Chapter Four
Weaslely's head jerked slightly from the force of the muffin. His head whipped towards Draco, as did the rest of the room, including the teachers. Before, they had any say in the matter, however, Weasley growled and chucked a banana in Draco's direction. It was a boomerang effect and hit Draco squarely on the chest. He let out a small groan, but no one noticed.
"Food Fight!" Someone yelled. Before Draco or the teachers had realized what was happening, students left and right were chucking food to students across them – pudding, apples, mashed potatoes, muffins.
In all the commotion, he saw Weasley glaring at Draco two tables down, fist clenched, jaw tight. He stood up and began to stalk up to Draco. Draco did the same, yet his expression was by far more menacing. They glared at each other as they walked down their table and faced off when they were near the Entrance Door. No one seemed to pay any attention to them. They were too busy with the food fight.
"What the hell is wrong with you this time, Malfoy?" He shouted, though his voice was audible only to the few surrounding him. The Great Hall was in an uproar already.
"You're my fucking problem, Ginger!" He replied and began running to Weasley with full speed, hands in a tight fist.
Weasley prepared himself. Draco's anger got the best of him. He let loose his right fist that collided into the stomach of Ron. Ron let out a groan, but he had braced himself enough to tighten his abs that it didn't hurt as much as it would have. He stumbled slightly, yet his fist found itself against Draco's jaw. Draco's head swiveled against the punch and fell to the floor.
Ron shook out his hand, grunting in pain.
Draco, ear ringing, was on all four trying to gather the strength to get back up. He had to blink a few times before his head cleared from the audible ringing sound.
"What's the matter, Malfoy? You hurt?" he heard Weasley's voice call out to him.
"Let's go, Ron. We'll get in trouble if you keep this up," Potter said lowly.
"Get off of my Harry," Ron cried. Draco heard a thud and a moan from Potter. "Let's go Malfoy. Get up!"
A picture of Hermione popped inside his head, reminding him the reason why he was in this fight and the reason why he loathed Weasley as much as ever. He shook his head to get himself stable again and brought himself up. He faced Weasley, looking as gangly as ever, with Potter sulking behind him, head bent down.
"Next time you talk to the female sex, Weasel, treat her with some respect," Draco spat.
"Don't give me some bullshit lecture! Like I'd take any advice from you, especially about girls," Ron sneered. Draco noticed he was still flexing his hand. He let out a small chuckle. Weak, he thought.
"You know, the way you treat Granger, I'd say –," his eyes flickered in her direction. She was standing in front of the Entrance Hall door watching with terrified eyes, clutching her books against her chest, causing her knuckles to go bare white. Her eyes stared at him. Her eyes grew large as they focused on something other than him. He pondered at what for longer than he should have.
A large object knocked him off his feet, jerking his head forward, as he collided onto the floor with something weighing him down. His head hit the floor hard, harder than he'd imaged. Draco stifled a moan. The pain was unimaginable. A headache started to form, and quick.
He began to choke as his breath was knocked out of him by a sudden hit in the stomach.
He realized who it was now; Weasley tackling him to the floor. Furious, he kicked and punched, hitting wherever was possible as he was hit in every possible spot. He found himself rolling on top of Weasley, underneath him; both still kicking and punching, wrestling each other.
"Break it up!" McGonagall's voice rang, but it sounded like a distant dream's echo.
They ignored it, continuing with the hopeless and childish fight.
Before he knew what was happening, he was pulled away from Weasley from the back of his shirt and hanging in the air, perhaps ten feet above the ground.
The first person Draco saw was Professor McGonagall's furious face watching Weasley, who was hanging in the air beside him looking bloody and bruised, and back to Draco.
"What in Merlin's name do you boys think you are doing?!" she shrilled. "Starting a food fight and getting into a fist fight!"
The whole room was silent. Without leaving the stares of the Professor, he could feel every pair of eyes watching in concern and curiosity.
"Answer me!" she cried, waving a finger at both boys.
None of them answered; it was part of 'The Code' not to rat out a fight between men to authority. Draco knew that and he, although a slimy slytherin in many people's perspective, did not mutter a single word.
Weasley, however, thought otherwise…or he was clueless of The Code that was so familiar to every boy in the whole world except the narks.
"He hit me first with a muffin and started to yell out names to me and punching me," he whispered looking at the floor. "I was just defending myself!"
Draco looked at Ron with incredulous eyes. What a wimp he was, to start the battle of punches and yet not have the guts to take it all the way, punishment and all! How could Hermione have ever been friends with him, let alone love him, was beyond his understanding.
"Is this true, Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in a grimacing tone.
Draco looked around the room, still hanging in air. He could see that three fourths of the room sneered and narrowed their eyes at him, believing Weasley and his lies, as they were covered from head to toe in food and goo. The one table that felt Draco's pain was Slytherin's table, although knowing them, they probably also thought that it was Draco's doing in starting the fight.
Partly true, he thought, but for good intentions this time.
"I have no comment," he said firmly to McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall began to pace before him and Weasley, looking weary and angry. She stopped before him.
"Hogwarts has a zero tolerance policy on this kind of behavior, do you understand?" she asked.
Draco nodded as his heart skipped a beat. Was he to be suspended? Expelled, even?
"I will let you go today with a punishment," she said, glaring at them both.
He let out a large sigh, closing his eyes in relief.
"I want you all to know," she stated, bellowing to the whole room. "Anyone found in a fight will be severely punished! This is not to be treated lightly!"
After a few moments, they were lowered to the ground. Draco, with a limp hand, began to massage his neck and shoulders. Hanging up in the air was a torture, in his standards.
"Lunch is over! Drop everything you are holding and exit out of this room! Now!" the professor shouted.
Students began to go past them, glaring, whispering, snickering, laughing. Although he knew it wasn't over yet, he began to walk out as a large group of students marched by.
"Not so fast, Mr. Malfoy," he heard McGonagall say.
Pursing his lips, he grudgingly walked back.
He saw Pansy walk out with Blaise and a couple of her friends. She was watching him in a horrified look, still stroking the necklace around her neck. He frowned.
"You and Mister Weasley here will clean this place up. After, you will see yourself to Madame Pompfrey's office to get your wounds healed up," she said.
"I'm sorry, but you want us to clean and then go to the healer's office?" Draco asked sounding falsely confused.
"That doesn't make much sense to me," he heard Weasley mutter.
"Nothing makes much sense to you," he retorted back under his breath.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley's head tilt his way, but Draco ignored it, grinning. Apparently, McGonagall didn't hear this remark, or made it seem as if she didn't.
"Yes. Therefore, you will be able to do magic to clean. I want this place spotless, boys. Understand?" she said and walked herself out of the room, closing the door behind her.
"Nice fucking going," Ron shouted, wailing his arms around. "Now we gotta clean this place up!"
Tired and sore, Draco looked at Weasley's bruised face and said, "Shut the hell up and go to work."
He started to walk around the filthy room, and muttered cleaning spells along the way. Draco had no intentions of interacting with Weaselbee, and both did just that. Half an hour later, Weasley exited the room, although there was still work to be done in Slytherin's table.
Of course he wouldn't touch this table, he said. Quickly, he spouted off spells and made his table even cleaner than the others. Tired and sore, he walked out of the Great Hall only to find Hermione waiting by the stairs, reading her book.
As she heard the opening of the door, her head snapped up from the book and, realizing it was Draco, shut her book and began running towards him, leaving her books behind.
"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, taking hold of Draco's arm and putting it around her shoulders. She put her arm around his waist, steadying him from falling.
Draco grinned. He knew he had enough strength to walk normally, but the feel of her arms around him was something he enjoyed. She looked up at him with pure brown eyes.
"Now that you're here," he said smiling crookedly.
Hermione frowned and unconsciously hit his stomach with her free hand. "That's not funny," she whispered.
The force, however small it is, that Hermione had put on his bruised stomach sent a sharp pain to go about that area of his body part. Draco groaned and held his stomach.
He heard Hermione gasped and quickly led him to the stairs to sit.
She knelt in front of him with a worried expression. "Can you make it to Madame Pompfrey's or am I going to have to put you on my back and carry you?" Her tone was serious, to Draco's surprise.
"I don't think I can walk," he teased.
Hermione started to pull his arm around her shoulder as she turned her back on him and crouched. "Get on," she said. "I'm carrying you then."
Draco laughed, "Hermione, are you being serious?"
"Get on," she said again.
"I was kidding, Hermione," he said, smiling at the amount of ambition and strength. "I'm perfectly capable of walking."
She turned around, still holding his hand around her shoulder. "Are you sure? Because I'm strong enough to carry you."
Draco laughed again. "A five foot five inch female carry a six foot one inch male?"
"I could," she began pouting.
"But that wouldn't be very gentleman-like of me, now would it, Ms. Granger?" he said, still grinning. "I could use your help though. Hold me like you did earlier."
"Okay," she said. She helped him get up – although he really didn't need the help.
They walked to Madame Pompfrey's office side by side, her arm around him, his arm around her shoulder. They were in silence most of the time. Her bushy hair tingled his arm into numbness. He could smell the sweet scent of hers as it lingered in the air.
They entered the healer's office and was instantly greeted by Pompfrey.
"Oh my dear! What took you so long? Mr. Weasley came in half an hour ago! I had frightfully thought something might have occurred while you were coming here!" she squealed. "Here, lay down on the bed here." She disappeared a second later.
Hermione led Draco to the appointed bed and freed him as he positioned himself flat on the bed.
"I'll see you later then, Draco," Hermione whispered.
"No, stay," Draco said, grasping her free hand. "I need some company other than that crazy lady."
Hermione halted in her steps, watching Draco with intense eyes, slightly confused on what she should do. Draco tried to keep his face looking innocent and friendly as he himself didn't know what he was doing and why.
In the meantime, Madame Pompfrey came back holding a tray filled with bottles and boxes.
"Here we are, potions to get you better, Mr. Malfoy," she said. Her eyes traveled to Draco's hand that held Hermione's and looked at him. Her stare lasted a while before she cleared her throat and began searching for something on the tray.
"Ms. Granger, make yourself useful and dip this towel cloth on his cut, above the cheek," she said, handing a towel to Hermione. She let go of Draco's hand suddenly, her heart thumping, and brought the towel into the bowl of water.
Draco closed his eyes and felt the warm cloth against his cut. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from moaning in pain. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to show how hurt he was to Hermione, physically and perhaps emotionally.
The release of Hermione's hand felt so sudden that he was taken back at how quick she let go. But why was he holding it in the first place? And where was Pansy in all of this? Shouldn't she be here instead of Hermione? But Draco didn't want Pansy here to comfort him. He wanted Hermione. He liked the quiet and peace that she brings forth. He liked her delicate touch against him.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to lift up your shirt to see if anything is broken or bruised," Madame Pompfrey said.
Draco nodded. He felt his shirt off his abs. The chill of the air touched his skin halfway up his torso.
He heard Hermione gasp. Draco shut his eyes firmly, afraid on what his body might have looked like. A finger traced the side of his body, sending a trail of fire behind. Then a larger touch, a hand held itself firmly above what Draco could feel to be a bruise.
"Ms. Granger, please. Do not touch," the healer said.
"Sorry," he heard.
But he didn't want her to stop. The feeling of her skin against his was healing enough.
"Now Mr. Malfoy, I am going to be putting a type of compress against your bruises. It might feel a little cold, but that means it is working. There seems to be no broken bones, which is a plus," she said.
As if done too quickly, a wave of cold feeling washed his stomach. It felt as though he had just plunged into the waters of Antarctica, bitter cold and ice. He reached out for Hermione's hand, waving his arms about until she latched on.
"I'm here," she whispered.
The coldness continued. He shut his eyes even more firmly. His jaw clenched tightly together.
Then, as if global warming happened, the feeling disappeared. He was in sunny Caribbean and thankfully nowhere near ice.
He opened his eyes and saw that his stomach was spotless of bruises.
Madame Pompfrey smiled. "There, you see? Nothing to worry about. Now, about your face, I have some spray that will help the cuts. I'll be right back." And she was off.
"Did it look brutal?" Draco asked Hermione who was staring at his stomach.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It was my fault."
"What was?" He watched her face as a tear found itself across her cheek.
"You being hurt. You were defending me, weren't you?" she asked, her lips beginning to tremble. Her face focused on him now.
"It's not your fault, Hermione," he said quietly. "Weasley had no right saying that to you."
He began to gently stroke her hand with his thumb.
"You sacrificed yourself for me," she whispered, while more tears ran down her face.
"Please don't cry, Hermione," was all he could say. He wanted to brush the tears off her beautiful face, to kiss her cheeks, forehead, eyes… but that was impossible. "As much as you made it out to be, it wasn't that valiant. I'm still okay, see?" He eyed the stomach.
But Hermione ignored him. "I can take care of myself. You didn't have to do that."
"I know," he said quietly. He held her hand tighter, "I felt I needed to, for myself."
"Here we are," Madame Pompfrey said, coming with a bottle in her hand. "Excuse me, Ms. Granger."
Hermione hesitantly let go of his hand and walked away, letting the healer through.
"This may sting a little, but I assure you, your face will be healed by the time I get through."
"I have no doubts, Madame Pompfrey," Draco said, smiling.
"Why thank you dear," she said stiffly. "Close your eyes. We don't want any of this in your eye."
He did as she said. A spray of liquid landed on his face and it continued all over his face.
"There. All better. Wipe it off your face after ten minutes and you are free to go, dear," she said.
He opened his eyes. He saw that Madame Pompfrey was out of the room to leave Hermione and himself in the room alone. She sat in the other bed watching him with a stiff expression.
"Draco?" he heard a voice say. Both heads turned to the door.
"Draco!" Pansy came through, smiling as she saw him and quickly made her way to his side. Clearly, she didn't see Hermione as she walked by. "What happened back there? I heard you were here from a Gryffindor! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You look worse back there than you do now! …and what is that on your face? It looks disguisting."
Pansy sat on a chair nearby and placed her head on his stomach. "I was worried," she said and closed her eyes.
Draco looked up from the face of his girlfriend to the bed next to his. He found it empty. His eyes searched around the room and no one but Pansy was present. Draco studied Pansy. She had fallen asleep, quick to snore also. Groaning, he lightly banged his head against the back wall and shut his eyes.