A/N: Sorry it took a bit to update. Apparently, this went as "SPAM" to one of my beta's e-mails. xD Figures. But you'd have to admit it's some pretty awesome spam. Anyway, I want to thank my two betas: Shades1Of1Grey and xdarkangeltwinx. They are supermegafoxy awesome. Hope you enjoy the chapter. ;)

I was so warm, and rubbed my head against the pillow. It was comfortable just laying here, a faint buzz distracting me. Classes would start soon, wouldn't they? I just didn't feel like getting up quite yet. Turning over slightly in my bed, a sudden pain shot up my arm, like an electric shock. I was jolted out of my half-sleep, but didn't open my eyes.

"How is he, Poppy?" I recognized the voice as the Headmaster. I wondered what was happening.

"He has been getting better. I expect him to wake soon. Do you think we should tell him?"

"I see no other possibility."

"Are you sure it is wise to trouble him immediately?" This was another female voice. It took me a moment, but I recognized it -McGonagall. Then it struck me. The last thing I remembered was lying on the ground. Hadn't I been surrendering to unconsciousness, Harry already torn from my reach? I saw him take ragged, shallow snatches of air as he precariously walked line of life and death. The pain of the Cruciatus Curse laced through my body, and I screamed, knowing my father took pleasure in it.

"Harry." I managed to croak out, my eyes fluttering open. He couldn't be dead. The way they were talking, he had to be dead, though. Oh, Gods, what had I done? It was my fault Harry Potter, supposed-to-be savoir of the fuckin' universe died. Weakly, I managed to pull myself up, and repeated urgently, "Harry!" My eyes scanned the room to find all other beds empty. This couldn't be happening.

"He is alive, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall finally replied. I relaxed, and was surprised to see that I already had tears running down my face. Still, I felt it now, the burn in my eyes, the saltiness that had danced down my lips. Still, I could forgive my horrid behaviour as long as Harry was alive. But where was he? As if reading my mind, Dumbledore answered.

"I'm afraid he has been admitted to Saint Mungo's." My heart froze again. It crystallized and shattered into tiny shards and I melted into my bed, eyes closed and mouth open as I attempted to remember how to breathe. This couldn't be happening. Let this be a nightmare of my traumatised mind, please!

"Mr. Malfoy?" It was McGonagall who spoke again. I wanted to curse, yell, scream, cry, fall into a crumpled mess. Yet I could only manage a whisper.

"Is he alright?"

"He is in a magically induced coma, to reduce the strain on his body. His condition is precarious." I looked at all the worried faces, and broke down into sobs. Oh, Gods, it was entirely my fault. I had told him that I was going to my father's, had I not? I should have figured he'd want to try and save me. Gods damn his fucking hero complex!

"I have to see him."

"He can neither see nor hear you, Mr. Malfoy, and you need to rest in turn. You have been gravely injured."

"You've upset him," Madam Pomfrey fussed. "He needs rest, Albus. Out, both of you." She began shooing them out, but I stood up, ignoring her protests.

"No, I have to see him." My voice was practically a growl. Worried yells came from Madam Pomfrey and the buzzing in my head grew louder. What had I done? All my fault.

"Enough!" Dumbledore boomed. "I shall take you to visit him. No, Poppy, do not argue." He turned to Madam Pomfrey, cutting her off in mid flow. "Mr. Malfoy will not rest until he sees his friend. However," he said, his gaze returning to mine "it will not be easy. I warn you, there is nothing to truly prepare you for this." With that he bowed his head and began to leave. "We shall be waiting in the hallway while you dress. Come, Poppy, we must give Mr. Malfoy some privacy."

The moment they left, I fumbled with my wand and went to switch into my robes. However, the nightgown they had placed me in was flimsy, and the sleeve rolled down the moment I began to move around. Down my arm, mainly around my wrist were scars: a permanent, terrible reminder of what I had caused. Not like I'd ever forget it.

With a shaking hand and a weakly muttered spell, the robes replaced the nightgown. Normally, I would have cared, checked in a mirror to make sure I was looking as perfectly divine as usual. I was sure my hair was sticking up in all directions, but I had never cared less in my life. Closing my eyes and managing a semi-deep breath, I stepped outside to meet Professor Dumbledore. "I'm ready." He gave me a solemn nod, and began walking at a brisk pace. "Sir, may I ask you a question?" It seemed absurd to call him 'sir', as I would have scoffed about such a thing merely a few days prior. But everything was upside-down at this point.

"Of course you may. In fact, you have already done so, but you may ask another. I merely hope I am able to answer."

"What happened after...?" I trailed off, uncertain how to end. What would have been the truth? After I accidentally lured Harry to my house? After I passed out? After I made hell out of everything? Still, he responded as if I hadn't stopped mid sentence.

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger came to me. They informed me, after I managed to calm them, that Harry had gone after you to your Manor. They told me he had left some time ago, and had neither returned nor sent word, as he had said he would. Naturally, they were worried. Worried almost to the point of apoplexy, in the case of Mr. Weasley, so I set off after you. I arrived just as your father hurled a Cruciatus Curse at you. Gumdrop?" He extended a hand, a small container holding colourful, rounded sugar drops. I shook my head, slightly mystified that he was asking me if I wanted sweets while we were discussing a matter of life and death.

"What happened to my father?"

"He has been sent to Azkaban. He fought fiercely, but I flatter myself I am a superior duellist, and I had caught him off guard. It was, in the end, over quickly and without much exertion." I hung my head, trying to grasp all of this. "Are you, perhaps, feeling pity or sympathy for your father?" Professor Dumbledore asked, misinterpreting my drooping head.

"No." My hissing response was immediate. "He deserves to be where he is. It's just that this is all -" Again, I seemed to be unable to finish my sentence. Ungraspable, was that even a word? To me, it looked like the words were sometimes better left unsaid. However, Dumbledore spoke anyway, supplying simple words gentler than my true feelings.

"Too sudden?"

"Yes. Too sudden." I agreed, ignoring the list of words I wanted to spew out after that. "Where are we going? Shouldn't we be going to the hospital?" I couldn't deny my impatience. However, Dumbledore only glanced back at me, an odd twinkle in his eyes.

"It is not possible to Apparate out of school grounds. Therefore, we must go to Hogsmeade first." I nodded, trying to suppress all emotions, which was, I had to admit, an impossible task. My throat seemed to clog, and I had difficulty swallowing. My eyes burned, but I blinked back tears. As idiotic I knew it was, I still forced myself to believe that I was a Malfoy, and, after all, Malfoys never cried.

"I must tell you," he continued, walking through the empty hallways, "you have been unconscious for several days." A few days? This meant that Harry had also been unconscious for several days. Yet they still didn't know what would come of him. The way it sounded, he was clinging onto the final threads of life. I shook my head and closed my eyes.

"This is all my fault," I managed to croak out.

"No. It is mine." he replied just as expected. Why would he tell me that it was my fault? "I know you are not going to listen to an old man's advice," It was uncanny, as if he could see what I was thinking. "But would you have done the same thing in his position?"

"Yes, of course," I muttered without hesitation.

"Then, how can you blame yourself?"

"I told him I was going to see my father. He knew where to find me. And I should have known exactly what he was going to do. Dammit, I'm such an idiot!" I kicked a suit of armour in my way, and although it only resulted in hurting my foot, I didn't care. Dumbledore didn't get angry and warn me to stop like I expected him to, however.

"He would have tried to find out anyway. If it weren't for him, you would be dead and your father free." I didn't want to hear his explanations.. It was my fault. How could it possibly not be? My head swam. He continued "The fault, in truth, is mine. It is my responsibility to ensure to well being of my students. It is my responsibility to know if they are walking into danger. Mr Malfoy... Draco, can you forgive me? I should have realised this situation would arise."

Astonished, I looked up, into his usually sparkling eyes. The normal twinkle was gone, replaced by a look of deepest sorrow. "But, headmaster, you can't be expected to know everything that goes on here. You couldn't be expected to stop me acting foolishly, on the spur of the moment. What would you have done? Denied me access to my father? Not even you have that power..."

"Nonetheless, Draco, it is my duty, and I failed in it. I have allowed you and Harry, the two most vulnerable – and most important – students in my charge, to come to harm. The two students who are the most valuable to me, and the world..." He turned away from me, and flicked his wand toward the doors of the hall.

The doors opened, and neither of us said anything else. I sadly dragged my feet, refusing to look up from the ground, and old Dumbledore just led the way, head held high. There was no use for me to continue arguing with him, but then again, there was also no use for him to continue attempting to persuade me.

It was still light out, and it seemed too unusually bright for my current predicament. It should have been storming, the wind pulling trees out by their roots and tossing them around like mere dolls. That would have been more appropriate. Instead, a slight breeze brushed against the branches and little, pink flowers decorated the grass. As we reached the outskirts of the school grounds, Dumbledore turned toward me.

"We must walk to Hogsmeade. You never know what may happen on the way. Considering Lucius is now in Azkaban, I would imagine that Voldemort is none too pleased. I suggest we have our wands at the ready." I nodded, wincing at hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken. It was something I had yet to get used to. "It's just a name, Draco. Fear of a name -"

"Increases fear of thing itself. I've heard this phrase before." I didn't need him lecturing me on this. All I wanted right now was to be by Harry's side and find some way to set this all right. Of course, I felt that it couldn't be that simple. Nothing ever was.

Luckily, and rather expectedly in my opinion, we managed to leave school grounds without any sort of incident. "I assume you have not apparated before?" As I nodded, he stuck out his arm and I immediately grasped it.

With a crack, we were pulled from our current surroundings. I grimaced at the feeling, or thought I did; I couldn't be completely sure. With my body seemingly pulled through an especially long piece of spaghetti, I couldn't quite tell what expression I was making. It was uncomfortable to say the least and left me gasping for breath the moment we landed. My feet felt odd suddenly on solid ground, and I almost lost my balance.

"Where are we?" We seemed to be in an abandoned alley. I had never been to Saint Mungo's, but I was fairly sure it didn't look like this.

"One cannot apparate into the hospital. The same protections which surround Hogwarts are in place around the hospital. The entrance is fairly close by." All I could manage was a simple "oh" of surprise. As soon as he began walking again, I followed him. The shop - the sign said it was Purge and Does Ltd. - where we stopped had a notice in the window: "CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT". I looked around, waiting for Dumbledore to explain what the hell we were doing, but he merely leaned forward, whispering to the store dummy. Great, I was stuck with a complete nutter.

Yet he then turned to me. "Now, my boy, simply step through the glass." Well, he had to know what he was doing, didn't he? Still, I felt slightly sceptical.

"Walk through the glass? Won't people notice us?"

"Draco, when do people notice anything? This is an abandoned shop and there is no one watching." Sighing, I stepped forward. Oddly enough, the glass seemed to engulf me, and I felt as if I was suddenly wrapped in a blanket of cold water. Yet moments later, I was staring at a reception. Dumbledore walked toward a warlock and stood in line. I looked around me at framed photos of well-known Healers. I had never been in Saint Mungo's before..

"Dumbledore!" The warlock was obviously surprised. It wasn't everyday, I assumed, that the headmaster of one of the most renowned schools was visiting this hospital. "Are you here to visit Mr. Potter again? I'm afraid his condition hasn't improved."

"Mr. Potter has another visitor."

"Is it someone from school?" He craned his head, and laid eyes on me. "If it isn't a Malfoy. I'm surprised you let him come. Well, in any case, you remember his room is the second door on the right on level four, right?"

"Yes, thank you." With that, we proceeded our way up to level four. I just needed to see him. Perhaps I could somehow do something. Gods know what – just something to help him. When we finally stood in front of the door, Dumbledore cleared his throat. My hand had been reaching toward the handle, but I let it drop.

"He may look different to how you last saw him."

"I know that." I reached up again, but the headmaster insisted on continuing.

"You should be prepared; it may come as a shock." I nodded, trying to 'prepare' myself. Although, how could I?

The door opened, and sure enough, I was in for what had to be the worst shock of a lifetime. I had known he would be lying here, helpless and all but dead, but a part of me must have still been desperately hoping against all hopes that he would miraculously be awake and fine. Of course he wasn't. He was still in a magical fucking coma. Harry had always been so fiery and passionate about what he did - never willing to relent. Now he looked weak and vulnerable, eyes closed and slumped against the bed. I had to focus on him to even see that he was breathing. But that wasn't the worst.

Just like I had a scar down my arm from where my father's spell had hit me, he had ones down his face. As mine had been shallower, it had healed completely. His hadn't. The flesh still looked torn. It traced from right below his right temple to the left side of his chin, right above the neck, where it would have been fatal. It cut deeply into his lip. It looked like someone had taken a knife to his beautiful face and tried to destroy it.

"Harry." I choked out before rushing to his side. Tears fell from my eyes, the warm streaks running over my lips, the saltiness teasing my tongue as I cried. "What the fuck happened? You people know magic, dammit! Why - why -" I couldn't get any more out and just proceeded to sob, clutching his cold-as-death hand.

"Lucius used a spell unknown to us. We believe it was either developed by Voldemort himself, or at his behest."

"Don't say his fucking name!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice cracking.

"Draco -" Dumbledore reached out and tried to calm me down.

"Let go of me!" I couldn't seem to gather my thoughts, and though I pulled away, I slumped over Harry's still form, my body shaking violently. When I had managed to calm down somewhat, I choked out, "Why can't you get rid of these scars?"

"They were inflicted by a new form of Dark Magic. They may fade slightly, as yours will, but they shall always be there." I looked down once more, my fingers tracing down the scars. "The mediwizards had a great deal of difficulty healing him. He has lost a lot of blood. We are doing everything we can, Draco."

"I know." My voice was heavy with defeat. I reached down to brush strands of obsidian hair away from his closed eyes. "He'll still be beautiful, though. I don't care what the others say." With a sigh, I leaned my face in so that it nuzzled against his neck. He smelled of ointments and that smell I couldn't quite place - the same carefully-sterilized one the hospital reeked of.

Dumbledore stood to the side. No doubt he didn't want to interrupt this. I was glad for that. It was true; I needed this 'moment' to myself in order to come to terms with what had just happened. True, I couldn't see myself coming to terms with the fact that he might never wake up, but at least I to see him one last time, give him one more kiss.

It's bizarre to kiss someone who doesn't kiss back, especially when that person's lips are frozen. With a deep sigh, I turned to Dumbledore. "I should be leaving soon, shouldn't I?" He paused for a moment before he nodded. "Just give me one more second." There was something I now realised. There was no avoiding this.

"Harry James Potter," I whispered, low enough that Dumbledore wouldn't hear me, "I wouldn't admit it before, but I guess there's no denying it now. I do love you, and you'd better not die on me." I pulled back, trying to avoid tears..

"Ready?" the headmaster asked. I simply nodded, not trusting my voice.

A/N: Tell me what you think! I can take no credit for the complete awesomeness of Dumbledore's dialogue. Shades1Of1Grey helped me so much with it.

Love,
Luna

P.S. What are your favorite TV shows? :3