DRACO'S POV:

I sighed, my heart still pounding. Pott-I mean, Harry reacted to my memory better than I thought. I wouldn't have been suprised if he bolted from the room. I would have if I was him, which made me even more wary of his mind-melding idea. What has he seen that made the murder of a little girl bearable? What has happened to him to make him so damaged? So desperate to help me?

The sight of his cousin, then his uncle beating him made me shift my view on the Boy-Who-(Miraculously)-Lived. He wasn't the worshipped, idolized pretty boy I thought he was in first year. My father swore that he was raised in a world of silk sheets and endless spoils, not unlike myself. I walked into Hogwarts picturing a proud young hero, but instead, I was turned down by a skinny beggar-looking boy. I could tell by his tattered, oversized clothes alone that something was off. It was the first time in my life since Issy died that I didn't know what to think. That the trust in my family faltered. Watching Harry grow up only made the feeling worsen, which only made me that much angrier. Who does he think he is? I remembered thinking. What makes him think he can just walk in here and make me hate my own side? Fourth year had been the worst. That dumbass Barty Crouch had to trick Harry into bringing Snake-Face back. I remember having to leave the maze when he came back with Diggory's body. Those tears on Harry's face. How desperately he was begging people to listen to him. Pleading with Diggory's father to forgive him...fighting off anyone who tried to drag him away. I, at first, thought that the sight was disgusting, but looking back now, it wasn't Harry that I was disgusted with. I was in fear for myself. If the Dark Lord was back, that would mean one day, he will make it my mission to bring those tears back. To make Harry scream in agony. Possibly, to make Harry beg to be...Even now, I can't finish the thought.

"Draco," Harry's voice pulled me back to reality. His wide bright eyes were concerned. "You want to give it another try?"

"Yeah." I straightened my robes. Harry went back to kneeling on the floor. Harry on his knees sent a whole mirage of crude images through my head. I shook it off and raised my wand. "Are you ready?" Harry nodded, biting his lips to stay silent. He was hesitant. After the first try, I don't blame him. I took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Legilimens."

Harry's mind rushed at me so suddenly I felt my knees give out from under me. Sounds and colors sped past like a stampede of ghosts. In the distance, I heard him cry out. I tumbled into a memory of King's Cross Station.

Harry looked like he did in first year, pushing a cart full of luggage and a cage with a large snowy owl, with the price tag still attatched. He was looking around the muggles' station with large, round eyes as if he was lost. He still felt embarrassed from being blown off by that muggle guard. 9 and 3/4, he thought. He had to find Platform 9 and 3/4. Harry's head whipped around when he heard a red-haired woman use the word 'muggle'. He waited until they passed to follow them, but he rushed up to them when they stopped. He hesitated when he saw the older boys run through the column in between the numbers nine and ten. When he saw that the others were next, he sprung into action. "Excuse me!" he called. The red-headed family turned and the dark-haired boy cowered under their gaze. "C-could you show me how to...to...?" He gestured blankly to the wall. The woman laughed merrily. "How to get on the platform?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Oh, dear, it's easy." She pointed to the wall, "You just walk straight at the wall between the platforms nine and ten. I suggest making it a run if you're nervous." She smiled warmly. "Ron, Ginny, come on then." The lady patted Harry's shoulder and urged him forward. "Go along, dear. We'll be right behind you." Harry faced the wall and took a deep breath before charging forward. He shut his eyes tightly as the wall swallowed him and he was thrust onto Platform 9 and 3/4. He stared in amazement at the numbers of witches and wizards bustling around him. The large scarlet train sitting there was enough to take his breath away. He felt a surge of bliss as the realization hit him that this was real. This is really happening.

The memory faded. He could feel echoes of that happiness in himself and in Harry. That was the first adult I met other than Hagrid that was kind to me for no reason, Harry thought. Before I met them, I was prepared to die in the life I had. Every punch in the face, every kick in my ribs, every single time I was pushed down the stairs, I prayed that they took it one too far. Becoming a wizard saved my life, only to put me in the hands of another sadistic maniac. A memory of Hogwarts came forward, but this one was darker.

The forest in first year, Harry and an eleven-year-old Draco were walking through the trees stopping when they came up on a hooded figure and the body of a unicorn. The blond haired boy ran screaming for help while the other boy stayed behind. As the hooded figure came towards him, the boy collapsed in pain, holding his forehead. First year is when I learned how to tell if Voldemort is near me, his voice continued, My scar burns when he's near.

So that was the Dark Lord? The question was answered by another memory coming into focus. Harry was standing at a mirror in a dungeon at Hogwarts. Professor Quirrel stood behind him, glaring at the boy. "Where is the stone?" he spat. Harry's reflection took a stone out of his pocket, winking at the real Harry, and put it back. Professor Quirrel didn't seem to notice, even when Harry found that the real stone was suddenly in his pocket. The memory sped until the room was enveloped in flames. Harry's scar was in agony. He fought to stay standing as the professor, now with two conjoined heads, stood in the center of the room. The man was demanding the stone, promising Harry his mother and father. Harry, for a single dark moment, held the stone in his hand, ready to give it up. Then he gripped it hard, shouting "Never!" "Kill him!" The second head roared. Harry was suddenly pinned to the steps and Professor Quirrel's hand was crushing his windpipe. Harry's blood rushed through his ears with a dull roar as he reached as far as he could to get the stone.

I was thrown out of the memory and before I could right myself, I was yanked into another.

It was dark, cold, and wet down here. A twelve-year-old Harry held his wand in shaking hands as he approached huge stone head at the end of the room. There was a body lying on the ground. Harry prayed that the girl was okay. The way her red hair fanned out around her head, there was no way to tell if there was blood. There was also an older boy, tall and slender with curly hair. He was an okay-looking guy, until Harry noticed his cold, lifeless eyes. He wrote out the name 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in flames before rearranging them into 'I Am Lord Voldemort'. The image blurred into a gigantic snake, a basilisk, chasing Harry down the long room. Harry's eyes kept going back to the little girl unconscious on the ground. He had to save her. Let him die if that means saving her. Harry tripped. He quickly covered his face in case the basilisk came face to face with him. He heard a musical shrill and a roar. When he looked up, Fawkes, the pheonix, had clawed out the giant snake's eyes. When the memory shifted, he was back at the head of the room, crawling to the little Weasley girl. Harry fought the agony in his arm as he went to Ginny, ignoring Voldemort standing inches away from him. The taller man laughed at Harry. He managed to kill the basilisk, but only impaling his arm on the beast's fang in the process. Harry could feel the venom like liquid fire through his veins and his vision was fading fast. He took the small book from the red-haired girl and stabbed it with the fang he pulled from his own arm. If he was going to die here, Voldemort's apparition was going with him.

I ended the spell with a gasp from both of us. Harry was curled on the floor again, holding the very arm that he injured years ago. "Can I see?" I heard myself ask. His eyes found mine. They were red and swollen. Tears were still drying on his cheeks. "How many times since you came to Hogwarts have you been prepared to die?" He laughed bitterly.

"A few times each year. I thought last year would definitely be my last."

"Tell me." I said, not wanting to go back into his head. If the years after second year were any worse, the memories would make me go mad. I especially didn't want to see Diggory die. Seeing Harry in that kind of grief, I was sure the memory would leave me catatonic.

"In fifth year, I started seeing Voldemort in my dreams. He was sending me visions of people he killed, tortured, and," he took a deep breath, "nearly killed. I knew I needed help when I saw him nearly kill Ron's dad. Snape and I started our Occumenlcy lessons. Needless to say, I suck at it."

"I would think so. You're more transparent than a window." His glare was met with a smirk. "Plus," I added. "Gryffindors are known for their cluttered heads."

"Not helping, Draco. You remember that day when Fred and George tore up the school before leaving?" I nodded. "Well, during the chaos, I collapsed."

"I think I remember that." He gave me a nod.

"Voldemort sent me a vision of my godfather being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Hermoine tried to get me to stay at Hogwarts, saying the vision was a fake." He yanked his glasses off and held them in clenched fists. The frames squeaked as they were bent. "If I had just stopped and listened to her. If I had took a minute to think instead of flying off the fucking handle!" In a blink, he was up and across the room. I stayed where I was, not knowing how to react. He stood with his back to me trembling. He suddenly lunged at the wall, punching it with a wordless yell. I rushed over to him. He hit the floor with a thud as I kneeled beside him.

"Harry?" He shook his head.

"He wasn't there. Voldemort tricked me and I fell for it. I went there, dragging my friends and what was left of my family into danger. It got Sirius killed, Draco." I fought the urge to cry out when he grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "He didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve any of this. Everything that has happened to him was because of me." He released me and walked away. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he spoke. "Voldemort kept saying that we were the same, that I would be just like him."

"No!" I said, suprising us both. He waited for me to finish with his arms crossed, one hand fidgeting with his crooked glasses. "I've seen him, Harry. I've seen what he can do. What he enjoys to do. You are nothing like him. He would have never hopped on a broom, which he has never flown, to chase after some kid's toy. He would have never gone through the trouble of brewing Polyjuice potion just to spend twenty minutes interrogating me in the Slytherin common room."

"How did you know?" He exclaimed.

"Harry, Crabbe was sprouting red hair, Goyle wore glasses, Granger was a cat the next day, and they all had no idea how it happened. You have to give me credit, Harry. I'm not completely thick." I rolled my eyes for effect, and he shrunk in on himself. "As I was saying, Snake-Face would have never spent over an hour in the Black Lake trying to save people that weren't even in danger."

"I didn't know they weren't in danger." He mumbled, but I ignored it for now.

"Do you think he would get in that overstuffed pink poodle's face and demand that the death of a fellow student be acknowledged?" Harry flinched, rubbing the top of one of his hands with his thumb. "You had that special little punishment of hers didn't you?" He nodded. "I figured. It hurts like hell." His eyes widened before looking at my clean, unmarred hands. "It's under this arm." I gripped the bicep of my right arm, feeling the raised edges of letters on the underside. "Anyway, Harry, do you get my point?" He shrugged, looking at the damage he caused his frames. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them again. When we looked back at the glasses, they were fully repaired. I fought to keep my jaw from dropping. Count on him to know wandless magic. A warm tingle ran through my arms, almost as if they wanted to touch him. I balled my fists and caught my lip between my teeth in case something stupid wanted to slip out. He cleaned the lens on his robes before putting them back on. He fiddled with them before pushing them up his nose. The way his nose scrunched was adorable.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Draco, I don't know what to tell you. Even the prophecy thinks we're one and the same. We're so alike that apparently one has to kill the other. I'll either be a murderer or another fatality. Dumbledore tried to decipher the nonsense, but it's all gibberish."

"If you write it down, I could take a swing at it." His brows furrowed in confusion. I shrugged, "I'm not exactly a Seer...yet, but Divination is my best subject. I learned to speak prophecy, so maybe, just maybe-"

"Then Hermoine has to know about this. She has the only written copy and she won't let me anywhere near it."

"Why?"

"I tried to run away from everyone this summer. The only one who knew was Hermoine. She tracked me down and convinced me to stay put. She promised me that the translation of the prophecy we have isn't the only one. Since the year started, she's been reading it over, referencing every Divination book in the library."

"She's right about the multiple meanings." Was all I could say. I didn't want to involve Mudbl-I mean, Granger. She would then tell Weasley and I doubt there's a such thing as secrets in that rabbit family of theirs. Weasley, knowing that spineless git, would sell it out to the nearest Death Eater, and then buy popcorn for my execution. "Harry, tell Granger if you must, but no one else, not even Weasley."

Harry sneered, "I would kiss a Blast-Ended Screwt before I tell Ron."

"He was that happy to see me dead?" He nodded. Looking into Harry's eyes, there was a brief glimpse of guilt. He looked away. "Would you have been?"

"After what I saw this summer, no."

"And before?" He bit his bottom lip then ran for the door.

"I'm going to track down Hermoine. Call Dobby if you need anything. I'll be back before the end of the day." He didn't wait for an answer as he slammed the door shut.

Got a good view of his ass,though, didn't you, Draco? A voice whispered. I shivered. That voice sounded a lot like a snakey-faced son of a bitch. Maybe I just imagined it. Either way, I slammed up walls of steel around my thoughts. The voice laughed coldly before retreating. Harry needs to get back here soon. This room is already trying to make me go crazy...