Hiya peeps!

Well this is a quick update for me! I hope you enjoy it!!!

Well, I thought that perhaps we've had enough of Harry's point of view for now…time for a change of scenery! XD

Disclaimer: Not mine, never was, never will be.

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Malfoy sighed tiredly as he let his head alight softly on the silken pillow, his eyes wearily seeking out the cracks in the ceiling above him. He was offended, and angry, so very angry! So why did he feel more like resting now? And why had he just picked up that apple and eaten it, when a few hours before the idea of food had seemed horrid to him.

His life felt barren, cursed, and overshadowed. Everyone in his family was a criminal; was scum. Silently, he reflected on if he was the scummiest of them all; being the only one to abandon the family morale. He had denied the code, had denied his father's orders.

Yet what did he have to show for it? Defying his father to take that final step into darkness did not dismiss his personality or actions; he was not a good person. Nor was he kind or friendly, and that was reflected in just how few people cared for him. He had no friends and no real family; though their title and assets were his.

He reasoned that in this time, here and now, he had nothing to live for. His name and actions were carved in the minds of everyone around him, and would be until the day they died. But in one hundred years, none of them would be alive. That had been the reasoning behind his drastic measures, and he had been about to succeed.

That was until Potter burst in, forcing the peaceful brew right back out through his lips with a stab of wrenching agony, before dousing him with ice-cold water, sending a painful shock right through his body. He had been disoriented, in pain, shocked and hurt. And worst of all, it was Potter doing it. He feared that when he next awoke he would be in a terrible position; his life in the hands of his most hated enemy.

Yet he had woken on a bed of soft grass, lent gently against the trunk of a tree, with the mysterious boy sat beside him. He was still in pain then, and angry. After forcing the pain down he had tried to leave, to get away and understand what was happening; why he wasn't a hundred years from this time and starting anew.

Potter had forced him to stay, had forced him to explain. Perhaps most shocking to Draco was the teen's knowledge of potions, and his understanding of Draco; calling him selfish rather than cowardly. With a start Draco realised that he had sat there for longer than he needed too, that he had talked with the boy, and he had enjoyed it.

He scowled at himself for being so relaxed then, he hated the thought of how weak it must have made him look. He'd left the raven-haired boy there before the lake, his final words ringing sharply through Draco's mind.

But this morning had been different; he felt cold again. The food looked and smelt rancid to him; making his stomach churn uncomfortably. Potter had been there, his usual smarmy grin greeting him with words meant to strike deeper that the surface. 'Sick' he had called Draco, perhaps that was how he saw it. But Draco wasn't sick, at best he was just sick of the people around him, of the feelings they invoked in his gut.

He'd gone somewhere to get away from them all, a pass-time he had been indulging in a lot lately; scouting out an empty classroom and filling it with his silence. Yet it seemed nowhere was safe from Potter; he had found him quickly. The boy had slid from the air before him, shocking and alarming him. All he had wanted was to be alone, and even that was taken away from him.

He'd been angered, had said menacingly that it was none of the boy's business…and had been thrown against a wall for it. But the things Potter had said…they were mind boggling. Draco didn't know what they meant, nor why they had been said. But worst of all was the feeling in the bottom of his gut, the one that said that whatever had happened, it had been a good thing.

Potter had disappeared right in front of him, whisked away under his magical cloak. The room felt stark and empty, bereft of his presence.

And he had been left behind, shocked, dazed and hurt, but most of all angry. The boy had pushed him around, bullied and prodded him, and still left him feeling the better for it. It angered him to no end, and he tossed restlessly on his bed remembering it.

Yet he had eaten, and now he was resting, the air of his room still faintly tainted with the aromatic smell of the potion. He curled and twisted, he was restless but so tired, so very, very tired. He rolled onto his side, his limbs curling lazily into place. His eyes fell on the green stain that looked as though it had spread from beneath his bathroom door. It would be permanent, a thing that was unchangeable by magic or time. A lump rose in his stomach as he realised that was the nature of the potion he had brewed; had he taken it, there would be no going back. Everyone he knew would be gone from his life.

He had thought that was what he wanted.

"Hey Malfoy, don't do it again, okay?" The boy's softly spoken words had lodged in his mind.

"Because then who would I fight with?"

Malfoy's eyes slid closed gently, his racing thoughts turning mellow as he drifted tiredly on his bed of black silk, Potter's last words ringing through his mind…

I am validating your existence…

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Well there you go!

Hmmm, I'm a little upset not many people who read this are reviewing, perhaps it's not as good as I had hoped for… ToT

Please review and let me know what you think!