answer, however, for right at that moment, the door burst open, colliding with the wall, a loud bang resonating around the room, causing Draco to shrink into Harry and tremble. On the other side, Ginny Weasley stood looking furious.

Harry felt suddenly over-protective, and shielded Draco from her wrath, fixing her with a glare to rival even Voldemort's.

"So you're feeding him now, are you? Feeding him our food! The food my mum made for us!?" she shouted. Draco began to whimper. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Ginny." Harry warned.

She turned her blazing gaze on him, trying her best to intimidate, but he was not Harry Potter for nothing. He shot her an equally heated death glare, before trying to calm Draco.

"Shh, don't worry—"

"Wha—what's go—ing on? Why was the—what is it?" he whimpered, tears beginning to fall.

"It's nothing, just a—" Harry glanced up at Ginny and his eyes hardened. "It's nothing."

Ginny bristled. "How dare you, Harry?!"

"How dare I?" Harry asked a dangerous edge to his voice. "Really now? How dare I?" His voice steadily began rising, and Ginny, despite herself, backed away a bit. "Ginny, what is wrong with you? What kind of—god, I can't believe you. He's in trouble, Ginny. You want me to what? Throw him out? Let him die? Do you even know what's happening to him?"

Ginny shook her head.

"No you don't, and you shouldn't—"

A sob stopped Harry's tirade as Ginny's eyes watered. "Harry, how can you be like this? What about me? I'm your bloody—" she broke off, catching herself. "I was your sodding girlfriend! Your girlfriend! Doesn't that mean—Harry, what about me? I'm a Horcrux… I have a piece of V-V—Vo—" she paused, trying to find her strength. "Voldemort's soul in me. Inside of me, Harry. I've been violated and I'm being used. I can't stop it—I don't know what to do and you—you're worrying about Draco bloody Malfoy? How dare you? I'm a Horcrux! A HORCRUX! Do I need to spell it out for you? Voldemort is using me and inside of me—his soul is in me, mixing with mine, tainting it and—"

"Ginny," Harry spoke, his voice soft and measured. "I—I know. I know and it hurts me too, but I can't do anything about it. The only way I could bring you peace, as far as I know, would be to kill you, and I can't do that. There are Healer's here working on your condition, and I know Hermione is helping; she's smart like that. I'm not though. I can't do anything for you, Ginny. I can't be there to fight your demons because I—"

"You've got some stupid hero's mission, and you think that maybe if you save Draco Malfoy he'll be redeemed." The contempt in Ginny's voice was like ice. "Harry, he's past saving. He tried to kill Dumbledore, let Death Eaters into our school, sent a crazed werewolf into our school! And you just sit here and act like it's nothing. How?"

"You weren't there." Harry said, his voice shaking. "Come to think of it, you never really were. You were there at the Department of Mysteries, but that's all. You weren't there for anything else. Hell, you weren't even there when I fought to save your life, while Tom Riddle tried to kill you and me! You were unconscious and nearly dead, and if I recall, it was your own damn fault! I am sorry—beyond—that you now have a piece of Voldemort inside of you; mingling with your essence and if you think I can't be arsed to care, then you are sorely mistaken. But guess what? You're not the only one. Dementors are stealing Draco's soul, piece by tiny piece; shredding it and taking it apart slowly but surely; he won't even have a soul when they get through with him."

A thick silence followed his words, and as much as Harry hoped his words had gotten through to Ginny, he knew he was asking too much.

"Draco? Draco? You just called him—"

"Ginny, get out."

"What? NO! I will not! Look at you! Holding him, coddling him—feeding him! He's in your lap, in your bed—god, it's disgusting! You don't care about me; you care about your sick little boyfriend, who no one else cares about! No one else is as deluded as you; no one else wastes their time!"

"Ginny, I already told you: Get. Out." Harry's words were dangerously low and deathly cold.

Ginny held her head high, not moving. "You are so selfish."

"Fuck you." Harry said, electricity suddenly crackling in the tension filled air. "Selfish? Right, that's why I dragged my arse through countless dangers my first year at Hogwarts when I was eleven, because you know, I was trying to stop Voldemort getting the Philosopher's Stone—not because I wanted to save everyone—oh, no! Heaven forbid! No I clearly wanted it for myself! Oh, bad Harry. And let's not forget my saving my godfather from Azkaban and Dementors and trying to bring the rightful killer to justice! God, how selfish of me!

"Oh and here's a really good one for you: When I was fourteen, how I was too selfish to take the TriWizard cup all for myself, no, I had to share the glory!" He let out a bitter laugh. "And then I went off, gallivanting to the Ministry to save my Godfather—or so I thought—again, because I was so selfish! Oh, and let's not forget the most recent events where I displayed how selfish I am. Like how I had to learn all sorts of things about Voldemort, so that when the time comes, I can save this bloody world! Or how I had to—on Dumbledore's orders—feed him a potion to get to a piece of Voldemort's soul—oh, but I wasn't really going to destroy that bit, I was going to put it someplace safe—because you know how easy it is for people to break in to Inferi infested lakes!"

Harry paused in his rant for a moment to breath, but he was not finished yet.

"But don't worry, Ginny, I've saved the best for last. After all, how could I forget my second year—god, I was probably the most selfish back then— when I went down into the Chamber of Secrets to save my best friend's little sister, a girl I hardly knew, because she had been taken. I fought a Basilisk with a bloody hat, a phoenix, and finally a sword—yet I still managed to get a fang shoved in my arm. I nearly died trying to save you; you who were born into a Wizarding family, who knew about books like that, yet you were too young and full of woe to think of the consequences and nearly got yourself, countless other students, Hermione, Ron, and myself killed, and ha! selfish me, I stopped it all. Gee, Harry, you should feel so ashamed of yourself." Harry fixed her with a withering look before finally saying, "I hope you're happy, I've mended my ways—I'll never be so selfish again. So, then does that mean I don't have to fight Voldemort? Can I throw in the towel?"

Ginny stared at Harry, shock and hurt written on her face, but now she was right, he really couldn't be arsed to care.

"Oh, but wait, I almost forgot! I can't. I can't throw in the towel! I can't be selfish this once, because there was a prophecy and either way one of us has to die and--" Harry paused again, trying to reign in his mounting emotion. "I have to be Harry fucking Potter and save this forsaken place, whether I want to or not. I never actually got to choose that part of my fate, but I will be damned if I let it destroy me or my friends."

Ginny laughed a fearful laugh at this. "S—so he's your friend now? Is he?"

Harry, who had actually forgotten Draco sitting in his arms, looked down. Sure enough, Draco was cowering in the wake of Harry's anger; his lips were moving ceaselessly and he was trembling and sweating, pawing at Harry to try and get his attention, or find that much needed peace: He found only anger.

But this was a sobering image and Harry let out a sigh, running a reassuring hand over Draco's arm. "I don't know, but he needs me, Ginny. He needs me a lot more than you do. I'm all he has and I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I let him die--- no one deserves that Ginny. No one. Of all people, I would think you would understand."

"What?"

"Ginny, you said that Voldemort is inside of you, mingling and tainting your soul—Dementors are inside him, most likely on Voldemort's orders—mingling and tainting and stealing his soul. He isn't the same Draco Malfoy. He's just as in need as you and he's frightened, and damn it Ginny, unless you're blind, I don't know how you can't see this."

"It's Malfoy—"

"So what? He won't even be Malfoy if we let this go on. Ginny, no one deserves this, and if you really can't even try to care, even a little bit, then you're not as great a person as I thought you were."

Harry stood, casting a quick levitation spell on the plate of food, Draco in his arms, and headed for the door.

"Harry, please—"

"No, Ginny. There is no pleading in this. I've made my decision; I'm helping Draco and once we get him back, I am helping you, and killing the creature that started this whole mess. If I loose you, as a friend, I regret it, but maybe you'll come around some day. I will not loose you any other way—but, if that does happen, I'm sorry that you can't look past your issues and see what someone else is going through, and I'm sorry that we stopped being friends. I love you, Ginny. Although, I am starting to question it, I still love you. I just think—" he sighed. "If you still think that we have a future together, you are wrong, and you just showed me why."

With that Harry left, carrying Draco and returning to the safety of his room.