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The blond Slytherin was just taking his usual seat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, which happened to be between Pansy and either Crabbe or Goyle. He still had heard nothing from his parents and while not overly concerned letters from them usually came at regular intervals. He watched with a bored expression as the familiar Malfoy eagle owl swooped down towards him, secretly pleased he was finally receiving a letter. It held a piece of parchment in its talons, which Draco took from it. He held up a treat for the bird, which it took greedily and without the painful nipping, almost as if it were starved for anything it could get. Draco frowned and signaled for the bird to perch upon his shoulder. All Malfoy animals were trained well but this bird was not acting properly as it should have been. Something was wrong.



He walked briskly out of the Hall, leaving his breakfast untouched and several heads turned in his direction to watch his abrupt departure but none of that mattered to him at the moment. There were more important things to attend to, things that required his immediate attention. He still was not sure what was wrong with the situation all he knew was something was not right.



Draco rushed down to the dungeons using as many of the shortcuts as he could remember. He was a Prefect this year and as such he had his own room which meant privacy from the rest of his House, a much needed accommodation. He quickly shut himself in his room and put up silencing charms and locking spells behind him so no one would disturb him even though they should all know better by now. Apollo, the eagle owl, still perched on his shoulder hooted softly and flew onto the bookcase in his room.



He looked curiously at the bird not liking its behavior. Apollo was always arrogant and demanding for a bird, even by standards of most Malfoy birds, but now he seemed subdued and almost afraid. The bird's nature had been quelled and that was no easy thing to do to Apollo. He wondered if his father had something to do with it. Perhaps Apollo had been punished recently. It served the bird right to be punished. Draco could still remember numerous times the bird had painfully nipped him, and he knew that they had been on purpose because Apollo had not nipped him once yet.



But it seemed that there was more to this than just apossible punishment for Apollo's change in demeanor. The note might contain an answer.



Carefully Draco opened the note, breaking the wax Malfoy seal on it. It was from his father. His mother never used the silver wax his father preferred to use.



Dear Draco,

Things aren't going well. Voldemort is displeased with me and I fear it is to be for the last time. If you hear nothing from me by tomorrow than the worst has happened and I am dead. You know that you inherit everything in the event of my death so I have no fears for your future. I only ask you look after your mother.

Stay clear of Voldemort. That is my last wish, order and piece of advice to you, don't join him. Stay well my son.

Love always,

Your father,

Lucius Malfoy.



The parchment fell from his hand. It had to be some sort of sick joke. There was no other excuse. His father was not dead, not Lucius. Lucius was smart and could extricate himself from any mess; he'd never been caught before. But there was one person who would know the truth about this matter.



Draco walked calmly to Potions class, his first period. He looked carefully at Snape who for once refused to meet his eyes or offer any form of greeting. Something was going on. Whatever it was he did not like it. He wanted it to stop. He wanted things to be normal like they had been for the past five years where Snape would greet him cordially and his father would promise to attend his next Quidditch match against Gryffindor.



"Sir," Draco went up to him right when the period had ended after Potter had finally left the classroom. "What is going on?"



"I've just gotten word this morning," Snape said finally looking him in the eye. "That Voldemort has killed your father. I'm sorry."



So that was it then. It was true and his father had known and had still gone to his death rather than trying to escape when he had the chance. Why had he not fled to Germany, or some other country to get away from it all? Why had he gone to his death willingly without a struggle? Malfoy's never went down without a fight, but Lucius had. Malfoy's were supposed to fight to the death unless by their deaths something that they treasure or felt was worth more than their own life was protected. For his father he knew that that something had been him and so it was partially his fault that his father was now dead because if he had not been born Lucius' death would not have happened.



Draco went through the whole day as though in ahaze. He did not care when Ron Weasley caused his quill to go up in flames, he hardly reacted at all. The truth was he did not care and doubted anyone else cared about what happened to him either.



Harry noticed the difference though and he did not like it. Something was wrong and whatever it was he just hoped that Draco would snap out of it and go back to being normal. Even though Draco was his nemesis he did not like seeing him as some living zombie. It just was not right, for anyone to be that way over anything.



The weeks began to drift by and Draco slowly came out of his self-imposed catharsis. But he was not the same and he never would be able to go back to the Draco Malfoy that everyone thought of him as. He noticed things that he had not before, things that made life real. Life was nothing but pain and the pain made him feel alive. He knew that he was alive when he was in pain and so he longed for pain, physical pain just to be sure that he had not died and was living a dream or rather a nightmare. Dreams were meant for losers, for people who actually could dream. Every dream he had was a nightmare, there was no difference for him.



At first the pain came from little things like paper cuts, light cuts on his skin. He would watch as the thin red lines appeared and those red lines turned into small rivers. But those did not satisfy him for long and so he progressed onto harsher forms. He found an old knife among his possessions and he used it to cause light cuts in his skin. They started out so that he could see just a thin streak of red but soon these progressed into tiny rivers and it felt great. And he was able to go back to normal or what he thought as normal but really it was not.



He pushed Crabbe and Goyle away from him, he could not stand to be around them as much as he used to. He no longer wanted his goons to beat on the people he disliked. He could do that for himself because now he liked the pain, he thrived on it. Getting into fist fights was a thing he always tried to avoid, but not anymore. Now he sought them out and he usually won or walked away with a draw. He was not known to lose, no Malfoy was.



His opponents could not understand it. Getting punched in the face or the gut should slow down the other person, but not Draco. He just kept right on coming and he laughed through the pain sometimes, it was a dead laugh and it caused his opponents to shiver with fear. The rumors began to be whispered around school about how Draco was unbeatable, how he laughed while being hit and kept coming. The rumors grew until it was almost impossible for Draco to find a fight any longer and he did not like that. The pain was nice and he needed it.



Harry could see the change in Draco, especially on the Quidditch field. He was no longer afraid of getting hurt, falling off his broom or flying directly at Harry for the snitch. The problem for him was that Harry was not afraid either. And Draco did not win on the Quidditch Pitch, he never had and it seemed that he was not about to start now. The changes in him did not matter, and he did not care that he lost the Quidditch matches as long as he was sore and covered in bruises.



"Malfoy," Harry walked up to him after the match under the stands. "You and I are going to talk, right now."



"Back off Potter," Draco lashed out at him.



Harry was undeterred however. He did not care what Draco tried to do to him. Nothing would stop him now that he was committed to speaking to the Slytherin.



"No," Harry ground out forcefully. "We are going to talk even if you don't like it."



"Why should I talk to you Potter?" Draco scoffed.



"I know your father was killed by Voldemort," Harry said slowly, softly so no one could overhear them or his little speech. "And now he's destroying you to, you just can't see it though because you're so selfabsorbed. And here I thought that Slytherins were sneaky and knew how to look out for themselves. You should have been sorted into Hufflepuff Malfoy; you're certainly passive enough for it."



"No one is destroying me," Draco growled low in his throat.



"Oh really?" Harry nearly wanted to laugh at him but contained it. "Look at yourself Malfoy. I know you've got cuts inflicted by your own hand and bruises from all the fights you get into. You like the pain don't you? That's a gift from Tom, believe me Iknow. Just like Tom Riddle to destroy two birds with one stone.

"He didn't have to kill your father you know. But he did it anyway because he's smart enough to know that he would win over Lucius and over you, all in one move. Lucius was a threat but you were one too. Looks like he did the job right this time, have to give him some credit for that."



"My father expected it," Draco said calmly but he didn't feel calm at all. "Voldemort wanted to do it."



"But Voldemort didn't have to do it," Harry repeated his tone insistent, refusing to back down from what he knew was the truth even if Draco did not want to hear it he was going to say it. "Do you even know why he killed your father? Can you not see it?"



Draco mutely shook his head.



"You're brainless Malfoy," Harry mocked him before starting to give him the answer, green eyes hard. "Lucius stopped giving a damn about the glorious cause of his Master by our third year you could see it in his eyes if you bothered to look at all. He could have cared less about Voldemort's insane ramblings of eventually taking over the Magical World and destroying the Muggles, because you see Voldemort is too obsessed with destroying me first and your father knew that and thought it stupid of him. After all he had the power but he doesn't know how to use it wisely.

"Voldemort also knew one other thing that you don't realize. Lucius didn't want you to join his Death Eater ranks and Voldemort knew that you yourself didn't want to join with him either. Voldemort knew that you'd eventually grow in power and he couldn't take the risk that you might join Dumbledore's side, the side of the Light and be on the very side of his enemy, me. He knew that in killing Lucius it would eventually kill you as well. It looks like his sick logic is playing out to be true. Pity that."



"And how do you know all this Potter?" Draco asked suspiciously.



"My scar," Harry responded smugly. "I can listen in on his thoughts and everything said to him through an ancient spell that Bill Weasleydiscovered last summer. Voldemort can't listen in on me though, no matter how much he'd like to. Unfortunately the spell only lets me listen to things concerning his own Death Eaters but usually I don't get any names unless he plans to kill them or unless they're already dead. Are you going to let him win Malfoy? Are you going to give and let him beat you, aMalfoy?"



"No," Draco's eyes burned brightly with anger. "He's not going to win."



"Then stop doing this to yourself Draco," Harry spat out. "Because slowly, even if you don't want to admit it yet, you're killing yourself and that means he will win."



"You just called me Draco," Draco looked at Harry with interest.



"So?" Harry looked closely at him. "It is your name."



"This doesn't make us friends Potter," Draco said with a harsh glare and a sneer on his aristocratic features.



"I didn't expect it to," Harry responded lightly. "Just letting you know that if you want a friend you don't need to pay for one."



"What about your little fan club?" Draco asked with asneer but there was also a bit of uncertainty in his eyes.



"If they don't like it they can screw themselves,"Harry replied truthfully. "Same goes for family and friends. They all have to learn to like who I really am, even if it takes them some time to get used to it. I've changed since Diggory's death. I've seen and heard things that no one can ever understand or relate to and for once I'm glad that I have."



Draco turned and walked away and Harry let him go. Things were different though

.

"Potter," Snape came up behind him as Draco was fading away in the distance. "In my office, now."



"Yes sir," Harry responded automatically to the tone of voice and to the person issuing the command.



Once inside Snape shut the door behind them.



"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Snape hissed at him, his eyes narrowed and his tone suspicious, searching for an answer in Harry's expression even though he knew that it would be in vain because he himself had taught the boy how to hide everything.



"Yes," Harry's voice was determined.



"Why are you trying to befriend Draco?" Snape asked suspiciously. "He's just lost his father and he doesn't need anyone trying to delude him into fighting against Voldemort. Nor does he need any fake offers of friendship."



"I wasn't making any fake offers," Harry's voice was cold at the mere insinuation made by Snape to him.



"Just what do you think you're playing at?" Snape's tone was hard but not cold or angry.



"My life Professor," Harry stated the fact blithely. "That's what I'm playing at. For once I'm doing what I should be doing, not what other people expect me to do or want me to do or order me to do. I know what I'm doing. I'm offering Draco friendship and if he wants it, a chance to get revenge for his father. He can have one or the other or both. The choice though is up to him."



Snape glared at him accusingly but said nothing. Harry turned and left, not caring what his professor did or what impression his words had made on the man. Draco was outside the door, which both of them had suspected he would be.



"My choice?" He repeated.



"Yours," Harry affirmed.



"Well Harry," Draco said. "I choose both."



"Good," Harry said. "See you in class Draco."



"Wait," The blond called after him.



Harry turned and faced him.



"There's something you should know," Draco said. "Malfoy Manor and all the other Malfoy properties are at your disposal."



"You know what I've just realized," Harry looked him in the eye. "When something's wrong it isn't right."



"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked.



"When things go wrong it doesn't mean that what we do to try to deal with the problem or fix it is right," Harry tried to explain. "Like in your case."



"Harry," Draco said seeing the deeper meaning in the green eyes. "Just because it's right for someone else doesn't make it wrong for you either. What do you want to do about it?"



"Astronomy Tower,"Harry responded with a small smile. "Tonight at midnight, there's more behind this than you know."



Harry turned and sauntered away and for once Draco had something more to look forward to than just the pain. There was something else to love and want, Voldemort's downfall. It hurt just as much, but that didn't make it wrong, it made it right.