Shatter

Two days later...

Narcissa Malfoy had always prided herself on being poised and refined. She had prided herself on raising her son to be so. Now, however, she stood in front of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, aware that her son was a patient inside, and came to the conclusion that pride wasn't counting for as much as it used to. Straightening her blouse and running her fingers over the pearls at her throat, she went up the steps and into the building, high heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor.

"I'm here to see my son," she told the witch behind the counter.

"Name, please?" the woman asked.

"Draco," Narcissa said.

The reception-witch scribbled something on a clipboard, frowning when the clipboard wrote something unexpected back. "I'm afraid we don't have any patients named Draco at the moment, ma'am."

"That's his first name," Narcissa said, counting to ten in her head to avoid a loss of temper. "His last name is Malfoy."

The witch's head jerked up, something unreadable flashing in her eyes before she wrote hurriedly on the clipboard again. "Um...the fourth floor, ma'am. Room 114."

"Thank you," Narcissa replied, voice clipped, and walked to the lift at the end of the hall.

The reception-witch watched her go, muttering something about "the fourth floor crowd."

***

The fourth floor of St. Mungo's housed the more expensive rooms, the patients there largely referred to as eccentric instead of crazy because of one chief qualifier: money. Either the patients themselves or relatives that cared a great deal about them were willing to pay for rooms that looked as little like a hospital as the staff could make them and a code of privacy that was second to none.

Another witch waited a desk just outside the lifts, but this one was immediately to Narcissa's liking. She stood as soon as Narcissa arrived on the floor and smiled pleasantly. "Hello, ma'am. My name is Beatrice. Who are you visiting today?"

"My son," Narcissa smiled. "Room 114."

"Oh, then you're Draco's mother!" Beatrice exclaimed. "He's such a lovely boy, all the nurses' favorite patient. He's been asking about you, too. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you." She paused outside a door, unhooking a ring of keys from a loop at her belt. She unlocked the door and held it open for Narcissa. "Draco, you have a visitor." Beatrice looked back at Narcissa. "I'll give you two all the time you want. If there's anything you need, press the button on the wall and I'll be right here." She flashed one last beaming smile before closing the door.

"Draco, darling, Mother's here," Narcissa said, looking around the room for her son.

He sat on the bed, swinging his feet and humming to himself.

"Draco, it's Mother."

Draco hummed a little louder.

"Draco?"

His head jerked up. "Mother?"

Narcissa smiled and sat down beside him. "Darling, how are you feeling?"

"Sometimes all right," he said. "Other times it's like I'm dizzy, only without being dizzy. Am I making any sense?"

"I understand completely, darling." Narcissa pressed his head down onto her shoulder, threading her fingers through his hair. "I have a present for you," she murmured.

"Really?" Draco's eyes brightened. "I knew you'd bring me a present. You always bring me the best presents. What is it?"

Narcissa laughed softly. "Just a moment, Draco. Let me get it out." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver ring. It was a plain band, with small section of braiding where a gem might have been. She slid it onto the first finger of Draco's right hand. "This is something I've been keeping for you for a long time. I think you should have it now."

"It's very pretty," Draco said.

Narcissa kissed his cheek. "I'm afraid I have to go now."

"No!" Draco lifted his head and shook it frantically. "You can't go!"

"I have to," Narcissa repeated. "But don't worry, I'll always take care of you."

"I know you will," Draco said. He kissed her lightly on the lips, a little boy's kiss to his mother. "You probably need to be going. Come and see me again soon."

"I'll come as soon as I can, I promise."

"Then it's fine, if you promise."

***

The intercom sphere at the desk lit up. Beatrice waved her hand over it. "Beatrice here. Go ahead."

"Beatrice! Check your floor! We got word of a jumper!"

"On my way." Beatrice raced down the hall, possessing no Foresight but somehow knowing which room to check first. She kicked open the door to room 114. "Draco!" She looked over and saw him sitting on the bed, swinging his feet and humming to himself. He was running the fingers of his left hand over a ring on his right. She knew the ring hadn't been there before.

Something wasn't right in the room. "Draco, where's your mother?"

"She had to go. She gave me a present. Do you like it?" He held out his hand, showing off the ring.

"Draco, where did your mother go?"

"Outside."

"How?"

Draco pointed to the open window. He smiled. "Do you think she'll come see me again tomorrow?"

***

"She was listed as the contact for his case. What does the file say about the emergency contact?"

"There's a letter in here...'In the event that I am no longer able to take care of Draco, please contact Albus Dumbledore. I have no love for the man, but I believe he has the best interests for my son at heart. Also, please contact my sister-in-law, Isobel Malfoy, at the Ministry of Magic.' It's like she was planning this the whole time."

"Why'd she put Dumbledore over her sister-in-law?"

"My guess is they don't get along."

"You think?"

"Do you get along with your sister in law?"

"...Point taken."

***

Albus Dumbledore arrived at St. Mungo's a few hours later, surprised to find that Harry Potter was waiting there for him.

"They wouldn't let me in to see him; said they were waiting for you."

Dumbledore smiled, amused. "May I ask how you found out about the newest developments in Mr. Malfoy's life?"

"The message came into the Ministry a few hours ago. Gossip travels fast."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And why would the Ministry be notified?"

Harry shrugged. "Seems they were trying to get in touch with Malfoy's aunt. They thought she worked there."

"Hm, interesting. Shall we go in?"

The two wizards mounted the steps and went inside, to be greeted by a flurry of hospital personnel. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore, sir, so glad you're here. Hope you haven't been inconvenienced--"

"Coming to help a former student of mine is never an inconvenience," Dumbledore said. "Now, what is it exactly you need from me?"

"Well, you see, sir, Mr. Malfoy--his mother, sir, she--"

"Professor Dumbledore? Could you come with me, please?"

The new voice was so different than the others, poised and weighted with authority, that Dumbledore and Harry could not help but turn to see who owned it. It was a young blond Mediwitch dressed in dark gray robes. She smiled pleasantly. "My name is Beatrice; I'm the duty nurse on the fourth floor. If you could follow me?"

When she noticed Harry coming with Dumbledore, she cocked her head to the side. "And you are, sir?"

Harry smirked a little. "Auror Potter. I wanted to see how Malfoy was doing, but they wouldn't let me come in until the professor arrived."

Beatrice's eyes widened a little at the name. "Of course, sir. Right this way." She led them up to the fourth floor, pausing outside room 114. "I'm sure you were informed as to what has happened. Mrs. Malfoy listed you, Professor, as the replacement contact. She also had us get in touch with her sister-in-law, but we have yet to hear from her. I need to get some paperwork for you to sign, but would you like to go in and see Draco while you wait?"

"Yes, that would be fine. Thank you."

Beatrice unlocked the door and let them into the room. "I'll be back in a moment."

Draco looked up at the sound of the door. "Two visits in one day. I must be lucky. Lucky or cursed or something. Who is it?"

"Don't you know?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, you, professor. And...Harry." Draco's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard about what happened," Harry said. "Thought I'd come see how you were doing."

"All right, I guess. Did you see my present? Mother gave it to me." He held out his hand.

"Very nice," Harry murmured.

Draco eyed the patterned border on the edge of Harry's sleeves. He squinted a little before looking back up to meet Harry's eyes. "That's an Auror border," he said, almost accusingly. "Two days out of school and they've already sucked you in. Hope you like it, Potter. Because they'll never let you go."

"I know." Harry sat down beside Draco on the bed.

Draco looked down at the mattress. "That's where my mother sat. Are you going to leave out the window, too?"

"No, Malfoy. I don't jump."

"That's good. I don't jump either. I think it would hurt too much; the hitting part, I mean. I'd be too afraid to hit, so I'd never get off the ledge." Draco stared at the shocked expression on Harry's face. "What?"

Before Harry could answer, the door flew open and someone ran into the room. It was a young woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. She wore no robes; instead, she sported Muggle cargo pants, a black tank top, and a pair of scuffed running shoes. Her long black hair was pulled up in a sloppy bun and held in place by a pair of hair sticks. Her dark brown eyes fell on Draco and she pulled him to his feet in a rough embrace. "God, Draco, I'm so glad to see you," she murmured into his hair.

"Nice to see you, too," Draco said, his voice muffled by her shoulder.

The woman kissed the top of his head and pulled away, still keeping one arm around his shoulder. "Now who the hell are you two?"

"Albus Dumbledore," the older man replied. "Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Harry Potter, Auror for the Ministry."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Interesting company you keep, lovely," she said.

"I thought I told you not to call me that," Draco muttered.

"You did. I ignored you. It's what aunts do." The woman extended a hand to Dumbledore. "Isobel Rhiannon Malfoy. Call me Izzy, saves on time."

Dumbledore shook her hand. "A please to meet you , Miss Malfoy."

Harry gave her a nod. "A pleasure," he said softly.

"What exactly are you doing here, Potter?" Isobel demanded, raising an eyebrow. Harry was strongly reminded of Draco.

"I heard about what happened when the message came into the Ministry. They were trying to get in touch with you, thought you worked there."

She grinned wickedly. "I do work there. I just don't work there."

"I'm lost," Harry said.

"Come on, Potter; they don't make idiots Aurors," Isobel admonished. "Not all the Ministry operatives have an office in the building. Some aren't even spoken of, catch my meaning?"

Harry kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. My God, he thought, Malfoy's aunt is an Unspeakable. Will wonders never cease.

Isobel had already begun talking to Dumbledore again, stroking Draco's hair absently. Draco had rested his head against her shoulder, eyes closed. Harry noticed that a lot of the tension had left his face and he seemed much younger.

Beatrice stuck her head in the door. "There you are, Miss Malfoy," she said. "I heard someone had blown past security. I need you and Professor Dumbledore to come with me. Auror Potter, if you'd like to stay here with Draco, that's fine."

"I'll be back in a moment, lovely." Isobel gave Draco a final hug and followed Beatrice out. When Dumbledore had gone, it was only the two boys left in the room. Draco flopped bonelessly beside Harry on the bed, stretching his arms out until his fingertips brushed the wall.

"Why are you here, Harry?"

"I told you. I heard about what happened at the Ministry."

"Wrong. Try again." Draco held one hand in front of his face and wiggled his fingers.

"What do you mean 'wrong'?" Harry demanded.

"You're lying, so it's wrong." Draco switched hands.

"How do you know I'm lying?" Harry asked.

"Tone of voice," Draco said, ticking off points on the fingers in front of his face. "Posture, stress on certain words, where your eyes are looking, the way to keep drumming your fingers on the mattress." He giggled suddenly. "Whoops, out of fingers." He lowered his hand and rested it on his chest.

"So answer my question, Harry. Why are you here?"

"I...don't know."

Draco smiled. "Now you're telling the truth." He reached over and wrapped his fingers around Harry's, rubbing his thumb against the back of the young Auror's hand. "Guess," he said after a moment.

"What?" Harry jerked back into reality, having been lulled by motions Draco's thumb was making.

"You said you didn't know why you were here. So guess."

"I..."

The door opened. Isobel leaned against the door frame. "I have to go, lovely. Give me a hug good-bye?"

Draco got up off the bed, his fingers slowly unwinding from Harry's grasp. Isobel held him tight against her, whispering something into Draco's hair. He tilted his head up to look at her, saying something softly back. She laughed, but Harry could see the faint tinge of fear in her eyes. He wondered what she was afraid of.

"Good-bye, lovely," Isobel said. "I'll come back and see you soon." She slid slowly from Draco's arms, drifted down the hall, and was gone.

Draco stood in the doorway for a while, eyes lingering on his aunt's retreating form.

"Draco."

He spun to his left, relaxing a little when he saw it was only Dumbledore. "I'm afraid that Harry and I have to go now. We'll visit you again as soon as we can."

Harry walked to the door, letting his hand brush Draco's shoulder as he passed. "Good-bye, Draco."

"Good-bye," Draco said, eyes drifting back to the window.

***

It was a week later when Harry got the letter. It wasn't rare for him to get mail; many times it was internal, little notes from Ron or Hermione. This letter was made of familiar paper and his name was written on it in familiar green ink.

He opened it and leaned back in his chair.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are doing well at the Ministry, but I'm afraid I must ask a favor of you. St. Mungo's has been sending me daily reports on Draco's condition and filing all questions as to his treatment to me. Due to pressing responsibilities with the rebuilding of Hogwarts, I cannot pay as much attention to them as I would like. As much as I want to respect Mrs. Malfoy's wishes, I cannot continue to hold full responsibility for Draco. Because of the nature of her work, neither can Draco's aunt. I tried to contact some of Draco's Slytherin housemates, but all those I can recall being in his company are now either deceased, in Azkaban, or have refused to answer my letters. I have spoken to Isobel and she has agreed to this idea if you will. We would like to turn copies of the reports over to you, having you keep an eye on his progress. If there are major questions concerning his care, of course, we would expect you to leave them to us. We understand if you would like us to find someone else. I thank you for your help, no matter your decision.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

PS: Enclosed is something that St. Mungo's asked me to forward to you.

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper. It was a sketch of two boys; one with dark hair had his arms flung around the other. His expression was twisted by emotion, mouth open in what may have been a sob or a scream. The second boy, pale-haired in contrast to the other, had his lips slightly parted as if he were speaking. There was a semblance of compassion about his features, but something strange around his eyes hinted that he might soon need more comfort than his companion.

The two boys were exact portraits of Harry and Draco.

Harry nearly flipped backwards out of his chair. His hands were shaking as he studied the sketch again, then a third time. He remembered this; it had only been just over a week ago that this--the scene in the picture--had happened.

As far as the world knew, Harry Potter had been found calm and collected in the Great Hall, the body of Voldemort at his feet and a mentally broken Draco Malfoy drawing in his own blood nearby. No one had seen Harry in the minutes directly following Voldemort's death, when he had broken down and cried from sheer exhaustion, relief and a touch of fear that somehow this wouldn't be the end and he have to live it all over again. No one had seen, except for a certain young Death Eater, who had held Harry up when his knees gave out and kept talking in reassuring tones, no matter than most of his words made no sense. After a few minutes, Harry pulled himself together and Draco, sensing that his work was done, had selected a patch of floor to draw on.

And now Draco had drawn this. The artist had to have been Draco; the picture came from St. Mungo's and he was the only one who would know about Harry's breakdown. The question spinning around Harry's mind was, "Why?" Did Draco want something? Did he have enough of his mind together to be plotting; hand over something of value, or the world finds out that the fearless Harry Potter was really The Boy Who Cried Like A Baby? Or was there any plot at all? Was it just something Draco had remembered, and drawn it because he remembered it?

Harry rolled his eyes heavenward and moaned. "Now I'm getting paranoid. They don't need me looking after Draco; they need to make me his bloody roommate."

***

"Why'd you draw it?"

Draco's head whipped up and around, silver eyes falling on Harry in the doorway. "Hello, Harry. Izzy said you'd be coming." He moved the papers piled beside him on the bed. "Have a seat?"

Harry dropped down onto the mattress. "Why'd you draw it?"

"Draw what?" Draco picked up a blank sheet of paper and a pencil he'd set down at Harry's entrance.

"The picture you sent me," Harry said through clenching teeth. "Why'd you draw it?"

"Why do you care?" Draco asked, beginning to sketch.

"I don't know, that's not important."

"It must be, for you to be asking about it."

"Dammit, Draco, answer my question!"

"Answer mine first." Draco raised his eyes and they were exactly as Harry remembered them at school: silver steel of the finest quality, piercing and finding every flaw in whatever armor you set up for yourself. "This is the second time you've come to see me. I've asked you a question both times. Both times all you could say was that you didn't know. I'm getting sick of hearing that answer, Potter."

"So now it's Potter again?"

"Until you answer my question, yes."

"Fine." Harry looked away. "I want to know because that picture frightens me."

Draco's lips curved a little at the corners. "So much for the rumors of Harry Potter knowing no fear. Why does it scare you, Potter?"

"Because...it makes me remember that night. I don't want to remember that night."

"Why not? It was your big victory wasn't it? Seven years people have been waiting for that; ever since you set foot in Hogwarts, people expected you to be able to kill him."

"That's part of the problem. I...I guess I knew I'd have to kill him, but...the killing...It was so fast and I thought, 'So that's it? That's all he gets?' It didn't seem like enough for him, not after all he did. And the feeling afterwards...Have you ever killed anyone, Draco?"

"Yes." Draco didn't look up from his sketch.

Harry jerked a little in shock. "When?" His lips formed the question before he thought about the possible answers.

"Summer after fourth year. Father decided it was time to get my Mark. Killing someone was the initiation rite."

"Who was it?" Harry whispered.

"It wasn't a Muggle, if that's what you're thinking, Potter." Draco scowled at the picture, and fumbled on the bedspread until he found an eraser. "It was some Death Eater, botched one too many missions. Voldemort had him under Cruciatus for a while, then turned things over to me. He, the Death Eater, I mean, just kind of looked up at me, with these strange eyes, like he was thanking me for doing this. Then I killed him. Voldemort congratulated me and put the Mark on my arm. It was all very strange...Would you like some tea?"

"What?" Harry jerked in surprise at the shift in topics.

"Tea," Draco repeated patiently, as if he weren't the one in a mental institution. "Would you like some? They make excellent tea here. If I ask, I'm sure Beatrice will get us some. She likes me. All the nurses like me. They'll get me whatever I want, as long as it's not a wand, or a razor blade or any length of rope. Because, like I said before, I'm afraid to jump."

He had wrapped his arms around himself and was shaking slightly. His eyes darted around the room, never lingering on anything for more than a few seconds. "Yes, I am afraid. Afraid like you, yes, but more. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Mind-killer. Killer. Yes, I am a killer. It wasn't just that one man, it was others. Some on orders, some not, but oh God, the feeling afterwards. It was power, so much power, but that man, he didn't fear it, not like I feared it. He wanted it. He wanted it and he thanked me for it and the power was gone because he wanted it. There's no power in killing someone who wants to die."

"Draco." Harry reached out a hand.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Draco hurled himself backward, away from the touch, bracing his back against the wall. "You can't touch me, won't let you touch me. You'll be unclean, won't let that happen to you." He was shivering uncontrollably.

Harry pulled his hand away. "Draco." He repeated the name, unable to think of any other words.

Draco kept his head down and turned slightly away, but raised his eyes. "Perhaps you should go," he whispered. "Perhaps you should. It's too...You should go."

"If you want me to," Harry said. "I will go if you want me to."

Draco closed his eyes. "You should go."

"Good-bye, then, Draco." Harry stood up and took a step towards the door.

"Wait."

He looked back. "Yes?"

"Take the picture. It's yours if you want it."

Harry lifted the piece of paper from the coverlet. "Thank you."

When Draco didn't reply, Harry left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and he looked down at the picture in his hands. A young wizard stood with his wand pointed between the eyes of a man who knelt at his feet. The young wizard's face was an icy mask, while the kneeling man wore an expression of absolute joy. Off to the side, two shadowy figures watched the display, their faces obscured except for evil grins. Scrawled in the corner were the words "There is no power in killing someone who wants to die."

The piece of paper fluttered to the ground as Harry held his head in his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~

First off, my apologies for sneaking the Dune reference into Draco's mental babbling; I bought the Children of Dune soundtrack yesterday and have yet to stop listening to it. So much for subliminal influences.

Second, my apologies to Narcissa Malfoy for making her jump out a window again. God, I've written two fanfics and both times she decides to leave a room differently than she entered it. I've got a third story concept I'm working on, so I'll see if I can keep her alive in that one (or at least come up with a different method for her to kill herself).

Third, my love to my reviewers! Where would I be without you people? I'm a serious review junky; I write more and better when I know people are reading my stuff. Thanks to everyone who's been reading, especially Hpstudy, EowynArabella, Ceitie, Maeva and Camilla.

In chapter three...

Um...I don't know!! When I posted chapter one, I had some of two written so I could do a little coming-next-chapter bit. Now, I'm posting the chapter as soon as it's finished, so I don't know what to say! You can expect further mental collapses, more drawings, the possible return of Isobel Malfoy, and rampant plagiarism from T.S. Eliot. (I had to write a research paper on the man's poetry and found a million and one lines that would be great for a nervous breakdown sequence.)

Until next time, thanks for reading and please review!

~Kat