Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

"Potter, are you coming to the great hall for breakfast?" Draco called. The two hadn't left their dorm for three days, meaning they were already behind in classes. The two had come to tolerate each other, having the odd conversation about Quidditch and whatnot.

A bedraggled, depressed looking Harry Potter stumbled down the staircase, and Draco flicked his wand lazily, turning Harry's greyish skin to a pale, ghostly white and his Crimson eyes to their usual shade of emerald green, fixing his mane of black hair at the same time.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, grabbing his bag. Harry bit his lip. "Did you mean what you said in Dumbledore's office?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and paused his rummaging through his own bag to find his potions book.

"What?"

"When you said that you didn't hate me any less. Do you really still hate me?"

Draco blinked. Harry looked... Really upset.

"It's just you're the only one who knows about what happened and I can't tell anyone else and-" Harry began to ramble uselessly.

"I admit, you're not half as bad as I used to think you were. I don't hate you, but we aren't friends either."

"Will you give me a chance, then?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I suppose," Draco replied, turning and leaving the room, his mind whirling.

Harry merely sighed. Right now, he felt like going back to his room, and getting in his coffin to go back to sleep, but he had to face the rest of the world at some point.

******

Heads turned in the corridor as Harry walked past, keeping his head down. Many of the students had merely assumed that he wasn't coming back this year, either because he was dead or otherwise.

Hermione and Ron's jaw's both dropped as they caught sight of their friend.

"Harry!" Hermione called, gesturing Harry over.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?!" Ron asked as Harry sat down.

"Nowhere. Dumbledore picked me up from my aunt and uncles house early," Harry lied.

"No, at the feast, and at classes! And your bed was gone! I thought you were dead!"

Harry inwardly sighed. If only they knew.

"No, Dumbledore gave me a private dormitory."

"Why?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Dunno," Harry replied, looking down at his food with disgust.

"You're awfully pale, mate. Are you feeling okay?" Ron's voice was laced with concern.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, his gaze flickering over to the Slytherin table.

The Owls were flying around the huge room, parcels and letters alike tied to their legs as they delivered mail to the students. Of course, Harry didn't expect anything, he never did, but what made his eyes widen was the sight of a huge, black bird landing next to Malfoy.

He watched the werewolf take the letter gingerly, and the blond's eyes widened in horror. The letter was a deep red, and crackled with magic. It was a howler.

Draco stood up immediately, pocketing the letter and walking out of the hall.

"Actually, I don't feel so great. I might stay out of classes for today," Harry said distractedly, standing up.

"O-Okay then, get well soon," Hermione said, frowning.

******

Harry got to his common room as fast as he could, dashing through the dungeons and practically yelling the password, much to the wolf's anger. The door swung open and he burst inside, just in time to hear Lucius Malfoy's angry voice start to speak.

"We have no doubt that this will reach you, Draco, but if it doesn't then we know that you're dead. Actually, your mother and I hope that it doesn't reach you. You were always a pathetic, worthless excuse of a son, a disgrace to the Malfoy name." Lucius' voice was enraged, and Draco began to tremble, his eyes widening at what he was hearing.

"I never had a single shred of hope that you might succeed. Your mother and I never truly loved you, and if you were here I'd kill you myself, I'd put you down like the animal you are."

Tears began rolling down Draco's cheeks as he covered his open mouth with a hand, not believing what he was hearing.

"From the very day you were born, I despised you. You've brought shame upon our family for what you are, and I sincerely hope that you are hunted and killed."

That was all it took for Draco let out a wail of utter misery and grief, shrieking sobs wracking his frame.

"From this day on, we have disowned you as a Malfoy. You are no longer part of this family, and are no longer welcome at the Manor." Finally, the letter burst into flames.

Draco's screaming sobs echoed throughout the room as Harry dropped his bag and ran over.

Without thinking, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him close, the blond sobbing into his shoulder.

Harry couldn't help but glare at the pile of ashes that used to be the howler. How could Lucius be so cruel? So filled with hatred towards his own son? How could he say that he'd never loved him, and despised him since birth?

Yet Harry had never imagined that any of this would happen. He'd never imagined in his entire life that he'd become a bloodthirsty beast, and that he'd hold Draco Malfoy, his old enemy in his arms as the young werewolf cried hopelessly.

******

The castle was quiet at night. The corridor that a figure prowled was so quiet that you could've heard a pin drop.

Harry crept through the corridor, taking a left, and then a right, making his way up to Dumbledore's office.

He spoke the password quietly, looking around to make sure no one was there before dashing up the steps and knocking on the wooden door.

"Come in."

Harry pushed open the door, and gave a half hearted smile to the headmaster who sat at his desk.

"Harry? What is it you wish to discuss at-" Dumbledore checked his watch. "Two in the morning?"

"Sorry professor, but I had to talk to you about something. This morning, Draco's father sent him a howler, and he's been disowned. I just wanted to ask you to intercept his mail from now on to make sure it's not being tracked," Harry said. "He only just fell asleep now, he's been a state since."

"Of course, Harry. Thank you for telling me this," Dumbledore replied. "You're on a first name basis with the young wolf now then?"

"Well, no. It's the only thing I can call him. He's not a Malfoy anymore," Harry replied.

"Of course. Well, you must get back to bed before Filch catches you. I daresay that it would be a shame for you to be caught up this late at night. Might be a bit hard to explain."

Harry nodded, and turned, closing the door behind him and zipping through the corridors, the force of his running causing wind to fly past, putting out the candles behind him.

******

Harry walked into his dorm, letting out a breath before turning to Draco. He had fallen asleep not even half an hour ago on the couch, exhausted from crying and mental and emotional trauma. He'd spent the entire day sobbing into Harry's shoulder helplessly.

Harry gave the werewolf a pitiful look, before gently picking him up, being careful not to wake him as he walked up the stairwell to Draco's room, pushing the door open and laying the blond on his bed. Something white stood out against the silver colours, and Harry turned to look at it.

Sitting on his bed was a white, plush wolf. It's eye were made of crystals, emerald green ones that stood out against its snowy white cotton fur.

Flicking his wand to turn off the lights, he closed the door behind him and walked to his own room, getting into the coffin, dozing off in the pitch black darkness.

******

Draco awoke with a start, gasping for air as he woke in a cold sweat, shivering and shaking. His storm grey eyes were wide with panic, terror flashing in them as he recalled his latest nightmare.

Shivering to rid himself of the atrocious things his mind had managed to traumatise him with while sleeping, he looked over to the pocket watch that lay on his desk.

6:38am. Not a horrible time to wake up, but seeing as he had only fallen asleep sometime after midnight, he knew that he'd be exhausted.

Flopping back down onto the bed, he ran a hand through his messy hair agitatedly.

I've been disowned. At this thought he felt his eyes burn and sting with tears that he refused to let fall. Pull yourself together, Draco, crying solves nothing. But what now? What happens when the holidays come around? Fact is, I'm homeless.

And what if they all hunt me down? What if they try to kill me? I helped Potter escape, and I'm no match for the Death Eaters, let alone the Dark Lord himself. What if my father tries to kill me? He hates me... Once, I might've thought that he had a little bit of respect for me, a tiny part of him that cared. I hoped that he did, I hoped so much. Yet everything I did seemed to disappoint him. I was never good enough, never.

I have no one now. I'm completely alone. Mother probably hates me as much as father now, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle will know about me soon... I don't even have any of the house elves to talk to.

But there's Potter. Bloody Harry Potter, saviour of the world, defeater of the dark lord and whatnot... I completely broke down yesterday, and he hugged me. Potter hugged me. I didn't care at the time, in fact I was appreciative of the comfort. What's he trying to do?! He stayed with me all day yesterday, more loyal than a dog. I still want to hate him like I used to... I want to hate him so badly, and yet I can't seem to. Why does my mind not just leave me be to despise that stupid vampire, along with everyone else?

I can't hate him. And I hate him for it.

******

Harry opened his eyes, intending to fly out of bed after his latest nightmare.

He was shocked back into reality as his head collided with the lid of the wooden coffin with a loud, dull thud. Harry groaned in pain as he flopped back down onto the plush interior, and he lifted a hand to undo the latch that held the lid shut, and pushed the lid open.

Immediately he let out a loud cat-like hiss of pain as the morning sun's burning rays scorched his pale grey skin, and the vampire scrambled to get out of the wooden coffin, falling onto the floor and scurrying away from the light in an undignified manner.

It seemed that he'd forgotten to close his window last night. Harry glared angrily at the offending rays of the sun, and wondered why his coffin was right in the way of the window.

Turning his attention to his now severely burned left arm, Harry winced. His skin was a charred black colour, not to mention the now pounding and aching sensation in his head.

Sighing, Harry walked into his bathroom and turned on the tap, running the ice cold water over the burn.

After haphazardly pulling on his uniform and casting a concealing spell for his skin, Harry trotted down the stairs. The concealing spell was much more useful than the vampire would have originally thought, as it also protected him from being roasted alive. It just left a strange, uncomfortable tingly sensation through his skin, which wasn't pleasant but was better than being burnt. Sadly, after about eight hours the spell wore off, and he'd have to cast it again.

Harry frowned as he saw the familiar form of Draco, the werewolf curled up on the couch, his eyes open lazily as he watched the emerald fire crackle and burn.

"You going to classes today?" Harry spoke up, noticing something with interest. Draco's hair colour seemed to have changed. Unlike its usual platinum blond, it had seemed to get a few shades lighter, and was now closer to a frosty white.

"Maybe," Draco answered quietly.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Fine," Draco answered shortly, his voice taking on an angry tone.

"You don't sound fine," Harry replied carefully, watching as the werewolf sprang to his feet, fury written across his face.

"Why are you acting like you care?!" Draco snarled, his eyes flashing Amber as they narrowed.

"Because I do care," Harry replied, taking one step backwards for every two that Draco took towards him.

"Yeah right, you, of all people, cares about me?"

Draco finally lunged, pinning Harry against the wall by Harry's neck, cutting off his airways.

"Draco," Harry muttered, his eyes wide as he realised just the predicament he'd gotten himself into. "I don't want to hurt you." Harry knew that in a split second he could potentially kill the werewolf, but everything inside him seemed to scream against that.

"Everyone does," Draco growled. "Everyone wants to hurt me, you're no different."

"What on earth has made you think like that?!" Harry choked, clawing at Draco's hand as he fought desperately for air, every time he struggled seeming to make Draco crush his throat even more. "Not everyone... in this world... Is bad!"

And suddenly the pressure on his neck was gone. Draco had let him go, and with a choking noise, Harry fell to the floor. Trying to lift his gaze upwards, he saw that Draco had already disappeared from the room.

Every breath Harry tried to force in just didn't seem to be enough, it was like an unending pressure had been forced on his lungs.

Managing to stand, his head whirling, he caught a glimpse of himself in the surface of the tiled floor. What he saw made him crumple back to the floor.

He knew why he couldn't breathe properly. Draco had completely crushed his neck, and if he wasn't a vampire he'd most certainly be dead. Yet, despite his breathing not needing to be as constant, he lay on the floor, slowly suffocating, each breath more laboured and harder to draw in than the last.

The edges of his vision began to darken as his lungs ached desperately.

Letting out one final cry of pain, desperation and hopelessness, Harry closed his eyes and succumbed to the darkness.

******

"Severus!" Draco yelled, throwing open the Professor's office door.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Snape answered indignantly. A large stack of papers, presumably essays, was sitting on his desk, a quill in his hand.

"What's happening to me?!" Draco hissed, panicked as he paced back and forth.

"Well if you don't tell me what's wrong, then I can't be of much help to you," Snape replied.

"I can't think straight! my parents sent me a howler disowning me, and Potter stayed with me the entire day, he calls me by my first name, and I don't know what's even going on! Why can't I stop thinking about damned Potter?!" Draco screeched.

"Calm yourself! Draco-"

"Calm?! You want me to be calm?! He was my worst enemy! Why can't I hate him?! Why?! It would be so much simpler!"

"This is clearly bothering you, Draco. Why do you want to hate him?" Snape asked, setting down the quill, his mind whirling as he took in the information. He feared what was happening.

"I-I don't know! He infuriates me! He's always telling me that he cares about me!"

"Wouldn't it be better to just accept Potter?" Snape asked.

Draco turned to face the potions master. "I thought you hated him too!"

"I do not hate the boy, neither do I particularly like him. Yet I know one thing for sure, that he is one of the most loyal people you will ever meet. He's dealing with the exact same thing as you, Draco. His curse takes longer to take hold, but when it does, he will be in hell," Snape couldn't help but grimace. "He needs you, and whether you admit it or not, you need him."

"I don't need him! I don't need anyone!" Draco snarled defensively, beginning to falter.

"Stop lying to yourself, Draco!" Snape growled back. "I know what you've been through, and I know you've been alone all your life, but maybe it's time to finally let someone in! Potter is the only person you can go to, he's the only one who understands what's happening!"

"But I don't know how! I've never had anyone to talk to, and after what I just did I can't just waltz back in and be all 'hey, Harry, want to be friends?'" Draco spat.

"What did you do?" Snape asked, feeling slight concern.

"I-I... Oh god," Draco finally realised what he'd done. Harry hadn't gotten up after Draco had let go. With his mind filled with panic and a horrible sensation of freezing dread spreading through him, Draco sprinted out the door, Snape following.

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