Black Sheep

Chapter Eighteen
In Which There Are Rash Actions


THE NEXT MORNING, HARRY WOKE up shivering, because - he quickly realised - he was lying in the stone corridor outside of his and Draco's rooms, wearing nothing but his shorts, and of course his wand was nowhere in sight. Waking up like that works better than any amount of coffee and Harry immediately bolted straight to his feet. He looked around the hall wildly, tugging at his shorts as if they could hide any more of him. But there was no one around to see him. Yet.

Harry knew with blinding clarity - the type that he usually didn't experience without nearly fatal amounts of caffeine - that before long, every one of Hogwarts' professors would leave their cosy chambers for this hallway, which was the only way to get to breakfast in the Great Hall. He pounded quietly but insistently on the door in front of him, hissing furiously, "Malfoy, you are so fucking dead when I get you and my wand alone in a room together. In fact, leave the wand out of it, I'll strangle you with my bare hands!" He kept rapping his knuckles against the door until he realised that the sound was carrying down the hall and would soon bring someone out to investigate. "Malfoy, open this door!"

There was a nearly convincing silence emanating from the thick wooden door. Still Harry fancied he was hearing the thick silence of someone suppressing explosive laughter. Breathing angrily through his nose, he looked reluctantly down the hall. He knew Malfoy well enough to know that he was hardly going to throw the door open in the nick of time and let Harry in, laughing and slapping him on the back companionably. No, that was what a Gryffindor might've done. Malfoy would let Harry experience every moment of exquisite embarrassment, and only then would he throw the door open to stroll out looking even more perfect and smug than usual. Harry trudged down the hall, hoping he remembered correctly which door was Hermione's.

Hesitating for a brief moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek, Harry held his clenched fist in front of the door that should lead to the DADA professor's chambers. He finally brought his knuckles against the wood in a quiet but insist rapping, like a frantic whisper made physical. There was no immediate response and before he dared trying to knock louder, he hissed, "Hermione! Wake up and open the bloody door!"

Much to his shock, she did the latter. The witch was already fully dressed and, in fact, already had a quill tucked behind her ear, nearly eclipsed by the mass of her hair. He could see past her shoulder to what should have been a coffee table of sorts but was so covered with books that it was hard to tell that it was there, if not for the spindly legs bowing under the weight. He was so aghast by the fact that she was already up and working at this ungodly hour that he momentarily forgot the strangeness of his own person to exclaim, "Good gods, Hermione - you're doing research? Now?"

She was too busy staring to answer. Her shocked eyes wandered over the graffiti that still littered his torso, but were inevitably drawn downward to his rather revealing shorts. His bare legs, still muscled from his years of quidditch and covered with a sprinkling of long black hairs, began to fidget uncomfortably as her gaze remained fixed on his southern bits. "Er, Hermione... you're not making things easier here."

Hermione replied faintly, "I wasn't aware that I was required to." She finally met Harry's eyes again, though it seemed physical strain was involved. "Do I even want to know why you are standing at my door at half-five in the morning, wearing nothing but... short shorts?"

"I am not-" Harry shook his head in frustration and started again. "Look, Malfoy somehow locked me out of our room, with no wand or clothing. I would really appreciate it if you could get me back in, to where there is cover and a blond waiting to be pummelled by me."

Hermione gave him a look with an extra helping of disdain, but stepped out into the hall with him, pulling her own door shut behind her. She led him back down the hall and pulled her wand out of her robes. With a neat flick, she muttered, "Alohomora!" and there was an audible click as the door was unlocked with a spell any first year could use. One more patronising look in Harry's direction and she headed back down the hall, to return to her books.

An angry flush now burning across his face and down his throat, Harry threw the door open. He was so going to get Draco back for this. He stepped into the sitting room and then slammed the door shut behind him. "MALFOY!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "You are dead, you despicable Slytherin, you!" He stalked into the bedroom next, but he was still fuming at no one other than himself and the empty air of the rooms. A quick, furious look into the bathroom confirmed that the blond was long gone.

Harry clenched his fists in futile anger. He spied his wand on one of the bedside tables and grabbed it in a grip so tight that it creaked ominously. He finally forced himself to relax slightly. Looking around the empty room, his eyes fell on the wardrobe. He imagined destroying every last piece of Draco's clothing - see how he liked roaming the halls with nothing to wear! - but then he remembered that he needed the clothes, as well. Unless he wished to run outside of Hogwarts' wards, in nothing more than his shorts, so that he could apparate home for some clothing of his own. He settled on another plan and with a small dangerous smile, he started to choose an outfit for the day.




The next day, Draco woke up to a chill breeze. "Fuck." Rolling his shoulders slightly to relieve a bit of their strain, he looked down at himself. It wasn't a bad view, of course - but he had been tied to the bed by his wrists and ankles, leaving him spread-eagled and completely at the mercy of whomever might happen upon him. And naked. He had thought that Harry had taken his little prank yesterday a bit too well. As it turned out, he hadn't taken it all that well at all. It was looking, in fact, like he had been absolutely bloody furious about it.

Draco struggled a bit against the cords that held him to the bed's frame and cursed his erstwhile roommate. "At least I let you keep your shorts on!" he yelled at no one, since there was no one actually there to hear him. He craned his head up as far as he could, to try to see into the sitting room through the open door, but there was no sign of Potter. Of course not. If he'd just wanted to humiliate Draco in private, he hardly would have needed such an elaborate set-up. No, Draco could imagine that Harry would stay out of sight until someone began to wonder where the history substitute was and came around to the history professor's rooms, looking for him.

Draco sighed and jiggled his wrists again. There was no give in his bonds and he wasn't nearly fool enough to work himself bloody to get out of them. Wriggling into the soft mattress, trying to get as comfortable as he could, Draco settled in to wait. Eventually someone would come calling.

And eventually they did. After a couple of hours of mentally reviewing his current position in life, Draco heard a brisk rapping at the door. He groaned silently. He knew exactly who it would be, behind the heavy oak. The door flew open, and then came to a purposeful stop before it could bang into the wall, and Headmistress McGonagall stepped into the sitting room, her wand still poised in front of her. Draco called out in a reluctant tone, "I'm in the bedroom, Professor McGonagall. Though I don't think you want to-..." His statement become redundant before he could even finish it, as McGonagall had already arrived at the bedroom door. Her face was immediately transformed into a thunderous frown of disapproval and she lashed out with her wand. A blanket materialised in the air above Draco and fell over him for the sake of decency.

"Mr Malfoy," she said in a voice lined with more warning signs than a nuclear power plant, "suffice it to say that I am not amused. Bearing this in mind, would you like to concisely and without embellishment explain to me what is going on here?"

Draco considered his position. He considered what McGonagall had already seen of his position, which was just about everything. He explained succinctly, "I'm afraid that Potter and I let a little rivalry get out of hand. We won't let it trouble you again."

Banishing the cords that bound him with a wave, McGonagall agree, "That's right, you won't. Or you will both be out of my school and at the mercy of the waiting paparazzi before you could say the words 'No comment.'" She turned to leave and told him over her shoulder, "Your class is waiting, Mr Malfoy."

Draco wasn't stupid enough to ignore her tone and without even bothering to brush his hair or check a mirror - a first for him, or at least when he was sober - he stumbled into a pair of jeans and grabbed a dark sweater, the first thing his hands found. Shoving his feet into his shoes as he walked, he followed McGonagall out of the room, fighting his way into his top as he went. He had managed to get all his important bits covered by the time that they arrived at the history classroom and McGonagall motioned him in with a grave look. She stepped into the classroom after him and, facing the students, managed to bite out a few words. "Mr Malfoy is very sorry for the delay. He will not let it happen again. You will all stay an additional twenty minutes today, to make up for the lost time. Mr Potter will explain to your other teachers why their classes will be delayed." She turned slowly to give Harry, who had been sitting in his usual shadowy position, the single most unamused look of his life. "Isn't that right, Mr Potter?"

Harry swallowed convulsively and stood up. "Right on it, Headmistress." He made a move toward the door and then paused to ask meekly, "And those would be which teachers?"

The woman's icy expression didn't thaw in the least as she said, "Why don't you just go ahead and apologise to all of the staff, for you and Mr Malfoy's recent conduct?"

Harry visibly shrank. The intervening years were stripped from him and he was like a twelve year old again, threatened with being suspended from Hogwarts for crashing a flying car into a valuable Whomping Willow. He hurried out of the line of McGonagall's steely eyes and as soon as he was out of the classroom, broke into a run. He didn't want the Headmistress to catch up with him in the halls.

When he thought he had put enough distance between himself and nearly certain death, he slowed to a walk. Breathing a heavy sigh, he let himself come to rest against a cold stone wall. He had to visit each professor in the castle and apologise to them, likely in front of a whole class of curious students. He might as well start with the easiest professor, he thought to himself. Then he immediately changed his mind - surely the easiest professor would be Marianthi. She would forgive him of anything. No matter how hard he tried to shrug her off, no matter how rude he acted, she kept coming back for more. He definitely didn't want to meet her. Especially if there was any chance he would get stuck alone with her again. Instead, he headed towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione was only slightly less frightening than McGonagall when angry, but he knew that as soon as he gave into one of her lectures, she would forgive him. Or at least he hoped that was still true.




Lunch time found Harry and Draco sitting in uncomfortable silence in the deepest hidden chambers of the library. Harry was still smarting from making his rounds to all of the teachers and having to apologise for his behaviour in front of some 200 students. Draco, on the other hand, was already making plans for how to torment Harry without any possible ramifications. He would have to wait until dinner to really put them in action, though.

He grinned wickedly as he flipped absently through the pages in front of him. So far, the reserves of Hogwarts' secrets had not proved any more fruitful than the rest of the library. They were going through each book individually, but there couldn't be more than five hundred of the ancient volumes. With the three of them (when Hermione came along) able to get through at least a dozen a day, they should exhaust all of Hogwarts' most coveted knowledge in little more than a month or two. Of course, Hermione slowed the process by actually reading the books, instead of just skimming them as Harry did. Draco was somewhere in between the two of them; he would stop to read something that caught his fancy, but he would also get frustrated and flip through entire volumes while hardly noticing what they were even about. This was basically what he was doing now.

Harry glared at him, his annoyance radiating from him in waves. Draco noticed and grinned at him, while in his mind he thought merrily, Just you wait till tonight. Out loud he said, "Hey, Potter. I'm going to a show tonight. Want to come?"

Harry started. This didn't fit with his silent tension. "A show?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes," Draco said patiently, "a show. A band, playing music, in front of an audience of drunk, wanton young things. Entertainment, as it were."

"Where?"

"Edinburgh," Draco told him, flipping pages again.

"Edinburgh?" Harry repeated in a disbelieving tone. "And just how were you planning to get to Edinburgh? The Hogwarts Express hardly calls in at the Royal Mile, last I checked!"

Draco's teeth flashed again, in the low light of the cavern. "That's where you come in."

Harry's eyes narrowed to suspicious green slits. "How do you even know about some show in Edinburgh?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head with a mildly disappointed air, as if he had come to expect Harry's tiresome questions - which he had. "I knew about it before we even came here. I'd been planning to go for at least a month now. It's a new band that I quite like, so I wanted to go see their show."

Harry wondered what kind of music Draco would like. He wanted to know. He nodded hesitantly and said, "All right. I'll apparate with you to Edinburgh."

Draco's eyes glinted as his smile grew. "You'll come with me and stay for the show?" When Harry nodded again, he added, "You promise?"

Harry was startled by the words. They should have been automatically suspicious, coming from Draco, but Harry thought he saw something in those inscrutable grey eyes, so he said, "I promise."

Draco stuck out a hand and Harry grasped it, feeling the cool skin beneath his own. Draco gave a good shake and when Harry still didn't let go, he suggested, "I think that has settled it then...?"

Harry's hand tightened convulsively as he realised what Draco had said, then he let go quickly. Muttering an apology, he turned back to the book in front of him, while Draco watched him curiously.




They made it through afternoon classes - though it wasn't as if Harry did anything, so it would be more fair to say that Draco made it through his afternoon classes, and Harry continued to do nothing in the corner. Dinnertime rolled around and they headed for the Great Hall; Draco had assured Harry that they needn't leave until after dinner.

They sat down at two conveniently empty seats between Hermione and Marianthi, and for once Draco didn't force Harry to sit next to the Greek witch and instead took that spot for himself. Harry felt a burst of relief, which immediately withered when he heard Draco say in a clear, carrying voice, "Do you like British music, Marianthi?"

Harry dragged Draco's ear towards him via the somewhat circuitous route of a vicious pinch under the man's arm, and hissed, "What are you doing?"

Draco swatted him away like an annoying mosquito and said under his breath, "You promised."

"Not if you're going to-"

"You promised," Draco repeated in a no-nonsense tone. He let his gaze fall on the man for a moment. "Do you know what happens when a wizard breaks a promise?" Then he turned back to Marianthi without missing a beat and explained to her, "See, we're going to this Muggle band's show tonight and my friend Harry here is in sore need of date. Would you be so kind as to join us and keep him company?" His eyes flicked to Harry as he savoured the words. "All evening?"

All the nearby students fell silent, as they had of course heard Draco's purposefully loud voice. Marianthi could hardly agree fast enough and Harry shook his head in disgusted resignation. He should have known. There was only one thing he could do to try help his situation, as the gossip starting spreading through the ranks of the students. He turned to Hermione with a desperate expression. "Hermione... please..."

She rolled her eyes at his pathetic display but spat, "Oh, fine. I'll play chaperone. You pathetic pansy."

Draco perked up. "What's that about Pansy?"

Hermione growled, "Oh, I'm not talking to you, you meddling ferret." She turned back to Harry. "Why do I always get dragged into your messes and end up cleaning them up after you?"

Harry smiled in what he hoped was an endearing manner. "Because you're my bestest best friend?" He saw that wasn't going to cut it and so he quickly tacked on, "And much cleverer and prettier and better at everything than me?"

Hermione at least broke into a laugh as she questioned, "Prettier?"

"Well..." Harry's smile grew into a grin. But he glanced in the direction of Draco and Marianthi, now discussing the details of the night's plans, and it faded into a worried look. His eyes lingered on Draco as the man happily set up a night of delicious payback.




At least Marianthi could apparate for herself, otherwise Harry was sure that Draco would have found a way to make him take her along. Instead, it was Draco himself that Harry pulled close to him, one hand clamped firmly on his bony shoulder, as they apparated to a dark wynd in the heart of Edinburgh. The four young travellers spent a few moments adjusting their Muggle clothes and pulling their jackets in tighter against the chill air, then they set out with Draco leading the way.

Hermione asked him, through clenched teeth as she tried to keep them from chattering, "So who is this band?"

"They're called Snow Patrol," Draco answered, glancing at her for any sign of recognition.

She shrugged and said, "Never heard of them. But then I'm not terribly up on my Muggle pop culture these days."

"Well," Draco allowed, "they are pretty new, so it's not such a surprise that you mightn't have heard their name."

Marianthi dropped into the conversation from behind them. She was trying to keep up with (and close to) Harry, but he hadn't even noticed and was striding with long steps, several feet away from the group. "What does this mean... 'Snow Patrol'?" she asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

Draco pulled a face. "Er, apparently something to do with skiing, I think..."

No one else could agree or deny it, since none of them had ever tried the Muggle sport. They arrived at an unmarked blue door in yet another empty-looking building and Draco stopped. "Welcome," he said, "to the Blue Door." Standing in the cold, their breath clouding in front of their faces, his audience looked unimpressed. He pushed the door open and a rush of warm and alcohol-scented air wafted out to greet them, along with the sound of conversation and muted music.

They bustled into the warmer inside and Draco led them down the steep stairs immediately inside the door, into the basement. It was surprisingly large and already more-than-comfortably full with at least two hundred people spread across the bar, tables and dance floor. Marianthi was looking around curiously at what she could see in the strobing blue light. Harry followed Draco's lead stiffly, clearly out of his element. And Hermione, surprisingly, headed straight for the bar, without even waiting for the others.

After checking their coats, the threesome managed to find a tall spindly table unoccupied, though there were no seats. The table was made to lean on, look cool, and inspire intimate moments. Harry was expressing his strong opinion on the usefulness of such a piece of furniture when Hermione arrived with four shot glasses clasped between her slender fingers, usually seen wrapped around a book cover. "Stop your whining," she told Harry as she slid one pair of shots in front of him and Draco. "First round's on me."

Harry and Draco looked at her in surprise. Marianthi hadn't known the witch long enough to be as shocked and she clapped happily. "Oh, good job, Hermione!" She took the glass that Hermione offered her and raised it as if to toast the night.

Draco said sardonically, "To new... relationships." He looked at Harry meaningfully, a suggestive smile curling across his face. He was rewarded with seeing Harry's fingers tighten around his glass.

Hermione, watching the others closely, raised her glass to that and then they all knocked back the shots of vodka that she had bought. Well, the other three knocked back the vodka. She drank the perfectly innocuous ice water that she'd had the bartender pour her. It - and the loss of an extra twenty pounds - were part of the agreement that would get her friends plastered and keep her tee-totalling for the rest of the evening. She offered to pick up another round on her way back from the coat check.

After she left, Draco watched her from across the room with raised eyebrows. "Well, well, Professor Granger," he murmured, half to himself. He said to Harry, without turning around, "I'm beginning to reconsider my opinion of your choice of friends, Potter."

Hermione came back with their second round just as the recorded music was switched off and the sound of the band tuning up filled the crowded club. A cheer went up from the patrons who had come just for this. Draco jumped to his feet and grabbed both Harry and Marianthi by the arm and dragged them toward the dance floor. "Let's go!" he yelled over the noise, in the highest of spirits. He saw Harry's miserable-looking face and laughed out loud. "This is going to the night of your life, Potter. Believe you me. And Granger, your skinny arse better be coming, too," he shouted over this shoulder.

She shouted back something indistinct, her words lost in the crowds' roar, but she followed as Draco managed to wedge them all into the centre of the warm, sweaty crowd.

The first song started and the crowd went nuts. Draco had managed to manoeuvre Marianthi right in front of Harry and the witch was doing her best to make herself impossible to ignore, namely by practically mauling her poor young target. Draco danced behind them with a huge smile on his face. Whenever Harry looked desperately in his direction, it seemed to grow even larger. Not to mention the fact that Harry was an absolutely crap dancer and was doing little more than stepping from side to side in a rhythm as close to the music's beat as he could get. Occasionally he would try to involve his arms in some way, but then give up.

Draco sidled up behind the obviously uncomfortable man and whispered in his ear, their skin touching briefly before Harry stopped his pathetic movement, "Having fun?"

Harry let himself relax slightly against the blond. His body almost imperceptibly resting against Draco's steady frame, he spoke back directly into Draco's ear, since that was the only way - short of magic - to speak over the noise without screaming. "This is payback, isn't it?" he asked resignedly.

Draco chuckled and Harry fancied that he could feel it through his back. "It is," Draco agreed, "but hardly the worst of paybacks, wouldn't you say?"

Harry was about to agree but then Marianthi grabbed his hand and tried to force him to shake his body in time with hers. They continued like this - Harry and Marianthi silently struggling towards and away from each other, Draco dancing and laughing, and Hermione watching from a discreet distance. She didn't even have to suggest a third round before Draco yelled out that he was getting rather parched. Hermione called back, "Give me ten pounds and I'll meet you back at the tables!"

Draco pulled a wad of notes from his pocket and passed her a twenty, saying, "Make 'em doubles!"

"Buyer's choice?"

"Whiskey, then!"

Hermione grinned, though probably not for the same reasons that Draco thought she was grinning for. She ordered three double shots of scotch and one double "shot" of an apple juice that could pass for whiskey in the low lighting. She brought them back to the group, who were taking a break at another of the uncomfortable tables, and carefully handing out the drinks to the others.

Harry looked unhappily at his. He remembered (some of) what had happened the last time Draco had got him to drink scotch with him. But he choked down the drink anyway, fighting the slight urge to gag. The room was already feeling a bit shaky, but it began to positively spin as the last drink began to take effect. He was aware of Draco forcing him out onto the dance floor and then Marianthi's arms were caught up around his neck as the slow strains of a new song filled the haze in his brain.

Please don't let this turn into something it's not

Draco was walking away, back to the table where Hermione was still standing. Harry watched him go blearily.

I can only give you everything I've got

He looked down at Marianthi. She had her arms around him, but his own arms hung limply at his sides. This wasn't going to work.

I can't be as sorry as you think I should

In his drunken calm, he gently untangled her arms from around his neck and pushed them back towards her. Then he walked away.

But I still love you more than anyone else could

His eyes never leaving the blond hair that appeared between the shadows of the other dancers, Harry walked unsteadily towards Draco.

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole fight

He didn't have any clear idea what he was planning to do when he arrived, but he did know one thing.

Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

Wrapped tightly in Marianthi's embrace, he didn't feel anything but troubled. But simply being able to stand near Draco made him feel like he knew exactly where he belonged.

This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long

He arrived at the table between Hermione and Draco, grabbing the wooden top to keep himself standing straight. They looked at him in surprise.

Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong

He grabbed Draco by the arm, and feeling those sinewy muscles under his hand gave him the same thrill that he'd been feeling for days, though he only admitted it to himself now.

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could

He pulled the man away from the table and Hermione's shocked eyes. Draco tried to pull away, his face a mixture of curiosity and burgeoning anger. He asked sharply, "What was that for?"

The first kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything

Harry didn't immediately answer, as he found himself staring at Draco's face instead of listening to his words. How could he have known that face for more than a decade and never noticed?

The weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I have ever learned

He finally remembered to answer, and his words were slurred by the alcohol that was propelling him forward. "It needs to stop."

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

Draco's lips were curled in scorn, but Harry was looking at his cloudy grey eyes, now widened in the slightest sign of alarm. "What does? What on earth are you talking about, Potter?"

We have gone through so much worse than this before

Harry's eyes dropped to his hand, still on the other man's arm. "This isn't what I want," he mumbled miserably. "You've got to stop. This - this thing... and Marianthi... it's just wrong. I don't want it!"

What's so different this time that you can't ignore

Draco's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Then what do you want? Do you even know? Before I showed up, you were rotting away in the countryside with no plans for the rest of your life, so you tell me what it is that you want."

You say it is much more than just my last mistake

"I..." Harry struggled feebly for words, his fingers tightening convulsively on the thin arm in his grasp. "I - I want..."

And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes

Draco ripped his arm free of that grasp and asked mercilessly, "What do you want, Harry? Answer the goddamned question!"

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could

Harry's eyes shot up to look into Draco's face and he stared openly at that fierce expression, unsure what it meant. "I..."

The first kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything

The rest of the room didn't exist and the two men didn't look away from each other's eyes. Draco's voice was barely a whisper but it cut across all of the noise of the club for Harry. "Tell me."

The weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I have ever learned

Harry blinked and the spell broke. He felt the bodies jostling around him and his liquid courage evaporated. He mumbled blearily, "I don't know."

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

It was Draco's turn to reach out and he grabbed Harry by the arm as the other man seemed about to turn away.

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could

"I wasn't just saying it, Potter." He told Harry as he looked seriously into his face, "You remember the rules. You have to answer."

The first kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything

Harry's eyes flew wide open. He hadn't thought of the game since they'd come to Hogwarts, but it seemed that Draco hadn't forgot his remaining questions.

The weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I have ever learned

He had no choice. This was what he had agreed to. It made the words somehow easier, when he could tell himself that he had no choice but to say them.

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

He pulled Draco's hand from his sleeve, holding it for that brief moment as he said simply, "I want you." Then he dropped the limp fingers and turned on the spot, pulling his wand from his pocket as he did so. He apparated out of the crowded room, but no one really noticed in the crush of bodies.

And I don't know where to look

No one but Draco, of course. He clenched his empty hand into a fist as he stared at the spot where Harry had disappeared, knowing that he couldn't follow.

My words just break and melt

Speechless with frustrated anger - and perhaps something else - he shoved his way through the crowd to where Hermione was still standing by the table full of empty glasses.

Please just save me from this darkness

"Take me to Godric's Hollow, Granger."

Hermione hadn't seen Harry disappear and she asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Please just save me from this darkness

He silenced her with a loaded glare and repeated, "Take me to Godric's Hollow."

And I don't know where to look

Harry apparated into his own living room and collapsed to the floor, falling half against the wall. He looked around his own house as if it were unfamiliar to him. He hadn't been back here since the last time Draco had dropped him off.

My words just break and melt

What had he done? Had he really just said out loud that he wanted Draco Malfoy, his arch rival and best friend? He felt like he was going to be sick.

Please just save me from this darkness

He didn't want to imagine facing Draco again after what he'd said, but he couldn't imagine never meeting Draco again. How could he live now, without Draco blazing through his life like a brilliant, destructive supernova?

Please just save me from this darkness

"Harry."