The following two days physically hurt.
Draco and Parkinson did hex Zabini until he was incapable of using any of the five senses, but was far more attuned to his pain receptors than he had ever been before. Even then Nott had to single-handedly disarm Draco and punch Parkinson in the nose before he managed to get Zabini away from them and to the infirmary.
When he came back, he leant in the Common Room doorway and frowned at Draco and Pansy. His shoulders looked as though they were coiled with knots. Draco had fixed Pansy's nose, but it was still crusted with blood. "Why?" Nott asked. "She's not Slytherin."
"No one touches my friends," said Pansy.
Theo's tone was frosty. "She's nothing special."
Draco didn't know what it was about Bones that made people insanely loyal to her. It had crept up on him slowly. Probably on Parkinson too; but Pansy was loyal to anyone she considered a friend. She was just very careful in choosing friends.
Pansy lifted her chin and glared at Theo. "No one touches my friends."
Nott's shoulders bunched further, scowl deepening. "She's not one of us. She doesn't have the decency to be seen with Malfoy in public and you think she deserves our protection?"
Parkinson folded her arms, brows drawing together. "Obviously I do, or I wouldn't be protecting her."
Theo flashed his gaze to Draco. "And you? You wanted this. Why back out now?"
Draco leant back in his seat and glared at the ceiling, hands gripping the armrests so tightly that the edges of the faceted wood cut into his fingers.
Nott swept his gaze over him, lingering on his hands longer. He pushed himself off the door-frame and took a few hesitant steps forward finally. "You didn't want this?" His voice was uncertain; as though his view of Draco was shifting too fast for him to keep up with.
Draco didn't trust himself to speak. He tightened his fingers on the arm-rests, focussing on the pain in his hands, ignoring the rest of the world.
"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, why make Zabini think that you wanted to hurt her if you didn't?"
Draco launched himself out of the chair, pacing the length of the room. There were no words to explain something like that to Nott. Theo was too stupidly practical. He said what he meant and meant what he said. He never said stupid crap to blow off steam, or because he was hurt and there was no other way to say it.
Draco put a hand against the wall before pounding the bottom of his fist into it. His breathing was as erratic as his emotions. Even if he knew what to say he wouldn't try to speak. There was no way that he'd have any control over his voice right now.
Behind him Nott made a sharp sound. A choking sort of gasp.
Draco turned slowly. He had never heard a sound like that emerge from Nott. Parkinson was staring at Theo as well, brows knit in confusion. She followed Nott's gaze to Draco and raised her eyebrows in question.
Draco watched Nott, trying to figure him out.
"So that's how it is," said Nott. Draco couldn't read anything about him. The shoulders were tense; his tone was bleak as winter. "You're in love with her," said Nott, and that changed everything.
Draco reared back, shaking his head in shocked denial. He didn't let himself consider the comment. It was ludicrous. He wasn't…He couldn't be…
"Oh, come off it, Malfoy." Pansy's tone was weary. "You've been in love with her for weeks. Everyone knows." She squinted at his stunned expression. "Well, everyone but you knows."
"I didn't know," Nott pointed out, sounding as though the world was playing a nasty prank on him. He studied Draco, eyes stormy. "Really? Her? That fluffy bit of nothing?"
Draco's denial was as sharp as it had been the first time. "Don't be more ridiculous than you can help. Of course I'm not in…in…" He was never going to get that sentence out so he abandoned it for a new one. "If I was going to fall in love, I think I'd…" Choose someone who wanted him for himself – not for his name, money or connections? Choose someone who made him laugh even when he didn't want to? God damn it all, he was going to have to give up on that line of thinking as well. "She's not pretty," he said, voice cool and steady as though he was running through a mathematical formula. Not pretty did not appeal to the Malfoy bloodline. "She's quite interesting, I'll admit. But no one sets any store by interesting. Anyway, if I was in love with her, I would have forgiven her for being ashamed of me; and I haven't. I'm still furious. So I'll thank you to stop gossiping about my love life, Parkinson."
Pansy leant her head back against the wall and laughed, voice as hollow as Draco felt. He wished that she'd stop. What she'd said – however untrue – unsettled him. He needed quiet to regain his equilibrium.
"You haven't forgiven her," said Theo slowly, watching Draco as though he didn't trust him.
"Thank you, Nott." Draco was deeply relieved for that voice of sanity amongst the hordes of crazies. He knew that he'd befriended Nott for a reason.
What Nott said next shattered that reason. "You're still angry at her, but you didn't take up revenge when Zabini suggested it. And you weren't glad that he did it for you. Why weren't you glad, Malfoy? She hurt you, why didn't you go after her?"
It was times like these that Draco wished that he was more like Theo. If Nott had been asked that question, he could have quite honestly replied, 'Because I'm not a psychopath.' The words were there, hovering on the tip of Draco's tongue. But it wouldn't work; not with Pansy and Theo. Draco was fiercely protective of himself- of his boundaries. He didn't let people in often. If they hurt him when they were close, he destroyed them. No apologies, no second chances. Why hadn't he destroyed Bones?
"Who's everyone?" Draco asked finally, frost creeping into his voice. It didn't quite work. He still sounded quiet and defeated.
Parkinson frowned.
"You said everyone knows," said Draco sharply. "Who's everyone?"
Pansy winced. "The Slytherins, of course. We…Me, Bulstrode and Davies wondered how long it would be before Bones figured it out. She hasn't yet. She thinks it's just a crush. And you're not that nice to her, so I guess she doesn't think much of all of it."
"All of it?" echoed Draco.
"How you look at her," said Pansy. "How tense you get when you're waiting for her to get to the Common Room; how many times you check your watch. How careful you are about touching her – like you think you're doing it wrong – and how you react when she touches you. It's not any one thing, Malfoy."
Draco's hands were shaking so he closed them into fists. He hadn't known – or at least he'd never admitted it to himself, not even quietly like a secret. It must have been so obvious to everyone else though; how happy he'd been any time Bones was there. He took a breath and held it longer than it was comfortable. When he let it out, his resolve had solidified. "We'll not speak of this again." He heard his father in his voice; cold, disdainful.
"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy," said Nott, brows drawing together in frustration. "She's not a harpy. Go and talk to her."
"And say what?" demanded Draco.
"Whatever it takes. You're in love with her," said Nott, as though that mattered. As though that meant anything. If everything didn't hurt so damn much, Draco might have appreciated that Nott was putting his prejudices aside for Draco's sake.
Instead Draco laughed, even more hollow than Pansy. "What do you think that means now? She's never going to…" He forcibly stopped himself from speaking before he lost control of his voice. Taking a deep breath, he studied the wall past Theo's shoulder. "She'll never believe that Zabini slipped her something on his own. Zabini has no reason to hurt her. No one has any reason to hurt her…" he trailed off.
"Except you," said Pansy, her face ashen. She scowled and cursed violently and at length. "She was coming around," she said finally. "She missed you. I don't think she would have held out all that much longer."
Draco tried not to care, but the admission felt like a physical blow. It took everything he had not to double up under it. "Pretty sure that won't be a problem for her anymore."