Ron was feeling the pressure of the win until after the first one happened, and then he was thrilled. Harry, however, had other things on his mind. First and foremost, confronting his fears and talking to Draco again. If Draco knew he had been assaulted – if soft kisses in a soft bed can be called assaulted – then Draco might also know who had done it. Chances were that he knew anyway just for being the lead Slytherin. Either way, he was the only one with answers.
Every time Harry saw him across the Great Hall or in class, Draco either ignored him or laughed at his expense, but there was one thing that was certain: he never talked about what happened to Harry that night, but he had said he knew. Oh yes, he did know; but he never talked about it. Was he ashamed of himself, or was he disgusted by what one of his friends had done?
Draco caught him looking at him a few times. Harry did it carefully – during tests and meals while there were familiar people to look at beside him. It slowly got to the point that Draco was becoming annoyed with him. That's what Harry took a semi-pleasure in. It was a sick sort of revenge towards his school-yard nemesis; get under his skin as he'd done to get under Harry's the past five and a half years.
Sixteen-year-old Draco was a lot different than the eleven-year-old he used to know. That young man was hot-headed and never ending. This one was stand-offish and secretive. Harry was quite good about tracking him on the Murader's map, and in fact got him cornered before he was well prepared for it.
Bathroom, fourth floor, during his Transfiguration lesson and Draco's Advanced Rune lesson. Harry left his bag and his coat in the room, and wove his way to that bathroom on shaky legs. He rushed there, held his hand to the doorknob until he saw the little dot that was Draco emerge from the stall of the toilet, and then he turned it. Harry had never noticed any door in Hogwarts to be too heavy or to make too much noise, but this one did. The old oak even appeared less glossy than most doors. It was fitting, really.
Draco hadn't even gotten to wash his hands yet. He stopped moving when he saw Harry enter the room, lean his back to the door, and lock it with a twist of his fingers. The sound was heard by both.
If Harry could take this moment back and forget he ever tried to talk to Draco, he would have. He hated what he was doing. He stared fine enough, but his body was aching. His legs stills shook.
"I want to talk to you," Harry said.
Draco took two full breaths before he turned away from Harry and went to the sink to wash his hands. He stared at him through the mirror, though, a frown on his lips and a tweak between his eyes. The water ran fast and loud and Draco scrubbed hard.
"Malfoy," Harry said, when Draco still hadn't talked, "tell me again that you know what happened to me."
The water turned off. Harry might have thought he was in this room alone for all the talking Draco was doing. He went to the towel and dried his hands, now facing away from Harry and with no mirror to watch him in.
Harry stepped away from the door and up to him. Close…closer. He was a breath away and Harry gently gripped his shoulder and turned him. Draco glared.
"What have you heard?" Harry asked, wishing Draco would tell him truth, but knowing that –
"Why are you still on this, Potter? You were attacked in the hospital ward…" his blue eyes flinched ever-so slightly, "…raped, had a nervous breakdown and went to St. Mungo's."
Harry took his hand off Draco's shoulder and ran it through his own hair, distressed. That's not what happened! Why didn't Draco know the truth? Why wasn't he telling him what really happened?
Harry shook his head and felt his stomach cramp.
Draco unexpectedly tossed the rag he held on the floor and gripped Harry's lapels, twisting him around so he was pressed against the sink's edge. Harry gasped and dug his fingers into Draco's wrists.
Draco yelled, with fire in his eyes, "Now leave me alone about it, Potter! I didn't have anything to do with it! I don't know why you want it to be me who raped you – what sort of sick fantasy you have going on in your head about what will happen now!"
Draco let him go, but kept at it right in Harry's face. "I don't know what happened to you to make you this way, but stop staring at me, stop blaming me, and stop thinking that I love you!"
Harry was startled a moment later when Draco wasn't in his face; he'd turned around to leave. Harry, quickly, throat caught with a sob, said, "I want to know if you know who took the Polyjuice!"
In mid-exasperation Draco stopped just a hair away from the door.
"You have to tell me if you know!"
Draco shook his head.
"You have to tell me!"
"No I don't!" Draco yelled, turning around now.
Harry walked forward, hands held up indicating his plea.
"Do this!" He urged, beseeching with his eyes onto Draco's own. He wished he didn't notice how handsome that face was right now. "You – basically can see – how this ruined my life. I need to know who it was!"
"You want revenge, don't you?" He asked.
Harry swallowed, shook his head. "I don't know."
Draco glared, but as the moments added together it was clear he was willing to say something about it. A few moments more and Draco's face had all but become someone else's entirely. He was compliant and a little worried. His eyes wondered the walls for a moment before they landed back on Harry.
"I wish it had been you," Harry said quietly, when Draco still didn't speak.
His surprise and disgust was of course expected. Harry went ahead and told him why.
"Because I thought it was you from the very beginning," he said, "the person showed me a Slytherin Prefect badge; what was I supposed to think? All this time I thought it was you, and so I've had the time to think about it…and…I guess…forgive a little."
Draco couldn't really believe that.
"Forgive? Forgive the person who did that to you?"
Harry shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling exposed. "No. Forgive you. I thought it was you. If it's anyone else I…" Harry took a deep breath. "…don't know if I can forgive just anyone. I think I needed it to be you."
Draco huffed, took a moment to digest what Harry said, and then looked him square in the eyes and said, "It wasn't me, and I'm not going to tell you who I think it was, either."
Harry was suddenly angry. "Tell me!"
Draco shook his head and took a step back. "I don't even know for sure! I'm not going to spread rumors so you can take the information to Dumbledore and cause Gryffindor trouble."
"Please?" Harry begged, voice quiet.
Draco scoffed. "Never, Potter. Just forget it. I'll never help you."
When Draco left the bathroom, Harry went into the furthest stall, pulled his legs up, closed his eyes, and wished he was back at Smeltings.
There would still be snow on the ground over there, and the sprinting team might still be running the halls. Kenny would be in class and focusing on his homework, watching out for all the kids under his care. His room would be missing the bed Harry had used to sleep in, replaced with the dresser that was crowded in the corner. Marty would be chatting with bullies and the principal would be basking in the scene of his proper Muggle boys.
Harry never would see Dudley in this Great Hall, or around the halls to protect him. Hogwarts just wasn't the place it used to be.
Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes to see the dark wooden stall. He'd started crying and wiped those tears away now. He looked down on the tiled floor and saw his wand there; it'd fallen out of his robes.
He hated what magic could do. It caused this war and it caused him to be hurt. In a lot of ways he wished he could just break that wand, but he knew it was partly the powerful tool that allowed him to survive Voldemort's attacks.
Harry put a leg down and reached for the wand, then pulled himself back up tightly onto the toilet seat. The wand was a familiar feeling in his hand. He touched the tip of it, examining it closely, and did the unthinkable with it: he put the tip just barely in his mouth.
Suicide by wand, he thought to himself, and closed his eyes. He let his tongue moisten the tip of it. People do this all the time. Just one quick spell…
Harry opened his eyes and put his wand back in his robes. He stood up and he washed his face and he walked back to class. He tried to forget he'd ever done what he just did.
