A/N: The Lyrics are from the songs, "Really Lousy Day in the Universe" and "Don't Give In," from the musical, A new Brain, by William Finn. I formatted this a bit differently than most songfics in that the lyrics serve as actual dialogue. All lyrics are in italics so hopefully you won't get confused. Also, obviously there is no Minerva in the play, but I changed it from Rhoda, because, well, that simply wouldn't have made any sense. You'll see what I mean when you get there. Well, I believe that's all for now. enjoy.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR and all Lyrics belong to Mr. Finn (see A/N). I own nothing. I take donations.

Warning: Mushy Slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Harry walked numbly out of the front doors of the hospital building. He gripped the handrail tightly as he descended the stairs to the relatively deserted London sidewalk. Fresh air. That was what he needed. But it wasn't making him feel any better. All he felt was cold. So cold. And a strange, hollow sort of feeling.

He took a deep ragged breath. His throat felt tight. Another breath. His eyes stung. He stepped onto the sidewalk and practically collapsed where he stood, barely managing to seat himself on the bottom step in front to the large stone building, unable to go any farther. He leaned against the railing for support.

That boy had saved his life. He'd helped to win the battle, and ultimately, the war. He'd sacrificed himself to bring down not only his own father and the others, but the Dark Lord himself.

He'd finally proved to them all that he was truly worthy of their trust. He'd finally proved it to Harry, the one person he wanted, more than anyone in the world, to trust him. And now…

Harry tried not to think of the state the young Slytherin was in at that very moment. It hurt too much. They'd become so close ever since the blonde come back the summer after sixth year. No one really understood what had happened. Everyone was so suspicious. How on earth could he be trusted? But somehow, an understanding had formed between the two boys, and with that, an unexplainable bond. And that bond only grew stronger over the next year, evolving into something more… something they'd been hiding for some time now.

And now, the boy he loved was lying in a hospital bed, thin, pale, so fragile, his recovery so uncertain. Harry didn't know if he could bear another loss… no like this. Harry buried his face in his knees and tears began to pour down his face. He tried to take another deep breath but all he managed was a sob.

Suddenly he was aware of a presence beside him. Someone else was there. He looked up and saw a middle aged woman in ragged clothing standing a few feet away, looking at him, a mildly concerned expression on her face. She spoke with a thick cockney accent.

"Hey mister… hey you… what are you looking so sad for?"

She must have been on a near by stoop and heard his sobs. He hurriedly wiped his eyes., trying to pull himself together. He was almost grateful for the distraction.

"Nothing. Really, nothing. Absolutely nothing. How about some money?" He took his wallet from his back pocket and opened it, offering her a generous five pounds.

"I can't refuse. I need new shoes… and some pants… I need romance. What about you?"

"Tonight, after eight long hours he appeared. It was worse than the doctor had feared.

And then the doctor said: 'I hoped by now he'd be least I thought he'd be mistake.' Then I prodded him and poked him,And his mother started crying, And Minerva started yelling at the nurse. It was a really lousy day in the universe."

"You love him… Too bad… What are you looking surprised for?"

"We'd hoped things would turn out better."

"Things don't get only seem to, then they don' 't be surprised, if life turns out to be a trashy old catastrophe and…"

His head dropped back into his hands as he let out a shaky breath, his entire body trembling slightly.

"Hey, mister, it's all right. Life is a rotten occasion."

He gazed at the woman for a moment, taking in the sorry state of the rags she wore, the dirt on her face… What cause did she have to be optimistic?

'Let me give you money."

"Please forget the money. Please do not insult me; I'm not amused"

"But it's therapy."

"I give therapy for free. I'm just glad to have a client, finally."

She sat down beside him and looked at him expectantly, prompting him to continue his story.

"So I called his name and hugged him, but the jerk is in a coma, and his mother hopes he dies if he gets worse. It was a really lousy day in the universe."

"They all are…" she said, patting him on the back in an ironically comforting way that seemed to contradict her very unsettling words. "They all are."

"No," he said, shaking his head as tears began to stream down his face. "They weren't… they weren't."

Harry and Narcissa sat in Draco's hospital room in silence, both staring at their hands, each glancing periodically and the thin pale figure on the bed.

The television played in the background, the dull, pulsating glow barely noticed, the ramblings of various ads and programs long since tuned out by the room's solemn, distracted occupants. Various machines hovered around Draco's body, monitoring his vitals.

Mr. Bungee, an ancient children's show featuring a singing clay-mation from came on the television, still completely ignored.

"So remember, boys and girls," the Frog began to sing,

"When you wanna quit cuz nothing works,

Don't give in.

Quitting is the specialty of jerks.

Don't give in.

Simply keep you focus on what lies ahead.

Don't play games. Don't play dead.


Those who are marking time, wake up.

Love is a cause that you have to take up.

Doooooon't give in. :ribbit:"

Harry and Narcissa were both so wrapped up in their own mournful worried thoughts, neither even noticed the soft, muffled mumblings coming from the bed, until Harry glanced up and saw the pale, pink lips moving ever so slightly.

"Draco!" he cried, running to the bed.

"When you wanna… nothing works… don't give in… quitting is the specialty of…" he continued to repeat the song on the TV, mumbling thickly. His heavy lids lifted slightly, his vision still badly blurred from nearly two weeks of unuse.

He knew that voice… and that other one that had spoken before. He wanted to hear that one speak again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, it did.

"Draco, can you hear me? Wake up. Please, love, wake up! Open your eyes for me again."

The pale gray eyes flicked open and struggled to focus, bringing into view a frazzled and worn-looking woman near tears, and a raven-haired boy with far more worry lines than a boy his age should have, below which two dazzling green eyes stared out at him through big, round glasses. The boy seemed to be expecting something.

"What?" escaped the lips of the even paler than usual blonde, his own voice sounding far away and weak in his head.

The woman… he knew her… what was her name again… oh yeah. "Mum."

"Oh, she cried, bursting into tears, flinging herself onto the boy. "My son! My boy!" She hugged him, sobbing with relief.

Harry watched for a moment, then turned to go back to his own chair when a slender hand grabbed his wrist. He turned back around. Draco was looking at Harry over his mother's shoulder, his gaze intense, however tired. Harry took the slender hand in his own, squeezing it gently, trying to warm the cool skin.

"Harry," Draco whispered.

Harry simply raised the pale hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Draco smiled at him as his mother continued to sob into his pillow. Having come so close to losing him, the relief for both was nearly overwhelming.

For the number of lousy days the universe had granted thus far, it had finally granted them a miracle.

Strange things happen more than you would guess.

Don't give in.

When life seems an unforgiving mess,

Don't give in.

Things go wrong, you lose your way, but don't despair.

Just play fair.

And prepare to win.

What was once wrong is soon righted.

Miserable people become delighted.

Don't give in.