Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters described in this story, nor do I own the Harry Potter world. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: This is my first Drarry fanfic, which is hard to believe, seeing as i ship them with all my heart. Anyhow, I hope you like it. Chapters will be posted whenever I have time, so there might be some gaps. Sorry about that. Enjoy!
Harry couldn't believe it. He had been caught out of bed after hours, and he was serving detention with Malfoy. He couldn't think of a worse punishment. Seething, he made his way to the trophy room, where he would spend the next four hours polishing trophies. When he got there, he was greeted by a beaming Filch, who reveled in punishment. He was glad to see that Draco was equally unhappy.
"Get to it, then. I'll be back at 11:00. If there's any funny business, you'd better believe you'll be punished for it," said Filch proudly.
Harry and Draco nodded miserably as Filch hobbled out. They looked at each other in disgust before pulling out all the trophies and beginning to buff them. Harry felt very odd. He hadn't been alone with Draco since they were eleven, and now they were nearly sixteen. He had managed to dismiss and forget his feelings toward him, but he was afraid they would return. As much as he hated it, he found Draco very attractive. His sleek blonde hair, his high cheekbones, his strong jawline...
"Oi, Potter," Draco sneered, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "What'd you do to land yourself here?"
"Caught out of bed after hours," Harry mumbled.
"Doing something naughty, were you?" Draco asked smugly.
"No, I wasn't," said Harry loudly. "I was sleepwalking," he lied. He had been trying to get into the Room of Requirement to practice, but there was no way he was telling Draco that.
Draco snickered. "Right," he said, obviously not buying it.
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out a very large and very intricate trophy that he was not looking forward to dealing with. He glanced over at Draco and his heart pulsed a little faster. Malfoy had the first two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong hands and forearms. Oh, Come off it, Harry, he scolded himself.
Draco would never admit it, but he had been very much looking forward to this detention. It would be the first time in a while that he and Potter would be alone, and that filled him with excitement. He had loved Harry (Oh Merlin, Draco, you're becoming a bloody Hufflepuff! he told himself) since first year, and felt warmth spread through him at the thought of exploring it. He knew that Harry hated him. He had been reminded of it every day since they had first met. A wave of sourness washed over him as he remembered how easily Harry had dismissed him during first year.
"DAMN IT!" he heard Harry shout, followed by a deafening crash. Wheeling around, he was met by the sight of an entire trophy case on the floor, and realized with horror that Harry was under it.
Damn it, damn it, damn it, he thought as he brushed off a surge of worry. He rushed over, carefully avoiding the large pieces of broken glass scattered across the floor.
"Harry!" he said loudly, doing his best to contain the panic in his voice. "Merlin, are you alright?"
A muffled and slightly amused voice came from beneath the heavy wood. "Of bloody course not, Malfoy."
Draco felt better knowing Harry was conscious, put all his energy into a levitation charm, and deftly lifted up and moved aside the large cabinet. After doing so, he knelt down beside Harry and helped him to sit up. He was clearly injured, as he was clutching his side and his shoulder was bent at an awkward angle.
"I should get Madame Pomfrey," he said, and Harry nodded, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.
"I'll be right back. Just...stay here and try not to move, alright?" he said hurriedly, standing up and running out of the room and down the corridor towards the infirmary.
Was it just him, or had Draco sounded...worried? Surely not, he hated Harry, but the possibility helped Harry keep his mind of the searing pain in his side and shoulder. Now is not the time to go all Hufflepuff, Harry reminded himself harshly. He heard footsteps in the hallway, and was relieved to see Madame Pomfrey and Malfoy rushing towards him.
"Potter!" Madame Pomfrey said shrilly as she knelt beside him and began to cast diagnostic charms. "Can't you go a week without needing a significant dose of Skele-Gro?"
Even through his pain, Harry smiled slightly. It was true, he did have a bit of a knack for getting hurt. He glanced around, searching for Draco. He found him standing in the corner of the room, chewing on his nails. Harry was amused, he had never thought a Malfoy would have such an unhygienic habit. He was also a little pleased at Draco's obvious concern.
When Draco saw him looking, his expression changed immediately to one of bored indifference. Madame Pomfrey took a small contraption from her apron pocket, pointed her wand at it, and stood back as it unfolded into a gurney. In awe, Harry thought he would never tire of magic. He stood up with great effort and collapsed onto the soft fabric, clutching his side. There was a sharp pain in his ribs, and he knew one of them must be broken. With the help of Malfoy, Madame Pomfrey hurried him to the infirmary and quickly transferred him to one of the hospital beds.
While she went off to find a pain-relieving potion, Draco stood awkwardly beside Harry. Rolling his eyes, Harry said, "Well you can sit down, you know". Draco did so silently, looking slightly irritated.
Harry had been expecting him to remain that way, but to his surprise, Draco said softly, "I'm sorry I couldn't stop the cabinet from falling. If I had helped you unload it, it wouldn't have fallen over, and you wouldn't be, well..." he gestured to Harry's current state.
Harry was shocked and somewhat confused by this other side of the boy he had fought with for years. Not sure how to react, he said, "Oh, um, it's not your fault. It was my job to move the cabinet, and there's no way you could've known it would fall".
Malfoy looked very relieved to know that Harry didn't blame him. The awkward silence the ensued was mercifully broken by the arrival of Madame Pomfrey and...Professor McGonagall? Looking quite stern, she turned to Draco and said, "Malfoy, as this was your fault, you will be staying with Potter until further notice. You are to keep an eye on him and make sure the internal bleeding doesn't cause any problems."
Sputtering, Malfoy exclaimed, "But it wasn't my fault!", and Harry nodded in agreement, although he was amused at McGonagall's idea. Draco with Harry, all the time? That was likely.
"No backtalk, Mr. Malfoy! I have made up my mind, and I expect you to be with Potter here until I say you may stop. Is that clear?" she looked at Draco with an expression that made him visibly wilt. He nodded, looking slightly abashed, but still maintaining his demeanor of haughty superiority.
Without another word, Professor McGonagall exited the room, leaving them all in a stunned silence. Madame Pomfrey was the first to move, and she said, "Well, Potter, I've got some bad news. You've got a dislocated shoulder and two broken ribs. Nothing I can't fix. But one of your ribs punctured the lining of your stomach, and you've got mild internal bleeding."
Harry was not pleased with this development. He had quittich practice tomorrow, and the match was next week! "Will I be able to play?" he asked weakly, already knowing the answer.
"Not if I can help it," said Madame Pomfrey, "now brace yourself. I need to snap your bones back into place."
He'd had a dislocated shoulder twice before and knew that it wasn't that bad, but he'd heard that broken ribs were a right pain. As Madame Pomfrey raised her wand, he instinctively grabbed Draco's hand. Before he could do anything about it, he felt his shoulder pop and heard a sickening crunch as his ribs were forced against each other. His eyes watering, he let out a pained sigh. It took a moment before he realized that he was holding Malfoy's hand. Malfoy's. He let go quickly, cheeks flaming, and looked up to see that Draco was equally uncomfortable.
"Sorry", he muttered.
Did Potter just hold his hand? Malfoy could feel his face getting hot. He heard Harry apologize, and he grumbled back, "It's alright".
Looking satisfied with her work, Madame Pomfrey handed Harry a pain-relief potion and said, "Well, that's that. You're to stay here overnight, Potter, you hear?" she gave Malfoy a scathing look. "You too, Malfoy. You heard McGonagall." With that, she about-faced and marched through the doors to her quarters.
They were left alone, and the tension between them was palpable. "Erm," said Draco uncomfortably, "This is unexpected."
Potter snorted and replied, "You don't say."
"Git," Draco muttered darkly.
The next few minutes were filled with strained conversation and forced civility. Finally, Draco got fed up. Sighing, he said, "You know, Potter, we're going to have to figure out a way to tolerate each other." At Harry's amused expression, he rolled his eyes and said, "I don't want to do this either. You really think I'm going to enjoy being stuck with the most thick-headed Gryffindor ever?" Although he meant it as a joke, he felt a pang of guilt as the words left his mouth. He really did want them to get along. He glanced up to see Harry's slightly crestfallen expression correct itself to one of annoyance.
"Fine. I guess I can try to ignore the fact that I want to hex you whenever you're around," said Harry, with a gleam in his eye. Draco felt the built-up tension diffuse, and they both visibly relaxed.
"So," Draco said, leaning back in his chair, "Are you feeling okay?"
Harry looked for a moment like he was going to make a sarcastic remark, but said instead, "Yeah, I'm fine. I reckon that pain-relief potion is taking effect. I'm dead tired, though."
Malfoy smiled slightly, because he could indeed see Harry struggling to keep his eyes open. He was rather adorable when he was tired. Damn, Draco, get yourself together.
"Yeah, I s'pose we should get to bed," he said, yawning. He too, was tired. It had been masked by adrenaline, but he could feel his limbs becoming heavy. He stood up and didn't even bother to take off his robes before slipping into bed.
He was drifting off a few minutes later when Harry said, "Goodnight, Draco."
Did he just call me...Draco? He couldn't remember the last time they had addressed each other by first name, if there even was a time. "Yeah...goodnight, Harry," he said, still shocked. This faded into pleasure. He liked how his name sounded when Harry said it. As he fell asleep, he smiled to himself. Little did he know, Harry was doing the same.
A/N: Well, what do you guys think? I personally love the little nuances in their conversations. And first-name-calling always gets me :,)