"Pansy."

Ron looked confused at first. He didn't know any guys named Pansy. Then something clicked. "Pansy Parkinson, your roommate?"

"Yes."

"The Slytherin?"

"Yes, Ron."

"Zabini's friend?"

"Yes!"

"Ok." He closed his eyes again, leaning back against the tree.

"You aren't mad?"

He opened his eyes once more, looking her dead in the eye. "Does she make you happy?"

Hermione smiled. "Yeah."

"Then no." Hermione seemed surprised at this. She thought Ron would be seething with anger by now. "Well don't look so surprised, 'Mione!"

"Sorry, I just didn't think you'd take it this well."

"Well, I did. Now run along, I have things to do. And tell Harry I'm sorry about earlier today, would you?"

"Ok. Goodbye, Ron." She started to walk away but turned around after a few steps. "Hey Ron,"

"Hm," he said.

"We're still friends, right?"

"Best friends." She smiled, and walked away. Ron watched her leave, his gaze lingering after she'd gone back inside the castle. Shame, really. She really was a beautiful girl. But he was no good for her, that much he knew. He let a single tear slip, before he said goodbye to the pain that was stabbing his heart. Hermione deserved better.

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Pansy knocked on Blaise's door repeatedly until it finally opened. "Blaise, I need your help!" She pushed the door open further, and walked in.

"Sure, come on in," he said, rolling his eyes.

"The weasel isn't here, is he?"

"No, why?"

"Haven't you been listening! I need your help with something!"

"Well, get on with it then."

"Ok, so I kinda kissed Hermione, and she probably hates me now. I'm like, ninety percent sure she's straight, and she has a boyfriend. I probably ruined their relationship, and I just...what do I do?" She rushed everything she said, so it was almost impossible to understand her.

"Hold up. You kissed Granger? When did you start liking her?"

"Oh, um...just since sixth year."

"Sixth year. You've liked her since sixth year, and you didn't tell me?"

"Maybe. Anyway, you're supposed to be helping me."

Blaise shrugged. "What do you need help with?" Pansy looked at him, dumbfounded.

"Were you not listening to anything I said?"

"I was. But, you see, Granger won't hate you. For one, she stopped by earlier looking for Weasley. And before you say anything, it was to break up with him. And second, she happens to be right behind you, grinning like an idiot." Pansy turned around, and sure enough, Hermione was there, with an adorable smile plastered on her face.

"Pansy, hi. Just the person I was looking for."

"Me. You were looking for...me?"

"Well, you see, Ron and I only just broke up, so I may be moving along much too fast. But I don't believe that for a second, because when two people should be together, why wait?"

"What are you saying?"

"Pansy, you know exactly what I'm saying."

"Yes, but I want to hear the words. I want to hear you say them."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes, but smiling nonetheless. "Pansy Parkinson, will you be my girlfriend?"

Pansy enveloped her in a hug. In her ear, she whispered, "Of course. I'd never want anyone else."

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Draco flopped on his bed. He'd done it, he'd ruined everything. Harry would never look at him the same, all he would see were the scars. Draco groaned. Theo looked up.

"You alright, mate?"

"Fine," Draco replied. Theo gave him a look. "It's nothing, really." Theo sighed, and went back to his Ancient Ruins homework. Draco looked down at the homework. Crap, he was supposed to go help Harry with his Potions essay! Would he still want help? Draco went anyway, just in case.

When Harry first saw Draco walk into the library, his eyes immediately went to Draco's chest, where the scars were. Draco noticed, so he just blurted out, "Will you stop staring at the scars?" It sounded a bit angry, but needed to be said regardless. In a nicer voice, he said, "I've already forgiven you, and it's time you do the same."

"I can't, I can't forgive myself for any of this. The world would be better off if I just died."

"Don't you ever say that. Do you hear me? Not ever. People gave their lives to help you, and you want to repay them by throwing your own away?" This only seemed to make Harry even more upset. Draco sighed. "Harry, look at me." The boy looked up at him. "If you died, the world would be utter chaos. People you've never even met care about you. If the muggles knew who you were, they'd be lining up the streets to meet you. If you died, the world would stop for a second. It would forget how to function, how to breath, how to move. If you died, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. You'd break me, Harry. Do you want to break me?" By now, both boys had tears in their eyes, though Draco tried to hide his. Crying made him soft, soft made him vulnerable. Draco was not vulnerable, nor would he ever be.

"The world doesn't care about me. They care about Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World. Give it a week and they'd move on."

"But Harry, you are the savior of the Wizarding World. And maybe the world would move on after a week, but I wouldn't. Neither would the Weasley's, or Granger, or any of your other friends."

"You'd all carry on. It would take longer, but you'd go about your lives. That's how grieving works. You mourn the dead, then you forget about the pain over time. It hurts every once and a while, when you wonder what it would have been like, to have them by your side right them. To wonder what it would have been like, to have a mother and father, who loved you. But then you realize their dead, and they aren't coming back. So you forget, and you move on. Or you don't, and your always left...wondering."

"Harry, your parents wouldn't want you dead either. Hurting yourself only hurts the people who love you." Harry's hand went to his wrist, and Draco watched the strange interaction, before his eyes widened.

"Harry, give me your wrist." Harry looked up at him, quickly taking his hand off his wrist, and hiding his left arm behind his back.

"What, why?" He continued babbling on, but Draco wasn't listening. He grabbed Harry's arm, and pushed the sleeve up. Harry hissed in pain, trying to pull his arm back, or at least cover the scars up. But it was useless, Draco had seen them.

"When did you...why did you..." The blond looked up, hurt and worry planted on his face.

"The morning I ran out of the hospital was the first time. And I've done it twice since then." Harry looked down at his feet, embarrassed and guilty.

"But...why?"

"I don't know, to be honest. After I do it I only hate myself more for giving in, for letting myself succumb to the self-pity and hate."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I couldn't take it anymore. I'm destructive, destroying everything I touch. I've ruined lives, and taken all the credit in the end. It wasn't just me, who saved everyone. It was all of us, and yet I get praised. Anyone else would love the attention, the fame, the gifts. But I just want to be happy. I just want to be forgotten. Is that to much to ask, Draco?"

Draco thought it was, but he didn't say so. Here Harry was, finally sharing everything that was going on in his head. He was broken, only letting himself crack further.

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