DRACO MALFOY was tired. - Tired of keeping of appearances. Tired of the bickering, the fighting, the screaming in his household.. Tired of schooling, and the people he had to share his time with. Tired of living. Draco was tired of everything. Anything you could name, he was done with. Far more over life than the average individual his age.. But he was especially tired when it came to a certain raven-haired boy in his year. HARRY POTTER was aching. - Death wasn't something new to the boy, but grief was tearing him apart from the inside out. His heart ached, his head ached, and his breath felt heavier than what one should ever feel. He was overwhelmed. But he was the Golden Boy.. he couldn't show such a weakness. But the weakness he felt was everything. Noticeable, across his tanned face and his slim frame. More noticeable than Harry quite liked it. But, there was something only he seemed to notice apart from the rest . . Draco Malfoy seemed just as done and angry with the world, as he was . It'd be another harrowing year on the grounds of Hogwarts. One, that the boys wouldn't even imagine in their wildest dreams..