To Love Again

Draco left the Great Hall by himself that evening and headed for the boys’ seventh floor lavatory. He needed to get away from his friends for a little while and just…be alone with his thoughts. It had been a few months since Ginny Weasley’s heart was Apparated into his body. He wasn’t too thrilled about having the heart of a blood traitor in his chest, but hey--at least it wasn’t Granger’s filthy mud blood heart. Merlin forbid!, Draco cringed at the thought.

Things had changed ever since Draco received his new heart. Although he hated the Golden Trio as much as ever, he felt obligated to be a bit more civil towards them by simply ignoring them instead of taunting and harassing them. After all, if not for Ginny’s heart, Draco would be dead by now--and, besides, he felt a drop of compassion for them and their loss...although he
was not quite sure where this compassion was coming from.

Fortunately, the seventh floor restroom seemed to be completely vacant as usual. Vacant was good; Draco had taken a liking to peace and quiet, which was hard to come by in the Slytherin living quarters. He pushed the door open, walked in, and was stunned to see St. Potter--Mr. Chosen One himself--laying unconscious on the lavatory floor, in a pool of his own blood. Potter had big, deep gashes across his throat and chest, his wand laying in his limp hand. It looked as though Potter had performed the Sectumsempra spell on himself.

For a moment, Draco considered walking back out and just leaving him there--but he was reminded of something he had attempted at a low point in his life…

It was the summer before Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts. He and his father were having a rather heated argument regarding Draco’s future as a new member of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. “Father, you know I support the Dark Lord,” Draco was trying not to further infuriate Lucius, “but what if I don’t want to become a Death Eater?”

Lucius sneered and grabbed Draco by his shirt collar, an ominously mad gleam in his eyes. Narcissa had just appeared in the doorway and gave a frightened gasp at the sight of her husband threatening their only son. Draco looked over at his mother, pleading silently for her help, but she seemed too scared to move. Draco’s heart pounded with fear as his father hissed in his face, “Don’t even joke about a thing like that!” Lucius shoved Draco so hard that he tumbled backwards into a bookshelf , nearly causing an avalanche of heavy, leather-bound volumes. Silent tears threatened to spill from his mother’s panic-stricken eyes, but she didn’t dare intervene. Draco knew that she didn‘t want to give Lucius any reason to turn his anger and frustration on her. Lucius loomed over Draco’s cowering form and shouted,
“You’re going to become a Death Eater and uphold the Malfoy name! I am your father and you will do as I say! Do you understand me?”

Draco silently nodded and Lucius stormed out of the room, grabbing Narcissa then slamming the door behind himself and his wife. Draco stood perfectly still and listened to his father’s retreating footsteps. Once he was sure his father was in another part of the Malfoy Manor, Draco locked himself in his room where he threw himself on his bed, cried and screamed into his pillow. He then rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. What am I going to do?, Draco thought to himself. He hated living under his father’s thumb, forced to be something he wasn’t.

Once Lucius Malfoy was locked up in Azkaban, Draco thought the terror and domination was over…but he was wrong. Voldemort was now the one giving him orders and threats, and the Dark Lord expected him to kill Dumbledore. Draco had never killed anybody before, and truthfully he didn’t want to. He had tried indirect means of ending the headmaster’s life, but the cursed necklace and the poisoned drink ended up in the wrong hands, his efforts
wasted.

The Easter holiday came. The end of term was looming like a black cloud on the horizon, and he still had not fulfilled his duty as a Death Eater. As his friends Pansy and Blaise were away on holiday, Draco had nowhere to vent his frustration, and nobody to really talk to…except Moaning Myrtle, but she was of no help whatsoever. If anything, she only made him feel even worse.

Draco didn’t see any way out, and he was terrified of what Voldemort would do to him if he didn’t succeed, so he had tried to take his own life instead. Nobody tried to save him…

As much as Draco hated to show any concern for Potter, the sight of him like this was quite disturbing. He nudged Potter’s body with his foot and said, “Potter! Can you hear me?”

He waited a moment, but Potter showed no signs of consciousness.

Draco crouched down next to Potter’s body and checked for a pulse. Potter was still alive, but just barely.

He stared down at Potter’s unconscious form. Enemy or not, he couldn’t just leave Potter laying here. “Potter, if you can hear me, I’m going to get Headmistress McGonagall.”

A half hour later, Draco and McGonagall stood together in the hospital wing, looking on as Madam Pomfrey examined Potter and began dressing his wounds with a pungent healing potion.

“Is Mr. Potter going to be all right, Poppy?,” McGonagall asked after several minutes.

“Oh yes, Professor,” Madam Pomfrey replied as she finished tending Harry’s cuts, “but he lost a lot of blood and his pulse is very weak. It could take several days for him to recover completely.” She then turned to Draco and gave him a kind smile. “Thank Merlin you found him when you did, Mr. Malfoy. You saved his life.”

Draco was taken aback by Madam Pomfrey’s words. He was also surprised at how great it felt to do something good and chivalrous for once in his life. A pang of regret and guilt surged through him like a bolt of lightning as he stared down at Potter, whose deathly pale skin contrasted with the shock of messy black hair that stuck out all over his pillow. I never realized how terrible Potter’s life was until now. I can really relate to him, Draco thought to himself with astonishment.

__________________________________________________________________
Harry awakened to find himself lying in a bed in the hospital wing. “How the hell did I end up here?,” he muttered under his breath. The large, empty room was fairly dark, with soft morning light attempting to stream in through the windows. Harry reached up and like a blind man reading Braille, felt the parts of his throat and chest that now only bore barely noticeable traces of his attempted suicide. Clearly, someone must’ve found him in the lavatory and saved him…but who?

Madam Pomfrey noticed that Harry was awake and approached him looking very relieved. “Oh thank goodness you‘re awake now, Mr. Potter. You’ve been unconscious for three days!”

A look of surprise crossed Harry’s face. “Three days, Madam Pomfrey?”

“That’s right, Mr. Potter,” the witch nodded. “It’s a good thing that your friend found you when he did.”

At Madam Pomfrey’s words, Harry immediately thought of Ron. Ron must’ve gone looking for me after I left the Great Hall.

Madam Pomfrey continued, “Mr. Malfoy found you unconscious in the boys’ seventh floor bathroom. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t still be with us today.”

Harry eyed Madam Pomfrey quizzically. “Do you really mean to say that Malfoy…”

“Saved your life? Yes. And you ought to be grateful to him.”

Harry sat up and his school robes Apparated in his lap, all neatly folded and good as new. Madam Pomfrey started to leave the room so that Harry could get dressed, then turned to him and said, “Mr. Potter, I don’t know why you tried to take your own life, but let me assure you that no matter how bad things get, suicide is not the answer.”

Madam Pomfrey was just entering her office when the door to the hospital wing opened. As Ron and Hermione entered the room, their glum faces lit up at the sight of Harry fully recovered and sitting up in his hospital bed. They rushed to Harry’s bedside and Hermione threw her arms around Harry, crying tears of joy.

“Oh Harry! Thank Merlin you’re all right,” Hermione beamed. In the blink of an eye she went from happy and relieved to angry and scolding, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and giving him a good shake. “Don’t ever scare us like that again, Harry James Potter!”

Ron frowned disapprovingly at Harry and added, “Blimey, Harry! It’s bad enough that I just lost my sister--do I have to lose my best mate as well?”

Ron’s comment, paired with the pained looks on his and Hermione’s faces, shamed Harry into realizing that trying to kill himself had been a big mistake. Harry had been so fixated on reuniting with Ginny, that he didn’t even think about how his death would effect his two best friends.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied sincerely.

Once Harry had changed back into his school robes and Madam Pomfrey gave him permission to leave the hospital wing, he went to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione for breakfast. Upon entering the Great Hall, he discovered another adverse effect from his attempted suicide. The gawking and whispering from his classmates seemed to have increased tenfold. He did his best to ignore it, which was difficult. He sat down next to Neville, who passed him the pumpkin juice.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Harry, is it true that you tried to kill yourself?,” Neville timidly asked.

“Er…yes,” Harry replied hesitantly in barely a whisper as he poured syrup on his flapjacks. Neville opened his mouth to ask Harry another question, but Harry quickly added, “If you don’t mind, Neville, I’d rather not talk about it.”

Neville looked down and blushed beet red. “Sorry, Harry.”

Harry had almost finished his breakfast when he noticed Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table, apparently engaged in a serious conversation with Pansy Parkinson. Harry still found it hard to believe that Malfoy of all people had saved his life. That fact would most definitely take some getting used to. He remembered what Madam Pomfrey had said earlier: …you ought to be grateful to him.

“Harry!”

Harry was startled out of his reverie by Hermione, who looked at him expectantly. “Erm…what?”

Hermione sighed with exasperation. “I said you have a lot of homework to catch up on now that you’re well again. Meet me in the library tonight, and I’ll help you get caught up.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry muttered distractedly as he wondered how he could repay Malfoy for saving him. He glanced at Hermione, then back at Malfoy, who was leaving the Slytherin table with Pansy. “Uh, excuse me Hermione--I have to go…er, do something.”

“Don’t forget, Harry--library! Eight o’ clock!” Hermione called after him as he ran off in search of Malfoy.
_______________________________________________________________

Draco was eating breakfast at the Slytherin table, surrounded by the ever so familiar sounds of obnoxious chatter and laughter. He scanned the Potterless crowd and wondered how long it would take for Potter to recover from his failed suicide. Not that I actually care or anything, Draco rationalized with himself. After all, why should I be concerned over my archenemy’s welfare? Still, Draco couldn’t help thinking about the night he found Potter’s bloody and unconscious body in the lavatory. He wondered what could possibly make St. Potter want to do what he did.

A hush fell over the crowded Great hall, the hush that could only mean one thing…

“Hey look! Potter’s back,” Pansy nudged Draco and pointed.

Sure enough, there was Potter with Weasel and the Mudblood, making their way to the Gryffindor table. Draco was surprised to find that he was actually kind of glad to see Potter well again. Then Draco beat down the wave of relief washing over him, reminding himself that he should not be happy to see his enemy! This is Potter, remember?, he chided himself.

After finishing his food, Draco got up and left the Slytherin table with Pansy. Despite what some people seemed to think, Pansy was not Draco’s girlfriend. Sure they had gone to the Yule Ball together during fourth year, but he regarded her as more of a sister. She was the one person he could confide in without ruining the bad boy image he’d so painstakingly maintained throughout his years at Hogwarts.

“So are you glad to see Potter again?,” Pansy asked casually.

“Not necessarily,” Draco shrugged. “It’s just that seeing what he did to himself--well, it just reminded me of…” Draco’s voice trailed off, but Pansy understood what he was referring to.

“Hey! Malfoy!”

Draco turned around and was surprised to see Potter striding towards him, a look of determination on his face. Draco looked down his perfect little nose at Potter and sneered. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Malfoy, can I talk to you for a moment,” Harry glanced briefly at Pansy, “alone?”

Draco turned to Pansy and gestured for her to leave, which she did without saying a word. “All right Potter, but make it quick. I don’t want anybody seeing us together.”

Harry’s jaw clenched as he bit back a scathing retort. “I just wanted to thank you.”

Draco chuckled and smirked arrogantly. “Thank me? For what exactly?” He knew damn well what Potter was talking about, but he rather enjoyed hearing Potter say “thank you”, and continued to play dumb.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my life, you half-wit. After all, if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead right now.”

The impact of Potter’s words hit Draco like a speeding Bludger. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered and gave Potter that famous Malfoy sneer. “Don’t bother thanking me, Scarhead. I almost left you there. In fact, I probably should’ve.” A pang of guilt shot through Draco’s heart--or Ginny’s, rather--after saying this, but he wouldn’t give Potter the satisfaction of knowing.

“But you didn’t leave me there. I was just wondering why.”

Draco considered telling Harry, but decided against it. “That, Potter, is none of your business.” Draco turned on his heel and began to walk away from Potter, but Potter started walking alongside him.

“Well, actually, I believe you saved me twice,” Harry continued. “The first time was in Hogsmeade. You stopped Voldemort from killing me.”

Draco sneered, “What makes you think I did that to save you? I was only trying to get back at that bastard Voldemort for inflicting that bloody Puter Pectus on me!” Realizing he had just revealed too much information, Draco quickly sprinted up the stairs and away from Potter.

Harry stared at Draco’s retreating back, a puzzled expression on his face. “Puter Pectus?,” he muttered to himself. “What in Merlin’s name is Puter Pectus?”

“That’s dark magic, Harry--very dark magic,” Hermione said in the library later that night as she read about Puter Pectus in a book she smuggled from the Restricted Section. “It says here that Puter Pectus, or the Rotting Heart Curse, causes the victim’s heart to slowly decay until the victim finally dies. The only way to survive the Puter Pectus Curse is to replace the decaying heart with the healthy heart of a fresh corpse. Once this process--called Intro Pectus Novus--is completed, the survivor will
often begin to display certain personality traits and mannerisms that had once belonged to the heart donor.”