Blood was flowing from Draco's arms. His shaking figured was reflected in the cracked mirror. He hadn't noticed the figure behind him yet, giving a few more seconds to take in the messy scene.

Glass shards littered the floor, splattered red. Draco's wand was lying a few feet from him, abandoned on the floor. The sleeves of his robes had been pushed clumsily round his elbows, threatening to fall down. Harry realised he was avoiding looking at him as much as possible. Him. How could such an arrogant man seem like such a broken child?

A small whimper echoed out of him. It pained Harry's heart for a moment, hearing such a pitiful sound. But then he reminded himself that this was Draco and he would not pity him. The sound still manages to make Harry feel uncomfortable though. He turns to leave, but the noise of his feet causes Draco's head to snap up. His eyes are wild.

He whirled round, hand groping inside his pocket for a wand which wasn't there. Harry dived for the wand at the same time as Draco, wrestling him for it. Sensing he'd lost the fight, at least for the moment, Draco pulled back. His weeping arms were cradled against his heaving chest.

"Give me back my wand, Potter."

"Why should I? You look ready to jinx me."

Draco's jaw clenched and the vein in his neck grew a little. He held out an expectant hand, glaring.

Yeh right, because your death glares always scare me into submission.

He let out an irritated growl and stepped forward. For a moment it looks like he got caught on his robes as he starts to fall, but by the time he hits the floor it is obvious he couldn't support himself.

"Malfoy? Malfoy, you alright?" There is no response. Leaning closer than Harry had ever dared before, he pressed two fingers to the pale neck. Malfoy's skin was cold and clammy and his pulse a weak effort beneath it.

.

.

The light against his face was painful. Draco slowly opened his eyes, squinting. He was lying in the medical wing, though how he had gotten there he wasn't quite sure. Trying to sit up, he was hit by a wave of dizzying nausea and vomited over the side of the bed. Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out.

"Lie back down you foolish boy, all that blood you've lost will leave you feeling dizzy for some time." She muttered a scourgify spell under her breath to clean up the sick. Draco felt too weak to insult the woman as he usually would.

Turning his head to the side he saw his Hawthorne wand on the little table. A vague image of it being clenched in Potter's hand drifted into his mind. That single image acted like a flood gate being opened. He remembered yelling at that ghost, moaning Myrtle, who had been crooning at him. He had punched the mirror in frustration, pulling the shards out of their frame. And then he had… he had… Why had he done it?

He thought he was in shit before, but now he realised he was really doomed. Dumbledore would be here soon, asking questions he couldn't answer. No doubt Potter had already ran to him, telling him of Draco's failure. Because that was what this really was, wasn't it. Failure.

Another one to add to the growing list.

I shouldn't have stopped. It would have been a less painful death than the Dark Lord has planned for me at least.

The door to the infirmary swung open. A head of greasy hair strode in. Professor Snape looked down at Draco from the foot of his bed.

"You idiot child. What were you thinking?" Snape practically hissed at Draco. "Or let me guess, you weren't thinking?"

Idiot child and foolish boy? There is defiantly a pattern here.

Draco continued to stare at the arched ceiling, refusing to acknowledge his head of house. Snape tutted under his breath. He began to stride up at down at the end of the bed. Draco was beginning to find his teacher's impatience irritating.

"If you are… struggling Draco, tell me. I…" It was clear Snape was choosing his words carefully. Whilst Madame Pomfrey had retreated to her office she was still in hearing distance. "I could help you, with what you are trying to accomplish."

"I DON'T NEED HELP" Draco practically roared at him.

"Clearly. Draco, listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me. I don't need help; yours or anyone else's. I just need…need time." Snape leaned in a grabbed the collar of Malfoy's shirt.

"Time is the last thing we have Draco. The Dark Lord grows impatient." The professor straightened up. "Think about what I have said Draco." And with that, he left.

.

.

Harry strode up and down his empty dorm. On his way in via the quite common room he had come into contact with Hermione. He had muttered a "not now" to the barrage of questions and escaped to his room. It was a good job it had been Hermione in the common room not Ron, as she couldn't follow him up here. Then again, if it had been Ron he would have been too preoccupied by snogging Lavender to notice his blood-stained friend slip past.

He looked down at his hands. They were smeared with blood; the 'pure' blood that Draco was so proud of. It looked no different to any other blood he had seen.

Sighing with exasperation, Harry pulled off his robes. Dumping them in the basket for some house-elf to clean, he went to have a shower.

He hadn't gotten much blood on his skin, but enough to send little pink swirls down the drain. Harry's mind was buzzing.

What could have caused Draco to feel so desperate? It must have something to do with why he has been disappearing of the map, why he's been in the room of requirement. He hasn't been in meals much either. It's not surprising he felt so light. It must be more than just worrying about homework and exams. Is he regretting the mark branded to his skin?

Harry pushed away the last thought. It was absurd to think this wasn't what Draco had wanted all along. Like father like son, Draco would always have ended up rotten. Evil.

There was a knock on the door. Ron was back.

"Harry? Mate? Hermione said you came storming though the common room half an hour ago, covered in blood. What happened?"

Letting out another sigh, Harry turned off the water. He'd have to face the music now.

Wrapping his lower half in a towel, Harry left the steamy comfort of the little bathroom and moved into the main part of the dorm. Ron was looking a little pale, though Harry didn't fail to note his kiss-swollen lips. Harry felt a momentary surge of anger at his best friend, off snogging girls in a corner while he was left to deal with the rest of the world's shit.

He took a deep breath. It would do no good to get angry with Ron. After all, it was Draco he really wanted to yell questions at. Harry flopped backwards onto his bed.

"Mate? You alright?"

"Yeh. Just had an interesting day, that's all." And so, Harry told Ron about how he had seen Draco talking to Myrtle in one of the bathrooms on the marauders map and went to have a nose about. He explained that when he had arrived Draco was alone, and it looked like he had punched a mirror. Once Harry told Ron that it was Draco's blood he was covered in, not his own, the latter seemed to cheer up. Maybe it was because of this reaction, or just because he knew Draco wouldn't want the news of his meltdown spreading, but Harry decided to leave the story there. Ron didn't need to know that he had carried an unconscious Draco to the medical wing, or that he had stayed until he saw Madame Pomfrey seal the wounds with essence of dittany.

Once Ron seemed satisfied that Harry was indeed alright his disappeared off again, but not before saying "What a nutjob." It was just as well the door had slammed shut because Harry's anger at Ron had just surged back. Ron didn't understand what Draco was going through; he was in no position to judge. But then again, neither did Harry.

.

.

Draco had been discharged from hospital the next day. It was a Sunday, so he didn't have to face lessons thank Merlin.

Oddly enough Dumbledore hadn't confronted him. Irritatingly however he now had to have weekly meetings with Snape to 'discuss how you're feeling'. What a load of fun that will be…

As Draco walked round the castle he expected to be dealing with a lot of stares and whispers. He didn't seem to be getting them, no more than normal at least. Potter had had a full day to be spreading rumours after all. How embarrassing. He, a Malfoy of Malfoy manor, heir to a fortune, crying in front of precious harry potter. It was bad enough he had been seen crying at all, but by potter? Ugh.

Draco had no real desire to see his 'friends' and he had been fed in the medical room. Being a Sunday he had no where he really needed to go. His feet therefore carried him to his usual haunt, the room of requirement. His thoughts were a tangle, explaining why he was well round the corner by the time he noticed Potter leaning against the wall. Draco stopped dead, about 10ft away.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked indignantly. More importantly, how did you know I'd be here?

"Fancied a chat." Harry took his weight of the wall and straightened up. Draco noticed how Potter was a little taller than him now, and defiantly a little broader too. That must be his fault, not eating enough.

"Not in the mood."

"So what mood are you in?" Draco stared at Harry. "That definitely came out wrong. It was more of a, about to try again where no-one will find you question?"

So that's what Potter is doing here, playing the hero.

"I'm not suicidal Potter. Stop pestering me."

"I'll stop pestering you if you talk to me."

"Why? Why does this matter? Me and you are enemies Potter." Harry did seem to have an answer to that, so Draco turned and left.

A/N So there we have it, the first chapter! I will try to keep a regular update schedule, but no promises. Please leave a review or whatever it is you lovely people do, it really encourages me to write quicker!