"Nothing's working!" A high pitched voice stated, clearly fearing something that was unknown to Draco. "This is worse than our previous cases!" The voice cried again, as darkness was still filling Draco's vision. Moments ago he'd regained consciousness, but was inexplicably unable to move.

"I know, Healer Runtes, but maybe—blimey, were losing him!" Another voice screamed, manly this time. But what were they speaking of? Draco? He felt fine, just unable to function his body was all, but he was alive. Fear was enveloping, but in a sense, how could he stay completely calm when people were screaming about him like that? He knew he was fine, but was he really.

A cooling sensation filled his throat, along with sudden jolts that he'd only felt when hit with a spell. There was another voice, but this one he knew. Harry. "Please, let me know if he's okay!" Harry muttered, clearly out of breath. Draco had noticed Harry's increased care for him recently and it had nagged him at times, but never was it like this. Running to him? Worrying about him? But as Draco's MIND raced, suddenly what the doctors were speaking about was clear. The piercing feeling throughout his body indicated that the venom had spread like wildfire. That was why he was unable to move! Just as his thoughts started making sense, he lost the ability to hear and smell what was happening. Before there had been faint traces of what he'd smelled in Snape's class mixed with a shit-ton of cleaning smells, but now it was as if the disapparated. The jolts disappeared. Was this dying? There was no light. No option to walk towards it. No, this couldn't be what the release of death truly felt like. He tried to wake himself by repeating the thought in his mind, but nothing happened and soon his thoughts, too, faded away.

***

"Drink the Wolfsbane, Harry, it's almost a full moon." Remus said calmly, but Harry pushed away the goblet with it. He'd barely eaten or drank for almost a month now, so why start now. "Harry, you can't be still—"

"Come off it, Remus!" Harry stated and walked out of The Burrow's kitchen. He hadn't been allowed to return to Hogwarts yet, for they still hadn't seen another full moon and how he'd react to the Wolfsbane with it.

The Weasley's superstition had been somewhat correct in the sense that the Malfoys were planning something, but incorrect in assuming it'd be an attack on them or their family home. It'd been directed at Harry and Draco, no one else, but their plan had failed and after the loss of their son they were too devastated to try anything else. The sobs of Lucius and Narcissa still rang through his ears like a parasite had leeched on him, forcing him to continuously remember the sounds and sights in St. Mungo's. He'd had nightmares of Draco's body laying there, pale, yet a spreading of black throughout him. It couldn't even be compared to Harry's condition. The venom was eating at him, slowly, yet quickly at the same time. The difference in color was what really frightened everyone. Black. No purple, but pitch black like Harry's hair.

The tall grass that was outside the Burrow brushed his exposed ankle. Maybe he'd been angered or laughed at the sensation, but there wasn't a point anymore. Harry was unsure why he'd gotten attached to Draco, but ever since the dreaded night in the forest, he couldn't remove the boy from his mind.

Depression. That's what everyone tried to claim this was, and some even tried to claim it'd all blow over once Draco was truly dead, but only Remus had guessed correctly. It was a case of a broken heart. No one wanted to admit that Tom themselves, not even Harry, but how could they not when this had struck him so terribly. Even Sirius' death hadn't killed his mind and heart, like this. Harry kicked a rock, watched it fly into the air, and then land into a puddle. He was the rock, metaphorically of course, but he knew that it was him. Normal life, well as normal as Harry's life could be, then there was a blow from the werewolf bite, then he'd been on cloud nine for a short period of time where Draco was wot him, whether it was still corrupted or not, but then he drowned.

"Harry, dear, come inside! I think you'd like to hear of this!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, but it was noting new. She'd tried to cheer him up for a while with making his favorite food or buying a treat for him and always said the same line. He turned and trudged through mud and grass, trampling over his own feet from not being able to keep focused on the happy occurrence that wouldn't cheer him up, for 99% of his heart was now a void.

"It's a miracle, it really is! We were unsure whether contacting you would be the best considering, well, we hate each other, but Draco had been insisting upon it from the moment he's awoken." A cheer voice could be heard from right outside the door, Narcissa. Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes widened, staring at his feet. Movement or blinking might end this dream, so he stayed deathly still. Draco. She'd said Draco. His name had been almost forbidden in The Burrow since the incident, but she'd said it and it was his mother. Awoken? He's awake! Harry made a slight movement with one foot, to kick the back of his own foot and there was pain...he was awake.