Harry POV

I couldn't help but stare at Draco. There was something about him, something different about him. Although I can't quite put my finger on what it is. Oh no! He's staring back at me now. I quickly turn my head, breaking the connection and hoping my cheeks aren't really as hot as they feel. I can't really be blushing because Draco Malfoy looked at me. Can I? No, it's just the tea heating me up. Yeah. That's it.

I turn to face Ron and Hermione. Ron is staring up at me with puppy-dog eyes. "What is it?" I ask, my voice filled with suspicion.

"Come on Harry. You clearly still have goo goo eyes for Ginny. You keep staring at her and Neville, you're always spacing out and now you're blushing. We're your best friends. If you can't tell us what happened who can you tell?"

I look at him dead in the eyes. "You are so right Ron."

"Really? I am? Great! So what happened that night? You were fine when I left you two." Ron asks me sounding confident that he will get an answer out of me. And he will. Just not the answer he is hoping for.

"No one." I reply simply.

He gives me the most confused look I've ever seen. "Come again?"

"No one. If I can't tell my best friends what happened, I can't tell no one. Now could you please Ron... just shut up and let it go already." I say with more bite than I intended.

"Fine. Come on Hermione. We don't need him." Ron huffs before running out of the hall.

"Honestly Harry, you didn't need to be so rude. He's only worried about you. As am I. You haven't been the same since you and Ginny broke up. We just want to help." Hermione explains.

"Look I don't need Ron or you, or anybody else worrying about me. I'm a big boy I can take care of myself."

Hermione glares at me, "Fine. Deal with it alone and then let me know how that works out for you in couple days when your ready to behave more like a person." she then follows Ron out of the Great Hall.

"Nosey prats." I mumble to myself. Who does Hermione think she is telling me I'm not behaving like a person. They may be my best friends, but they don't have to know about every little thing that goes on in my life. I'm perfectly happy to have secrets from them.

On the other hand they were just trying to be good friends. I know they care and worry. I let out a long sigh. I just wish they would stop asking me about that night. I'm finding it hard enough to forget it.

"So where are you taking me Mr Harry Potter? Ginny asked feeling excited.

"You'll see. Now keep your eyes closed." I warned her. I guided her up the tower of stairs in the Weasly home. Minutes later we stopped. "Okay you can open your eyes."

Ginny gasped in awe. We were standing in her bedroom, but it had been completely transformed. The wooden walls were now wallpapered with red satin, the two single beds were now one king sized bed covered in rose petals, the creaky floorboards now beautifully lined with mahogany, candles light up about the room and right in front of us was a delicious looking dinner for two. "Oh Harry you didn't have to do all this. How did you do all this?"

"Oh you know just a simple decorating spell. It was nothing really." I replied modestly. "And Hermione helped me cook. I just wanted tonight to be special."

Ginny stared at me with a massive smile on her face. She walked over to me and gave me a kiss on the lips. "And it is special Harry. Thank you."

No I can never tell them. It's too embarrassing.

Just then my gaze catches Draco Malfoy again, who is now standing up and running out of the hall. What's his problem? I wonder. So I decide to follow him.

I quickly, but swiftly slip through pupils, hiding behind pillars and corners. I follow him all the way down the dungeon staircase until I'm forced to stop at the Slytherin painting on the entrance door.

"Password?" The painting asks me.

"I... uh... never mind." I stammer. What's with me? Why was I following Draco Malfoy? Of all people, Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince. I think I need my head examined. I conclude as I start walking back up the staircase towards my own dorm.

Draco POV

I walk as quickly as I can to get to my room. I kind of feel as though someone is following me, but I have to get back to my room. I've completely run out my people tolerance for today and it's not even ten O'clock. As I eventually reach my room my robe snags on a nail sticking out of the door. Desperate to get away I sharply pull my arm free, accidentally cutting my arm in the process. Once in my room I decide to lock the door behind me. Even though I probably don't need to to get some privacy. I repair my robe with a simple spell and then I take it off, removing my shirt as well to get a better look at the cut.

Ouch. It may be a small cut but it hurts like hell. I didn't feel it at first but now I really do. Despite how much it hurts there's something strangely relieving about it.

So without thinking about it I walk into the bathroom, where I open the cabinet and grab my pack of spare razors. I don't even know why I have these as I never actually have to shave. I suppose I just wanted to seem some what normal, especially after everything that's happened after the war and having no say in carrying the Slytherin Prince title. That last thought makes my skin crawl to point where I feel the need to scratch my arm. More specifically my left arm where that stupid dark mark is located. I make my way out of the bathroom and I sit down on my bed.

What a horrible sight. I think as I stare at it on my arm. The boy who had no choice. I think to myself. If I could I would have never been a Malfoy. I mean I guess I did love my parents in some twisted way. In the midst of my father's physical beatings and my mother's verbal beatings I think they loved me. Did they love me? Did they even like me? Or was I simply a pawn in my father's game to gain favour with the dark lord.

Just then I feel something. Tears are falling onto my arm. Something inside me hurts so bad and being without my father's beatings I have nothing to counter act my inner turmoil. I have nothing.

That is because you are nothing. A voice whispers. Malfoys do not express emotions and they certainly do not cry. You are weak and a disappointment Draco. I will not have a weak son. Great I'm hearing voices now. I am unable beat you so you must punish yourself. You must punish yourself for being such a weak, disappointing excuse for a son. I recognise the voice to be my father's, Lucius Malfoy. Even in his death I can't escape wanting to argue with my father's ghost I open the spare razor blades, and I take one into my hand. I bring it down to that stupid mark and I angrily make a cut. It hurts so much, but I'm not hurting inside any more. That is until an overwhelming wave of shame comes over me. It came just as instantly as the relief. It was so quick, but I feel myself aching to do it again. That's when I realise I'm hooked on the pain. "What the hell have I done?"

Until the next chapter ;)