A/N: Okay, I have to really apologize for this one, guys. It's not the best piece of writing I've done but I guess it works. Putting more background to the characters and all that great stuff. I'm not going to be getting the next chapter up this week, or next week most likely, because I have a horse show that I'm going to be competing in.

It had been almost three weeks since Mathew started his third complete term at Hogwarts, going into Fifth year for his third time. Technically, it was night. Most likely a little after midnight, his English part was still a bit rusty though and the exact time escaped the reaches of his mind.

He hadn't been able to sleep any later than that since he entered the castle. Too many memories had been brought up by coming back into the stone walls, too many flashes of scenes that had already happened.

It was just adding to the insanity he had locked up in his mind, making it more and more difficult to keep the walls there.

This time when he stumbled down the shadowed hall, still trying to push the nightmarish memories to the back of his mind, there was something off. Mathew might have noticed it if he wasn't still replaying that scene, fires burning and flesh smoking and people screaming and HE had promised they would never do that, over and over in his mind.

As it was, he didn't realize that Draco was behind him until the boy spoke.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

It had started when he was sleeping, when all the troops were sleeping, and they couldn't stop it. They couldn't even get near the capital, let alone stop the American troops that were ravishing it.

Letting out a soft yelping noise, Mathew spun around. Without looking at who was there or even thinking about what he was doing, the Northern nation slammed Draco against the stone walls of the hallway. One hand clutched at the pale skinned boys shoulder, nails digging in painfully, and the other pressed against his neck; in the glow of the torches the thick mass of callouses littering the nation's almost painfully thin hands were clear.

"Ngh-" Draco let out a pathetic sort of whine, grey-blue eyes wide in something that was just bordering panic.

With a start, and a horrible stinging welling up in his chest as the haze over his mind started to clear, Mathew pulled away from Draco. The blond's hands flew to his neck, rubbing the no-doubt sore skin there. "Mon Dieu! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Draco, I didn't mean to!"

The stinging in his chest was getting worse now, as his housemate stared at him with distrust stirring at the edges of still-stunned features, and one of Mathew's hands fluttered to clutch at the dark green fabric there. He could feel his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, thudding quicker than it should and not slowing down.

Eyes just a shade lighter than his own, pinning him against the wall. Stones dug into Mathew's back, pushing harder into the wounds that were already there and ripping the flesh further apart, the crimson liqued spilling out of his skin and staining his uniform. Those eyes didn't trust him, and that was fine, really, because Mathew didn't trust them anymore.

"I'm sorry, Mattie, but you made me do this."

"Y-you just scared me..." Mathew whispered, a slight tremor to his words that hadn't been there since he entered Hogwarts.

Another moment a painful silence passed, in which Mathew just stared out at Draco with a gaze that was quickly becoming blank, before the blond Slytherin managed to gather himself. Clearing his throat, he smoothed down the front of his night-shirt, and nodded at Mathew. "It's fine, I guess. Just don't make a habit of it, here me?"

Mathew could feel the relief just wash over him. "O-of course not. Again, Draco, I'm really sorry." He paused to swipe the back of his hand across his forehead. "D-did you need something?"

The pale blond rolled his eyes, hands folding neatly behind his back. "I wanted to know what you were doing up."

"Oh." Mathew blinked. "I was just..."

He was just trying to protect his own country, Mathew told himself. He had to make sure that Alfred knew he wasn't one to be trampled upon. That his people weren't ones to stand by while their families died. That Alfred wasn't always right. Those thoughts repeated themselves, over and over and over in his mind, as he swiped the match and let it fall; red and orange and black quickly over taking white.

There it was again, that awful haze making its way over his mind again. Trying to keep his mind from working properly and to live like he was in the past. Mathew shook his head to try and shake away the feeling and forced a shaky smile on his face; plastered it there to help keep away the memories. "I just couldn't sleep. A lot of things to think about. I'm sure you understand, right Draco? I didn't mean to-to wake you."

Because he would, Mathew reasoned, be the only one in the school that could possibly understand despite the fact that the look suddenly on the other Slytherin's face said otherwise.