Disclaimer: Still don't own any of it. And that's great.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much! I received some more lovely messages about my upcoming wedding, and I'm so grateful. I can't believe it's such a short time away now!

I'm really glad you liked the confrontation between Draco, Ron, and Dumbledore. Yes, Draco is certainly going through a lot of turmoil, as his worldview is certainly being questioned, and he's definitely being tested. There will be a lot more of that to come.

And now, here comes a chapter from Harry's perspective, the first one we've seen since before he was poisoned. I hope you enjoy it.

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Harry heard soft voices around him as he came awake once again. For a fraction of a moment, he felt warm and comfortable, knowing that the voices were familiar and didn't mean any harm. Ron. Hermione. Neville. He knew they were all surrounding his bed, keeping watch over him.

But in the next moment, pain and memory hit, and he realized why they were all there. The previous day's events came back to him in a rush. Once again, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had almost died.

Well, it's not the first time, is it? he thought bitterly as his senses began to wake up. When you've got a Dark Lord on your tail, your life is bound to be ... interesting.

He thought this with a level of cynicism he hadn't realized he possessed. Merlin, he was so exhausted. Absolutely exhausted. And bloody hell, he hurt. Every part of his body was full of pain. He thought he'd known pain before - all those years that he had been stuck doing chores, including the yardwork, caused his muscles to ache. As he'd lain in the darkness of the cupboard in the evenings, the hurt went bone deep. But he could freely admit now that nothing compared to the agony slicing through his body now.

He also realized that he was covered in sweat. He knew he had a fever - his body was reacting to the poison. Though he knew he was going to recover, it would take a long time for the poison's effects to clear out of his system. Madam Pomfrey had clarified that this morning as she'd bustled about, a harried and upset look on her face.

So here he was, stuck in the hospital wing once again. He hated the white walls, the white bed, the white bedsheets, the white ceiling. Everything was white, white, white, white, white. No other colors seemed to inundate this room. It was bloody depressing.

And he knew that yet again, he had pissed certain people off by surviving. Why did he constantly beat the odds? Merlin, he'd been bitten by a basilisk, of all things. And Fawkes just so happened to be there at the right moment. Obviously, some force of nature wanted him to keep surviving. Yeah, that's right, he thought, a bitter taste in his mouth that had absolutely nothing to do with any potions. I'm Harry Potter, fate's plaything. Go ahead. If you're trying to test me over and over again until I break, you're not far from succeeding.

Because Harry felt broken in a way that he truly never had before. For some inexplicable reason, the children at his old Muggle school filled his mind. They learned English and maths and science and history, and then could go home to their parents and hang out with their friends. They weren't constantly being targeted by possessed professors, basilisks, Dementors, evil Dark Lords, or poison. They weren't constantly spending time in a white room with white walls and white curtains and a white ceiling and a white bed. They weren't listening to the voices of their friends who were quietly having arguments about who accused who of what.

"Ron, I can't believe you accused Malfoy when you promised Harry you wouldn't! He's not going to be happy when he wakes up and hears that you landed yourself in detention."

"Will you stop it, Hermione? Don't you realize that I already feel guilty enough? I let Harry down. You don't have to rub it in! I feel awful that I can't spend any time with him in the evenings for Merlin knows how long because I'm stuck in detention with Snape and Malfoy!"

"Will you two be quiet? Harry's awake. He's probably heard every word."

Harry sighed, disappointment joining the weariness and bitterness. "Yeah, that's right," he said in a voice full of fatigue. "What happened, Ron?"

He sat up, still unused to the pain that tore through him at the simple action. Don't show weakness, he reprimanded himself even as a gasp escaped his lips.

"Oh no, Harry. Do you need Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione's face instantly filled with worry.

"No. I'm fine," Harry said shortly.

"You are not fine, Harry Potter!" Hermione's voice was almost shrill. "You can't even sit up without it causing you pain!"

"What do you expect?" Harry said in a low tone. There was no anger in it, only a deep tiredness that went to his very bones. "That poison was supposed to kill me."

"Harry, please don't talk like that, mate," Ron begged. "You're going to be okay."

Harry felt a laugh bubbling up inside him, but he pushed it down. He couldn't show his friends just how "not okay" he really was. As his mind became more alert, blurry memories of a very strange encounter were coming back to him. Had it all been real? Had Snape really been here in the early hours of the morning? He must have, because when his friends had visited him before classes today, he had told them that this had indeed been the case. He could remember some of the conversation, but it only came in flashes. Had Harry truly said those things? Had Snape? It was all so surreal. And it certainly wasn't the first odd encounter he'd had with Snape this year.

"It's the truth, Ron," Harry said bluntly. "I wasn't supposed to survive."

"But you did," Hermione said, sounding close to tears. "And that's the most important thing. I just hope that the teachers figure out who did it."

Harry sighed. Another mystery to solve. Yet another thing that he had to be caught up in. Why couldn't he just go to school and learn like everyone else? In a barely audible voice, he whispered, "I don't really care anymore."

Oh Merlin. Had he really said that out loud? Looking at his friends' faces, he felt his stomach sink. He had.

"You can't be serious!" Ron's exclamation sounded very loud in the silence of the hospital wing. "You don't want to know who poisoned you? You're mad!"

In for a penny, in for a pound, thought Harry. He might as well come out with it. "I'm sick and tired of facing death every other day," he muttered. "I wish I were a Muggle."

"What? Why in Merlin's name would you want to be a Muggle?" asked Ron, the shock on his face almost comical.

"I don't blame you for being upset that this happens to you all the time. But surely you want to know who poisoned you?" asked Hermione gently. Although Harry knew she meant well, the tone of her voice somehow grated on Harry, pushing him to the limits of tolerance.

Neville said nothing, but the expression on his face was much more understanding than the one on either Ron's or Hermione's.

"No, I really don't," said Harry, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Merlin, you've changed," Ron breathed, sounding both wistful and worried at the same time. He looked at Harry with a touch of fear in his eyes. "First, you start thinking there's something different about Snape and Malfoy ..."

"Snape saved my life, Ron, or have you forgotten?" asked Harry, brief flashes of their encounter in the early hours flitting through his mind. "He's the reason you're even talking to me right now."

Ron's face flushed. "I ... I know," he said softly, sounding contrite. "But Malfoy ..."

"I heard about your detention," Harry interrupted, disappointment lacing every word. "I told you not to accuse him. What in Merlin's name happened?"

"What happened is that I found him puking up his guts in the boys' bathroom. You know, that one near the Transfiguration corridor," said Ron. "I thought someone else had been poisoned, so I unlocked the door with my wand and walked in on him. He pointed his wand at me. We ... we insulted each other. Then we duelled."

"You mean, you accused him," Harry said softly. It was a statement, not a question.

Ron flushed again. "Er ..." he said, looking very guilty now. "I'm sorry, mate," he mumbled meekly. "I just ... don't see how it isn't him." But even as he said it, Harry could hear the doubt in his voice. Was Ron actually listening?

"It isn't," said Harry, because he really was sure of it. "I know you don't really understand, Ron. But trust me on this one, okay?"

Ron said nothing, and Harry was still honestly surprised he wasn't arguing more vehemently. Was it possible that he was getting through to him?

"I know Snape saved you, too," Ron said, and Harry ached at the vulnerable expression that stole over his face. "He ... he acted different yesterday, too. I thought he was going to yell at us and tell us to go to class, but he didn't. He let us stay with you all day. It was Madam Pomfrey who made us leave."

"Oh," said Harry, somehow not surprised to hear that. He thought he remembered Snape saying that his friends hadn't wanted to leave him.

"We ... we were so scared, Harry," Hermione admitted softly, her brown eyes incredibly sad. "We almost lost you. Again."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, seeing the strain on all of their faces. How was any of this fair? How could he put them through this all the time? Yesterday they'd sat at his bedside, watching him die. Something Snape had said filtered into his mind - that by the time he'd brought the potion that had saved Harry's life, it had almost been too late.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this!" Hermione exclaimed, all indignant tone and bushy hair, and Harry felt all his annoyance evaporate, to be replaced with a deep affection. How was she supposed to know how tired he was? How was Ron? It seemed like it was only Neville who really understood how he felt, because he had been brought up feeling as worthless as he had.

Harry smiled at his friends, but he knew it was a sad one. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he whispered, looking at Ron and Hermione. "I'm just so ... so tired."

Hermione smiled softly. "It's okay, Harry," she said quietly. "We'll let you get some rest, if you want. Or if you'd like us to stay, we'll do that, too."

Harry desperately wanted to be left alone, but he felt too guilty to tell them to leave. "Stay," he whispered, knowing that they only wanted to be there for him.

His friends looked relieved at that. "I'm sorry, mate," Ron said, sounding like he truly meant it. "I'm sorry that I got detention. It means that I have to miss time with you. Snape is going to supervise while Malfoy and I restore the bathroom to normal."

Harry sighed. How could he not forgive his friend? Ron hadn't been there. He hadn't seen the changes in Malfoy that Harry had. He hadn't seen him flinch when Harry had called him Draco. He hadn't seen the twitches in his facial expression. And he certainly hadn't been there when Malfoy ran out of the library, shaken by what Harry had said. And the fact that Ron had said that he was being sick in the boys' bathroom ... that certainly gave Harry food for thought. "It's okay, Ron," he said, unable to hide the pure exhaustion in his voice. "Just ... please. Don't antagonize Malfoy. It'll only get you more detention."

"What is it about Malfoy?" Ron asked, sounding almost desperate. "What do you see in him?"

"I can't explain it, Ron," Harry replied. He felt frustrated, but it wasn't at Ron this time. He knew his best friend wanted to understand, but how could Harry truly explain it all? "It's just that ... something's changed since we started meeting in the library. And you said you saw him being sick in the bathroom. Obviously, he wasn't poisoned too, since he's not here in the hospital wing like me."

"I dunno," said Ron, his expression odd. "I reckon breakfast didn't agree with him or something. Who knows?"

As Harry gazed at Hermione and Neville, both looked doubtful at the simplicity of the explanation. "Just ... all I'm asking is that you two not be at each other's throats all the time. You don't have to like him. You don't have to even talk to him. Just do what Snape asks you to do. The sooner you're done, the better off we'll all be," he pleaded.

Ron didn't look at all happy about it, but he nodded. "Fine," he said dully.

"Thank you," said Harry, and he lay down again in the bed as the pain and exhaustion became too much for him.

"Harry?" Neville spoke in a tone that told Harry clearly that he could sense the turmoil inside him. "Are you sure you don't need Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry replied. "There's really nothing she can do, Neville. I just have to put up with this until the poison clears out of my system."

"We'll find out who did this, Harry. We promise," Hermione told him.

Harry could barely keep his eyes open, but he smiled. "With you on the case, Hermione, I know it'll be done," he told her sincerely.

"We're here for you, Harry," Neville promised. "We're not going anywhere."

"I know," said Harry, who felt like he was forcing the words out.

"Go to sleep, mate," Ron said quietly. "It'll help you recover faster."

"Yeah. I hope so," Harry slurred as the world began to fade away from him. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Of course," Hermione said. "What else could we have done?"

Harry allowed the darkness to claim him, but before it covered him completely, he saw three more flashes of memory.

"You didn't hate my mother, did you?" Harry had asked Snape quietly as he lay in the hospital bed, every single part of his body hurting.

"No," Snape had answered, and something in his voice told Harry that he was speaking the absolute truth. "I did not."

"You deserve to live, Potter." Another sentence spoken in Snape's low baritone voice slowly made its way into his thoughts. "I will hear no more talk of wishing that your death would occur. Do you understand me?"

And then, there was something else. Something Harry had not mentioned to anyone, something that he thought he would never feel comfortable saying out loud.

Harry had known that he had come extremely close to death. The way his friends had acted told him as much, but it was Snape who had been extremely blunt about it. Harry had been on the edge of dying. There was no gentle way to say it.

And in those moments, as Harry hovered between life and death, something had happened to him that he would always keep close. As sleep overtook him and the pain vanished for the moment, he recalled with crystal clarity the sunny garden that had seemed to be on another plane of existence entirely. He remembered the smell of flowers, the fresh, clean air, the way his spirit had felt so free.

But above all, he remembered being in the arms of two people whom he barely remembered, but he felt their love all around him, cocooning him in warmth.

"It will be okay, baby," the red-haired woman had whispered, her emerald eyes full of tears. "I promise you. It will be okay."

"We love you, son." The hazel-eyed, messy-haired man had smiled softly. "Never forget that."

Harry had wanted nothing more than to stay with them, but he was starting to feel a tug on his spirit. Something was pulling him back. "I don't understand," he'd whispered. "What's happening to me?"

Lily Potter's eyes shone with love as she gazed at her son. "Severus." There was so much meaning contained in that one whispered name, but Harry couldn't decipher any of it.

"He's saving you. Again." James Potter said, and Harry could hear both relief and regret in his voice. "I was so wrong about him." The admission lay heavily in the air between all three of them.

Lily reached out her hand to James, squeezing it in her own. "What's done is done, James," she said softly. She met Harry's eyes again, and the last thing she said before everything vanished around him was something Harry would never forget.

"Trust him."