Title: Speak to me

Setting: Seventh Year, Hogwarts

Rating: R- Slash, violence?

Disclaimer: Don't own HP

Summary: Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort. But his victory had major consequences. One being the fact that Harry has totally shut himself away from any contact with anyone. No one can help. No one, that is, except a certain Slytherin enemy. (Slash HP/DM!)

Authors Notes: This is my attempt at a new fic. It's another sensitive one. The idea has been written many times, I know, but I really like it and want to try it out! I'll try and add my own twist to it, of course, and I'll see what I can do form there. I'll also try to make it a little less angsty then the other one. I hope you guys enjoy this one! I'll try my best with it.

Chapter One: Something Unusual

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Draco Malfoy pushed open the doors of the Great Hall noisily but gracefully. After scanning the room, he smirked and walked over to the Slytherin table his hands swinging proudly at his sides.

"Morning, Pansy." He said, grabbing a roll from across the table.

Pansy looked up, her brown eyes darting from the roll to his face. "Draco." She replied after chewing what looked like a bagel.

There was a small pause before Draco picked up his fork and began devouring his eggs. Until of course, the silence was unbearable. Finally, he rolled his eyes and looked Pansy straight in the eye. "What?" He asked, exasperatedly, his face leaking with boredom.

Pansy gave a small sigh before buttering the other half of her bagel. "Draco, haven't you noticed?" She asked, shaking her head in a motherly way.

Draco raised a perfect eyebrow at her then flicked back a strand of whitish-blonde hair that was grazing dangerously close to his eye. "Obviously not." He said irritably.

Tracy Davis, a dear friend of Pansy and long time admirer of Draco, joined the conversation enthusiastically. "Draco! I thought you'd be the first one to know!" She chirped happily.

Draco dropped his fork then crossed his arms. "Know what exactly?" He asked, his demanding Malfoy tone surfacing.

"Please, Draco." Piped another voice, immediately recognised as Blaise Zabini. He was smirking that devious smirk again and Draco arched his eyebrows. What exactly didn't he know?

It wasn't long before he got his answer, as a very small sound at the doors caught everyone's attention. Harry Potter was standing in between both, a silence following his arrival.

Two silver eyes skimmed across the figure that was unmistakably Harry Potter. Though, he wasn't healthy and glowing. His form was lanky, his eyes sunk into two deep black pools. His mouth was a grim line and his eyes? Draco almost shuddered looking into them. They were dead. Completely dead. It seemed no emotions flew through them, that they were just holes in his face where eyes should have been.

But yet, it was still Harry Potter. For, his scar was still there, shining bright as ever.

He limped over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, as if his arrival was no big deal. But, of course it was. For almost two months now, Harry Potter had been in St. Mungos, healing extremely painful injuries. For almost two months now, Harry Potter had been stored away at Grimmauld Place to rest.

No one had even mentioned the name Harry Potter for two months.

It was ten minutes before the gossip started and Draco couldn't help noticing the untouched food on Harry's plate. Couldn't help noticing the stillness of his posture. Couldn't help noticing something was incredibly wrong with the boy.

Potions with Snape was the first class that morning, with Gryffindors. Draco was feeling very curious as to Harry's condition. Exactly one year ago, November of his sixth year, Draco remembered the starting attack of the war.

It had taken almost an entire year for the war to finish. Draco had fought for the light, considering his father was dead and his mother missing. It didn't mean he liked the people he fought with. It was that he wanted revenge for his father's death.

Harry was gone for two months after the war; emotional problems along with physical problems are what Draco assumed. Most likely boy was insane now. Much to Draco's dismay. In his opinion, having Harry to torment was like having icing on a cake. Not necessary but made life all the more worthwhile.

The walk to potions was slow and very boring. Pansy was chatting with Millicent about god only knows and Blaise and Theodore were arguing over some Quidditch scores. All in all, nothing concerned Draco so Draco didn't listen to a word.

When they reached the cool, damp air from the dungeons, Draco felt a small smile fall on his lips. The dungeons were indeed dark and mucky, but very welcoming as well. It was nice to get out of the stuffiness of the classrooms upstairs and to be here, small breezes coming from nowhere and just lightly trimming your flesh.

"What do you think Draco?" Chorused a sound from Blaise and Theodore who then looked at each other in annoyance.

"About what?" He found himself asking, though he didn't care at all.

"Do you think the Chudley Cannons are going to win that huge match against that new American team?" Theodore asked, his eyebrows arched as if silently telling Draco to agree with him.

"Do you think I care the slightest about those orange idiots, Theodore?" He asked smoothly, his face showing the least bit of anger but still managing to stay calm and collective.

Blaise frowned. "Yeah, Theodore!" He said in a triumphant tone. "They're idiots, they wouldn't be able to catch the snitch if it was as slow as a flobberworm."

Theodore was about to reply when Draco interrupted. "Speaking of orange idiots." He muttered, catching a glimpse of fiery hair.

Ronald Weasley was escorting Harry and Hermione to class when Draco strode up to them gracefully, his hand leaning on the wall across from him to block Ron's escape.

"So Weasel?" Said Draco examining the perfectly manicured nails of his free hand.

Ron didn't say anything, quite to Draco's surprise. He only turned around and muttered something to his bushy haired friend who just rolled her eyes. Draco, at this point, had his eyebrows arched and his brain swimming with confusion.

That was when he noticed Harry. Seeing Harry close up was different then seeing him from far away. It was as if the little Gryffindor had lost his soul. His eyes were empty dark green and his mouth slightly open, breathing.

"Potter." He muttered, not knowing what else to say.

Harry only creased his eyebrows together and leaned his face in, examining Draco. He then turned to Ron and Hermione in a silent plea to answer his question of who the hell Draco was.

Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic look before shaking her head and leading him away. Ron, however, stayed. He shot a glance at Draco before squaring his shoulders.

"Don't try anything, Malfoy." Was all he said before turning around to follow his fellow Gryffindors.

Draco stood stunned for a minute before regaining his posture and brushing off his spotless robes. His silver eyes then found the door to Snape's potions room, which he quickly disappeared behind.

Harry sat in his usual place, though it looked like he didn't know at all where he was. He was just staring out the window, his eyes growing large every few minutes as if he had just seen the most amazing thing in the world.

The most shocking thing though, was the fact that Snape was being almost kind towards the boy. Instead of partnering him up with Crabbe or Draco like he usually did, he allowed the boy to partner with Hermione.

Also, when Hermione was making the potion, Harry was staring out the window again. Paying the least amount of attention, his eyes just swaying back and forth beneath his glasses as if hew as a loon. Which, Draco assumed, he now probably was.

Then, as if he didn't even know who Hermione was, he jerked away when she touched him. Slowly his eyes widened again and he stood up from the chair, backing away from the girl, his hands up as if trying to defend himself. It was only ten minutes into the class when he ran out of the Potions room, his face worried as if something terrible was happening to him. Snape let him go, and Draco was sure he knew why.

It was obvious. Potter was insane.

--

Lunch came quite quickly, as in Herbology the class watched animations of how to correctly cut the roots of a Poplar Tree and Draco was doing his Charms homework through most of it. As for Charms? It was just as useless.

Draco's fork stabbed viciously at a piece of his chicken before it landed mercilessly into his mouth.

It had been a very confusing morning, and Draco didn't like being confused. He also didn't like the dull thudding at the back of his head.

"Draco, could you pass me—"

"No." Draco hissed, his eyes narrowed at Theodore who was leaning back in his chair as if to get away from the angered boy.

"All right then." He said after reaching across a large bowl of pudding, which his tie was soon drenched in.

Ignoring Theodore's foul language, Draco turned his head to stare at the staff table. Many teachers were gone because of the war. Only Professor Snape, Professor Trelawney and Professor Flitwick were the ones he recognised. Of course, Dumbledore was still there, but his face wasn't as cheery as it normally was. In fact, he looked almost depressed.

That surely wasn't a good sign.

Absent-mindedly, his head turned to stare at Harry. He was so used to catching those emerald eyes and finding that usual flicker of distaste in them. It was unusual to find Harry seated, staring at his food as if it were poison, his eyebrows furrowed and his fork clutched tightly in his hand.

It was also unusual to see Hermione stealing glances at him, as if making sure he didn't try anything. Her chocolate brown eyes flickering towards him and her lips moving every so often, soothing him with her words.

The only usual thing was the small amount of Gryffindors at the table. Many of Harry's friends had died in the war, and others were too scared to ever set foot outside their homes. And really, as Draco thought about it, he realised Harry must have been quite brave to set foot back in school to face the death of all his friends.

That was when Harry fell. Just fell off the bench. Hermione gasped and hurried to pick him up and Ron was crawling underneath the table to get to the other side. They both took Harry, who was now unconscious, from the hall and everyone continued to eat, as if nothing happened. Like they weren't allowed to talk about it.

"... Fucking pudding!" Theodore ended, his tie now clean thanks to a simple cleaning charm.

Draco turned his head back and rolled his eyes. Of course the Slytherins didn't care about what happened to their little saviour. Pansy was laughing, that annoying high-pitched hyena laugh of hers, and Blaise starting on another plate of food. At least the other tables had enough pity to at least stay silent.

The silver-haired, quite angry boy stood up and shot his friends a deadly glance. "Morons." He spat his whitish locks falling over his eyes and skimming across them as he shook his head.

He rolled his eyes at the surprised looks of his fellow peers and then elegantly strode out the Great Hall doors, desperately needing to be away from the insensitive jerks he called friends.

He wasn't one to kick the already injured. He had at least some fragment of a heart.

It was when he heard insane sobbing that he turned around. Hermione and Ron were huddled around a weeping figure, which was immediately recognised as Harry Potter.

Draco turned back around and walked to the dungeons as fast as his legs would take him.

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Authors Notes: Hmm, It took a while for me to decide if I wanted to actually post this. I'm not sure if it's as good as I hoped it would be, but after reading over it a couple of times I decided it would be fun to continue it, even though it was a little...weird. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! It's a pretty angsty fic, in my opinion. There wont be any tragedy though!

-Shadow