Author's Note: Hey! Do you all remember how I said this was a oneshot? Well, I lied. This is now going to be a multi-chaptered Drapple story.
This chapter is dedicated to Don'tBlink17 who left a really nice review on the first chapter, and who got me really interested in continuing Drapple through our PM conversation. So thank you, and this one is for you:)
This is still set in Half-Blood-Prince.
Enjoy!

Everything is Wrong
Chapter Two

The sound of his stomping footsteps on the marble floor reverberated around the entire corridor, but Draco Malfoy was far too tired to be concerned with the din he was making. In fact, he was comforted by the sound; it served to remind him that he was still alive. Thump. Thump. Thump. His feet seemed to fall in time with his own heart. Beat. Thump. Beat. Thump. After spending all his time alone in the blasted Room of Requirement, it was easy to forget that he was still among the living, and not merely a ghost or memory of himself.

As he passed the Great Hall, the open doors revealed to him that the feast was still underway, though only a few people were still eating. Crabbe and Goyle would be in there no doubt, still pigging out. He paused for a moment in the doorway. Perhaps he should go in and get some food, he hadn't eaten all day after all. Draco was still deliberating on the threshold when he noticed a pair of black eyes watching him intently from the staff table. Damn Severus Snape. Draco could see exactly what the potions master wanted in his cold stare. He might offer it as assistance, but Draco knew better. He knew that all it was another chance for Snape to prove to the Dark Lord that he was a better servant than all of the Malfoys. Well, Draco would not give him that chance. He was not bound to failure, he could yet prove his worth and in so doing redeem his parents and restore to the name of Malfoy the respect and fear to which it was due. No dirty spy was going to take this golden opportunity from him.

Turning away from Snape's meddling gaze and the inviting smell of the feast, Draco continued along down to the Slytherin common room. He did not want food so much as silence, and though he had been alone all day he craved the presence of only one. To that end, he passed quickly through the green lighted common room. Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson, who were sitting upon the leather couches, called out to him as he passed, but he did not even offer them an excuse. He was Draco goddamn Malfoy after all. He did not need to explain himself to those simpletons, what he did was his own business.

The solitude of his dorm could not have come soon enough. It was a relief beyond words when he sank gratefully down onto his green and silver bedspread. Ever so gently, he reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a green apple. He smiled for the first time all day as his eyes fell upon Apple. Though Apple had been flawless and blemish free when at first he had seen it, its time in his pockets was beginning to take a toll on his dearest friend. A large bruise had formed, the skin slightly indented over the imperfection. Its skin, once so taut and smooth was now slightly wrinkled. Fruit, he reminded himself, did not last forever; it was to this painful truth that he could not yet resign himself: Apple was going to rot. It was inevitable, one day it would simply turn to mush inside his pocket, leaving behind only a sticky stain and the putridly sweet scent of overripe fruit.

"Oh Apple," he muttered despondently, pulling the once perfect fruit to his chest. "I can't lose you."

As usual, Apple remained silent. For once he wished that Apple could reply, if only to offer him some words of comfort that would alleviate his guilt. 'It isn't your fault Draco,' oh how he would love to hear those words from his friend. He sternly reminded himself that apples should not be talking, and he ought to be grateful that he had not completely lost his mind.

"I can't face the world alone Apple." What was he thinking? Pleading with Apple? As if it had any choice in whether or not it rotted? As if by simply knowing that Draco loved it, it could somehow avoid the course of nature? Perhaps he had lost his mind. He held Apple tighter and rolled over onto his side. His wand was still in the pocket of his robes, and it was not very comfortable to lie on. Closing his eyes, Draco ignored the discomfort and enjoyed the company of Apple. Even when he was not speaking to it, Apple somehow managed to remove the stresses of his life.

"It's so hopeless, Apple." Apple said nothing as Draco began his story of the day's events the same way he always did. "I spent all day staring at the cupboard and I didn't make any progress. He's going to kill me, because I am going to fail. I'm going to fail and he is going to kill me and Mother, and there is no way I can stop it. I'm trying as hard as I can, but I can't do it!"

He had never been ashamed of his fears with Apple, and he was not now, even as the tears stung his eyes. "And you can't be here for me Apple! You're going to rot, and then what? Then I'll be alone and there is no way that I can do it-" he stopped speaking abruptly. The wand stabbing into his side had just given him an idea.

Setting Apple down lovingly upon his pillow, he stood up and walked over to the foot of his bed. It took him several moments of rummaging before he found what he was looking for. It was the only one of his old spell books he had brought with him to school this year. He had brought it because of its information on vanishing spells, which he thought might help him in his quest to repair the cupboard. But it was not the vanishing spells that he cared about now, it was a spell that he only half remembered reading about.

It took a moment to find it, but there it was Putescio: to prevent rot. He read the instructions through several times, it seemed simple enough. He picked Apple up off of his pillow, and pointed his wand at it.

"Putescio." He whispered, a bright yellow light enveloped Apple as it sat motionless on his palm. The bruise that had been etched upon its side disappeared. The wrinkles in its skin disappeared and it was once more smooth and green and, like new once more.

He held Apple up to his face, and gently placed his lips upon its newly perfected surface.

"I love you Apple," he whispered