Shattered Glass

Shattered Glass

Day 5:

Draco woke early the next morning and dressed quickly, making sure he was as quiet as possible so as not to wake Harry. He picked the large pile of books up to bring them down to the library and slipped out of the room. His progress through the hallways was slow and he passed a few curious students. But the rumors had spread enough so that they knew to leave him alone. He gave the books to Madam Pince, took out another one, and headed down to the great hall for breakfast.

He ate very little, picking at his food as he read the book in front of him. Normally the center of attention, now he was avoided like he was carrying some deadly disease. Or like he was just going to kill anyone who came near him. He could feel eyes on him and looked up, glaring, to see Ron watching him, his blue eyes unreadable, as Hermione said something urgently to him at his elbow.

'Oh shit,' Draco thought, flipping the page of the book, 'He's going to try and start a fight.' He finished eating as quickly as possible, knowing that he didn't have the strength for a confrontation and not wanting to waste the time. But as he left the hall, the book tucked under his arm, Ron got up and followed him.

"Malfoy." His voice was even, without a hint of emotion. Draco froze and turned slowly, not wanting this right now.

"What do you want, Weasley?" he drawled, trying to think of a way out of this. Ron walked towards him, somehow managing to look intimidating even though he wasn't really doing anything.

"Why are you bothering with Harry? Tell me the truth. Do you really even care?" Ron stopped in front of him, looking down slightly. Draco was very aware of the fact that he had just regained the ability to walk and was barely able to do even that.

"Yes, I do," he hissed, going to walk away. But Ron grabbed his arm, stopping him and ignoring the glare being directed at him. He seemed honestly curious.

"Why?"

Draco pulled away quickly, rubbing at his arm. "None of you understand. He's dying. He's dying and it's all my fault. I have to help. I have to save him. I'm not evil, you know." He backed away further. Ron made no move to stop him. "I'm not my father. I didn't want to kill him; I refused to. I was going to kill myself before I poisoned him." He was weakening, letting the frustration and pain of the last few days control him.

"I'm sorry," Ron said softly, his eyes unreadable. "I still hate you, don't get me wrong. But if you're helping Harry, well, I'm sorry." Draco paused, trying to find a suitable response to this extreme change. The silence lengthened, bordering on uncomfortable.

"It's all the name, isn't it?" Draco said quietly.

"Had to uphold the family honor," Ron added.

"Exactly. Had to keep the feud going, win as many battles as possible. But it's all in our heads."

"And we believed it."

"It's too late to go back. We've already done to much to each other." Ron nodded sadly. For the first time there was understanding between them.

"I know we'll never be friends, but what do you say we end this feud? It's gone on long enough and caused enough damage." Draco looked down at the extended hand then grabbed it firmly.

"Agreed." They both pulled back quickly, eyeing each other warily. Neither one knew what to do about this truce.

"I'd better go," Draco said finally. He raised the book up for Ron to see. "Research."

"And I have to get to class." There was another pause. "Will you tell Harry I was wondering how he was doing?"

"Not unless I want to get my head bitten off. He's tired of that question. I'll just tell him you were asking for him. All right?" Ron shrugged.

"Sure. Bye then."

"Bye." And they both went their separate ways. Cho came out of a side hallway, her almond eyes glinting with curiosity. Had she just seen what she thought she had? The world really was turning upside down.

* * * *

Harry looked up at the sound of the door opening, an angry glare waiting in his face for whoever was going to bother him with some more asinine comments. But, to his surprise Cho was standing there, a hint of a sad smile hanging around her lips. The anger died away inside of him; he had no reason to be mad at Cho after all. He hadn't expected her to care anyway.

"Hello Harry," she said softly.

"You'd better leave," he replied shortly. "If Madam Pomfrey catches you here for no reason you'll get detention."

"And if you had gotten caught when you went outside at night you would have gotten detention too. But there are worse things then detention, as you already know. Death is one of them." Harry stared at her.

"You saw me?" he managed to say, though how he never knew.

"Yes. I saw you coming into the school with Draco Malfoy. I wondered what you were doing." She shrugged. "But who you meet in secret at night is no affair of mine. But when there's talk of you dying, that is something that bothers me." Harry reddened.

"That's not it at all! I came across him in the woods. Why does everyone think that there's something going on between us?" He gave an exasperated sigh. Cho's eyes narrowed.

"You mean you don't know?"

"What?" he asked sharply.

"About the rumors." He just gave her a blank look and she continued. "There have been rumors going around since last year that you two were, you know, "together"."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, mortified and outraged at the same time. She nodded, warming up to the subject.

"Oh yes. Surely you heard them? But you do obsess over each other and people began to wonder. And this year only made it worse. They've seen how you look at each other." Harry had finally fallen to bafflement; he was too weak for the exertions of the more extreme emotions.

"And how is that? Like we want to rip each other's guts out?"

"No, Harry." She gave him a knowing look. "And everyone knows how similar you are, even though you seem so different. You're perfect for each other. Love and hate are so similar that often they are mistaken for one another."

"I do not love Draco Malfoy," Harry said shortly, feeling his face burning. Cho gave him a searching look, again that faint smile twitching at the edges of her mouth.

"All right." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Are what they saying true? Are you really dying?" With these words everything became serious again, the momentary light heartedness gone. Harry bit at his lower lip.

"Yes. I've been poisoned. There's no cure." Cho's face filled with distress.

"You can't die. I've already lost Cedric." Her lips began to tremble, all smiles gone. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"About that, Cho. I like you, I really do, but..." She stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"I know. You don't have to say it. Your heart doesn't belong to me; I know that. I have known for a long time. But you are a friend and a good person. You brought Cedric back to me." She was in tears now, but she didn't try to hide them. They slid down her cheeks like tiny droplets of silver fire. They reminded Harry of Draco's eyes. He shook that thought off. What was he doing, thinking of him now?

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for." But this didn't stop her tears. Then Harry admitted something that had haunted him, that tore at his soul.

"I let him die." Cho looked up, surprised out of her tears.

"No Harry, there's nothing you could have done. You did your best."

'But your best wasn't good enough, was it?' The voice was back, whispering evilly in his mind. 'She knows it, everyone does. You're as good as a murderer. That's why no one cares anymore, they know you let him die.' Harry had gone very white.

"You'd better go," he said hoarsely, trying to push the insistent voice away.

"But..." Something stopped her from continuing, something desperate in his eyes. She paused at the door on her way out. "Hold onto one thought, Harry, one perfect thought. It'll help you get through this." Then she was gone. Harry stared after her, letting the voice howl back through his mind, unable to keep it back any longer. One perfect thought.

'There's nothing perfect in the world. You're all alone. There's nothing to be happy about. Nobody cares.'

"Draco cares," Harry whispered, holding onto that image of Draco shaking him desperately, his eyes wide with fear. He cared.

'No!' the voice cried. 'It's all a lie.' But it had weakened slightly and Harry could think once more. He held onto that thought. Draco cares.

* * * *

Cho entered the library, searching for a pale blonde head amongst the crowd. Her day's work was not yet done. She saw him at a table in the corner, bent over a large volume spread out in front of him. She smiled.

"Draco," she said softly from behind him. He whirled around and felt a surge of hatred when he saw who it was. Why, he didn't know. He had no reason to hate the Ravenclaw sixth year. But part of him knew that Harry had a crush on her and cried out this knowledge to him. He crushed it ruthlessly.

"What do you want?" he hissed at her. Cho was startled by his reaction for a moment then realized what it meant and the serene smile was back.

"I wanted to know if you'd found anything for Harry yet." He turned back to the book.

"No. If I had then he wouldn't be dying right now, would he? Leave me alone."

"I had a dream a few nights ago," she said softly, ignoring his comment. He looked up at her angrily. "Cedric was in it. He told me Harry was in danger and asked me if I would help him; he owed Harry so much, he said. He told me that one happy thought can banish the night momentarily, but a sacrifice must be made for it to go away completely. It has to be accepted before it can be turned away. One perfect, happy thought." Draco stared at her, sure that she had gone insane.

"Right. Thank you for that." But she grabbed his arm urgently.

"He told me that you were the only one who could save him." Draco paled slightly at this, yanking his arm out of her grip.

"I'm trying, now leave me alone. I don't need ghosts to tell me he's dying." Cho pulled away, a pained look on her face.

"He needs you," she whispered. "Tell him the truth." Before he could ask her what she meant by that she had left. Draco glared after her.

'One perfect thought my arse,' he thought angrily. 'No one was ever healed by happy thoughts.'

* * * *

By the time Draco returned to the hospital wing the picture Harry had of him in his mind, concern on his face, had worn thin. The evil voice of the poison was filtering slowly back through it. And there wasn't enough strength in him or the memory to keep it at bay. But Draco returned and the look on his face when he saw Harry sent the voice running like a whipped dog. Concern, fear, desperation. He cared, he really did.

"Hello," he said softly, placing the pile of books on his bed and walking over to Harry's. He sat down next to him, grabbing his hands in his own delicate ones. Something had changed, Harry could tell. There was something different about him.

"Hello yourself," Harry answered. He was suddenly aware of how horrible he sounded, and probably looked. How long had it been since he'd been able to get up? Geesh, he needed a shower.

Draco gave him a searching look and found Harry, to his relief. He couldn't stand to see the poison in him anymore. It was bad enough it was destroying his body, but his mind too?

"I haven't found anything," he said. Admitting this to him was painful. "I haven't even found a hint at anything. I don't know if I'm going to." Harry closed his eyes, hoarding this moment for when the voice became too insistent. There was no denying the fact that he cared; it was laced throughout his voice.

"It's all right." Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then his eyes flew open as he looked over in surprise at the other boy. One tear had fallen on his hand. Harry slowly lifted up his hand, this one movement taking so much energy, and gently wiped the tears off of his cheeks. Draco's eyes were closed.

"I can't let you die. You can't die on me." There was so much pain in his voice. How had he learned to care so much for him in so short a time? "Why the hell did you try to stop me? If you weren't such a goody-two-shoes this never would have happened. Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" There was no reproof in his voice, only sorrow.

"I couldn't let you die either."

"But I'm nothing. If I died no one would care. There would have been no tears, no sorrow. My mother might have spared a thought for me, but she would have gotten over it quickly. But if you die the whole world mourns. You hold all their hopes. You should have just walked away, then none of this would be happening."

"What, and miss the opportunity to cause you all this grief?" It was a bad attempt at a joke but Draco tried to pretend it was funny, giving him a watery smile. "And you know that's not true."

"Isn't it? Since when did anybody care about me?" He shook his head. "But it doesn't matter anyway. I'm the one who's going to live, the useless one. And you're going to die." His voice cracked.

"Shh, Draco, it's all right," he said softly, one hand resting on his cheek, the other clasped in Draco's pale, shaking hand. Draco wiped at the tears on his face angrily.

"See what I mean? You're the one on your deathbed; I should be comforting you, not the other way around." He looked down at Harry's pale, sunken face and something inside him twisted horribly. "I'll find a cure," he said softly, urgently, the voice coming from the depths of his soul. "I'll find one if I die trying."

He stood up quickly and turned. He was faced with what was probably the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Hermione Granger. She was staring at him, her brown eyes wide. She had a textbook clasped in front of her, her bag hanging from one arm. She appeared to be frozen. Draco was very much aware of the tears streaked down his cheeks and the touching little moment he and Harry had just had.

"Hello Granger," he said quietly, not exactly kindly but an improvement on his normal tone of voice with her.

"What- what were you two just doing," she managed to get out after a few failed attempts.

"Talking. What did it look like?" He kept his cool, letting a small, calculated sneer come onto his face. She seemed flabbergasted and just gaped silently at him. "What, cat got your tongue?" he mocked. He glanced over at Harry, who was watching him with no expression on his face, and the old, familiar mode crashed down around his ears. The sneer disappeared and he was filled with a hallow feeling in his gut. "I'd better go." He brushed past Hermione and left the room quickly, going back to the library.

"Harry," Hermione finally said, sounding strangled, "What were you doing?" Harry gave her a confused look.

"Like he said, we were talking. What's so wrong about that?" Hermione continued to stare at him.

"Bloody hell," she said finally. "Who'd have thought?" Harry was momentarily startled by Hermione's language; he'd never heard her curse before.

"What are you talking about?" he asked angrily.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied airily, like when she'd figured out Rita Skeeter's secret. "Nothing at all." She gave him a searching look. "So..."

"If you ask how I'm feeling I'll curse you from here until next year," he swore. In spite of herself a huge grin came onto her face.

"All right, I won't then." She sat down on the chair next to his bed. Harry had a fleeting moment when he wanted to tell her to find another place to sit; that was Draco's chair. But he shook it off. He was thinking the weirdest things lately. "So, about you and Draco..." She paused, looking down at Harry, who remained emotionless. "What do you really think of him now?" That was a question Harry had tried and failed to answer over the last few days. He shrugged, playing with the edge of the sheet, trying to buy time to think.

"I don't know," he said finally. "He's changed."

"Or maybe we never knew what he was like to begin with." This answer surprised Harry. He looked up and she smiled wryly at him. "You never know."

"He said the weirdest thing to me the other day. He said he'd stopped hating me a while ago but he went on pretending for appearances sake and because of his father."

"Do you believe that?" Harry could feel her sharp, brown eyes boring into him, extracting knowledge from every slight muscle spasm, every glint in his eyes.

"I- I guess so. I mean, he sure doesn't hate me know. What's a half a year in the scheme of things?" He paused. "It's not like it matters anyway." The voice was whispering to him again. He tried to force it back, pushing the thought of Draco crying for him at it. It moved back, giving him room to think. But it was still there, lurking in the shadowed recesses of his mind. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully.

"Because he cares now?" Harry jumped, startled out of his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. Look, I don't really want to talk about this."

"Of course." She changed the subject quickly, talking about Ron's latest stories about 'that old bat', Professor Trelwaney. Harry tried to listen but other thoughts kept intruding and it became all he could do to keep the voice of the poison separate from his own thoughts. Hermione noticed his preoccupation but kept talking.

"I need you to ask Draco something," he said, interrupting her babbling. She looked up, not surprised that that was where his thoughts had been.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Because I don't think he'll tell me. He might tell you. Ask him what changed during the second task. Ask him what happened all of a sudden?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, her brain spinning.

"And why would he tell me this?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling he might." She nodded, still looking at him suspiciously.

"All right, I'll ask him. But I can't guarantee a response." She stood up. "Bye, Harry. I hope you feel better."

"Don't count on it. Bye."

* * * *

Hermione entered the library, her safe haven, and breathed a sigh of relief. She always felt better here. She immediately spotted Draco. He was sitting at the same table, in the same chair with different books spread before him in generally the same position. He still looked haggard, his hair hanging limp around his tired, worn face. His grey eyes had a look to them, a sort of puffiness, that, had you not seen him crying for yourself, one would never have believed were signs of tears. But Hermione knew them for what they were. And she felt sorry for him.

"I want to help," she said firmly as she sat down on the same chair as the day before. He looked up at her, mildly surprised.

"Fine," he said, taking her by surprise. He didn't want to fight anymore. If there was anything that could help find a cure he was going to take it. "Ask Professor Dumbledore and come back tomorrow." He waved her away.

"But..."

"Not now. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Feeling oddly deflated (she wasn't used to one of her brilliant plans not working) she got up and left. Well, at least she could help now. That was something. And she could keep an eye on Draco, see what he was really like. He was getting to close to Harry and she didn't like it, not one bit.

* * * *

'Well,' Draco thought as he settled into bed that night, 'Today has been a completely rotten day with no hope of the future being any better. God, I love being so tired I can fall asleep and not have to worry about nightmares.' He looked over at the slumbering Harry. He was never the religious type, he wasn't even sure if he believed in God or anything else for that matter. But when you've been taught to believe something since you were born a part of you takes that and includes it in your personality. Not knowing why he did it he began to pray.

'Please God, save him. Let him live. I'll do anything, anything at all. Just don't let him die.'