Draco walked into his room after his last class of the day. He quietly closed the door behind him and dropped his book bag before walking to his bed with a sigh. He flopped face first and let out a groan.

You're pathetic.

"I know." Draco usually tried to refrain from speaking to the voice to stop him from looking like he'd lost his mind, but sometimes it would shut up if he did talk to himself. He waited for it to speak again, and let out a relieved sigh when it didn't.

He'd heard the voice nonstop all day, never relenting during classes or meals. He got a horrible headache after lunch when someone had shoved him, and the voice yelled it was his fault for 'disgracing a pureblood's shoes with his scuff marks.'

More people than he could count had pushed and shoved him throughout the day. People had tripped him, threw paper balls at the back of his head, and one person had managed to throw a stinging hex into his face. He had to stop at the infirmary, all the while getting sympathetic looks from Madame Pomfrey. She tried to get him to tell her who had done it, but he didn't know himself. Even if he did, he wasn't going to tell. He knew he deserved it. He didn't need the voice laughing at his pain to tell him that.

A knock on the door interrupted his musing, and he groaned again. Standing up, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way to the door. He opened it and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Weasley, purple faced, obviously fuming, was standing there with his head tilted. His ear was held in Granger's fingers, her scowl menacing as she looked at her boyfriend. She turned to Draco, her face softening.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Draco crossed his arms, ignoring the voice in his head muttering about Mudbloods and Blood Traitors procreating. Granger turned her terrifying scowl on Weasley and tugged his ear.

"Ow, Hermione!"

"Say it, Ron!"

"Hermione, I—" He yelped in pain as Granger yanked his ear.

"Ronald, I will not ask you again. Now say it," she said through clenched teeth. Draco felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a smirk as he leaned against the door jamb and watched the scene. It had been ages since he felt amused, and he wasn't about to let it go now. Granger tugged Weasel's ear again.

"Okay! Malfoy, I'm sorry about being a prick this morning," he growled. After another tug, he muttered, "it won't happen again." Draco snorted.

"That's not very convincing," he muttered, but after a glare from Granger which sent a chill through him, he accepted it for what it was. Weasley stormed off after glowering at Draco, then Granger. She watched him until he disappeared, and turned to Draco.

"For what it's worth, Draco, I really am sorry about Ron's behavior. It's unacceptable." Her sincerity made him uncomfortable, and his eyes flew to the tips of his shoes.

"It's okay, Granger."

Filthy Mudblood. Disgusting, ugly thing.

"Alright. Well, dinner starts in a few minutes. You're welcome to walk down with us. I saw how people were treating you—"

"I don't need you and your friends protecting me." Draco's voice came out smaller than he intended. Granger looked unconvinced, but she nodded anyway, and offered a tiny smile.

"I'll see you later, Draco." He nodded at her, and watched her go down the stairs.

He closed the door and decided to start on his homework, grateful for the distraction from the voice in his head.

Draco was done with his Alchemy essay and was starting his Ancient Runes assignment when he heard laughing and yelling downstairs. He sighed and shook his head to get his focus back on his homework. He got a few sentences down before jumping at a sound like a herd of Erumpents running up the stairs. He growled at the inkblot on his paper before spelling it away.

There was no way he was getting any work done with Gryffindors acting that way. He stood and stretched, his spine popping a couple times. He went to his window and swept his eyes over the landscape.

The ForbiddenForest stood before him, dark and ominous. The trees swayed softly in the wind, and small birds decorated the canopy, jumping from branch to branch. Draco thought again of all the creatures that resided there: the centaurs, with their mysterious ways; the unicorns, purest of all creatures.

The werewolves. Flashes of Fenrir Greyback danced in his head. Pictures of him prowling the Manor at night, and attacking Muggles, and killing. Always killing. Another memory passed Draco's mind.

Greyback hunched over a girl who couldn't have been any older than Draco, perhaps younger. Tears streamed down her bloodied and dirtied face, leaving clean streaks over her cheeks. Her clothes were ripped away, revealing her tanned and bruised skin. She tried pushing Greyback away, but he was too strong; he pushed himself on top of her, between her legs. She screamed when he growled in her ear and bared his yellow and decaying teeth.

Greyback's growls and grunts turned into howls as he reared back and slammed his mouth onto her neck. With a sickening crunch, the girl's screams were cut off. Her arms fell, and her head turned towards Draco, watching him with unseeing eyes.

"Draco?" Draco jumped at the sound of his name. He spun around to see Potter standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Scarhead?" Draco's voice was hard and he was momentarily impressed with himself.

"I did knock. Multiple times, but you must have not heard me," Potter replied, voice low and slow like he was talking to a child. "Are you alright?"

"Just peachy. What do you want?"

"You weren't at dinner. I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I told you, I'm fine," Draco crossed his arms, daring Potter to ask again. Potter shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Right. If you're hungry, I could walk with—"

"Potter, just leave me alone. I don't need you to baby-sit me. There is nothing wrong with me. I am fine," Draco almost flinched from his words.

Potter stared at him. His Killing curse green eyes seemed to go right through him. Draco fidgeted and shifted his feet, but he didn't move his icy eyes from the green ones.

"If you need me, you know where I am," Potter said quietly after a moment. Without moving his eyes from Draco's, Potter reached for the knob and began closing the door. "Good night, Draco."

With that, Potter closed the door. Draco could hear his heavy footsteps travel down the stairs, and the soft opening and closing of the door to his room.

Draco stood staring at his bedroom door. Potter was checking up on him, asking him if he was okay.

"He was worried about me." Draco whispered to himself.

Don't be daft. He wasn't worrying about you. That was-

"That was not pity." Draco said aloud to himself. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch and move up his cheeks.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Draco smiled.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It's all J.K. Rowling's.

Author Note: Hello... So, I know I have been a stranger, but a lot has been happening in real life. First finals and college applications, then graduating high school, and finally be accepted into college and coming out of the closet. And, of course, after all that, I find no motivation to write. Whenever I was busy, I had so many ideas for this story and other stories pop up in my head, and then when I finally get the time... POOF! They're gone. I just got it back a couple hours ago, but I'm a bit rusty, so if this chapter feels a bit forced, my sincerest apologies, dear readers.

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