A/N Hey, this chapter might be sirius. I know, I know, we all want hilarity. Sorry. This is mainly angst. A very angsty, sad, deppressed, and angry chapter. With a tad bit of humor. Just a tad. Again, sorry.

Draco woke up in his bed, his hair wet with both tears and sweat. He sat up, looked around, and slouched back into his bed. He didn't really want to get up. What he did want to do was go back to sleep, pretend this was all a dream. Escape from the harsh realities, go back to a world where he still had Millie, the only person who actually liked him.

He noticed that no one else was in the dormitory. It was ten o'clock on wednesday. Crap.

Draco knew that he should get out of bed, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

He was also surprised that no one had come to wake him up. Maybe everyone, yes, even Slytherins, respects the situation.

Still, he rolled of bed. He didn't bother changing his clothes - he had fallen asleep in his robes anyway. Grabbing his wand, he trudged out of the room.

Instead of taking a left, as he should have to go to his class, he kept straight and made a bee-line for the hospital wing. Once he had gotten to Millie's bed, he sat down. He grabbed her hand in his arm, caressing the wrist under her palm with his hand.

Suddenly he stopped. His small grey eyes grew as wide as they could and his eyebrows shot right to his hairline.

A pulse! He thought excitedly. She's not dead!

He gripped her shoulders and shook them vigourously. She didn't wake.

He slapped her across the face. She didn't wake.

He shouted her name. Madame Pomfrey shook her had sadly. She didn't wake.

Daco had given himself false hope. There was no pulse. Angrily, he threw down her hand that he had been squeezing and stormed towards Transfiguration.

When he slammed through the doors and plopped down in his seat, McGonnagal's eyebrows knitted in concern, but excused his tardiness and said nothing.

"Draco," Pansy whispered. "Hey, Draco."

"What!" He replied, equally quiet, though far more agitated.

"Are you still upset about that mudblood Gryffendor?"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!" Draco stood up so abruptly that several books toppled over. Pansy stared in shock.

Draco looked around at the students that were staring at him, and ran out of the room.

McGonnagal quickly followed.

"Mr. Malfoy, come here!"

Draco, who had been walking swiflty through the hallway, did not turn. He stopped, contemplating whether or not to face anyone at the moment, but decided against it. He kept walking.

But McGonnagal caught up to him.

"This way, Mr. Malfoy." She steered him towards a large spiral staircase. Once they got to a door, McGonnagal said, "Puking Pastilles," and they entered Professor Dumbledore's office.

Draco sniffed, desparate not to cry in front of the Head Master, or anyone, for that matter.

The two teachers talked in hushed tones, before McGonnagal turned and left.

"Sit down, please, Draco." Dumbledore offered.

. So sad! Again, sorry for the Siriusness. I personally believe I am better at humor, but, as you know, every story needs a conflict. (What? Does that mean we're already half way?)