Shattered Glass

AN: Big apologies for the mix up in chapters before, and I hope I didn't confuse everybody. By this point (if you actually came back) you should understand. Sorry about that. I could have sworn I sent it in.... Whatever, on with the show!

Shattered Glass

Day 2:

Harry woke up early the next morning, judging by the feeble light filling the room. His hand felt odd, very warm, almost like he'd fallen asleep on it. He reached over and put his glasses on, looked down at the hand in question. There was another hand clasped in it. In some alarm Harry looked up to see Draco asleep in a chair next to his bed. This only increased said alarm. He snatched his hand away from Draco's like he'd been burned. This succeeded in waking up the Slytherin boy.

"What?" he said, almost unintelligibly. "What happened?" This seemed to be becoming his normal greeting upon waking.

"Maybe you can tell me that," Harry said, his face reddening. "What are you doing?" Draco seemed to remember how he'd fallen asleep and suddenly became uncomfortable.

"You were having nightmares and you woke me up. I tried to comfort you and you grabbed my hand. You told me not to leave you. So I didn't. I must have fallen asleep." He rubbed at his eyes sleepily, stretching. Harry paled slightly as he remembered the horrible dreams that had plagued him.

"Did I say anything?" he asked in a strained tone. Draco looked up at him, surprised and confused.

"Something about a 'him' and so many people dead and blood. And once you said it was your fault. What were you dreaming about?" Harry buried his face in his hand.

"Voldemort," came his muffled reply. Draco gave a sharp intake of breath, paling slightly. "I see when he kills people. So many of them." His voice broke. "So much death and pain and blood. I see it in my dreams." He looked up at Draco, who was momentarily speechless. He gave a short, bitter croak of laughter. "I always thought He would kill me. I never thought I'd die from some poison, defenseless and unable to fight back. Has an odd sort of irony, though."

"You're not going to die from this. They'll find a way to cure you, you'll see."

"And what if they don't? I'll never be able to take revenge on Him for all those people he's killed."

"Do you think you'd have been able to do that anyway? He is very powerful and you're just a student." Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. I would have tried anyway and died knowing that I'd done so. But now, now I can't even do that. All that time, all that suffering, and it all comes down to nothing. I'm going to die a useless, pointless death."

"Even if your death is useless, your life definitely wasn't. You gave hope to so many people, saved so many lives. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of."

"How did you...?" Harry stared up at Draco, shocked but checked himself at the confusion on the boy's face. He didn't know after all. He gave a sigh of relief. "Never mind."

Madam Pomfrey came in then with a large tray of food. She looked at the two boys, a slightly confused expression on her face, but she shook it off, placing the food on the table beside them. Harry suddenly realized he was starving and lit up. But the arrival of nourishment had an adverse affect on Draco. He stood up suddenly, one hand over his mouth, and rushed out of the room towards the open door to the bathroom. Violent gagging sounds ensued.

Harry peered around the edge of the door to see Draco in a heap on the ground, his head resting on his arms, which were draped over his knees. He was the picture of misery. An absolutely miserably disgusted noise, not exactly a grunt or a sigh, just a noise, issued from his mouth.

"There have got to be better ways to die then throwing up everything inside of you," Draco complained. Madam Pomfrey made no reply as she bustled around, procuring yet another nasty potion for him to drink.

"There are worse ways too," she said finally as she handed him the dubiously sky blue medicine. "You have no idea how many horrible ways mankind has come up with killing each other. Disgusting, really. Now you drink that and get some rest. Professor Dumbledore has already been informed of this and the other professors are working hard at finding a cure for you. There's nothing for you to do but hope."

"And die," Draco put in. "But hopefully not from this medicine you keep forcing down my throat. You know, I'd really like to try my chances without it."

"Do you want your insides to be forcefully ripped from your body through your throat?"

"Umm, no, not particularly."

"Well this is your only other option. Now drink it." With a defeated sigh he gulped it down. He looked up at her, pleasantly surprised.

"You could have told me it tasted that good."

"What, and miss all the fun? I think not. Now go lay down. And if you're feeling productive there are some old potion books in the bookcase over there. You can look through them for any mention of Soul's Fire." She looked at the two of them skeptically. "Why do you two look like you got no sleep at all last night?" They exchanged looks and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I woke up and fell back asleep in a bad position," Draco offered. The nurse's eyes narrowed even more.

"And why would that be?" She looked over at Harry, who colored. "I'm disgusted with you, both of you."

"What?" Harry asked, utterly confused. Draco echoed him, but he sounded outraged.

"This is not at all what you think," Draco declared as he stood up, only wobbling a little. "He woke me up; he was having nightmares."

"To think I trusted you two alone together. I should have seen it coming. Never in all my years..." Harry seemed to have caught on by now and was mouthing wordlessly at her, his face an interesting shade of purple that he had rarely, if ever, reached before.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry finally shrieked, shutting the nurse up mid tirade. He was breathing heavily, his face still an odd color. "How could you think that? Nothing like that happened, nor has it ever happened. I was having nightmares and I woke him up because I was so loud. He fell asleep in a chair next to my bed. I didn't even know he was there until a few minutes before you came in this morning. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happened."

"And I quite agree with that statement," Draco put in. Madam Pomfrey looked between the two boys and after close examination found them to be telling the truth.

"Sorry, boys. Don't know what came over me." She stopped, giving them both meaningful glares. "But you make sure nothing happens or, dying or not, I'll flay you both within an inch of your lives." She walked away in a huff before either of them could respond.

"Wow, uh, that was interesting. I don't think I've ever been accused of that before," Draco said with a hint of humor in his voice.

"That was horrible," Harry declared, passing his hand over his eyes as if pained. "How could she think we would...? Ugh, it's disgusting. I mean, we hate each other. We would never... I can't even say it, it's so gross."

"Most definitely." But Draco's voice sounded oddly flat. Harry looked up at him, confused. "But I thought we'd gotten beyond the mortal enemy bit. You know, facing death together, joining forces. Didn't we decide on that?" Harry blinked at the hint of bitterness creeping into the other boy's voice.

"Uh, yeah I guess so. Not officially or anything. As far as she's concerned we're still trying to kill each other."

"I think we've shown that we've matured beyond that point. Unless you'd like to go back to the bickering, I'm sure it would be much more amusing. Keep us occupied."

"What's wrong with you? Why are you being weird all of a sudden?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. I'm just commenting on facts. I pretty much liked the former state of affairs, I hate you and you hate me. All nice and simple. No trying to help each other out."

"What just happened? Why are you doing this? What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You just helped me realize that nothing had changed. So now that we've agreed that we still hate each other I have some studying to do. If you'll excuse me."

"But we haven't agreed on anything!" Harry cried, frustrated, after his retreating back. Draco ignored him.

For the next half an hour Draco sat on his bed, fully engrossed in a large, dusty textbook filled with obscure poisons. It was very depressing. He was completely ignoring Harry's attempts at getting his attention. But when the book was ripped from his hands he looked up to see emerald eyes flashing angrily at him.

"What the hell is your problem? I thought we'd gotten over this. Why'd you just go and fuck it up again?"

"I didn't "fuck it up". There was nothing to fuck up to begin with. Now can I please have my book back?"

"At least you're saying please and not hurling curses at me. Why would that be?"

"Because I don't have the energy to even care. Now give me the book back."

"Not until you tell me what just happened."

"What just happened? Are you serious Potter? We've finally gotten a nice little truce going and you slip in a little comment like that."

"Like what? That I thought sleeping with you was disgusting?" Draco colored but tried to keep his cool.

"No, not that one, you idiot. The one about how much we hate each other."

"Well? Don't you hate me?"

"I couldn't care less. Now give me the bloody book." Harry handed it back but still sat there, watching him. "What do you want now?" Draco snapped.

"I didn't really mean it, you know," Harry said softly. Draco looked at him hopefully.

"You didn't?"

"No. It just slipped out. Habit, I guess, and a violent reaction to an extremely disgusting idea."

"I don't hate you either. You know, I stopped hating you a long time ago. I just pretended for appearance's sake. I couldn't just stop hating you; it would be unheard of. And my father would have been mad."

"When did you stop hating me?" Harry asked quietly, well aware that that moment for him had only come a few days ago.

"Well at first I admired you because you were so famous and everything. Then you got in the way of the Malfoy and Weasley family feud and refused my hand of friendship. That's when I started hating you and I made it my goal in life to make you sorry for humiliating me like that. Then you were better then me at Quidditch and that made me absolutely loathe you. But I think the moment I stopped hating you came in our fourth year during the second task of the Triwizard tournament. Everybody thought you were dead and they were just beginning to form a rescue group when you came up. And you were willing to lose to try and save the other hostages." He shook his head in a disbelieving way. "It was so stupid, but you actually were willing to lose, maybe even die, to save a girl you hadn't even met before. I don't know; it just sort of hit me. I realized that I never would have done that. I couldn't show it, of course. I had to go on pretending or else the others would wonder and tell my father. "

"But you still tortured me, you wore those pins and talked to Rita Skeeter." Draco winced.

"Oh don't remind me. That woman is foul. She twists everything you say to mean something completely different."

"So what did you tell her? I thought you just told her all those horrible things about us."

"No, I didn't. I told her that Hagrid gave us terrifying animals, which is true, that you had a very large ego, that Granger was a very good friend of yours and all about the dueling club incident. She asked me if I thought there was any romantic interest between you and Granger and I said no, not the way her and Krum were looking at each other. What happened to him anyway?"

"He died. Voldemort killed him this past summer for not submitting to him."

"Ah." There was a long, painful pause. Harry finally broke it.

"But at the end of the year on the train you came into our compartment. You started talking about people dying and how we'd chosen the loosing side."

"My father sent me a letter asking me why I wasn't showing any happiness or pride in the rise of the Dark Lord. I had to do something. I really don't care about Voldemort or any of that crap. I don't want to be bossed around by some power hungry monster with absolutely no organizational skills."

"So it was all a lie?"

"Most of it, but I did hate you at first. Childish grudge, really, that's all it was. And I placed all the blame for everything wrong in my life on you. It was so much easier that way. It took me a while to realize that it was my fault, but there you go."

"And why are you admitting all this now?"

"Because we're dying." Draco looked up at him, hopefully. "Which means that even if my father finds out about any of this he can't do anything to me any more. Can you forgive me? Since we're dying and all."

"Wait, what was that about your father?" Draco looked away.

"Nothing." But upon seeing Harry's determined expression he haltingly continued. "Well, he beats me sometimes, when I do something wrong. This past summer I told him I didn't want to be a Death Eater." His hand went reflexively to his left forearm. Seeing Harry gazing in dread at the spot he rolled his sleeve back to reveal his unmarked skin. "I said no. He was very mad. I don't think I've ever seen him that angry." The pale boy shuddered. "He told me I was a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Can't say I disagree with him."

"Well considering what your father would consider normal I'd take that as a compliment."

"Oh thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Draco said sarcastically. Then they both broke out into a companionable laughter. "You're right though; you're absolutely right!" Draco gasped out through his laughter. Still chuckling lightly, Harry looked up and saw Ron standing in the doorway, a pile of books in his arms, seemingly frozen.

"Ron!" Harry cried happily. Draco immediately stopped laughing, a faint remnant of his arrogant sneer regaining dominance once more as he looked over at the redhead.

"Hermione said I should bring these to you to look over," Ron said almost mechanically as he walked over and dropped the books on Harry's empty bed. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really, but thanks anyway."

"No problem. I'd better get going, class is going to start soon."

"What's the matter?" Harry looked at his friend's wooden face in concern.

"Nothing's wrong. Just wondering what could be so funny." He looked between the two of them. "But it doesn't matter. It probably has nothing to do with me."

"Actually, no, it doesn't," Draco put in neutrally. Harry shot him a withering glare.

"You shut up." He turned back to Ron feeling uncomfortable. He'd had the same expression on as when he'd found out about Harry being a Hogwarts champion the previous year. That didn't bode well at all. "We were just talking." He paused then decided on a different track. "Thanks for the books. Madame Pomfrey gave us some but they aren't very good."

"This one is actually quite educational," Draco commented. "What I can read of it of course."

"Well goodbye then. I'd better leave." He turned to walk towards the door.

"Ron, wait!" Harry called, running after him. He caught up with him and stopped, unusually winded from such a short run. "Please don't be mad. It's just if I don't make it, if I really am going to die, I don't... I just want to tie up all the loose ends." Ron's face softened as fear flitted through his eyes.

"You're not going to die. You can't die and leave me here with only Hermione to force me into studying." Harry laughed weakly at the attempt at lightening the mood.

"I'll try not to. But you have to understand. Please."

"It's all right Harry. You just live, that's all I care about. You could be shagging Malfoy and I wouldn't care, just as long as you survive this."

Harry went very red and he wailed pitifully, "Why does everybody say stuff like that? I mean, come on, until two days we were trying to kill each other. Why does everybody jump to that conclusion?" Ron paled, his blue eyes widening.

"You didn't..."

"No! Of course not! Ugh, Ron, I'm ashamed of you for even thinking that." Ron grinned impishly.

"Well that's a relief. But I really do have to go. Trelawney will have my head if I'm late."

"Before she says anything ask her if she sees anyone dying soon. Tell me how she responds. If she already knows about this she might actually come up with something funny." Ron didn't seem to find this quite as amusing as Harry did but he nodded in agreement and ran off.

"Is it just me or did he just tell you to shag me?" Draco said from behind him.

"Oh shut up," Harry said, face bright red, as he settled down on his own bed, opening an uninteresting book.

* * * *

Draco was unconscious, had been for over an hour. He'd been complaining for a while about being short of breath, then he'd had a coughing fit and passed out. Harry could just see his pale face between McGonagall and Flitwick. Almost all the teachers, including Dumbledore, were standing around him talking in hushed voices. They didn't sound very hopeful. Snape had gone on for some time about Soul's Fire and how Draco's case made no sense. They weren't supposed to have this violent a reaction for at least a few more days. Harry could hear his ragged breath, his wheezing, even above the talking. This wasn't good.

Draco suddenly burst out coughing again, the force of it waking him and bringing him into a sitting position. When he pulled his hand away from his face, trying to catch his breath, there was blood on it. Draco stared at the small red spot, horrified, then looked up at the teachers. They all regarded him solemnly. He looked past them and caught Harry's eyes. I'm dying, his horrified grey eyes seemed to say.

"Malfoy, almost the whole staff has been searching for some cure, some way to heal you both, but we have found none. This is not to say that you will die, you have a chance of fighting this on your own, it's just that we can give you very little help," Dumbledore said calmly. Harry had a brief surge of anger at this man who he had always respected. How could he talk about their deaths so calmly? But then he saw his hands, old and gnarled, shaking with fear. He was scared too.

"I'm dying," Draco said quietly. He sounded surprised, as if he was just beginning to understand the fact.

"Not necessarily. The one thing you have to remember is to keep on fighting. If your will to live is strong enough then you will survive."

"But it's not. I have nothing to live for, nothing to fight for." Dumbledore raised his eyes and caught Harry's. He then bent down and whispered something to Draco, something Harry couldn't hear.

"There is Harry. Live for him. Help him survive." Draco looked at the old man as he leaned back again, shocked to hear these words coming out of his mouth. "There is always something to live for, Draco, you just have to find it. Keep fighting. We will do all we can."

The teachers all made their own comments to the sick boy before filing out of the room. Dumbledore went into the back office, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to him it swung open ever so slightly behind him, letting the two boys hear the conversation between the headmaster and nurse.

"What do you think their chances are, Poppy?"

"I don't know, I really don't know. Malfoy's reaction was sudden and violent, which could either mean that he's going to die faster or that he will survive and this is his body's way of fighting it off. Potter, on the other hand, is sinking into it more slowly but his body doesn't seem to be fighting it like Malfoy's is. I just don't know. I wish we knew more about this poison."

"We're trying, Poppy. Keep me informed."

"Of course, Albus." The Headmaster walked out of the room and gave them a large, reassuring smile before leaving the room.

Madame Pomfrey came out behind him with medicine for them to take. Draco, amazingly enough, drank his without a word of complaint. He seemed to be in shock. Harry, worried about the vacant look in Draco's eyes, paid no attention to the foul taste and drank it all without a word.

"Good night you two," Madam Pomfrey said as she blew out some of the candles. "Feel better in the morning."

They lay in silence for some time before Draco said in a whisper, "I'm dying, Harry. I'm actually dying. It didn't seem real before. But I can feel it coming closer, taking away my strength. I'm going to die."

"No you're not," Harry said fiercely. "You heard what Madam Pomfrey said, this could just mean your body is fighting it off. You'll live, don't worry. I mean, you have a better chance then I do."

"That's what I'm scared of." The whisper was so quiet that Harry wasn't sure if her heard it right so he made no response. But as he fell asleep the comment ran through his head over and over again. What had he meant by that?