Rescued

Harry had been slightly distant from his friends lately. He was supposed to kill Voldemort, finish school, find a place to live, get a job…. No one asked him what he wanted to do. The day he found out Draco was on the side of the Light, he almost passed out. Though looking back he should have seen it coming.

Draco had been reserved, quiet, and almost scary since they began the term after Christmas in their sixth year. He never threw a hex, curse, or insult their way and steered clear of everyone; even Crabbe and Goyle, who had been permanent fixtures at his side for the previous six years. In fact, Harry had noticed that all the Slytherins were ignoring Malfoy. They would give him nasty looks in the corridors and mess with his ingredients in Potions. Not even Snape seemed to notice.

He felt bad for the blonde but assumed his help wouldn’t be welcome. He longed to approach him and extend his hand, extend the offer of friendship that he himself had turned down all those years ago. But in the back of his mind he figured Draco would laugh in his face.

Harry tried to ignore it all; talk to his friends, play Quidditch, argue with Hermione about doing homework and studying, get his arse beaten in Wizard’s Chess by Ron, but that morning there was just something about the look on Draco’s face that wouldn’t let him ignore it any longer. Of course Ron and Hermione were too gone on each other to even notice when he left after Draco, let alone care the Slytherin was crying. When Harry saw that, he knew there was trouble.

He watched Draco get up and run out of the Great Hall with tears streaming down his face and decided to follow him. For some reason he thought he would be too late, and not to be his friend, to save him at all.

Harry followed him through the corridors and up to the Astronomy tower, staying a safe distance away so he wouldn’t spook Draco into trying to lose him. When he opened the door the sight before him made him gasp. It was almost beautiful.

A blonde angel was leaning back against the wall with red gashes in both wrists; a knife clutched in one and hand a letter in the other. There were pools of blood on either side of where he sat and a frighteningly peaceful look on his face.

Harry rushed forward and knelt beside him, not caring of the blood staining his robes and trousers. He cupped Draco’s cheek in his hand for a moment, thinking him already gone, then leaned in to kiss his forehead. He was still warm. The Gryffindor looked down as a hand touched his leg and grasped it in his own as the blonde’s eyes opened.

“He doesn’t care,” he whispered then closed his eyes again and held out the letter for Harry to read.

He took it and unrolled it, gasping at what he read.

Draco,

Your infantile attempt to try and reconcile with me is completely and without a doubt hopeless. Your mother has taken her life because of you and I suggest you do the same seeing as there is no one who would care if a poor excuse for a wizard such as yourself were to die.

I must tell you that using a muggle song to try and get me to listen was probably the worst choice you’ve made to date, and I hope you finally realize that I no longer consider you my son.

Cease and desist with the pleas, you really are pathetic but it’s not as if I didn’t know that already.

Lucius.

Harry looked back up to see tears streaming down the pale face once more then looked down at the other piece of parchment in his hand and began to read it as well.


Hey dad,

Look at me, think back and talk to me. Did I grow up according to plan? And do you think I’m wasting my time doing things I want to do? But it hurts when you disapprove all along.

And now I try hard to make it, I just want to make you proud. I’m never going to be good enough for you. I can’t pretend that I’m all right. And you can’t change me. Because we lost it all, nothing lasts forever. I’m sorry I can’t be perfect. Now it’s just too late and we can’t go back. I’m sorry I can’t be perfect.

I try not to think about the pain I feel inside. Did you know you used to be my hero? All the days you’d spend with me now seem so far away. And it feels like you don’t care anymore. And now I try hard to make it I just want to make you proud. I’m never going to be good enough for you. I can’t stand another fight. And nothing’s all right.

Nothing’s going to change the things that you said. Nothing’s going to make this right again. Please don’t turn your back I can’t believe it’s hard just to talk to you, but you don’t understand.

Because we lost it all, nothing lasts forever. I’m sorry I can’t be perfect. Now it’s just too late and we can’t go back. I’m sorry I can’t be perfect….

Draco.

Harry looked up once more and noticed that Draco’s breathing was getting shallower and his face was getting paler. The blood was beginning to drip slower and his skin was getting cold. He leaned in and shook the other slightly, trying to get his attention.

“Draco, come on. We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey,” he whispered, hoping Draco wouldn’t put up a fight and just let Harry take him to the hospital wing.

The blonde shook his head and spoke, though very quietly; “There’s no use. My mother’s dead. She killed herself because of me. And my father told me to do the same. He hates me…”

The Gryffindor felt rage building within him but calmed himself enough to speak softly to the Slytherin, “Draco, there are so many who would care if you died. Don’t listen to your father, he’s nothing compared to you.”

Tired eyes opened and looked at him, steely blue eyes that belonged to the face of an angel, “Harry, no one cares. My father’s right; there hasn’t been anyone, not even Professor Snape, who has noticed me retreating into myself. Greg and Vince are dead because of me. The rest of Slytherin hates me and thinks I’m a traitor and even McGonagall and Dumbledore look at me like they don’t fully trust me. Just let me die. Please.”

Harry gasped at his words and picked him up anyhow with little effort. The tall, blonde Slytherin was a lot lighter than he appeared and had apparently not been eating. He was very light and Harry had no problems carrying him through the corridors to the hospital wing. Somewhere along the journey Draco had closed his eyes and rested his head against Harry’s chest, hoping he would just die before they reached Madam Pomfrey’s domain.

The Gryffindor whispered to him as he got closer to their destination, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise you that.”

When they finally got there he laid his burden on the closest bed and called for the mediwitch who walked in and gasped then began to work on the wounds and replenishing the blood he had lost. Harry refused to leave his side, not even when Snape came in and his face paled at what he saw in the bed before him.

Harry turned angry green eyes on him and said in a deadly quiet voice, “If you had noticed his cry for help you could have saved him, but you’re too busy torturing students and fucking his father to care.”

The raven-haired boy turned back to Draco and held his hand tighter as he brushed a few strands of silver blonde hair from his face, he hadn’t given Snape a chance to answer nor did he see the look of pain that passed over his professor’s face at his words. Snape fled the hospital wing to his private rooms and proceeded to get very drunk.

Dumbledore looked on with sad eyes; he knew he could have saved the young man himself if he had just cared enough, it was a wonder Harry himself hadn’t tried the same thing. They were all too busy worrying about him, obviously for no reason, to worry about anyone else. He couldn’t even yell at Harry for what he had said to Severus because the man was Slytherin’s Head of House and should have noticed something was wrong. Of course, he had been more worried about his own freedom to make sure his students were ok.

Eventually the only ones left were Harry and Draco, who was sleeping. Madam Pomfrey had long since retired to her room and the Gryffindor refused to leave the blonde’s side; no one tried to make him. None of his so called friends were looking for him. They were too busy doing their own things to wonder where he was. And none of the Slytherins cared that one of their own was missing as well. But Harry was determined to be the first face the blonde saw when he woke up. He would make up for all the years he wasted not being the other’s friend if it was the last thing he did.

His head fell onto the bed near where he was holding Draco’s hand and he began to cry; for his own pain, for Draco’s pain, for the friends and family they both lost because of the war. He eventually drifted off, his tanned hand tightly clutching the pale one.