DRACO

"So I told Ron," Harry said, approaching the Slytherin boy's bed in the Hospital Wing, alone.

Draco sighed. He didn't need to ask to know exactly what it was that Harry had told his best mate. "And did he take it well?" he ventured to ask.

Harry grinned. "He did, actually."

"Well that's a relief," Draco muttered, then groaned and collapsed back on his pillows.

Over the last few days, his condition had been improving as his various broken bones had healed and his constant headache had waned. But whatever potion Madam Pomfrey had given him that day was revoking all this progress, and made him feel downright miserable.

"Do you know any pain relieving spells?" Draco beseeched, his eyes shut tight against the pounding of his head.

"Yes." There was a bitter edge to Harry's tone. Draco decided not to push.

He opened one eye and looked at Harry inquiringly. "Can you—?"

"Yeah." Harry started to move forward, then stopped hesitantly. "Will it, erm—will it affect the potion in any way?" he asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, Potter. Didn't you learn anything in potions? Spells can only affect potions while they're brewing or change the effects after being put to use. Which is exactly what I want. Now hurry up!"

Harry did what he was told. Raising his wand, he muttered a quick spell. Instantly, the pain faded. Draco sighed in relief. "Much better."

He opened his eyes to see Harry staring at him, green eyes boring into his gray ones. Something inside Draco bubbled up at this, but he forced in down. Still, the intensity of Harry's gaze left him without words as he stared back, frozen, heart pounding and mind blank.

After a long while, Harry spoke, his voice soft and low.

"Draco— " he began, but at that moment, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened, and Ginny Weasley hobbled in, limping and cursing.

Harry and Draco snapped their gazes away from each other, focusing instead on the newcomer. When she saw them, her face broke into a smile and she stumbled over.

Oh dear, Draco thought.

"Hey Harry, Draco!" Ginny said brightly. She tilted her head amicably towards the two boys. "Glad to see you two finally getting along."

You won't be for long, said his mind.

Harry, however, seemed overjoyed. "Hey Ginny! What happened?" He gestured towards her injured foot.

"Accident on the Quidditch pitch," she replied. "It's just twisted. Nothing too bad." She made an ugly face at her ankle.

"Speaking of Quidditch, how's the team going? That last defeat against Ravenclaw— " Harry shook his head morosely.

Ginny sighed. "Yeah... It's not as good without you on it, of course. But we're improving. Honestly though, with the drama going on between the players— " she sighed exasperatedly. "I sometimes want to hit Gardner and Kootes over the head with their brooms. You don't know it, but you really made the right decision not to play this year."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey shuffled out of her office, realizing she had another patient. While Ginny was being distracted by the nurse's deploring of her so-called 'recklessness', Draco tugged on Harry's arm to get his attention.

He turned, looking at him questioningly. Purposefully, Draco looked between him and Ginny, a question in his eyes. This only seemed to confuse Harry more. Shaking his head, he turned away, to Draco's dismay. Slightly irritated and very worried, he too turned his attention back to the red-headed Weasley girl.

Madam Pomfrey had finished mending Ginny's leg. Presently, she forced her to sit in the bed beside theirs, giving she and Harry a chance to talk.

At first, Draco tried to track their conversation, but eventually he gave up. Harry and Ginny spoke of many things: Life at 'The Burrow', the Order of the Phoenix, the Chudley Cannons—in short, things Draco either didn't know or didn't care about at all. However, throughout the entire exchange, Draco was on edge, hoping against hope that Ginny wasn't smart enough to figure it out—

While the two Gryffindors talked, Madam Pomfrey fretted, forcing Ginny to drink potions, performing various healing spells, and generally worrying far too much. Harry and Ginny did their best to continue talking around the nurse's limbs.

As the discussion went on, Draco started to get impatient. Just when he was ready to chuck the redhead bodily from the room, she did the job for him.

"Well, I'd better get back to practice," she told them. Then, with a small wave farewell, she exited.

Madam Pomfrey watched her go, then turned to them. "You have five minutes," she told Harry sternly, then left for her office.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Draco turned to Harry.

"I can't believe— " he said to Harry, staring at him with wide eyes. "I mean, I never imagined— "

"What?" said Harry, looking thoroughly confused. "And what were you fidgeting about?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then frowned. "I wasn't fidgeting."

"Yeah, you were." Harry cocked his head to the side. "What's up?"

Draco gaped at him. How could he be so calm? "Harry," he told him, "you're cheating on your girlfriend!"

Almost as soon as he'd said it, he realized what it implied. His cheeks turned tomato red. Did he really consider Harry to be his—He couldn't even think of the word.

He wanted to apologize, wanted to take his words back and say that he hadn't been thinking, but, before he could, Harry laughed.

"Oh," he said between chuckles. "You thought—of course. I didn't tell you."

He looked him in the eye, amused. "Ginny and I aren't together anymore. We split almost a month ago."

"But— " Draco struggled to find words— "when she came in, you seemed so happy— "

"We haven't spoken to each other since then," Harry explained. "I was just relieved she didn't hate me."

"Oh," said Draco, feeling stupider by the minute. Of course the great Harry Potter wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend. He was too noble. Draco was a fool for thinking he would.

Harry frowned, as though a thought had occurred to him. "Hang on... You wouldn't have gone along with it, would you?"

Draco was silent.

Harry stared at him. "What? Why would you ever— "

"I wouldn't," Draco interrupted, and it was the truth. "I just— "

He broke off there, irresolute. Why wouldn't he cheat? After some careful thinking, he spoke slowly, deliberating every word.

"I wouldn't," he began, "but I would wait. I would want to see how things played out. But if it went on—No, I wouldn't go along with it then."

For a moment, Harry stared at him, expressionless, and Draco worried that he'd said the wrong thing. But then Harry's face broke out into a grin.

"You are such a Slytherin," he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "But okay."

Draco almost sighed aloud in relief, but, before he could say another word, Madam Pomfrey came out to shove Harry away.

"Oh, come on— " Harry protested, but she wouldn't hear it.

"Absolutely not, young man," she reprimanded. "I said five minutes, and you've had almost ten. Out!"

Harry obeyed her and left, grumbling a bit.

Draco watched him leave, then sank back into his pillows. "How much longer will I be here?" he asked Madam Pomfrey morosely.

"With enough bed rest, you'll be out by tomorrow morning," she replied.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he moaned, causing her to purse her lips with disapproval.

"No complaining, young man," she scolded. "Now take this." She held out a spoonful of potion.

Draco gulped the liquid down, and almost immediately drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

As promised, he was released from the Hospital Wing early the next morning. Since he had been fed breakfast in bed and had his first period free, he quickly headed to The Room of Requirement, which he had sort of adopted as his 'safety zone'. He found this a little strange, because, after everything that had happened in sixth year, even he thought that he would have found the place appalling. But he couldn't bring himself to hate the place, though he had no desire to enter the room where the Vanishing Cabinet had once stood. He doubted much remain after the fiendfyre, anyway.

Upon arrival to his 'safety zone', he immediately dumped his school bad (which he had previously grabbed from the Slytherin eighth years' dorm) on a nearby table and collapsed on a sofa near the crackling fire. With a sigh, he buried his head in his hands and laid there, half-asleep for almost his entire free period.

When he figured he had about ten minutes until the bell rang, he forced himself to his feet and reached for his bag—but a voice from behind made him freeze in terror.

"Don't leave just yet, boy. I have a bone to pick with you."

Ice coated his veins. Slowly, mechanically like a puppet on a string, he turned to the fire. There; amongst the flames, was him. Even with the dirty, stringy hair, gaunt face, and paler-than-usual features, there was no mistaking him.

"Father," Draco breathed.

Lucious Malfoy grinned maniacally. "Surprised to see me? I suppose they wouldn't have told you I was free, given your present loyalties— "

"I— " Draco stammered, eyes wide with what he hoped Lucius thought was only astonishment and not fear. "You're free?"

His father's grin turned malicious. "Free and thriving," he said with twisted joy.

"But— " Draco struggled to think of what to say. "But—How?"

"I had help," Lucius admitted.

"Macnair?" Draco guessed, but his father hissed in disapproval.

"Macnair doesn't have the brains to spell the word 'escape'," he snarled. "No, not him."

"Then who?" Draco asked, but he was met with only a laugh.

"Ah, boy! There was once a time when I would have told you!" said Lucius, still grinning. "But alas, as your friends Pansy and Blaise have told me the truth— "

"They're with you?" Draco asked, shocked. Somewhere in the distance of the castle, the bell rang.

"Not at the moment, no," the man replied. "But they have told me valuable things, Draco! Very valuable, indeed... "

Draco paled. So his father knew. Of course he knew. But he forced himself to stay calm and steady, even if the room seemed to be spinning around him.

"I don't regret leaving," he told his father quietly.

Lucius's grin disappeared. "But you will," he assured him.

Draco stayed silent, looking his father in the eye with what he hoped was cool indifference.

"It's not too late," Lucius told him softly, and for a moment he seemed almost fatherly, human. "You can help us. I can help you. We would have fame, riches, glory—whatever you want, you'll have it."

Draco stared at him. Hearing his fathers words, he thought of a cheering crowd, screaming his name as he walked onstage. He thought of a pile of gold beside another pile of gifts, all his. He thought of himself standing on a raised platform, almost like a mountain, lifting a golden trophy in triumph—

And then he thought of his mother, alone and drinking her sorrows away. He thought of his new friends: Hermione, Harry—even Ron. Lastly, he thought of a vision in a mirror, and a pale, unblemished arm.

And as much as it sickened him, as much as he trembled at the thought of what he was about to do, he leveled Lucius Malfoy with a cool, calculating stare devoid of fear.

"No," he said, his voice level and cold. "I'm good."

Shock flitted across Lucius's features, and he bared his teeth. "You don't know just how big of a mistake you've made, boy."

Draco lifted his chin. "I don't think I have, actually."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his son, he expression almost bloodthirsty. Draco tried hard not to tremble.

Then, softly, Lucius snarled, "Interesting letter, by the way. Did you get my reply?"

There was a pop, and he was gone.

Draco's vision turned white. Immediately, he stumbled to the door. He threw it open—only to meet Harry's surprised look, fist raised to knock, Ron and Hermione flanking him.

"I need you," Draco chocked out, and, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and pulled him inside, slamming the door on Ron's and Hermione's stunned faces.

"Draco—?" Harry began, but he was cut off by Draco smashing his lips against his.

Harry relaxed against him, kissing him back, and for a single, blissful moment, Draco's mind was mercifully blank. But then Harry was gently pushing him away, speaking in low, hushed tones.

"Woah. Slow down," he said, grabbing Draco's shoulders and turning him so that he could see his face. His brows were creased with worry. "What happened?"

Draco felt slightly embarrassed for throwing himself onto Harry like he had. Nevertheless, he pushed his emotions aside as he recounted the tale; How his father had appeared in the fireplace, his claims of having been freed with the help of a mysterious new Death Eater, Pansy and Blaise, Lucius's offer, and finally, Draco's refusal.

With each word, Draco felt more and more sick. When he finished, he was about to vomit in a corner. But Harry's hand on his shoulder steadied him, preventing the contents of his stomach from spewing onto the floor—yet.

Harry stared at him, frowning. Quietly, he asked, "But, do you regret saying no?" He sounded hesitant.

Draco shook his head. "No. I definitely don't regret it."

Harry's frown deepened. "But then, why so—?" He gestured at Draco with his free hand.

"Upset?" Draco ventured, his anger flaring.

Harry nodded.

"Because he's my father!" Draco cried. "I thought that would've been fairly obvious— "

"Yeah, sorry," said Harry with a grimace. "That was a stupid thing to say."

Draco sighed, calming himself. "No, it—it's fine."

"Well, you did the right thing," Harry said after a pause.

"The right thing?" Draco cried, now feeling anxious. "He's my father!"

"That doesn't mean you always have to follow his path," Harry argued.

Draco scoffed. "Easy for you to say. Your family's a saint."

"Are you kidding me?" Harry cried. "No! My aunt and uncle hate me!"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Harry gulped, seeming to deflate before Draco's eyes. "It—it doesn't matter. My point is that— "

"Harry."

"—they're not the best of people— "

"Harry."

"—and, I dunno— "

"Harry!"

Harry stopped. "What?"

Draco glared at him. "Tell me."

Harry sighed. "It's not a big deal. They locked me in the cupboard where u slept when I was younger. They forgot to feed me sometimes. They tried to 'stamp the wizard' out of me. They told everyone that I went to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys when I was at Hogwarts. Things like that."

Harry shrugged, looking up at Draco, his expression worryingly nonchalant. Draco gaped at him in horror.

"They made you sleep in a cupboard," he breathed.

Harry's brows creased in confusion. "Erm—yes."

"They made you sleep in a cupboard," he repeated.

Harry nodded. "Yeah... That's what I said, right?"

Draco shook his head fervently. "That's not—I mean—Merlin, this is why you're not in Ravenclaw."

Chuckling darkly, he reached behind himself and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. His urge to vomit had vanished.

"I'm ready," he told Harry, heading for the door. Before he left, however, he paused, turned, and pulled Harry into another kiss.

"We're talking about this later," he muttered against his lips, "but thank you."

Then he turned and opened the doors wide, joining Ron and Hermione outside and leaving Harry, gobsmacked, behind.