***
Harry glared at Draco from behind his glasses, his green eyes narrowed in pure and utter loathing. It would be just his luck that they would get detention today of all days.
It was supposed to be his first date with Ginny. Yes, they were only going to Hogsmeade, but it would be a drastic change from hanging out in the Common Room with her brother watching them. But no, Harry would not be getting his first date with Ginny. Not today, at least.
"What are you staring at, Potter," Draco spat in his direction, a look of haughty disdain perfectly in place on his face. "Like what you see?"
"You wish," Harry muttered darkly, looking away. It was all Malfoy's fault they were sitting in Professor McGonagall's office rather than going on the trip to the village. They had been paired together in Transfiguration the day before, but rather than doing the project, Malfoy had the need to insult Harry's parents and friends. One would think Harry would've gotten used to after six years, but it still made his blood boil, especially since he now knew Malfoy was a Death Eater. The verbal insults quickly gave way to hexes and curses flying across the Transfiguration classroom, and McGonagall had promptly stepped in to separate them.
Unfortunately McGonagall had confiscated both of their wands before locking them in the room, so if Harry was going to hurt Malfoy he would have to do it physically. He contemplated punching the Slytherin in the nose hard enough to jamb the bone shards back into his brain, since he'd heard that would kill someone fairly quickly. Malfoy did not deserve quick, however. He should have to suffer a horribly slow and painful death.
"You're still staring, Potter," Draco drawled, the sneer on his face unable to hide his amusement.
Indeed he was. His gaze had fallen back on the pale boy while he had contemplated bashing Malfoy's face in, and he did appear to be staring.
"I'm trying to figure out all the different ways I could kill you without magic," Harry responded bluntly.
"Like you ever would, Perfect Potter," the taller boy put special emphasis on the nickname. Draco snickered as he continued, "Perfect Potter, savior of the wizarding world, defender of babies and house-elves, would never kill an unarmed student."
"You obviously don't know me very well at all," Harry growled, standing up to pace the small space, advancing closer to Draco with every cross of the room.
There was a predatory gleam in Harry's eye that Draco had never seen before, and he sank further into his chair, visibly wincing when his back touched the chair.
Harry stopped in his tracks when he saw Draco flinch in pain. He was no where near him, and Malfoy would never flinch when his enemy was still more than five feet away, not unless there was something wrong, in any case.
"What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Harry snapped, his eyes softening ever so slightly as the predatory gleam disappeared.
"N-nothing," Draco stuttered, his teeth clenched tightly together. He held his body extremely still, keeping his back straight and a couple of inches from the upholstery of the chair.
"Been spending too much time on your back lately?" Harry asked maliciously, his anger and hatred still running hot in his veins.
"I bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you, Potter," he muttered in response, his face a mask of indifference and disdain.
"As a matter of fact, I would. Lay down, Malfoy," Harry demanded, once again advancing on the other boy.
Draco's eyes flashed in surprise and terror, startling Harry into stillness yet again. It wasn't like Malfoy to ever show he was afraid of Harry. Something must really be wrong.
His anger began to subside as he moved closer to the boy. He fought to hold onto his rage and yet it seemed to fade faster with every step he took, quickly being replaced by concern.
"Really, Malfoy, what's wrong with your back?" Harry asked, his voice much softer this time. He was only an arm's length away from where the other boy was seated, and he reached out to touch Draco's arm.
The Slytherin balked, drawing away from the hand and straight against the back of the chair. Draco let out a howl of pain, his eyes immediately tearing from the violent contact of skin against chair, his thin fingers white from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly.
"Get. Away. From. Me." Draco managed to ground out slowly, each word punctuated by tightening his jaw.
Harry was not to be deterred, however, and he pulled Draco from the chair, inciting a wail from the taller boy. Draco did not put up much of a fight while Harry wrestled him to the floor, pinning him on his stomach so his back could be properly inspected. Blood was already seeping through the white cotton of Draco's shirt in wide, angry gashes by the time Harry began to pull up on the hem of the shirt.
Unable to fight and in excruciating pain, Draco whimpered from his place on the floor, his face buried against the cool stone to hide the hot tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes.
Harry pulled Draco's shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers, unknowingly tearing open more wounds as fresh blood began to spill down the pale skin.
Draco howled again in agony, silently begging to death to come quickly.
Harry paled at the realization of what he was seeing across Draco's back. Thick red welts crossed over the soft curves of flesh, creating an intricate design of hash marks and lines that disappeared under the shirt that was still bunched in Harry's hand, as well as lower beneath the waistband of his pants. Whereas Harry had imagined making Malfoy bleed scarcely five minutes earlier, he was shocked to actually see it beneath his fingers.
"We should get Madam Pomfrey," Harry murmured softly. "She'll be able to heal these for you."
Draco shook his head vehemently, mumbling something into the tile.
"Why not?" Harry needed to know. His fingertips touched the fresh blood and he stared at the wounds.
"Because they can't be healed," Draco answered more clearly this time.
"Who did this to you?" Harry asked seriously, still unsure of what he was seeing.
"Who do you think?" Draco spat in disgust.
"Your father?" Harry guessed, his substantial anger towards the older man growing.
"No, you twat," Draco growled.
"Voldemort?" he tried again.
"The Boy-Who-Won't-Die deserves a prize everyone!" Draco's words dripped with sarcasm and pain. "Now would you please remove yourself and sod off!"
Draco's tone forced him to move, gently lowering the shirt until it was back in place, and standing up carefully. He offered a hand to help Draco up, which the other boy looked at in surprise, unsure of what to do.
Reluctantly the injured boy took the proffered hand, allowing Harry to help to his feet. He stumbled slightly when he straightened up, but Harry's strong arms steadied him until he regained his footing and he pulled away.
"Why?" The single word was no louder than a whisper, but Draco heard it clearly in the silent room.
Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. When he finally began to speak his voice was soft and uncertain. "Because he was displeased with me," Draco whispered, "I am taking longer than he wished to fulfill my assignment."
Harry fought the urge to reach out and touch Draco again, knowing it would only make the shaking boy recoil and probably cause more damage than good to the boy's back.
"McGonagall will be back soon," Harry said softly, changing the subject. He retreated to his chair and lifted his black cloak from where it had been draped over the back. "Take my cloak to cover the blood. There's nothing else we can do to hide it without wands."
Draco looked at him in surprise, but finally turned to let Harry place the cloak over his shoulders so he could clasp it shut. It was a few inches too short for the taller wizard, but it would have to do.
Footsteps in the hallway forced both boys back into their chairs. They both awkwardly stared at the stone floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the castle as the door swung open and McGonagall entered.
"I see you boys didn't kill each other," she commented, taking in the fact that they were both still in their original positions. "You are free to go, but I will not have a display like that again, do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am," they replied in unison and quietly exited the room, retrieving their wands as they did so.
Without a backwards glance, Draco walked gingerly down the hall, wondering why on earth Harry Potter of all people would help him to hide what the Dark Lord had done.
Harry stood outside the door of the office, watching Draco until he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. His earlier anger toward Draco had turned onto Voldemort, and Harry swore yet again that he would kill the evil wizard. If not for himself or his friends, then for his classmates; not even Draco deserved to be hurt like that.