Magical Attraction

What did he need? Harry Potter. That was it, plain and simple. The young Slytherin needed him, to feel his embrace, to know that someone cared. But no one did. He knew that was why he did it, because he knew that no one would care that he was gone. No one would even give it a second thought after the made up tears were strewn upon his muddy grave.

He knew this was true, but didn't want to believe it. He needed someone to love him and no one did. He could remember being a small, scared little child and running to mum and dads bedroom, all sweaty and cold from the night mare he had just experienced. He often had those when he was a small one. His father would simply shrug him off and murmur something about Malfoy's Never Being Afraid.

As he prepared to do the deed, he thought about the raven haired boy. About the last time he saw him... just moments before he had found this empty corridor and carefully took the small razorblades out of the secret pockets in his robes. Harry was peacefully sleeping with one of his arms dangling absently off the side of the four post bed. He had left the curtains open that night, as he had done on several occasions, Draco noted, when it was hot in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory.

He wondered if Harry was dreaming, and what he was dreaming about. Was he thinking the same things that his silver haired enemy was? Draco knew this wasn't true. He was probably dreaming about Cho Chang, his longtime crush. They had just started dating that year, their 6^th year.

Draco stared down at his right wrist, not knowing where to start, but just wanting it to end, his life to end. He wanted to fade away into the darkness... to fall forever. He lifted one of the razorblades to a purple vein in his wrist, preparing for the pain, preparing to succumb to the dark.

It was on his skin, all he needed to do was press down, to end it all. He wanted this to be quick, but meaningful. Taking a quick breath he steadied his hand and pressed down hard, dragging the sharp, silver metal across his wrist. He was prepared for this, it needed to be quickly... he didn't want to just bleed, he wanted to die.

A million thoughts rushed through his head... all of them about Harry. About how when he tried at the beginning of the year to express his odd feelings to the Gryffindor, in a very odd place. He remembered back to when Sirius Black died, and he found Harry in an empty corridor not far from the Slytherin Common Room. About how he tried to comfort the sobbing mass of black robes, and about how Harry had leaned into his shoulder and cried his heart out to him, and then later on when he pushed the Silver Haired boy away...

And then all he could think about was how much he would miss Harry... even though he could never be close to him, he would miss stealing glances across the great hall or staring absently at Harry's back in potions class. He wanted to take it back, but it was too late, the blood was already running thick and freely onto the cold stone floor. He passed out.

...

Harry awoke to the rude shaking of his shoulders by Ron Weasley, his best friend. He could always depend on Ron to wake him up, like his alarm clock... often Ron had saved him from being late to his first class and getting a detention.

Ron look startled but somewhat amused and Harry closed his eyes again, now aware of the rude sunlight pouring in the window...

"Harry, wake up! You will NEVER guess what happened!"

Harry grumbled but opened his eyes again and flashed Ron an idle glare... "What is it?" He paused before opening his mouth to spill the news, * Come on, get on with it! * Harry thought impatiently. He closed his eyes and nodded to let Ron know he was listening... he was just resting his eyes, yes, that was it.

"Snape found Malfoy unconscious in an old classroom, all bloody and stuff, they say he tried to kill himself... but it didn't work, he sure did do a good job of cutting himself up though!"

Harry's mind went on overload... what if this was about the beginning of the year when Harry pushed Draco away and told him he 'wasn't like that'? That couldn't be it, it was far to long ago, and no one knew. Harry hadn't told anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. What could make him do something like that? Harry suddenly felt the urge to see him.

"Where is he? I want to see him."

Ron looked at him strangely and answered back, "Well, I suppose he is in The Hospital Wing, why?"

Harry just shook his head and made up an excuse that came out really terrible, "I wanna see how deep his cuts are." He even goggled at his own words, knowing he must sound like a monster, but Ron just smiled dimly and turned around looking clueless.

]

Harry quickly changed from his pajamas to his school robes and stole a glance at himself in the large mirror on the wall, which he rarely ever did. He wondered why he cared so much about how his archenemy, Malfoy, was doing after a failed suicide attempt.

...

He was running fast, and kept tripping over large roots in the forest floor... his breath came in short puffs and he wondered how long he could keep going... forever if he needed to. He didn't need to look to see if the monster was still there, he could feel it behind him, and knew that it was getting closer. Suddenly a bright light erupted behind him and he turned just in time to see a large white stag trampling the cloaked dementor.

Draco's eyes flew open and he was staring at a white ceiling... where was he? All at once a warm feeling spread over his body and he turned his head to see Madame Pomfrey holding his arm up with her wand tip to his nearly healed wounds, she was healing him.

Then he remembered the night before... and was covered in a thick molasses of shame. He looked up again at Madame Pomfrey and realized she didn't he was awake yet. If she knew he was awake, she would stop and wait for him to sleep again, but he didn't want the warmth to leave him. He closed his eyes and almost instantly fell back asleep.

The next time he woke up he was startled to see a mass of brown hair by his bedside. He made a very subtle noise by clearing his throat and directed Harry's attention to him. Harry smiled warmly and spoke, "'Bout time you got up, Malfoy, you have been goin' in and out of sleep for a week now."

The Slytherin noticed that sarcastic note in his voice and wondered if that was meant as an insult. His heart started pounding... he realized he hadn't seen Harry this close in months, and his face had matured into that almost of a mans. It was more defined and ridged, but the same warmth that was always there before still radiated off of him and made it seem as though he was glowing from the inside out.

Harry never got near enough to Malfoy and never dare look him in the eye, that would ruin his months of work on avoiding the Slytherin. He wanted to make sure that Draco never got a chance to read his expression wrong. So he just didn't express anything.

Harry had noticed how the evil Slytherin had changed drastically. He never fought with him or called him names anymore and his grades were slipping. Maybe it was him who caused Draco to do this after all...