A/N Thanks for the reviews, I didn't think that I would get any positive ones. And my language, well I know it ain't good but I try to check it. It's a bit difficult to write in a different language than your native one, but hopefully you'll understand what I'm trying to say.

Chapter 3

Something was wrong when Harry woke up, definitely so. You were not able to hear birdsong this clearly in Gryffindor tower and, if Harry wasn't mistaken, there was also a rather strong wind ruffling his clothes. He sat up with a start. Why on earth was he outside by the lake, why wasn't he in his bed. Harry looked around but nobody was there, he was all alone.

Slowly, as if he were expecting an attack, he got up and checked himself over. Nothing was really amiss, wand, clothes, everything was there and accounted for. But he frowned slightly when he saw a red stain at the front of his shirt, a rather large stain at that. Oh, but he had sneaked down to the kitchens hadn't he and, well, he must have spilled something on himself. And….and he must have taken a walk later and fallen asleep in the grass, yes that was it, nothing to worry about.

He started to walk back to the castle, shivering a bit from the cold. As silent as possible he opened the large doors and sneaked in. But still, something was not right. He didn't remember eating, he didn't remember walking outside and he didn't even remember sitting down and falling asleep by the lake. Harry looked down on the stain on his shirt. Red, dark red.

'Please Potter, stop.'

Something had happened, what was it?

'Now, now Draco don't be difficult.'

'Please stop. Please Potter.'

Harry fell to his knees in the middle of the corridor.

"Malfoy, oh god, Malfoy" He put his arms around himself and clutched his upper arms.

"Oh god, no" He couldn't have done that, could he? Surly not. But the stain, the memories. Shaking Harry pulled up the cuffs of his arms to reveal long red welts where nails had scratched him. He could not breath, he gasped but it felt like no air entered his lungs. Harry scrambled to his feet, fell back down, crawled to the wall to steady him as he yet again tried to stand up.

"I…no I…never…..oh no" He began to cry, large tears streaming down his face.

What should he do, what could he do? He was the boy who lived, the saviour of the wizarding world. This wasn't him, it could not be. What if he went to Azkaban, what would happen then? What about Voldemort and the war. What if Malfoy told someone, what if he didn't? And where was Malfoy now? Was he with Madam Pomfrey or had Harry hurt him so much that Malfoy wasn't able to get help. Could he still be lying in a deserted classroom, and who would find him if he did? No, he had to check that Malfoy wasn't still there. Harry began to walk down the corridors dragging his feet behind him.

Never had the dungeons felt as cool or as damp, it felt as if he was walking in a mausoleum, a silent and deserted grave. Should he run or stand up for what he had done? This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. But here he stood hand on the door handle leading to the classroom to which he had dragged Malfoy.

Slowly Harry opened the door not wanting to see what was inside. He didn't see anything at a first glance so he stepped in and closed the door behind him as quiet as he could. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place. The desks stood in their perfect lines, nothing overturned or destroyed and there was no sign of a struggle at all. Harry bent down and checked under the furniture, no Malfoy and no blood. In that moment it really felt as if it all had been nothing more than a terrible, terrible dream. But no, Harry remembered and he felt the sting from the wounds Malfoy had inflicted whit his nails along with other pains that he refused to think about how he had got.

Harry felt chills run up his spine from being in that room and for thinking about what he had done. He had to get out of there, get out of this damned room, this grave. Harry in his haste stumbled out slamming the door shut behind him.

Leaning heavily on the hard stone wall he tried to gather his thought and decide what to do. It was then that he heard footsteps down the corridor heading his way. Was someone already out looking for him, out looking for the one that had hurt Malfoy?

He turned and ran.