Clarity
Chapter Seven
If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?
Once Draco had cheered Harry up considerably, he moved away from Harry's bedside, although apparently reluctantly, forced to cut their time short in order to survey the other patients.
Harry watched him go with a short sigh, and was startled when a voice piped up.
"You're lucky."
Harry turned to see Michael Corner staring after Draco too, with an almost wistful look on his face. Irritation curled up in his stomach; what did he care about Draco?
"Why?" Harry asked gruffly.
"You get so much attention from Healer Malfoy. The rest of us just have our own thoughts for company, while you two are practically inseparable." Michael replied, apparently unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice.
Harry did not reply but looked away thoughtfully at Draco, looking but not seeing. He realised with a pang of guilt that this was true; he hadn't fully realised the extent of Draco's preference for him until Michael had pointed it out.
It was hardly fair on the other patients if Draco favoured him.
And there was another thing; since when had Draco been Draco and not Malfoy? Harry closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the many thoughts that clamoured his attention.
Some time later, he was still lying with his eyes closed when Draco's voice cut through his lazy thoughts, the familiar tone dragging him back to consciousness. He realised it sounded sharper than normal, and he listened curiously, eyes still closed.
"No, I'm afraid you can't just disturb my patient like that-"
A low mumble of another voice he could not discern; he could only pick out Draco's at what presumably was a long distance because he had recently become so well attuned to it's sound.
"I don't care! He's still under my charge!" Draco's voice grew more irritable and protective, and Harry strained his ears to hear who the patient in question was, strangely hoping that it was him Draco was talking about to this unknown person-
"Yes, exactly, Harry's been seriously ill as you say, so he does not need this to alarm him and hinder his progress! Good grief, do you really think this will help him?"
It was him, Harry realised with a sort of grim satisfaction. His heart felt unusually large in his chest as he listened to Draco defend him.
"It will completely undo all of the excellent progress he's made - do you even know how far he's come?" Draco asked, fierce pride shining through his words.
"He's done amazingly well, and it is of the utmost importance that we do not expose him to anything that will send him back into the depressive state he is detained here for - surely you understand that? I have been working hard to keep him from slipping back into the depression, and somedays I can see he's been dangerously close. I can see the grief is threatening to overcome him but he always manages to throw it off. Do you understand how hard that must be for him to do? I've never quite seen a person like him-"
There was a murmur of voices and Draco gave a short laugh.
"Yes, you're right, I'm sure many would say that, but from a Healer's point of view - he's come so far, and I cannot permit you to undo that Granger-"
Harry didn't listen to anymore; he couldn't, his mind was numbed. Granger.
Hermione Granger.
He felt panic creep over him; Draco was right, he couldn't deal with this yet; he couldn't deal with all the memories that Hermione would bring, all of the people gone-
Harry started shaking convulsively, and his eyes flew open in panic. He didn't hear footsteps approaching but the next thing he saw was Draco rushing to his side, white blond hair and coat flying, an alarmed expression on his face.
"Harry. Calm down. It's alright. Everything's alright." he gripped Harry's shoulders, but not tightly, and Harry relented against the warm pressure and eventually settled back down into his pillow. Draco's hands remained gently on his shoulders, his eyes concerned and questioning.
"I'm fine." Harry whispered, although he was not sure it was true. He knew Draco wasn't sure either, but after a long, searching look, he turned back to Hermione who was watching them with wide, shocked eyes, her jaw dropped.
"See what you've done?" Harry heard Draco hiss furiously. Hermione's brown eyes continuously flickered between Harry and Draco, and Harry only noticed then how Draco's body was curved slightly around Harry's, as if to protect him.
Of course. The last time she saw them together they hated each other and referred to the other by his last name. Now Harry trusted him with his life and depended on him more than he'd like to believe.
"Harry-" she started, tears swimming in her eyes at the sight of her best friend lying hospitalised. Harry didn't have to look in a mirror to know he looked as if he'd been to hell and back, all bloodshot eyes, translucent skin and dark rings under his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she cried, rushed to his side, wringing her hands fretfully. Draco hovered in the background uncertainly, looking to Harry for confirmation that Hermione's presence was okay. Harry gave him a tiny nod, probably imperceptible to anyone else, but Draco saw it immediately and turned sharply on his heel.
"I should have done more! I should have broke into your house when you wouldn't let me in, I should have stopped you when I could!" Hermione moaned, tears gushing down her face.
"This is all my fault! I've been such a poor friend to you Harry, I should have done more, and I was so worried when you didn't answer my calls this last month-"
Harry held up his hand to stop her, and then silently put it in hers. She took it gratefully and gave it a small squeeze with a watery smile. She sat there all day, holding his hand, apparently not wishing to move, even though Harry wasn't up to talking. He did watch though.
When he wasn't watching Hermione, he was watching Draco Malfoy pace restlessly up and down the ward, shooting Hermione daggers.
Or more specifically, glaring at the hand of Harry's that was enfolded in her own - long, frustrated glares that Harry wished he knew the meaning behind.
.-.
It had been a very long day for Draco Malfoy.
Ever since that stupid Mudblood Granger had arrived she had been nothing but a fucking nuisance.
First, she had the audacity to question his word, he, Potter's Healer, as if being an insufferable swot made her more knowledgable on rehabilitation than he was.
Then she had bloody distressed Potter, his patient, who had been doing so well recently and was becoming more and more talkative and less and less reclusive.
She had probably forced him straight back into the protective shell he his from the world in, that Draco had worked so hard to get him out of.
Draco huffed irritably as he paced past Harry's bed once more.
The part that really annoyed him was how she sat silently by his bed, clutching his hand possessively.
Draco was so used to being the only one who paid attention to Potter, the only one to touch him that it stirred up unusual possessive feelings watching someone sit in the seat by Potter's bed - what he called his seat- for hours on end, keeping Potter company.
He was extremely reluctant to let someone else keep Potter company; for the last month the only person to do that had been Draco.
Good grief, Draco, what have you done? he thought to himself ruefully.
You're definitely in over your head now.
Never before had he felt so possessive over a patient.
He was a Malfoy; for the main part he was detached and cool, even towards patients he kept a certain distance.
They would come and go, and life would go on.
But of course Potter would be the exception. He always had been, as far as Draco's attitude towards people was concerned.
And now he was far too involved.
Trouble was, he mused as he glanced at Harry on his next pace past, he didn't know how to detach himself from this boy.
How to stop caring about him more than he had for any other patient.
More than any Healer was supposed to care about a patient.
He dropped his head into his hands.
Yes, he was definitely in too deep now.
"Healer Malfoy? What on earth is wrong?" A voice boomed near his ear, and Draco jumped. Scowling, he saw his Head of Department, Healer Schintzvell striding over, and he resisted the urge to run away.
He loathed this man and his patronising, controlling manner.
Draco Malfoy had never tolerated being controlled.
"Can I have a word?" Schintzvell asked before Draco could answer his question, in the type of tone that suggested that 'no' was not an option.
Draco gave him a curt nod, and his eyes flickered briefly to Harry, for reassurance that he was doing alright, before he followed the dark haired Healer out of the ward and into his office.
The door slammed behind him with a bang at a lazy flick of Schintzvell's wand, and Draco narrowed his eyes at the careless rude manner.
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly. Unlike his father, he was never one for fake politeness.
Schintzvell indicated he should sit down, but Draco declined, standing stiffly by the door, his wand clenched behind his back.
The man indicated the newspaper on his desk, and Draco did not need to look too closely to know what the headline said.
HARRY POTTER 'CRITICALLY ILL' IN HOSPITAL
"I've seen it." Draco said shortly. He wondered briefly if Schintzvell was angry at the him for Harry's condition being exposed, but he could hardly imagine that was the case.
"It's all very good publicity, you know." Schintzvell said conversationally, and Draco's head snapped up to stare at him.
"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. A small smile hooked the corner of Schintzvell's mouth.
"Having the famous Harry Potter cared for in our ward... it's very good for business."
Draco stared at him coldly.
"I suppose." he said in a flat tone when Schintzvell looked at him expectantly.
"It was only revealed thanks to a Miss Chang... and I bet she got a pretty price for the information. It got me thinking - and I'm sure you'll agree - it would be extremely beneficial to the department and it's funding if we could make some well-meaning money out of this scenario..."
"Excuse me?" Draco asked slowly, fury building up in his chest.
"Well if the newspapers started printing more about Harry Potter, exclusive things, you know the type, things only close friends would know... well the person who told them would be... very well rewarded, if you know what I mean."
"I'm sure I don't." Draco managed to spit out acidly.
Even his childhood of backstabbing and spiteful secret telling did not protect him from the shock of what he was hearing.
Schintzvell leaned further over the desk, his eyes gleaming.
"Don't play the fool, Malfoy. Do not think I haven't noticed how close you and Potter are. This is perfect. Extract some nuggets of rare information and tell me them. One by one we'll sell them to the Daily Prophet." he grinned wickedly.
"Our vaults in Gringotts will be fuller within an hour."
"I thought it was for departmental funding?" Draco somehow achieving sarcasm when he was shaking with fury.
Schintzvell winked as he said, "Yes, departmental funding, that's right."
The casual greediness made something snap inside Draco, and the composure he'd been trying to maintain broke.
"And what if I don't want to sell Potter's secrets to the press?" Draco asked, icy fury colouring every word.
Schintzvell's face hardened immediately and he smirked menacingly.
"You'll lose your position at the hospital, of course. I'll report you for indecent behaviour towards patients, therefore making sure you won't get another decent job in your lifetime. Then I think I'll cast a dirty great memory charm, to wipe out all your precious memories. But if I'm feeling particularly mean-"
His smile widened.
"- I'll just kill you."
I hate Dramione.
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