A/N: I am an awful writer. It's been over two months since I last updated. I hate to use this as an excuse but real life really does get in the way :/ It may be a while before I can get the next one out, but since this chapter is written, I might as well let you all read it.
I'd also like to thank everyone who reviews this fic - you lovely people have given me over 100 reviews! :D
Chapter Twenty-One
"You couldn't...? But – damn it."
Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "What can I say? He jumped from the Astronomy Tower. I can only assume that Mr Potter's Incarcerous wasn't quite as effective as he'd thought."
Harry blinked tiredly and rubbed his eyes. He glanced from the Auror to the motherly witch, a small frown furrowing his brow. "There's still Carrow," he said flatly.
It didn't bother him at all that Dolohov was dead. In fact, he found it quite satisfying; the only fate that he thought the Death Eater had been more deserving of was the Dementor's Kiss. He satisfied himself with the knowledge that Alecto Carrow, once all her knowledge had been wrung from her, would suffer that fate instead.
Bellatrix Lestrange, however, had been subjected to the Kiss as soon as she could be taken somewhere secure. Harry had never approved of keeping the Dementors on at Azkaban, but this was the best justification for it he could see. If she'd gotten away with a mad leap off the Astronomy Tower, he thought he might have had to follow her in shame. In fact, having her soul leeched out of her body was possibly not even horrific enough to make up for what she'd done – but Harry doubted there was anything that was.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," the Auror sighed. He was the one who appeared to be in charge of this whole disaster. Harry felt sorry for him; this had hardly gone according to plan, after all. Death Eaters hiding in the Forbidden Forest and attacking students on his watch were hardly likely to advance his career.
The witch nodded brusquely but her tone was sympathetic. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you better news."
"No, no, it's not your fault," the man replied tired, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. Thank you for your time."
Harry watched the man leave with a small scowl on his face. When the doors to the hospital wing were closed, he turned to Madam Pomfrey, who was working efficiently over Draco Malfoy.
"When do you think he'll wake up?" he asked her earnestly.
She turned to him, pausing in her efforts to roll her eyes. "Mr Potter, it's only been three days. Have some patience; Mr Malfoy lost a lot of blood and his recovery will be slow." She frowned. "And won't you please take one of the beds, if you insist on staying here? Sleeping in the chair cannot be remotely comfortable."
Harry gave her a small smile. She'd been asking that of him ever since the first night; he just couldn't bear to be any further away from the blonde than he had to be. Irrationally, he still felt as if his job wasn't finished, that he was still required to protect Malfoy. "Sorry," he told her wryly.
With another roll of her eyes, she hurried away, no doubt to attend to one of her other patients.
Harry turned to look at the sleeping blonde. Malfoy looked unbelievably fragile, his pale skin so lacking in colour that if it hadn't been for the slow rise and fall of his chest, Harry might have thought he was a corpse. The only signs of life other than breathing had been the occasional twitch of his fingers, and small sounds of discomfort; Harry didn't bother reporting these to Madam Pomfrey any more. It was too much like the boy who cried wolf, and she'd asked him several times by now to stop being so melodramatic and leave her alone.
However, at least everyone had given up trying to pry him from Malfoy's side. Several times on the first day, Aurors had attempted to pull him away for questioning, and every time he'd refused to move further than a couple of metres away, only consenting to travel that distance for fear of disturbing the sleeping Slytherin. They had no real reason to complain about that, but Harry felt that it had annoyed them, and the following two days they hadn't tried such a thing. He didn't care. He'd told them everything he remembered the first time he'd spoken to them, and couldn't understand why there'd been such an insistence to go back for more, as if they thought he was withholding information.
The media were even more distraught. Madam Pomfrey adamantly refused to let any reporters or photographers into the hospital wing, and Harry refused to leave; all the unfortunate souls who'd been hoping for an interview were utterly disappointed. Harry had managed to get hold of the Daily Prophet the day after the event and was not surprised to note that the Death Eaters at Hogwarts story had taken over the front page in a big way. With a disgusted noise at the way he'd been painted – "Boy Who Lived saves school again, in a heroic rescue and brave battle against former supports of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" – he'd thrown the paper onto the table by the side of Malfoy's hospital bed and not picked it up since, using it instead as a coaster for the jug of water kept there.
Ron and Hermione had also visited frequently. They appeared almost every mealtime to bring him food, with bright smiles and the occasional mention of what was happening in the rest of the school that he was so oblivious to. They always enquired cautiously into Malfoy's condition, although from the expression on Ron's face, he hadn't really meant it when he'd declared that he hoped the blonde woke up soon. Harry found he didn't mind; he was just thankful that they no longer tried to persuade him to return to lessons or the common room with them. Ever since he'd shattered one of the windows in a burst of temper, even Hermione had decided it was better off to leave it.
Malfoy's own friends had been a lot less generous with their time, although with the blonde unconscious, Harry supposed he didn't expect them to spend all that much time in the hospital wing with just him as company. The half an hour or so they'd spent by Malfoy's side had been a very strange experience. Although he'd backed away a safe distance, kept the bed as a buffer between him and the Slytherins and buried his nose in the nearest book he could find, it was still somewhat awkward. In fact, from the moment he'd seen Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson approaching, Harry had steeled himself automatically for a fight or an argument, sure that they wouldn't appreciate his presence there but convinced that nothing would make him shift.
But while Parkinson had glared viciously at him the entire time, Zabini had actually given him a smile, offered congratulations and thanked him. "Oh, and Potter," he'd added seriously, "Draco will be more grateful than either of you realise when he wakes up. Remember that." And then he'd pulled Parkinson out of the hospital wing, leaving behind the card and chocolates they'd brought for Malfoy without waiting for a reply. Harry had reflected in bemusement that Slytherins were really very strange and he was extremely glad he'd persuaded the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor.
Harry shook his head at the thought, giving a small snort of laughter, followed by a sigh. He leant forward in his chair towards Malfoy. With a frown, he tentatively brushed a strand of blonde hair out of the Slytherin's face, seeing yet again how vulnerable he looked in sleep and feeling unable to decide whether or not that was a good thing. He was so used to seeing that face alive, proud and haughty, that a childlike, innocent-looking Draco Malfoy seemed fundamentally wrong somehow. And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but register that without the sneer, Malfoy really was quite beautiful.
Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange had deserved everything she'd gotten, and more. Seeing Malfoy's fragile form, all but motionless, still suffering as he fought to recover... Harry thought the sight might even have convinced him to forgive himself if he had levelled something other than a Stunner at her.
"No one will hurt you again."
Harry was surprised by the intensity of his own voice. It was low and quiet, but so forceful he found it hard to believe it had come from him, unaffected by the sudden choking sensation of tears that he found was constricting his throat. His hand found the unresponsive blonde's, gripping it as hard as he dared without feeling like he would shatter the sleeping Malfoy, trying to impart the promise in every way he could. "Never again."
"I'm glad to see you aren't letting yourself get behind on schoolwork."
Harry looked up, jolted from the parchment he'd been poring over, to meet the steady gaze of Professor McGonagall. A small smile of amusement twitched at the corner of her mouth, and she looked down at him with an expression that was almost fond.
Harry nodded politely. "I don't have much else to do in here."
She inclined her head. "True. How is he?"
It took him a second to collect himself and realise to whom she was referring. "Oh – yes, he's recovering. He's still not woken up but Madam Pomfrey said that's to be expected, and that in a Muggle hospital it's likely he wouldn't have made it. He's had to take a lot of Blood-Replenishing Potion and his body still needs sleep to heal properly."
She nodded sedately and then sighed, lowering herself into the nearest chair even as she conjured a cushion for the seat a flick of with her wand. "Mr Potter, I believe apologies are in order."
Harry frowned. "Professor?"
McGonagall looked vaguely pained. "I assured you that I would keep a close eye on Mr Malfoy. As proved, however," she gestured widely, "I have apparently not done my job."
He started to reply. "No, I don't think –"
She raised one hand to silence him, and Harry's sentence cut off. "I promise that I will not be so foolish again. The culprit within school will find themselves with more detentions than they know what to do with. I only wish that the task of taking on the real danger hadn't fall to yourself."
Harry gave her a tired smile. "It really doesn't matter, Professor. I wouldn't have believed me, either."
McGonagall frowned, lifting her chin regally. "I fear that Albus would have seen sense. He always trusted you and I made the near-fatal mistake – for Mr Malfoy, at least – of underestimating you. I'm sorry for that."
A wave of gratitude swept over him at her words, and Harry just smiled again to convey his acceptance.
"Of course, you have yet again broken school rules," she continued, one eyebrow raised, but the corner of her lip quirked and softened the severe expression. "However, I believe it would be appropriate to waive your punishment, in light of what you have achieved. Mr Potter, you have done Hogwarts yet another great service. Duelling three fully-grown Dark wizards is not something that most witches or wizards your age would have been capable of; I know your parents would have been proud, Harry."
"I hope so," Harry murmured thoughtfully. "Thank you, Professor." He added the last a little louder, with a polite glance in the Headmistress' direction. She returned the look before standing up and turning her gaze to the sleeping Draco Malfoy. McGonagall sighed.
"I had hoped the days of seeing Hogwarts students injured by dark forces were over. It seems I was wrong." She shook her head sadly.
"They'll be over now," Harry said confidently. "Now that the Death Eaters are gone – all the ones who were competent with a wand, anyway."
"For the sake of the school I pray you are correct." McGonagall fixed him with a beady gaze. "I doubt the governors will be happy with this."
Harry's eyes widened, the meaning in her words not escaping him. "They won't close Hogwarts, surely?"
Her sombre expression lifted and she gave him what could only be described as a grin. "I am sure, Mr Potter, that we will find the means to carry on. It's always been our way." Harry chuckled in agreement at that. "Anyway, I shall let both of you rest. Do get some sleep, and give Mr Malfoy my best wishes when he wakes."
And with a last nod towards Harry, and a smile for Madam Pomfrey who was at the other end of the hospital wing, McGonagall swept from the room.