Harry felt it like a jolt up his spine: one moment he was perfectly as usual, weary but somewhat attentive in Muggle Studies, the next there was a cold pit developing in the very centre of his stomach and spreading fast.
He sat straight up, gasping, blanching, and dropped his quill.
"Mate? Harry?"
Ron was off his side of the bench in a flash and kneeling by Harry's side, knocking a comfortingly broad shoulder into him.
"Harry? Harry. What's wrong, mate? Talk to me! Is it the baby?"
Harry blinked, feeling his fingers and toes curl at the interminable cold filling him, feeling the hairs on his skin stand up and freeze—feeling the whole entire world ice over, frigid and blue-grey and dull. "Nuh…" he managed, his hand planted protectively over that part of him. The new one. "Nh!"
No—this pain was centred well above that place. And it wasn't a pain, so much, as simply cold. The cold of shock, of fear—of ripped-raw terror. His lips curled back of their own volition as he grimaced at it, the 'fight' part of him, the Gryffindor, finally kicking in.
"Harry? Harry! Do you need Pomfrey? I'll fetch her—"
"No…no. Don't, Ron, not yet," Harry gathered himself to beg his friend, a monumental effort with his tongue frozen solid, his lips as stiff as they were. "Headmistress…find her. Get McGonagall for me. Something's happened to Malfoy—I know it."
"Har—"
"Go! Now, Ron—just go! It's important!"
"But, mate!" Ron, casting a frantic look at Harry, hesitated. "I can't just—"
"Ple—"
"No!" A female voice at Harry's back interjected fiercely. "No, Weasley! You go on, get out of here, scram. Do what Potter wants, won't you? I'll stay with him. I'll watch over him for you. He'll be all right—I'll make sure of it."
"But I—but you—oh, fuck me! Going!" Ron flung up his broad hands, dithered for one second longer and at Harry's anguished stare, fled as if all four winds were carrying him, pell-mell out the door and skidding towards the upper stories.
"Potter?"
Harry became aware of that same female voice—he knew it pretty well these days, unfortunately—nagging at him.
"Potter! Pay attention!"
"Er? Eh?" He turned his head, feeling as if it might just snap, his skin was so stiff—so cold. Oh, fuck, he was colder than an icecap, an ice lolly, a—
"Where's Draco—Potter!" Parkinson demanded of him, from where she was kneeling. "Where's Draco today? Do you know?"
"No, no, no," Harry moaned, curling in on himself. If he didn't he was afraid the baby would freeze, too. "No!"
"You don't?" Parkinson sounded shocked. "But he always tells—"
"NO!" Harry roared, uncurling, snapping spine straight again with a howl and snarl. "I know—I do know. Fuck this, I don't what's happening—he's in Town. He went to Mungo's; I dunno why. God's bloody fuck, Pansy—get him back!"
"Mr Potter, language!"
McGonagall was abruptly right there, standing over him, a hand going protectively to his nape. "Gather yourself up, Harry—hold on. I'm here—we're all here for you. What can we do?"
"Malfoy. Draco. I need Malfoy. Something's wrong, and I need him. Get me there, Minerva—make it happen!"
"Mate, mate," Ron crooned, and Harry was up and off the bench at last, moving. "I'll take you, right now, I promise. Headmistress, can we Apparate?"
"Go ahead—please Merlin, do go ahead, dear," McGonagall waved her wand, and Hogwarts-the-Castle hummed about them, high and deep, almost moaning. "It's highly unusual, but in these circumstances—oh, do be careful, boys!"
"Mungo's!" Ron's voice was solid and stead and sure. Harry leaned into him, his hand never leaving his belly, never leaving his baby, curled tight and pressing in deeply, as he could reach right on through and make it know it was all right—
All right—NO. It wasn't. It so wasn't.
And there was that pitch Harry had been hearing, deep in his brain this whole time. A keening, as if something—something horrible had happened. Wards were ripped asunder, charms frayed to cinders—a world was in danger.
"Now, Harry." And his best mate was a solid mass by his side, warm as nothing was warm inside Harry, but still not Malfoy. Harry needed Malfoy, right now. "We're going no—"
And they did.
