It Didn't Occur To Me

It never occured to me that someone could ever get depressed to the point of trying to commit suicide. I don't think it ever occured to anyone, especially people who lived in the same House as the person who had done 'it'.

Suicide was a dirty word. Nobody likes to say it, speak of it, or think of it. If they think of killing themselves, they think they're sick, and need help for it. Everyone does it. Thinks about suicide, that is. In the end, most people chicken out and think of the life they can have, because it will get better.

I remember 'that day'. It was a freezing cold morning in December, right before Christmas Vacation was supposed to start. Malfoy-Draco-had been acting so strange the few months before 'that day'. I remember the initial shock that I had experienced when I had heard Draco had turned down the opportunity to play for Slytherin's Quidditch Team. He'd been voted as captain-which he tastelessly turned down (he had nearly taken my head off when I politely asked him in the hallway the moment I heard). The players for Slytherin were willing to give up their positions so Draco could play a position he was good at-he was a fantastic Beater.

After the first few days of school, the Slytherin's slowly, ever so slowly, started paying less and less attention to the blond. The people in other Houses noticed the neglect, but couldn't care less. It was Malfoy we were talking about, you know.

Then, on 'that day', December 16, before the train was due to leave for King's Cross, Blaise Zabini, a boy in our year, ran into the Great Hall. Shock, and fear, and anger was mixing together as one onto his face. He stood in the Hall for a moment, moving his lips, trying to talk, before he broke down.

Professors Dumbledore and Snape stood up, their chairs crashing to the ground. Never had a Slytherin cried in sight of other Slytherin's, especially on a day that was supposed to be so joyous. It was the day we were to go home. Well, I wasn't going home. Ron and Hermione were, and I elected to stay back and write my Godfather and finish a Potions essay I had to make up.

Through tears, and coughing-sobs, Blaise managed to say the words that made everyone stare in shock at the boy.

"Malfoy..he..he.."

"What?" Snape barked, standing behind Dumbledore, who was kneeling next to him. "He what? Cursed you? Insulted you?"

Of course, no one believed Blaise Zabini would cry over something Malfoy had said to him.

Blaise shook his head, his eyes focused on the ground. Beside me, Hermione grabbed my forearm and squeezed, hard. She was getting upset, too. Ron was just staring, trying to figure out what it could be. Seamus whispered something to Dean and Neville, who both had to cover their mouths and giggle into their hands.

"He tried to kill himself I think, professors," Blaise managed to say before falling to his knees and crying more.

Snape's shoulders had squared. A few people who had been close enough (Hermione, Ron and I were some) to hear Blaise's revelation, stared in complete shock.

"Where is he?" Dumbledore asked softly, putting his hand gently on Blaise's back, which shook with each sob.

"I-I brought him to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey wants you to see him."

That day had been awful. Truly awful.