The Tragic Tale of the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Wanted to Die [ON HIATUS]

As the Quidditch match rapidly approached, tensions became very high between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Students were hexing each other in the halls, and the two teams were booking the field as much as possible. Draco practised almost everyday until the sun went down at night, and on weekends, he'd get up at the earliest hours of the morning to practice.

Flint was ecstatic about Draco's improvement, but Theo and Ginny were concerned. They thought he was overdoing it. One late night when Draco fell asleep by the common room fire, Theo attempted to talk him out of his tiring schedule, to no avail.

“I told you Theo, I'll be fine. It’ll all be worth it once we w-win.” Draco said, stifling a yawn.

“Draco, you really should rest. It’ll be easier to focus if you get some sleep.” Draco just ignored him. He knew Theo was right, but whenever he tried to sleep before finishing the last assignment or next chapter, his mind would rattle off reasons why he was being selfish and why he was worthless. No matter how tired he was, he just couldn't sleep if he had a lot of work left to do.

The night before the match, Flint gathered the team in the common room.

“Alright team, we've all done an amazing job training, and now it's time to put all that to use. Let's call it a day, and tomorrow, we'll kick some ass.” Flint seemed very confident they would win, which made Draco nervous. What if he failed and Potter caught the snitch? What if they lost even if Draco caught the Snitch?

Draco woke up the next day feeling like he'd swallowed venomous snakes. He went down to breakfast and noticed his teammates looking the same. The atmosphere was tense. As the Slytherin team went down to change, nobody said a word. He could tell he wasn't the only one who hardly slept last night.

As Draco walked onto the pitch, he couldn’t help but notice that three quarters of the crowd were dressed in red in support of Gryffindor. There were only about 200 people supporting Slytherin. He looked towards the Gryffindor team; every one of them looked like they were ready to beat his ass. He wished he had practised more, even though he had been practising nonstop.

He had one goal. Get the Snitch. Get it, or die in the process. And if he can't get it, block Potter from getting it until Slytherin is more than 150 points up. He'd prefer if he didn't have to interact with Potter at all, but he would if he had no other choice.

After they took off, Draco flew around looking for the Snitch. He didn't pay attention to the score, or the Bludgers, or the other players. He just looked around, waiting to spot the Snitch. He zoomed towards any hint of gold, before finally sighting the real thing.

He zoomed towards it as fast as he could. He knew Potter was close behind him, but he sped up as much as his Nimbus 2001 would allow. He was almost there, when he felt something smash into his right shoulder.

It was worse than getting attacked by Buckbeak. It was worse than accidentally cutting his arm open. It was horrible. He heard people yelling, but couldn't discern the words. He hardly noticed he was falling until he woke up in the hospital wing that evening.

When he woke up, he immediately wished he didn't. His shoulder was in agony, and he had a splitting headache. He noticed Theo sleeping with a book open on the chair next to him.

“Theo?” Draco sat up and waited for Theo to wake up. He awoke with a start.

“Finally, you're awake. You've been unconscious since the match. Potter accidentally hit you on his broom and knocked you out. According to Ginny he was very distraught afterwards, and asked for a rematch.”

“That sounds like something he would- wait. We- we didn't lose, did we?” Draco's heart sank. What would Flint say? He was probably pissed.

“Yeah, uhm, we lost. By a fair bit.

He could hardly breathe and the world was spinning. He felt like he was going insane. He wanted to do something but couldn't move. Theo took his hand until he had calmed down. Tears stung at the back of his eyes. He had failed. Just like he knew he always would.

“It’s okay, Draco, it’ll be fine. Flint will get over it, and everybody will forget in no time. Just get some rest for now, I’ll come visit in the morning.” Theo seemed reluctant to leave, but left once Madame Pomfrey demanded he let Draco be.

Draco couldn’t sleep. His shoulder throbbed with pain, and he couldn’t stand having his arm useless again. He felt incapable and vulnerable. Hours ticked by, and just as he was about to drift off, he heard the hospital wing door open. He opened his eyes just enough to see what was going on, and at first saw nothing. He was starting to think he’d imagined it, when he saw a hand materialize out of nowhere holding a card.

At first he thought he was dreaming, or going crazy, but then it dawned on him. Potter with his invisibility cloak. He almost sat up and confronted him, or maybe shot a spell at him, but Potter left as suddenly as he had appeared. Suddenly, Draco wasn’t at all tired anymore.

As quietly as he could, he reached for the card. As he picked it up off the table, he heard coins hit the floor. He paused, in case Madame Pomfrey heard, but she seemed to still be sleeping.

He opened the card and used his wand to read it. In neat handwriting, the card read: sorry about the match, with no other words and no signature. Draco wouldn’t have known who sent it if he didn’t see it. Draco carefully picked the coins off the floor and counted them. 5 galleons, 7 sickles, and 3 knuts.

Draco placed them gently on his nightstand, and placed the card up on display. Wait, Theo will see it there tomorrow. Draco thought. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t really want Theo seeing it. He moved it under his pillow, where Theo couldn’t find it. He laid back down, and instantly fell asleep. His dream was odd that night. He was swimming in the lake, but was being pulled down by the weight of his school bag and uniform, which had Gryffindor colors on it. He had almost drowned before somebody pulled him out. He woke up right before he could see their face.