Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To Find The Missing Lifeline	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37353 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
17. Because I'm Broken

          Harry's healing process wasn't painful, but it was exhausting the first couple of times. He couldn't understand what exactly the man was doing. Arkel was just sitting in front of him in the armchair, plunged in some kind of a meditation with his eyes closed, and looking very much like he was sleeping. Harry just had to sit in relaxed position. All the process lasted for about two hours a day, and then the man was leaving, looking very tired. But Harry started to feel better very soon.

"Well, I think it's time to finish," Arkel said after a little more than a week of their healing sessions.

"So soon?" Harry asked in surprise.

"You may feel some headaches for a few more days, but they won't be as severe as before."

"So... I'm all right then?"

"You will be very soon," Arkel promised. Harry wasn't feeling well, despite of the man's words. Physically he was fine, but he was in depression, nevertheless.

     In the evening Harry told Ron about the end of his healing. His best friend visited every day. Hermione wasn't complaining that Harry felt more comfortable and opened with her boyfriend than with her, she'd just let it be.

"Bloody hell, you're finally free of it," the redhead sighed in relief at the news.

"What difference does it make? I just won't have those fucking headaches anymore, that's all," Harry replied quietly. "How's your family taking all of it?"

"Well... Everyone's shocked. Mother is standing up for Ginny, pitying her; she gives her excuses. And the others... just like me, I guess. As a brother, I'm very concerned about what's going to happen to her; and as your friend... She has done a terrible thing, anyway," Ron sighed.

"I want to see her," Harry said suddenly.

"Why? I thought you wouldn't want even to hear her name anymore."

"I just want to know what I did to deserve it."

"You... have a point, of course, but... Are you sure?"

"Yes."

     They flooed into the Burrow. Everyone seemed to be happy to see Harry, but he couldn't feel the same. Ginny was placed under home arrest till the day of her trial.

"She's in her room," Ron said, feeling uneasy and already regretting that he agreed to let Harry see her at all, because his friend was obviously already too upset for any normal talk. However, he had every right... They went upstairs together. Ron decided to stay close, just in case. He knocked at the door of her room. No answer followed. It wasn't surprising, as she was hardly talking to anyone at all. He opened the door anyway, after waiting for almost a minute. She was near the window and didn't look back to see who had entered the room.

"What?" She sighed with irritation.

"Nothing. Just wanted to look into your eyes," Harry replied. His voice was low. She turned to him in surprise. But then she looked at him coldly.

"What do you expect to see?" she asked.

"I've just remembered what you were telling me when I was breaking up with you. Such hypocrisy. You acted so naturally when you were trying to lay the blame on me. Never expected anything like that even from my enemies. But you..." Harry shook his head.

"Then what did Malfoy do, so you were lusting after him like an idiot? Do you think he wasn't using anything like that to lure you into his bed? I doubt that he wasn't."

"Don't judge others by yourself. Draco is too proud to win someone's feelings, good and desirable feelings, by screwing up their mind. You have no pride, I believe, just selfishness. Now look what you've done to your own family."

"Listen to yourself: 'he's so proud, self-respecting and not selfish at all'. It's unhealthy," she shrugged and sat down on the chair. "Do you remember what his father did to me when I was eleven? He gave a horcrux to a child! I nearly died. They insulted my family at every occasion. And then I saw you kissing him! We were so good to you and you betrayed us like that! You were fucking that..."

"Right," he interrupted, starting to go into a temper. "Because I loved him," he said, feeling strangely satisfied when he saw a shade of hurt and angriness on her face for a second. "I still love him. And he's the only person I betrayed. It's not your place even to discuss it. But you had it your way, I've lost him. I hope you're happy now that you've ruined my life and me." He felt the way his own hands clenched into fists.

"There was nothing I could ruin. I did what I had to. You had a very short memory if you decided to be with that scum. He was just using you. I am the person who loves you. I could've given you everything," Ginny said. Her calmness was infuriating. He'd hoped to see some regrets, but he saw none. She regretted nothing she had done to him.

"Love? What the hell are you talking about?! Turning me into insane zombie is a new way to show love?! You violated my mind, ruined everything I had: my memories, my emotions, to replace it with some... pathetic surrogate!" he shouted. With that he stormed out of the room before he had a chance to lose control completely and do something irretrievable. He realised that that had been a very bad idea to visit, but he'd had a little hope to find any, just any, excuse for Ginny. He'd found nothing. Just to make his day worse, it seemed, he stumbled at Mrs Weasley downstairs. She tried to talk to him, tried to convince him to forgive her daughter and not to testify against her upon a trial. He refused to discuss it. Seething and shaking with anger, he flooed home. That had been a very bad idea, indeed...

     Ron felt anxious about his friend and decided to visit him again in the evening, just in case. He didn't like what he saw when he flooed into the house of Blacks. Harry was completely smashed, sitting on the floor of the living room.

"Harry..." The redhead tried to help him to get up so he could take him to the bedroom. But Harry was already unable to stand on his feet.

"Ron... I... sick," that was all he managed to say. Ron dragged him to the bathroom as soon as he could. Once they reached the toilet, the brunet threw up. He was weeping and vomiting. When he was absolutely empty, Ron made him sit down into the bathtub fully dressed and turned the cold water on. At first Harry was whining, swearing like a trooper and trying to get out of the bathtub, but then he put up with it. He became just a little more sober. Ron helped him to get to his bedroom and change into pyjamas. The room and everything in it seemed to be going round even when Harry was lying in bed.

"I'm tired. I'm so tired, Ron... I want peace," he nearly whispered. The redhead just sighed.

     The hangover was severe when Harry woke up. He took his time to sit up. Ron was still there for him as a true friend he was. He was sleeping in the armchair.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry whispered, even if his friend couldn't hear.

     When Ron woke up, he flooed home, but returned later to make sure Harry wouldn't get drunk again. He noticed the large photo album on the table of the living room. Every student had received a similar album after leaving school. There were a lot of photographs from different years since their first one. Some pictures were extracted out of the album and were lying next to it. They all were Draco Malfoy's photographs. There also was a wand on the table... Malfoy's old wand. Ron recognised it quickly. When they'd been escaping from the Malfoy Manor, Harry had taken Draco's wand away by force, and had been using it until he'd repaired his own. Harry followed Ron's curious look.

"Yes, his wand. I don't think I've ever told him that I still had it, and he's never asked. It's been here, in this house, all the time. I thought I'd return it to him sometime, but we broke up before I could. I like this wand. It was good for me in fighting... Almost as good in my hand as my own," Harry smiled tiredly. He seemed to be far away in nostalgic pensiveness.

"I remember..." Ron said quietly, nodding.

"You'd be surprised if you only thought how many things were tying us together through years."

"So... You really love him?"

"I do. I think I was in love with him long before I knew it. Sounds crazy?"

"Absolutely crazy," Ron nodded with a small smirk.

"Yeah..." Harry sighed.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" Harry muttered darkly.

"I don't know, but right now you're only pitying yourself and living in your memories. You can't go on like this, Harry. You must do something. For Merlin's sake, if you want Malfoy so much, why don't you talk to him?" 'Can't believe I'm saying this... Do anything. Malfoy or not; just stop drinking...'

"I keep thinking about it every day, but, I told you, he wouldn't want me back. I've hurt him so bad, Ron. I treated him so poorly; I lied to him and then... I can't even describe what was happening to him when I was leaving. And I did nothing about it. Do you remember him fainting? He looked unwell for months."

"Yes. He wasn't all right, I noticed."

"It was after we broke up. He wasn't healthy, he had a lot of problems, and... I made it even worse. He was stuffing himself with potions and couldn't live without them. And then... those fucking rumours... Someone said Draco was dying. And again, I did nothing. I did nothing to check if that was true or not. I did nothing to stop those rumours behind his back. I just ignored it. What if he's... No, I don't want to think about it."

"Maybe you should stop blaming yourself for everything. It wasn't your fault as we all have found out," the redhead frowned a little.

"Sorry. I know it's all pretty hard for you and your family."

"We'll go through this. We're talking about you now."

"Ron, I have to see him. I have to... I just want to know if he's all right now. I owe him an explanation and an apology for everything. Not sure if he needs it from me, but I don't think I can do anything else. It's too late."

"Do you think he... loves you?"

"Yes... At least, he did. I saw it... He never told me, but he didn't have to."

"Talk to him, so you could go on with or without him."

"I want to go on with him. The problem is that it's hardly possible..."

"You won't find out if you stay here and keep drinking. You're just continuing what my sister has started, - ruining yourself. You have to get out of this."

"I just can't stop thinking that I could fight it sooner when it wasn't too late."

"Oh, yes, sure! You're a Saviour, so you just have to be almighty enough to prevent any disaster before it happened or even before anyone planned it! Stop it, Harry. It's really getting old."

"Tomorrow... I'll talk to him tomorrow. I want to apologise. I just can't keep putting it off."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"No. But that's not a problem. I know how to find him. Unknowingly he's taken care of it."

     Harry couldn't sleep even if he tried to convince himself that he had to have a good sleep before facing his fate whatever it had in store for him. Draco's gift, the silver compass, was lying next to him on his pillow, and he couldn't take his eyes off it. The dark-blue sodalite pointer was directed towards the North-northeast mark on the compass card. He'd already drawn a line on the map to know in which direction he had to move, however, he didn't know how far he would have to fly. It didn't matter. The broom was the best choice of conveyance, so he wouldn't miss the right place, orienting on the shining of the compass, which had to appear sooner or later. Everything was already decided, and right now he had to sleep. But, instead, his head was full of memories. He was especially taken up with the thought of the way he'd taken Draco's warm and loving arms off himself. Strangely it had been probably the most hurting part of their break up, because it had become the beginning of the end along with Draco's eyes - pained and betrayed...

     He fell asleep only when the night almost reached its end. Since he hadn't had enough sleep, the morning was unpleasant. It took him three cups of coffee to wake his mind up. He took a bath and shaved, not very pleased with what he'd seen in the mirror. But later, when he was flying on his broom, the wind shook him up, hitting his face, and the feeling was enjoyable. He checked the compass from time to time to make sure if he was moving in the right direction. One thought made him feel sick: what if the rumours had been true and Draco had been lethally ill? What if the compass would bring him to Draco's grave? 'Please... Please be okay, Draco... I'll never forgive myself if you're not. Be okay...' he chanted to himself. After more than four hours of flight, the compass started to shine. The light was faint, but it was getting brighter very gradually. The closer he was getting to the right area, the faster his anxious heart was beating. Soon he was nearly hyperventilating with deep worry, so he descended...

     Draco started to notice that he was getting tired more often. His back hurt almost every evening, and, in addition, he couldn't inhale as deep as usually, so his breaths slightly shortened. That was normal, but frustrating. He felt heavy and clumsy. Changes weren't just physical. Draco, as he'd expected, had started feel uneasy, walking down the stairs. He was extra careful every time he had to go down, and sometimes it was making him nervous. He thought it was foolish, but there was no way he could convince himself. Florie was often looking after him when he was going down, just in case. She was fussing over him quite often, checking if he was eating well, if he was having enough sleep, but she wasn't meddlesome at the same time. Draco's tiredness was the worst thing for him and his heart was working hard. Actually, all of it was irritating! He never thought it was his baby's fault though; everyone else's, but not baby's. Since Neville was now visiting quite often and offered his help in the garden as some kind of a payment for the healing of his parents (and Severus wasn't very fond of his presence when it wasn't very necessary, anyway), Draco sometimes was venting his vexation on him. Neville had patience, a lot of patience; he had to remind himself about it, from time to time. But mostly they were just talking while the Gryffindor was busy with plants. Their talks were nothing in particular, easy talks, until another of those Draco's moods. And Neville was ignoring or silently suffering from those wild mood swings.

     Draco received another letter from Goyle, who wrote that he was going to visit. He had some news and wanted to talk to Draco in person. It was also a chance for the blond to tell his friend about his 'news', though he felt uneasy about it. On the other hand, at worst, he still could obliviate Goyle, who had never been very good at blocking such things, unless something had changed; they hadn't seen each other for a long time, after all. Anyway, he hoped to find some understanding.

     They almost finished their dinner when the owl flew in through the window. Severus grumbled something quietly.

"What is it?" Draco asked curiously.

"McGonagall's owl."

"Is she still trying to convince you to teach the next school year?"

"She's trying to do precisely that," the older man sighed.

"And?"

"And she fails," Severus shrugged.

"But you will return to teaching when your... grandson will go to school, won't you?" Draco chuckled. The man frowned a little.

"It's quite a distant future, don't you think? And, besides, what if he'll be sorted to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or, Merlin forbid, Gryffindor?" he asked with some amusement on his face.

"Don't say such terrible things. He'll be a real Slytherin, I'm sure of it. If not, I'll cut the useless Sorting Hat into pieces," Draco shrugged with a small smile. Suddenly the wards around the house made them aware of someone's presence.

"Are you waiting for someone?" the blond asked.

"No," Severus shook his head.

"I'll go upstairs," Draco said and took the last sip of tea before he got up from the table and left.

     When Severus went out of the house to see, who that uninvited guest was, he couldn't believe his eyes at first.

"Mr Potter? What an unpleasant surprise." The man folded his hands on his chest. There, in front of him, was Harry, looking pale and somehow pathetic, like he'd known all the hardships in the world. His green eyes had lost their glitter and his cheeks looked hollow.

"Professor... I... May I see Draco?" Harry stuttered a little. He was so anxious that he could feel the pulsation in his temples. "I need to talk to him."

"Why should I bother him with something so insignificant?"

"We have to talk. Please. It's very important."

"I beg to differ. Your insolence is boundless I see. I think you should leave now."

"Please... It won't take long," Harry almost begged. Snape examined him from head to foot and allowed himself some time to think.

"I'll ask him," the man finally said with irritation. He had to tell Draco anyway, even if it was wiser to turn Potter out neck and crop, not to give his godson another reason to fall apart, but Draco would probably find out about this visit sooner or later.

     The man knocked at the door of Draco's sitting room and entered when he was invited to come in.

"You have a guest," Severus informed. Draco closed the book he'd been reading.

"But... So soon? Goyle wrote..." He was confused.

"It's not Goyle."

"N-no... Please, don't tell me it's someone from the Ministry," Draco gasped before the man had a chance to explain. He thought he was about to faint, scared rigid.

"It's Potter," Severus said and was watching his godchild's reaction. The boy gave him a glance of his widened eyes, but then turned them away. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He was shocked and just couldn't speak for some time. At first, he had the urge to say that his godfather had a very bad sense of humour, but he knew the man wouldn't joke like that. Dozens of thoughts were tormenting his mind, dozens of emotions. Disbelief was the strongest one.

"W-what does he want?" he finally whispered. "How did he..." 'Of course... The compass.'

"Should I send him away?" Severus asked. Draco pressed his trembling hands to his face. It was unbelievable. Too unexpected. He didn't know what to do.

"Fine. Let him in. Let's hear what he wants to say," he said quietly after a minute of the internal fighting. But he still wasn't sure if the decision was right. Severus nodded and left. When he went out of the house again, he noticed that Potter's face paled just as Draco's when he'd told him about the visit. He looked at Snape impatiently.

"I'm warning you: hurt him and I'll bury you alive in the garden," the man said quite seriously and let Potter in. Harry nodded almost absently. Very laconically the older man explained how to get to Draco's room. Severus wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing at all. It would have been wiser not to let Draco know. However, it was too late to think about it. Harry went upstairs. Every step was almost painful. He swallowed hard, standing in front of the door, and knocked.

"Yes?" Draco sighed. 'His voice...' Harry entered, but it seemed harder than moving a mountain. He held his breath, when he saw Draco sitting on the canapé, covered with the blanket and a pillow was propping up his back. This wasn't good, Harry knew it. As far as he knew, Draco hardly ever received his guests like this, even if those guests were very unwelcome. And Snape's words about hurting... That could have meant that upsetting Draco could make things worse. 'So, he's ill. He's really ill...' Harry thought very concerned and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt dizzy. He knew that the talk wouldn't be pleasant anyway, but he'd known it before.

"Hi..." he whispered. 'Goodness...' "May I sit down?"

"If you must," Draco replied unemotionally. He couldn't look back at him, just couldn't... Harry sat down in the armchair and looked at Draco again. The blond was looking at the cover of the book on his lap absently. 'The Symbolism of the Ancient Celtic Magic,' Harry read the title, but then looked at the blonde's face again. Even if he was ill, he wasn't looking as sick as he'd been looking the last months at school. Pale, but not so unhealthy. He looked like he was just tired and something about him felt vulnerable. His features were pointed, but he looked almost indifferent. 'The mask...' Draco always had these pointed features when he was angry or nervous, even if nothing else was showing it. Harry hadn't known how soft they could be before Draco and he had got together. The brunet closed his eyes again and inhaled, trying to collect himself and clear his thoughts. He had known, it wouldn't be easy, but now, when he saw Draco, his emotions swept over him. He'd sworn himself that he wouldn't carry any vain hopes, that he would meet Draco to explain himself, to talk to him without expecting forgiveness. But now he was nervous and confused. He wanted his love back no matter the cost. But how? Was it even possible? Was it enough to beg for a chance? He suddenly realised that he would be lost forever without him, even if he deserved it. 'I'm a goddamned Gryffindor. It's hit or miss...' he thought gravely.

"Draco, I'm not here to make excuses, but I want you to know everything," he started. Draco couldn't respond. He was tense and nervous, and yet, tried to keep the blank expression on his face. Not immediately he realised that his eyes were roaming about the room. He was feeling a lump in his throat and his heart felt heavy inside the chest. His son kicked him slightly, but he suppressed the urge to lay a hand on his belly - he was hiding it under the thick blanket. 'I made my bed and I have to lie on it,' Harry mused, summoning up his courage.

"I know you probably hate me. That's all right; I hate myself, too. I've done a terrible thing to you. It was unfair and... cruel. I thought... Oh, god... I didn't know what was happening to me. I would have never done anything like that to you; to us," He was almost taken by emotions, his voice was trembling, and he thought he was about to lose it before he could say everything he wanted to say. "I think I should go straight to the point," he sighed and made a short pause. "Ginny saw us together, you and me, and she... She wanted me to be with her and found some witch, who could affect my mind; my emotions mostly. That was a curse. In fact, she didn't care what it was. The ends justify the means, - that's what she thought. She paid for that to force me to be with her. That's how it started. When I was leaving you, I was... dying inside; I know I was, but... My emotions were in a mess. It's hard for me to talk about it. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense. I hope it does; hope you can imagine, how it works. You were born and raised in this world, so you have an idea about that kind of things. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it, but... It was driving me crazy. I've done a lot of things I now regret. I was losing my mind and I nearly lost it. But the healer said I overpowered it. It took time. It took too long..." It sounded terrible, Harry knew it, but he was so overfilled with emotions that he thought he was about to explode.

"And what do you want from me? Pity?" Draco shrugged. He thought that there had to be some catch, however, even if he was disappointed in Harry and hurt, he doubted that Harry could compose such story. Draco was so confused... On the one hand, he would have given a lot for that to be true; on the other hand, it was so painful and unexpected that he was emotionally stunned. It was like a dream, and it wasn't a good dream. He didn't know for sure. It was hard to decide.

"I want my life back..." Harry replied. He lowered his eyes and closed them. He was ready to crawl on his hands and knees, if necessary.

"Good luck with that," Draco said coldly. He knew if he let himself go, just a little, he'd just explode with tears. He was still avoiding looking at Harry.

"I wish I was better with words right now. Draco, I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough to fight the curse. I... had no idea it was there. But I think I... tried. I miss you so much..." Harry whispered in the end. It was a painful whisper. He noticed the way Draco's chin was quivering, like he was about to start crying, and Harry knew he would join if the blond cried. "I missed you even when I wasn't realising it. Again... I regret a lot of things, but leaving you was... I don't know what to do to set things right. But I'd do anything. I don't know how I could live without you all that time. I can't even start to explain how much I want us back."

"Is that so? To what end, I wonder?"

"Not sure if I deserve a chance... Of course, I don't... But if you're willing to give me one... If there's anything I can do to gain your trust back, I'll do whatever it takes. I'm yours, Draco," Harry said, feeling that he was really at Draco's mercy. He didn't mind though.

"What makes you think that I need you?" The blond still tried to sound indifferent, but there was an ache in his chest and burning in the back of his head. His mask was so fragile, it could shatter any moment. He knew it wouldn't end well.

"I just want you to know that I would have never left you of my own free will. Never."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure! You wanted to spend your life with me, but a Weasley bitch has ruined your plans," the blond chuckled bitterly, darkly and nervously.

"What if I did? What if I still do?"

"You don't expect me to believe it, do you? It's ridiculous. I was naive, but, I hope, I'm not anymore. I agree it wasn't only your fault, but try to imagine how it looks for me. I stopped waiting for you long ago. I convinced myself that you were no longer a part of my life and that you'd never be again."

"I'd do anything to change what I did, but I can't."

"That's right, you can't."

"So, there's nothing I could do? Nothing at all?" Harry whispered. The qualms of conscience tortured him. Powerlessness was unbearable. 'Do you love me, Draco?' he wanted to ask, but decided against it. He didn't want to corner Draco with such questions; that would be simply unfair, and, most assuredly, it would only enrage the blond. He felt unprepared for this conversation and regretted that he hadn't given himself more time to recover after what had happened. He regretted that he wasn't more eloquent, more convincing, stronger. He hated the sickening feeling of helplessness.

"It's not that simple, especially because of some circumstances. You have no idea... But don't worry, you'll be running like hell in a moment. I hope you will," Draco said with the shaky voice. Somehow, Harry was almost sure that he was going to be hexed, but he didn't move and kept looking at Draco. Against his expectations, the blond just stood up slowly, throwing back the blanket. 'And why not?' Draco thought. Harry gasped when he saw his belly. The blond was sure, Harry was about to rub his spectacles or his eyes to make sure he was really seeing it.

"What..." Harry gasped again.

"What does it look like?" the blond shrugged. "Looks like I'm pregnant? Well, I am."

"But how..."

"Long story short: Lucius screwed up my life more than I thought he did. This time I'm not complaining though."

"The baby is... mine?" Harry asked after a pause. He couldn't believe it. It was too much. He'd been dreaming about seeing Draco again, about talking to him, begging for a chance. And now he'd found him heavy with their child... He couldn't believe the baby was someone else's. It was his.

"Who do you take me for?!" Draco frowned, sounding angry and offended.

"I'm sorry... It's just..."

"Unexpected, yes." He'd thought Harry would look at him with disgust, but, instead, he was rather fascinated (and shocked, of course).

"It means that all those months... My God... I thought you were ill." Harry's thoughts were so chaotic. No, Draco wasn't joking or something. He was really pregnant, no matter how hard it seemed to believe it.

"Disappointed?"

"No. No, Draco." For a couple of minutes he was speechless. "Draco, please, tell me what can I do?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't trust you," 'I won't survive it if you're going to hurt me again,' "You don't know what it was like for me. Even if that wasn't quite your fault, you nearly ruined me. I'm carrying your child, but it doesn't give you any right to be here," Draco said. He was losing his outward pathetic excuse for calmness, he was getting too nervous, so, without a notice, he retreated to the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. For a few minutes he was pacing up and down the room, then washed his face with cold water and closed his eyes, taking deep breathes. His both hands were on his belly. He noticed that he was trembling a little. His fragile peace of mind was disturbed and he hated the feeling. Only now he realised how fragile it had really been. Harry just had had to come and take it away, like he hadn't taken away enough already. Something was destroyed... Again. Something was pulling Draco back to the despair and pain. The feeling was a little too familiar.

     He came back to his sitting room, praying the gods that Harry had left. But he was still there, so Draco's tension was only growing.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

"You didn't say you didn't want me here. You just said that you didn't trust me," Harry replied, but he didn't like what he said. He knew that was a bad choice of words.

"You're self-assertive, stubborn idiot! Impudent bastard! If you think that fortune favours the bold then you're a fool! You're a fool!" the blond fired up.

"Call me as you like. Just tell me that you don't care about me, tell me you want me to leave, and I'll leave. Not because I want to, but because I don't want to upset you. Just tell me what to do, otherwise, I'll stay out there, near the house, and I'll be waiting for you to decide. I would have never left you, Draco. I couldn't fight it... And I'm very sorry that I wasn't strong enough." Harry was shaking now. "You have no idea how much I regret it. And now I just don't know how to deal with the consequences." Now it was Harry, who tried to stay calm, but he was failing, too. It was bad, really bad, especially when he heard Draco's erratic breathing. Suddenly the blond came closer, grabbed his hand and pressed it against his belly.

"Can you feel it?" he whispered. Harry could. The baby, his baby, was moving. It felt so real and he wasn't ready for this.

"Yes..." he replied hardly audible.

"Good. I want you to feel and remember it. I want you to live with it, aware of what you've lost! Because you've lost it," Draco hissed, but his voice started to rise gradually. He was shaking all over. "I want to hurt you like you've hurt me. You may consider that you've played your role. You fucked me and, voilà, I'm pregnant. And let's finish with your participation in this. When I really needed you and your concerns, you were snogging with Weasley in front of me! You decided to show up with your weepy story when I'm seven months pregnant; well, excuse me if I'm not very glad to see you. I don't want you anywhere near my child. And if you'll ever try to approach him or even steal him, because I don't know you and what else I should expect from you... Try anything like that and, I swear, I'll bite your head off. Even if I die, giving birth, you won't get my son. Severus will take a good care of him, I'm sure of it."

     The fact that Draco could even think of him as a threat to him or a child, wounded Harry deeply and painfully. Draco hated to see him so weak and broken, but liked it at the same time; it could be his little revenge if only he wasn't this hurt himself. On the other hand, he didn't care anymore, because he'd lost control over himself.

"Draco, wait..." the brunet begged, already feeling tears, escaping his eyes. He thought he'd finally found the words to say (even if he wasn't sure they would change anything), but it was too late and he wasn't given a chance.

"Get out!" Draco shouted. He pushed Harry out of the room and slammed the door hard. Both were crying aloud: Harry near the door outside and Draco on the other side of it. It seemed the blonde's wail could be heard throughout the house.

"Why have you come here?! How could you do this to us?! I wanted a new life! I wanted to forget you and to go on, but you've ruined everything! You dare to turn up at this house after everything... I kept myself from thinking about you; I tried to convince myself that you were dead! And I wish you were!! Stay away from us! Stay away!" he yelled, hitting the door with his palms. Harry ran... He ran downstairs and out of the house. He grabbed his hair with both hands and screamed, bending down, when he was outside, but Draco's words and cries would be ringing in his ears for a long time to come...

     Severus had heard what had happened (it had been hard not to) and quickly went to Draco's room, cursing himself for letting it happen. He found his godson sitting near the wall on his knees, shaking, crying and breathing with difficulty. The man forced a stiff dose of Calming Draught into the boy's throat. He carried him to his bed and put the tense body down carefully. The potion started to work soon, suppressing the pain and making Draco's body go limp upon its compulsion. The boy's eyes were closed, he could only emit the convulsive sighs sometimes and his shoulders were slightly trembling, but he was still holding Severus' sleeve in his weakening hand. Florie was standing near the footboard of the bed, crying noiselessly and pulling her ears down in dismay, feeling helpless and very concerned. Severus was sitting near the bed. Even if it was the right time for saying something, and he knew, it wasn't, he wouldn't say anything. It was better than to get off with something inappropriate like 'give it time'. Severus always laughed in his thoughts when he heard someone giving such stupid and banal advice to the other person, who was down in the dumps. It always seemed to him that giving such advices implied to be more specific. How much time exactly? A week? A year? Ten years? And, since no one could give an exact date of the day when the pain would stop (especially given that they weren't talking about their own pain in that matter, but someone else's), the advise was useless, even annoying. A silent presence was better than that. He only left when Draco had fallen asleep and let the man's sleeve go. He firecalled Pomfrey and the mediwitch flooed in soon. Quietly she examined sleeping Draco, without waking him up, to find out if he was fine, at least, physically. He was weak, but she didn't find anything threatening.

     But, anyway, Draco's breakdown had taken him to his bed and he refused to leave it, feeling weak and hardly eating at all.

     On the fourth day Neville entered his bedroom after knocking several times and gaining no response. The room was dark; all the dense, heavy curtains were closed and the Gryffindor couldn't see anything at first. He approached one of the windows and opened the curtain. He immediately heard the pained moan from the depths of the room and saw where the bed was. The migraine hit Draco and he covered his head, pulling the blanket up. Neville closed the curtain back, blocking the 'evil light'.

"What do you want?" Draco asked with irritation.

"You've stopped going out. I just wanted to know if you were all right," Neville replied. When he'd visited two days ago, Florie had told him that her young master was ill and imprisoned himself within four walls. Actually, she'd looked at him with hope, like he could try to do something, but he hadn't ventured to enter Malfoy's rooms like that. It seemed quite bold; and yet, he was there, at last.

"Gods... What does it matter to you? Are you familiar with the word 'privacy'? You're in my bedroom, by the way," the blond grumbled.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh... Nothing. I only wanted a quiet life, but, alas, the Gryffindors keep invading this house."

"What? Someone else saw you?"

"Yes... Someone else."

"So, that's why you decided to lock yourself up?" The Gryffindor was itching to ask, who exactly had driven Malfoy to such a state of depression and how, but, he knew, it wasn't a good idea. Could it be one of Neville's friends? It must have taken something serious to do to make Malfoy react like this, even if he was quite short-tempered, touchy and somehow easy to upset, at least, as far as Neville knew him.

"Goodness... Why don't you just leave me alone? My head hurts."

"Let's go for a walk. You'll feel better."

"No. Get out," Draco frowned, starting to think what kind of spell he could use to hex the annoying Gryffindor to discourage him from intruding his rooms again. Meanwhile, Neville was examining the plant in the pot near the window. It had dark-red thin stems and long leaves with red veins. As his eyes had got accustomed to the semidarkness, he could see that the plant looked dry.

"This plant looks bad. It only grows well and blooms if you pour blood to its roots, not only water," he said.

"I'm sure your blood will do just fine," the voice silky and dangerous answered, however, Neville ignored the threat.

"Maybe you should stop being so... dramatic."

"Dramatic?! You know nothing!" Draco growled furiously.

"I thought you cared about your son. Don't you think he's not taking your... melancholy well?" Neville touched the sore spot and he knew it.

"Shut up! He's fine. He doesn't care about my mood." 'I hope he doesn't...'

"If you say so... But you're not eating well and you can fall ill. This won't do him any good."

"How did you know that I'm... Of course. Florie. Little treacherous creature tells everything to strangers! Great."

"Malfoy, get out of this bed and let's go outside. You need it. And your son needs it, too. Do it for him. Your depression goes a little too far."

"I hate you," the blond grumbled again, but, unfortunately, the infuriating Gryffindor was right.

"Tell me something I don't know," Neville sighed.

"I need a bath... I'll go outside if you leave my room right now."

"Deal," Neville nodded, a little surprised that everything had gone easier than he'd expected; he still wasn't hexed and the Slytherin had given up that fast. "Do you need some help?" he asked, seeing how weak Draco was, when he was getting up.

"Fuck, no! Don't even come closer. Get out of here."

     Neville shrugged and left, hearing the irritated grumbling behind his back.

     Warm bath was soothing and relaxing. Draco sighed and embraced himself. His son was calm, sleeping, most definitely, after kicking his ribs slightly during the entire morning.

"I'm sorry. I'm a terrible father. You must be very disappointed..." 'Harry, I need you so much, but I can't... Can't what? Forgive you?' He still wasn't ready to think about it.

     When he got dressed and went outside, Longbottom followed him to his irritation. 'Wonderful. Baby-sitter is exactly what I need.' But then he decided that he didn't care. They went to the forest, but weren't entering the forest itself, walking close to it along the bank of the river, which was some kind of the border of the forest with the sparse trees on its both sides.

"Is it true what people say about this forest?" Neville finally asked.

"Perhaps," Draco sighed. He wasn't quite in the mood for a talk, but replied: "Many people got lost there. Some were never found."

"They say when people try to get out and find the right way, they start to walk in circles or drive themselves even further into the wild wood. And not many magical creatures live here," Neville said.

"Such places are far away from here anyway. It's safe here and there are animals. Just some part of the forest is cursed. Some outlaws practised something very dark in that part several centuries ago. That created the abnormality. But people still don't know how to fix it, so no one goes there on purpose," Draco explained, though Neville saw that the blonde's thoughts were somewhere far away. He also noticed that the blonde's eyelids were a little swollen and red. Someone had hurt him really bad.

"Could it be the reason of all the strange things in the forest?" Neville asked, nevertheless.

"It might be so. Or those outlaws chose that place, because the forest had the dark potential from the start. No one knows now."

"I don't know; I like it here. The air is so fresh and the place is calm. I wouldn't mind to find a place like this for myself."

"Only if you want to separate yourself from the world."

"Sounds like a good thing sometimes. But you'll have to keep an eye on your kid, not to let him wander deep into the forest."

"I'm sure my son is going to be a sensible person. More sensible than me, hopefully..." Draco stopped and sat down on a big stone, inhaling deeply.

"Are you tired?"

"Just give me a few minutes," Draco replied. Neville nodded, sitting down on the ground. The singing of birds, the sound of the river, the rustle of the leaves and the smell of the fresh grass were very helpful in clearing Draco's mind. Going for a walk hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

     Then they walked some more, each with his own thoughts, and decided to return to the house when Draco's back began to ache a little. At any rate, he brought himself into a better shape through walking and even worked up an appetite to Florie's joy. She served dinner immediately, avoiding Draco's disapproving glances, because he was still angry about her talkativeness.

     However, he got another reason to become nervous when the owl brought a newspaper. Neville took it and gasped, reading the front page. His eyes were wide and Draco felt uneasy.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"It's about Harry... My goodness... The trial... Ginny's arrested for..." the Gryffindor gasped again. Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"No! I don't want to hear anything about him and that bitch!" he exclaimed furiously. Neville looked at him suspiciously. Angry and upset, the blond dropped a teaspoon on the table and lowered his face, standing up. He went back to his room. His eye was twitching nervously and he was high-strung again.

     In the evening, when Longbottom had left without bothering him again, Draco went downstairs and found the newspaper. At first he was afraid to read. He saw Harry's indifferent face with empty eyes was on the photograph. And still, he ventured to read the article. There had been a trial. Harry had testified against Ginny Weasley, who had used the services of the dark witch to make him hers, nearly driving him insane. Draco automatically approved the fact that Harry had pressed charges against her. With disgust he'd half-expected that Harry would just forgive her, just because she was a member of the family he respected the most. Fortunately, he'd appeared to be better than that. She had been sentenced to a year and a half in Azkaban, and the term wasn't too short, considering the conditions of life in that prison. The one, who had performed the dark ritual, Medea Levington, still wasn't found. Harry had disappeared right after the trial, refusing to talk to the reporters or anyone else at all. Draco sighed and sat down tiredly. When the old fool, Slughorn, who, apparently, had suffered from the senile dementia, had taught the students how to brew the Love Potion, some fucking idiots, of course, had tried to brew and try it on someone, like Pansy had, for example. Well, if such things were allowed at school... But it seemed that Weasley bitch had decided to go even further. Now Draco felt like he'd been robbed. Silently he retreated to his study, followed by Severus' eyes, who decided not to interfere in the boy's deep thoughtfulness.

     Draco was looking at the blank piece of parchment on the desk for some time.

'I really don't know what to write, but,' he wrote, but crumpled the parchment angrily and threw it away.

'Harry, there are a lot of things I couldn't tell you in person; I still don't think I can. I don't know if writing a letter is a better way.' Another piece of parchment was thrown away. And the next one followed. 'Pathetic...' he thought.

     'Harry,

     Although, I really doubt that that was exactly the reason of my breakdown, I have mood swings that make me too edgy sometimes. I overreacted. I'm not asking your forgiveness; don't expect that from me. But I must apologise for embarrassing myself like that. I saw you and it confused me. No, confusion is an underestimation. You were the most unexpected visitor. Memories rushed into my mind. Many things happened since our break up. I hoped I could bury the past, including you, so now I don't really know what to do. I haven't succeeded in leaving the past behind, so far, and it hurts me a lot to look back.

     We can try to talk again sometime; if you're still interested, of course. I hope this time I'll be able to control myself enough for a civil talk. I can't promise anything else, though.

     Please, let me know beforehand if you intend to visit. I have to be morally prepared. But I'm not waiting for you.

     Draco.'

     He decided that it was much better (the best he could offer in his current emotional state), even if the message was short. But he didn't like his handwriting, which was betraying his nervousness. 'I'm not waiting for you,' was a lie, of course, and he hated himself that it was. Writing it was just making him feel less vulnerable. He rewrote the letter, forcing his hand to be steadier this time. He left it on his desk and went to bed. It was better to leave it until the morning, so he could read it once again and weigh it more carefully.
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To Find The Missing Lifeline