An Empty Shell

Chapter 2

Draco's POV:

I walked down the hallway, looking through every window until I found the one I was looking for. I didn't want to ask around and cause suspicion.

Harry was laying on a bed in a white room, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Pictures and presents surrounded him, but it didn't look like he had opened any of them.

Weasley was sitting by his bedside, saying something, and I pushed open the door a crack to hear.

"Harry mate...Hermione's worried for you. Hell, I'm worried for you. I dunno what's going on in your head or whatever internal struggle you're facing, but I hope you figure it out soon. Or beat it. Whatever it takes to get you back to normal. Hermione misses you. I miss you. Just...come back. Okay? Please, just come back." Weasley's voice had been quivering before, but it broke, and I saw tears sliding down his cheeks.

I silently closed the door, then walked down the hall to the waiting room. Pansy was waiting in one of the chairs with a mixture of impatience, annoyance, and sadness on her face.

She had stuck with me through the war, the jail, and the dementors. I owed her a lot and I was grateful she was still there. At least that way I could find out a way to pay her back.

"All good?" she asked as she stood.

"All good," I answered.

Her gaze trailed to someone behind me, and I saw that she was looking at a sleeping Hermione, who was curled up on a couch. I looked back over at her.

"You really like her, don't you?" 

She groaned. "Yes... Why, though? Why me? Like I don't have enough going on, but now I'm a fucking lesbian and I'm attracted to the one person I can't have?" 

I chuckled. "Sounds like a personal problem." 

She smacked my arm, and I laughed. "What took so long? You said two hours, tops." 

I shrugged. "I made a stop." 

She raised an eyebrow. "You going to explain or just leave me to piece it together? And believe me, my vision is dirty. It has you screwing one of the healers. Or maybe two... Did you have a threesome?" 

I rolled my eyes. "Your mind is filthy, Pansy. No, I did not have a threesome." 

She looked at me expectantly. "Then explain. Or shall I paint you a picture? She walks in, no, he walks in and slowly closes the blinds, then walks over to you and leans down---" "For the love of Merlin, shut up!" I exclaimed, my face bright pink. 

Pansy burst out laughing. "then tell me!" 

I rolled my eyes, then sat down in a chair. "I saw Harry. He's---"

"Oh Merlin...like I haven't heard enough about him in the seven years I've known you? 'Have you seen Potter's green eyes? They're kind of emerald with gold.' 'Have you seen the way Potter flies? He's like a god.' 'Have you seen---'"

"I get it, Pansy! And you asked." She shrugged and smirked at me. "He's in some kind of state," I continued. "Granger said he won't talk to anyone and barely eats. I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but it must be something big." 

Pansy looked at me like it was obvious. "It's so clear Draco, how have you not noticed?" I looked at her in confusion. How was I supposed to know? "He's obviously depressed! He lived in an abusive household his whole life, his home away from hell was near destroyed, his friends died, members of the people he treats like family died, his godfather died, he thought his best friend ditched him. I'm honestly surprised he didn't go mad sooner."

"How do you know all of that?" I asked in amazement. 

She just shrugged. "I'm a good gossip."

I thought about what she said. "You say he's depressed, but what does depression have to do with not talking and staring at a wall?" 

Pansy groaned as if I was the thickest person on the planet.

"It's not just that, Draco. He's probably feeling all kinds of things that he doesn't know how to deal with. Things he's pushed to the back of his mind and are now coming back at him all at once. He died, for Merlin's sake! It's a shock he's still breathing, let alone upright and eating."

"He's barely eating..." I mumbled.

"Eating a little bit is still eating," Pansy said with a wave of her hand.

"How do you think he'll get out of it?" 

Pansy shrugged. "It's if he wants to get out of it. Think about it. His family is dead, along with most of his friends. Most of his favorite Professors are dead. His godfather's dead. Can you blame him for wanting to choose to die and see them again instead of staying alive and having to tough it out like the rest of us? He has a choice to make, I think. He can choose to live or die, and I think he's torn. He has his friends here, but his family over there. I don't know him well enough to know what he'll choose. He loves them both."

I thought about what she had said. The thought of Harry dying brought old feelings back to the surface. Very old feelings. Ones I had buried long ago.

I didn't want him to die. To choose to die. How did anyone make that choice? His blank stare came to mind. Has he already given up? Has he already decided that he wants to go, that he doesn't want to live anymore?

I stood, but gestured for Pansy to stay seated.

"I have to go do something."

"What?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later," I mumbled, then walked out of the waiting room.