Shatter

"Hey, Potter."

Harry's head jerked up, eyes riveted on the figure in his office doorway. The voice had sounded so like Draco's that he thought for a moment Malfoy must have escaped St. Mungo's. When he saw the silhouette, however, he realized that there was no way Malfoy had those kind of curves.

"Miss Malfoy," he said, swallowing.

"Please, I think we're past that, Potter. Call me Isobel or Izzy. None of this 'Miss Malfoy' shit." She sat down in the chair he kept for visitors and propped her feet up on the desk. "I came to see how Draco was doing."

"You didn't think to go see him yourself?" Harry said, the words carrying more of an edge than he'd meant.

Brown eyes narrowed. "I did go see him, Potter." She spat his name at him. "But as I'm sure you know, some of his days are better than others. I thought it would be better to come talk to you, but maybe I was wrong." She shoved herself out of the chair and stalked to the door.

"Wait."

Isobel looked back.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, eyes cast down. "Come back. I'll talk to you."

Isobel turned around and took her seat, refraining from using the desk as a footrest. "Before we get started, Potter, let me get something out of the way. Never, ever question my commitment to Draco. I watched my brother raise him and did my best to keep him from getting too fucked up, because his mother sure as hell wasn't stepping in. I always thought maybe he could save the family but now I have to save him."

Harry was silent for long moments. "He's getting better," he began. "I think he's gotten more of his mind back together, but his...episodes are more frequent and more violent."

"She said this would happen," Isobel murmured. Noticing Harry's confused expression, she added, "The Trueflight girl, the empath. I talked to her after I found out about Draco. She said the closer he got to normal, the crazier he'd seem. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not." She looked away, the layers of bravado and sarcasm flaking for a moment to reveal a woman who was worried and afraid.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say and, in a matter of minutes, Isobel had reattached her masks. "So, Potter, tell me honestly. Do you think he's going to make it through this alive?"

"I don't see any reason why he can't."

"Not what I asked you, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes; he'd officially found the female version of Draco. "I think he could. I think he might. But if he actually will, that's not something I can guess. I'd have to be in Draco's head for that and right now, that's the last place I want to be."

"Can't say I disagree with you there," Isobel murmured, pulling a flask out of one of her cargo pants' many pockets. She unscrewed the top, took a drink, then offered it to Harry. "Want some?" He looked skeptical and she laughed. "Only Firewhiskey, Potter. It won't kill you." She shook the flask enticingly. "Don't tell me you're The Boy Who's Afraid to Drink?"

Harry snatched the flask away from Isobel. Firing the Unspeakable one last glare, he said a prayer and knocked back a mouthful. "It's not so--" The liquid hit the back of his throat and he choked. Isobel laughed again, reclaiming her flask and putting it away.

"They don't call it Firewhiskey for nothing, Potter," she grinned. "Besides, I thought Ministry employees weren't supposed to drink on the job."

Harry wiped streaming eyes. "And what--cough--do you think you are?"

Isobel, having walked to the doorway, paused and turned. "Today's my day off, Potter. What's your excuse?"
Harry slumped forward, resting his head on folded arms. "Damn Malfoy family," he muttered. "Remind me what I did to them in a past life?"

***

"Hey, lovely."

Draco looked up as Isobel walked into the room. "Hi. You haven't been by in a while."

"Which is why I wanted to come see you on my day off." Isobel looked around the room and whistled softly. Two of the walls were completely covered with pictures, and the other two were being overgrown as well. The pictures were all of people; some self-portraits, others of former classmates, and not a few of Death Eaters and a shadow that could only be Voldemort.

"Do you like them?" Draco asked, head bent over his latest project. "The nurses say drawing is therapeutic."

"I'm sure," Isobel murmured, pausing by a drawing that featured a young man staring down horrified at hands that dripped with what was surely blood. The young man looked suspiciously like Draco. "How are you feeling, lovely?"

Draco shrugged. "All right. They say I'm improving; if I keep it up, they'll give me a grounds pass. Then I'll be able to go outside." He smiled wistfully. "That'll be nice. I'll get to feel the sun again. The window is nice, but it's not the same. Besides, the woman outside my window frightens me."

"What woman?" Isobel asked.

Draco pointed to a picture taped near the door. "That one."

Isobel looked. It was a portrait of Narcissa. "She's outside your window?" The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them.

Draco nodded. "Always. She said she'd always take care of me, but I think she just said it to make herself feel better. All she does is stare at me and smile a lot. Her face must get tired, but she never stops."

Isobel choked back a laugh. She'd said something very similar when she first met Narcissa at the engagement ball.

Draco smiled, holding out the piece of paper he'd been drawing on. "Here. This is for you."

She looked down at it. It was a picture of a younger Isobel sitting at the beach. She was laughing and had her arms around a little boy of about five years old. Her jaw dropped and she fought to close it. "How do you remember this?" she whispered. "You weren't old enough to remember this..."

"I don't remember it really," Draco admitted. "It's just there was a picture of this in the living room, on one of the end tables. I thought you'd like it."

"I'd forgotten," Isobel said softly. "I'd forgotten Lucius brought his new camera with him that day. He was so proud of that damn thing; the newest, best one on the market. He wanted a picture of his sister with his son..." She smiled, but it was a very sad smile. "That was a good day." She sat down beside Draco and held him tight to her. "Thank you, lovely. This means a lot."

Draco mumbled something. She loosened her hold on him. "What was that, lovely?"

"You're smothering me," he muttered.

She laughed and kissed his cheek.

***

The next day...

"Draco?"

Harry pushed the door open a little wider and went into the room. Draco was sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep. He teetered precariously on the edge of the bed, lying on his side with one arm dangling off the mattress. Harry sighed, gently rolled the blond onto his back and eased him nearer to the center of the bed. Draco mumbled in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. Draco rolled back onto his side, curling against Harry's hip. He was breathing deeply, the corner of his eyelid twitching a little. Harry chuckled softly, but the laughter soon transitioned into a yawn. Watching Draco sleep was making him realize just how tired he was. He'd been staying up late the past few nights, working on project for the Ministry. Four hours of sleep had suddenly become a good night's rest.

Harry yawned again. "Scoot over, Malfoy," he mumbled. "I wanna talk to you, and if I have to wait until you wake up, so be it." He pushed Draco further onto the other side of the bed and lay down beside him. Draco curled back towards the warmth of Harry's body, throwing an arm over the young Auror's chest. Harry's eye widened, then fluttered closed. "If you say one word about this when you wake up..." He fell asleep before he could finish the sentence.

***

Harry woke up, unsure of what time it was. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to remember where he was. The tickle of breath against his neck was his first clue; the soft hair under his fingers was his second.

"Draco?" he slurred, tongue thick in his mouth from sleep.

There was a murmur of assent from somewhere near his ear. Harry looked over to see that Draco had decided to use his shoulder as a pillow. Harry had tangled a hand in Draco's hair and slowly began unwinding his fingers from the strands. Just as he was about to address the problem of getting out of bed without waking Draco, the door opened.

Beatrice stuck her head into the room and her eyes widened. "Mr. Potter," she began, "might I ask what you're doing here?"

Harry lifted Draco's arm off his chest and scrambled out of the bed. "I--you see, I came to talk to Draco and when I saw he was asleep, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately either, so I thought I'd just lay down and when he woke up--"

Beatrice held up a hand to stop the flood of words. "Mr. Potter, Draco had a rather violent episode this morning. They gave him a sleeping potion. He won't wake up until sometime tomorrow. I can't believe the nurse on duty didn't tell you this."

"She just said he was asleep," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. He tore his eyes away from Draco's still form. "An episode? What do you mean he had an episode?"

Beatrice sighed. "He was talking to someone who wasn't there. He was getting more agitated and the staff was about to step in when he injured himself." She gestured to Draco and Harry noticed for the first time the bandage on Draco's right hand. "He had been drawing and was still holding a pencil," Beatrice continued. "He became even angrier and then he clenched his fist. He succeeded in breaking the pencil and jamming its pieces into his palm. They fed him a sleeping potion and confiscated all his drawing supplies."

Harry bit his lower lip. "He's not going to be happy about that."
"It's not our job to keep him happy, Mr. Potter," Beatrice said. "We're trying to keep him from killing himself until he can get his mind back together. Now if you don't mind, it's time for you to be going."
Harry nodded. He walked towards the door, then turned around and went back to the bed. He brushed a fall of blond hair from Draco's face and whispered good-bye. Beatrice's eyes followed him out, an appreciative smile curving her lips.

"You are insanely lucky, Mr. Malfoy," she said softly. "I hope you can realize that when you stop being insane and are just lucky."

***

"Stop that."

Draco looked up, but didn't remove his teeth from the bandage. If anything, he tugged harder.

"I said, stop it!" Harry grabbed for Draco's hands, but Draco twisted out of the way and continued gnawing the bandage.

"Draco!"

The blond snarled and snapped his teeth dangerously close to Harry's nose, causing the Auror to jerk backwards. "I'm going to get this damned thing off," Draco growled. "It itches."

"I'm sure it does, but maybe you should have thought of that before you stabbed yourself in the hand with a pencil," Harry shot back.

"They took my things!" Draco raged. "Did they tell you that? They took my paper and pencils and everything! They took it all and the bastards won't give it back!!" He clawed futilely at the bandage for a moment with his left hand, then let out a roar of frustration and hurled himself backwards onto the bed.

"Who were you talking to?" Harry asked.

"What?" Draco raised his head and fired a glare at the green-eyed young man. "I was talking to you. Don't tell me you need a room in this place, too?"

Harry shook his head. "They told me that yesterday, when you were angry and hurt yourself...you were talking to someone. Who were you talking to?"

Draco let his head fall back to the bed and closed his eyes. He brought his right hand back to his mouth, tugged on an edge that had begun to fray and muttered a name.

"What was that?"

"My father."

Harry lay down beside him, propping himself up on his elbow. "Did you see him like you see your mother?"

Draco's eyes flew open, flashing silver-gray envoys of hate. "Who told you about that?" he demanded. Before Harry could answer, he supplied, "Izzy."

Harry nodded. "I talked to her yesterday, after I left here."

"You were here?" Draco wondered.

Harry nodded again. "You were asleep, so I waited for a little while until Beatrice told me you wouldn't wake up until tomorrow."

Draco smirked a little and sunk his teeth into the bandage. "Have fun watching me sleep, Potter?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, actually. Never knew you were such a snuggler, Malfoy."

Draco blanched. "I--I--If you ever say one word of that to anyone, Potter--"

"Don't worry, Malfoy, I won't. Besides, who'd believe me?" Feeling bold, Harry reached out and ruffled Draco's hair shamelessly.

Draco pulled his hand away from his mouth long enough to smooth his hair. "Thanks, Potter," he muttered. "I'd return the favor, but your hair is messy enough as it is."

"Are you insulting my hair?" Harry demanded, fighting to say it with a straight face.

"Am I that transparent?" Draco drawled, slipping into the tone of voice he had used so often at school.

"Oh, that's it, Malfoy." Harry lunged and tackled Draco, scrabbling to further muss the blond's hair.

Draco brought his arms up quickly to block and managed to grab Harry's shoulders. With a shout of triumph and quick twist, he flipped Harry onto his back and sat on his opponent, straddling his hips. He pinned Harry's wrists over his head with one hand and grinned down at Harry's shocked expression.

"Ha, didn't think I could pull that off did you?" he taunted. "I may be crazy but I can still fight back. Didn't think--" The world condensed down to a tunnel of blackness and a tiny spot of light. "Didn't think..." Draco's head suddenly felt too large for his neck and sagged forward.

"Draco? Draco, are you okay?" Harry's voice sounded miles away.

"I..." His forehead rested against Harry's. His eyes were wide open, but he couldn't see.

"Hold on, Draco. I'll go get help." He must have let go of Harry's wrists at some point, because Harry was holding his shoulders, holding him up. He felt the other man slide out from under him; he rolled onto his side and reached out blindly for Harry's arm.

"No. Don't." Fingers closed around a wrist. He'd guessed right after all.

"Draco, you need--"

"Don't tell me what I need!" he barked, then regretted it. "I...It'll be fine. It'll pass." He blinked; the blackness was already reseeding and the world returning to focus.

"Are you sure? I can--"

"Don't worry about it, Potter. I'm fine." Draco sat up slowly, his head still more than a little wobbly, and offered a smile.

Harry tried not to look as stunned as he felt. This was not a smirk or a sneer or a snarl or a smile in childlike madness, brought on by a broken mind and an impending fit. This was a genuine smile, albeit a pained and rather melancholy one. He wished for a camera, because he had the feeling that this wouldn't last.

Harry was further shocked when he felt a cold hand cupping the side of his face. He looked questioningly to Draco, whose initial response was that same infuriatingly real smile. "You look," he said, "sickeningly adorable when you are confused, Potter. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Harry fought off the urge to faint.

***

"What's going on?"

Harry stood in the corridor that led to Draco's room, staring at the crowd of Mediwizards and Mediwitches gathered outside one of the doors. It took him a moment to realize that the door was 114.

Beatrice detached herself from the group and walked over to him. "Draco's having another fit; a bad one, I'm afraid. He's been screaming at someone for the better part of an hour. We're not sure whether or not to interfere. The empath said that he might talk to those who weren't there; it's supposed to be a sign of his healing but..."

"I'll go talk to him," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Beatrice looked skeptical.

"I'll go," Harry repeated and bypassed the mob outside Draco's room and opened the door.

The shouting that had emanated from the room for nearly an hour stopped as Draco paused to look at whoever had dared to come in. "Harry," he said.

Harry smiled. "Hey, Draco. What's going on?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing, really. Have those idiots outside in the hall decided to go away yet?"

Harry laughed. "No, the idiots are still there."

"Pity." Draco glared at the opposite side of the room. "Shut up, I'm not listening to you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Draco?"

The blond glanced over his shoulder and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this, Harry, but the bastard won't leave." He looked back across the room. "I told you, I don't care what you have to say. It was you going off to kiss the ass of evil that landed me in this nut house, so don't even pretend to apologize."

Harry bit back a laugh at the "kiss the ass of evil" remark, but then sobered enough to realize Draco must be talking to his father.

"You didn't see anything wrong with it when you handed me over to Him," Draco continued. "He needed a vessel and the consequences be damned if anyone else should beat you to it by offering up their son first! Forget that he'll probably die, forget that he'll probably go insane, it'll win you even more favor from the only person in this world who's a bigger bastard that you are!!"

Suddenly, Draco went white as a sheet, all the blood fleeing his face. "Don't you dare pretend that you care about me now," he hissed. "Don't you dare." Just as suddenly as he had paled, Draco burst out laughing. "Yes, that is exactly who you think it is. Funny, isn't is? The people who have bothered to stay with me are my worst enemy who should hate me beyond all reason and my crazy aunt who was disowned by the family. My parents, on the other hand, decided to think up creative ways to die and leave me to fend for myself. Isn't it hilarious?!"

Draco's hands shot into his hair, knotting themselves in pale strands. He sent a pleading gaze to Harry. "I've got to get him out of here," he murmured. "He won't leave. I can't get him to leave."

He whirled back to the side of the room where his father "stood." "I am not going to kill him, you idiot! That will not make it better! He's got nothing to do with this! This is all about you and Him, all of it!!"

"Draco, just ignore him," Harry said, trying to distract the other man from the invisible specter of his father. "Maybe if you don't pay him any attention, he'll go away."

The next few minutes were a blur to Harry; years later, he still could not quite remember exactly what happened. He heard a strange high-pitched keening sound that was equal parts terrible and sad. He thought it came from Draco, but later wondered if it might not have come from somewhere outside Draco. There was a rush in the air as something charged at him, then he hit the ground and felt fingers tightening around his throat. He tried to call for help, but all he could do was make a pathetic coughing sound. Darkness closed over and, far away, he heard Draco scream.

***

"Harry!!"
Someone was shaking him; when he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Draco, who was being pried off of him by several St. Mungo's orderlies.

"What happened?" Harry said, or tried to say before he realized just how sore his throat was.

"Don't try to talk," Beatrice ordered. "Come with me; I'll get you something that should help your throat." She helped him to his feet.

He smiled his thanks as he rose. On the way out of the room, he saw one of the orderlies point a wand at Draco and mutter something. Draco immediately went limp in their hold and was tossed unceremoniously onto the bed. He tried to protest, but then remembered his lack of voice. Beatrice led him down the corridor to a small side room that appeared to be the staff lounge. She quickly set about brewing some tea, although it didn't smell like any sort of tea Harry had ever had before.

Harry sat down at a chair beside a small and somewhat lopsided round table. Beatrice presented him with the tea and ordered him to drink it all before attempting to say anything. Once he had drained the mug to the dregs, Harry asked, "What happened?"

"We're not sure ourselves," Beatrice admitted. "We heard Draco carrying on much as he had been, and we heard you speak a few times. Then, we heard a funny sort of scream, and tried to get into the room, but somehow the door was stuck closed. When we finally got in, you were on the floor unconscious and Draco was shaking you. You probably shouldn't come to visit for a few days; we'll be keeping him fairly heavily drugged for a while."

"Why?" Harry wondered. "And...what happened to my throat?"

Beatrice sighed. "You're just going to have to see it," she said and went over to a series of lockers against one wall. She placed her hand on one of them and the door swung open. She reached inside, fumbled about for a few moments, then withdrew a small mirror. "Here," she said, presenting it to Harry. "Take a look."

He looked. Encircling his neck like a grotesque necklace was a series of bruises that bore strange resemblance to fingers. He reached a hand tentatively up to touch the blue-purple marks. "Someone tried to strangle me..."

"Not someone," Beatrice corrected. "Draco."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, whatcha think? Please drop me a review so I know how I'm doing, kay?

As always, my love to my reviewers: hpfanknitgurl, Melancholy, ddz008, Novee, mistykasumi and EowynArabella. I live off support and encouragement, which you guys were gracious enough to give. Thanks a ton.

In the next chapter...

Draco is drugged unconscious, Harry gets bitched at by Isobel, and Skyler comes careening back into the story with more than a little surprise. Possibly even more than that, but that's all I can come up with at this point.

Keep your eyes peeled and I'll see you all next chapter.

~ Kat

"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell." - Matchbox Twenty, "Unwell"

(That song always makes me think of this story; am considering doing a separate songfic for it or another MB20 song, "Downfall." Agree? Disagree? Other suggestion? Sarcastic comment? Sherbet Lemon?)