True Faith

~*~*~*~*~*~
"When I was a very small boy,
Very small boys talked to me,
Now that we've grown up together,
They're afraid of what they see
That's the price that we all pay
Our valued destiny comes to nothing
I can't tell you where we're going
I guess there's just no way of knowing

"True Faith", New Order
~*~*~*~*~*~

He hadn't thought it was possible to cry for so long and so hard that it gave you a migraine. The pain in his skull was so acute that even his teeth hurt- This must have been how it had felt for Zeus when Athena had sprung full grown from his skull. He'd always heard that crying was supposed to make you feel better, not worse. All he felt now was the relentless, excruciating pain in his head, the coldness in his chest as if he'd swallowed liquid nitrogen, and the pointless nausea in his stomach. There was nothing in his stomach to be nauseated from.

In his grief-stricken wandering, he'd somehow managed to get lost in the castle, though he'd been going to school here for seven years now. His limbs felt heavy and weak, his balance crumbling. Sliding down with his back to the wall, he fell into a sitting position, between two gleaming suits of armor. He felt locked in his own body- it seemed heavy and foreign, as though it belonged to someone else.

He wanted to be free of this burden- the burden of being himself, the burden of pain. Clumsily, he fished the knife out of his pocket. It was a beautiful thing, about six inches when it was unfolded. Its' handle constructed of shiny black ebony, inlaid with silver, carved perfectly to fit in the wielder's hand. The blade gleamed brightly in the small amount of starlight filtering in through the castle's high, thick paned windows. He sat for a long time, one leg drawn up to his chest, the other stretched out in front of him, one arm resting at the elbow over the raised knee.

The first light of dawn was struggling to banish the gloom permeating the deserted hallways. Floor tiles began to reflect the growing light, and dust motes swirled sparkling like glitter in new sun's glory. Had that much time passed already? The unfolded blade caught the light more vividly, reminding him of why he held it. With a calm borne of patience and reverence, the pain in his head forgotten, he drew the blade lightly over his thumb. It parted skin as though it were insubstantial, bright crimson blood welling instantly, a single drop falling forgotten to cold tile below. Satisfied with the results he carefully, delicately, brought the blade to his wrist.

Smoothly, deliciously, the blade bit deep into the soft flesh of his inner arm, the blade so sharp he hardly felt it, drawing a bright red line from wrist to elbow. He watched, entranced, as sunlight reflected off the ruby liquid spilling, coursing in rivulets down the alabaster-pale flesh of his arm. Before his strength left him he switched hands, repeating the ritual on his other forearm. His lifeblood now flowed unchecked onto the smooth cold tile, pooling around him like some kind demented halo. He was fascinated that something of such a lovely color had flowed from his own poisoned veins. He'd thought his blood would be black; so much evil had touched him through out his short life. It comforted him to know that he was still human, however he may have felt, or seemed to others. He closed his eyes, content at last, the only truth he was certain of ringing like polished bells in his clouding mind-

Death is easy.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry Potter woke early, far earlier then he would have liked, to the vague sense that something was out of place. His stomach twisted in knots- he hadn't eaten last night. He'd forgotten all about dinner, caught up in his feverish studying for one of the most dreaded tests he could remember- His Potions Midterm.

Dressing quickly, he made a resolution to go raid the castle's kitchen- Breakfast would not be served in the Great Hall for a good two hours, but he knew the house elves would be awake, already preparing for the momentous task of feeding the castle's several hundred residents. He pulled on a soft cream-colored turtleneck, covering that with a thick sweater, and then wrapped himself in his heaviest winter cloak. January had crashed down on the castle, even colder then December had ever dreamed of being. The castle's hallways acted as refrigerators, and if it were possible, it was even colder inside then out.

He slipped silently through the dimly lit common room, and out through the portrait hole, into the rabbit warren that was Hogwarts's hallways. He observed briefly the position of the sun over the Forbidden Forest, judging the time to be about five thirty, AM.

Last summer had finally given Harry the growth spurt he'd been waiting so patiently for- in the few short months of the Summer Holidays, he'd grown to be only four centimeters shorter then Ron. The sudden height increase had only given Aunt Petunia more reason to yell at him- they could no longer give him Dudley's old clothes as hand-me-downs. Three of Harry would easily fit in one pair of Dudley's pants, and so his Aunt had been forced to actually purchase clothing for him. She had dragged him into a thrift store, all the while gnashing her teeth and swearing that he would work off every pence. Secretly, he'd been thrilled- in some circles second-hand clothes were all the rage, and at least they FIT. The old dark blue Levi's that encased his slender legs were faded in all the right places, with a wide almost decorative hole over one knee. Over his cream-colored turtleneck he wore a soft lambs wool sweater in a wonderful shade of burgundy, which fit like a glove. He'd somehow convinced Petunia to buy the pair of old cherry-red Doc Martin's he found on a shelf in the back of the store. It probably had something to do with the solemn oath he'd offered to pay her back twice over and in cash as soon as he graduated, and that he'd also suggested they'd be good for working in the garden.

In spite of the need for new clothing, he hadn't realized just how much he had changed until it had come time to meet up with Ron and Hermione on platform nine and three quarters for the Hogwarts Express. At first, Hermione hadn't recognized him- the warm glow of feminine appreciation had quickly been squelched by a delighted gasp when she saw the tell-tale scar on his forehead, recognition suddenly dawning. The entire Weasley clan had taken the liberty of exclaiming over him at that point. Attention he was used to- he didn't like it, but he was used to it. THIS kind of attention had been wonderful, and for the first time ever, he'd felt almost comfortable in his own skin.

As usual, all eyes seemed to be on him.

Even more appreciative glances were offered his way as he and his two best friends had made their way to their usual compartment. Now that he thought about it, it was with almost religious regularity that Draco Malfoy had come to their compartment and attempted to hex at least one of them into non-existence. It had happened every year so far. This time, the trip to Hogwarts had been uneventful.

He navigated the hallways unconsciously with ability borne of much practice, so lost in his own thoughts he hardly saw the hallways change under his feet. Honestly, no one had seen much of Draco Malfoy; he was quiet during the single class they still had together, and notably absent during nearly every meal. In that arena, silence had reigned since the beginning of the school year some three months prior.

His boot slipped abruptly on a patch of wet floor, unceremoniously yanking him out of his random thought patterns. The hem of his cloak brushed the top of the dark liquid, drawing patterns on its shiny surface. Not certain at all of what it was, Harry touched a fingertip to the random puddle. Crimson- his fingers were stained crimson. It was still warm. Fear turned sickening circles in his stomach; his eyes followed the dark pool to its source. Lodged almost comfortably between two suits of armor sat Draco Malfoy himself, deathly pale, smiling contentedly. Twin streaks of ruby lancing from elbow to wrist graced the delicate flesh of his forearms, surrounded by a slowly spreading pool of his own blood.

"Bloody Hell." The expletive fell from his lips just as autopilot kicked in. Harry dropped cold fingers to the slender white neck; he was alive, but just barely. Stepping back, he pulled his sweater, and then his turtleneck over his head. Now that he knew Malfoy was alive, he had to keep him that way. He had to stop the bleeding. Harry tore the sleeves off his shirt, and then each sleeve into two long strips. One strip was bound as tightly as possible just above the elbow joint, directly below the bicep, and repeated the process on the other arm. He could only hope this would apply enough pressure to the blood vessel to slow the bleeding while he attempted to bandage the rest of this mess. Tearing the rest of his shirt into strips, he folded a few into pads. He packed the folded material the length of each cut, and then used the longer strips to bind them in place. He finished his grim work quickly, and was going to check Malfoy's pulse again, only to discover angry silver-gray eyes boring into his skull. Malfoy's lips were chapped, and nearly pure white from blood loss. They moved in hardly more then a whisper, "…Why did it have to be you?" Pale blonde lashes fluttered and his eyes fell closed again.

Shock froze Harry. "Why did it have to be me? What's that supposed to mean?" he spoke aloud to himself, his voice echoing lightly in the large corridor.

That statement seemed to mean a million things Harry couldn't begin to fathom. He gave himself a shake that wasn't entirely mental, before pulling his sweater back on. Next order of business was to get Malfoy to the hospital wing. Laying out his cloak, he scooped up the pale boy, almost nauseated when he felt how little he weighed. Harry wrapped him tightly in his cloak, and scooped him up yet again, this time to take off at a run for the hospital wing.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Harry, you did exactly the right thing. I'm so very proud of you. Twenty points for Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall gently laid her hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "The headmaster would also like you to see you in his office."

Harry turned back to the small bed in the back of the hospital wing where they had ensconced Malfoy. It was hard to tell were the boy ended and the sheets began- they were nearly the same color. Both his skin and hair were so pale the whole could have been carved from the same piece of ivory.

Professor McGonagall gave him a gentle shove towards the door. "You've done all you can for him, Harry, now run along." She nodded firmly to punctuate the last statement.

He let the momentum carry him a few steps, and then he paused again. The person lying in that bed resembled a husk more then a human. Harry could only shake his head, before heading with renewed purpose to Dumbledore's office.

The gargoyle seemed to sense his presence, and jumped aside just when Harry realized that he didn't know the password. He felt his eyebrow arch of it own accord- he really shouldn't be surprised; after all, the Headmaster was expecting him.

"Come in Harry, you're blocking the corridor." Even from here, he could hear the tired smile on the Headmaster's face.

He stepped inside the cluttered office, and chose the only surface that wasn't listing from the weight of magical items or paperwork to sit down. The office normally bustled with vibrant energy, but today even the paintings of the former headmasters were dull and silent. Dumbledore suddenly seemed older as well, the tracery of lines on his face drawn deeper then ever before.

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair; his hands come together to form a steeple with his fingers, his middle fingers just brushing his long pointed nose. "You know," he began tiredly, "This is something I have never had to deal with before. And because of who he is, I haven't the vaguest idea of where to begin. Tell me how you found him, if you please." Dumbledore looked up very abruptly and met Harry's eyes with an intensity he'd never seen.

Breaking eye contact, he shook his head, just twice, and gestured vaguely, trying to decide how to begin. "Well…" his voice gave out, and Harry cleared his throat forcefully. "Well," he tried again, "I didn't eat supper last night, and so I was going to the kitchens to have an early breakfast. I was lost in thought, and I slipped, and nearly fell… Then I realized what I had slipped in was blood, and I looked up and saw Malfoy sitting on the floor between two suits of armor, both of his arms slit from wrist to elbow."

Harry paused, and took a deep breath- he heard it shake as he exhaled, seeming so much louder then normal. "I took my shirt off, and used it to bandage his wounds. Then I wrapped him in my cloak and carried him to the hospital wing." Harry paused again, not sure if he should tell the Headmaster this part or not- "He woke up for just a second as I finished tying off the second bandage. He must have recognized me because he said, 'Why did it have to be you?' and he went unconscious again." Harry looked up then, for the first time realizing that his eyes had unfocused as he'd spoken.

"Professor", Harry took a deep breath while Dumbledore waited for him to finish. "There was so much blood. I really thought he would die as I was bandaging him up."

The tired old face lit in something near to it normal demeanor. "Harry, you did the best thing anyone could have done under the circumstances. I'm afraid to say that many people, including ones in this school now, would have simply left him to die. And you who have suffered more at the hands of him, his father, and his father's master, immediately tried to save him, without any thought what so ever to who he was- you only cared that he needed your help." The smile on the headmaster's face was now alight with pride. "When I remember that there are people like you Harry, I think we may just have a chance after all."

"You may go now." The headmaster was already staring into the
empty space between himself and the window he was facing. "I know you haven't eaten breakfast, and as horrible as food may sound after what you've seen, you should at least try."

~*~*~*~

A silence unlike any he'd ever heard greeted him when he came into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was so oppressive that it stopped him cold in mid-stride. The entire school population seemed to be looking at him expectantly, as if they wanted him to make a speech.

Well, it wasn't any of their business. Harry knew that if it were he in Malfoy's place he wouldn't want the situation blabbed to the whole school. He couldn't possibly fathom how everyone had found out so quickly. Ignoring the curious stares, he sat down at the Gryffindor table in his usual place, next to Ron, and across from Hermione.

"Harry…" Ron began, and then fell silent when Hermione hissed at him. They glanced at each other simultaneously, and then back at him. Harry sighed.

He might as well get this out of the way. Calmly, he began shoveling scrambled eggs onto his plate. "You want to know what happened." Harry said flatly, now helping himself to the sausage links. He repeated his earlier speech about why and how he'd found Malfoy, but omitting the bit where Malfoy had briefly regained consciousness. He took a thoughtful bite of egg, while he waited for them to digest this news.

"Why'd you do it, Harry?" Ron blurted, seeming just as surprised that he'd said it. Harry didn't have to look to know that he and Hermione were giving Ron the same outraged expression.

"Why'd I do it? You mean, why did I save him? Why did I feel like I had to save someone who had always been nasty to us, and nearly everyone else? Why'd I save him when he's probably going to turn out just like his father?" The muscles in Harry's jaw worked as he tried to explain not only to Ron, but also himself, why he'd done it. The answer appeared quite clearly in his mind all of a sudden, and he continued, "Because, if I had left him there to die, that would have made me just like him."

The rest of breakfast, and in fact the whole day, passed quickly and uneventfully. Snape even left him alone during Potions, seemingly eyeing him with grudging respect.

After his last class let out, Harry headed strait to the hospital wing, a strong sense of purpose marking his stride. It wasn't his business, and it wasn't his problem, but he knew what it was like to want to die. And he wanted to know why.

~*~*~*~

The sun was just beginning to set when Draco Malfoy found himself thrust rather forcefully back into consciousness, thoroughly irritated that he was still alive. But then, he hadn't been able to do anything since he was eleven years old without tripping over Harry fucking Potter every step of the way. That boy was destined to be the wild card in every deck, that much was certain. Draco was only mildly surprised when the Defender of Truth and Justice himself came striding into the hospital wing, and headed directly towards him.

Harry hid his surprise that Malfoy was already awake. He grabbed the nearest chair spinning it around, so it was backwards. He straddled it, resting his arms across the back, and his chin on top of his arms. "You're awake. I didn't think you would be."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Someone give Captain Obvious here a biscuit." His voice sounded weak to him, dry.

Harry eyed him thoughtfully, ignoring the sarcasm. "I know what it's like, you know." He paused, and Malfoy looked at him expectantly. "To want to die; I know what it's like. I just never had enough courage to go through with it."

For the first time in many months, Draco allowed himself to laugh. He hadn't heard anything quite that ridiculous in years! "You don't believe me." Harry's statement was clouded with the beginnings of anger.

"You're a perfect moron, you know that, Potter?" Malfoy paused briefly to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes, and tucking a stray lock of platinum hair behind his ear. "Oh, I'm sure you've wanted to die. I'm sure everyone has at one point. That isn't why I'm laughing."

"Is that so." Another statement, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"What I find funny is that you think it takes courage to off yourself. What it takes is cowardice. Living is hard- that takes courage. Death is easy, Potter." Malfoy looked absently out the window as he finished speaking, and missed all the color draining from Harry's face. "Death is EASY."

"How right you are, Mr. Malfoy, more right then you can possibly know." The Headmaster breezed in, Snape following in his wake, to stand at the foot of his bed. Malfoy met Snape's glare defiantly, but found he couldn't look Dumbledore in the eye. "I'll have to tell your father."

Malfoy shrugged, the whole encounter already making him tired. "He won't care. He probably won't even reply to your owl." He finally looked up then, forcing his silvery-gray orbs to meet Dumbledore's own faded blue ones. "You don't know Lucius as well as I do."

Snape was beginning to look mildly alarmed. "Draco, you are the only heir to the Malfoy name, Lucius will care that you almost died." Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes; if he were Malfoy, he'd feel LOADS better after that.

Anger surfaced across Malfoy's pale, delicate features. "I'm telling you, Lucius will not care. I'm no longer his heir- He disowned me", he finished with his voice strangely steady, and deadly calm.

Silence reigned. He could have dropped a dung bomb, and no one would have noticed. Under different circumstances he might have had a good laugh at their expense- It wasn't everyday that you got to see Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Potions Master Severus Snape, and Harry bloody POTTER all slack-jawed and wide-eyed in surprise. The headmaster recovered first. His blue eyes seemed to sharpen as they narrowed. "Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you elaborate on how your situation came to be."

"Headmaster, you can't expect me to tell you with him listening." Malfoy gestured vaguely in Harry's direction.

"I most certainly do. You may begin." The words spoken were politely enough, though they carried a thinly veiled command, and a tone while pleasant, was enough to make Malfoy stiffen. He clenched the sheet in one white knuckled fist. "There were two things that did it. The first one was not enough by itself. The second would have done it by itself, but when the first was added to it, Lucius found it completely unacceptable."

"You are stalling, Mr. Malfoy. I will not send Harry away."

Draco stared very hard at the sheets, and the whiteness of his clenched fists. There would be bloody holes in his palms from his fingernails, he knew. "The first thing", he paused, trembling visibly now, "The first thing I did was refuse to marry after I graduated."

Snape's face softened. "You dislike the person Lucius chose for you?"

Draco felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. Snape could be incredibly dense sometimes. "I refused to marry. Period. Now, or ever, regardless of who it is."

Harry, who had not moved or spoken in quite some time, interrupted quietly. "I don't understand."

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, you're going to make me come out and say it." Draco dropped his head into his hands. "If I marry, I'd be expected to father children." Harry could almost hear the revulsion dripping off each word as they fell from Malfoy's mouth. His disgust was so obvious; Harry felt his stomach give a lurch in sympathetic nausea. Comprehension must have dawned on his face, because Malfoy cocked an amused eyebrow his direction. "Little slow on the uptake there, Potter. Yes, I'm gay."

Snape abruptly sat down on the bed next to his, his features blank. Harry found that he was dizzy- if he hadn't already been sitting down, he would have had to as well.

The Headmaster didn't even waver. "And the other thing?", he pressed.

"I refused the Dark Mark."

Harry fell out of his chair.

Malfoy cast an amused glance at Harry, before looking to see the reaction of the other two. Snape was still catatonic from the first revelation, and apparently hadn't been paying attention. The Headmaster looked genuinely surprised, and very pleased.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am, of course, very pleased with your decision. I'm also horrified that your father forced that decision upon you at all. What did he do when you told him?"

"What do you think he did? He beat me for three full hours, and then tossed me out of my ear like garbage. I took the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron until it was time to come back to school. I obviously didn't go home for the holidays." All of this was spoken clinically, Harry noticed, coldly, and all the while Malfoy gazed out the window, his silver eyes fixed on something no one else could see.

The Headmaster was silent for a long while. Finally, he spoke carefully, "The pressure on you must have been enormous. Madame Pomfrey tells me that it will be several days before you will be able to make up for the significant blood loss you've sustained, and I want you to take that time to relax as much as possible."

"In light of what you have revealed to me, I will not send an Owl to Malfoy Manor." This news received no reaction what so ever from Malfoy. He continued to stare out the window blankly. The Headmaster stayed for a few minutes longer, before silently retreating, Snape following equally silent soon after.