Now I Know What Love is, Chapter 7-Love and Curse

Harry strode happily down the hallway to the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom one night after dinner. He was on his way to meet Draco, to be truly alone with him since their last meeting in the Shrieking Shack. The two boys were having more and more difficulty finding time to be together. The circle of friends around each was growing deeply suspicious. Draco had told him that even Crabbe and Goyle were beginning to suspect something was up.

Harry entered the deserted classroom, deep in his own thoughts. He was early, so Draco wouldn't be there yet. He walked absentmindedly to the large desk at the front of the room and hopped up on it, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, settling down to wait.

"Harry Potter!" a squeaky voice greeted him.

Harry almost toppled off the desk. "Dobby?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"I is coming to warn you, Harry Potter," said Dobby grimly. "Dobby is finding out you has been bad. You has been sneaking around the castle at night, meeting"...Dobby looked around before continuing in a whisper..."dark wizards."

Dark wizards? thought Harry. Since when was he... oh.

"You've been spying on me, Dobby," Harry said coldly. "Draco and I are...friends now."

"House elves is lowly, Harry Potter, but we is not blind," Dobby continued. "Dobby is seeing you with his old master's son. You is more than friends."

Harry blushed, wondering just which meeting with Draco Dobby had chanced upon. It didn't matter, whatever he'd seen was likely to be extremely embarrassing, especially if Dobby spread the word around to anyone else.

"Forget what you saw, Dobby," Harry said. "Whatever it was. Draco and I are not...what you think we are. We are not together. What you saw was a mistake. Forget it." Harry was painfully aware that he was lying, and betraying Draco in the bargain, but the two of them had agreed that their relationship must be kept a secret. If Dobby believed they were together, God knows what he would do or say to keep them apart.

Dobby glanced toward the doorway and his eyes grew wide. He let out a high pitched squeal and disappeared in his usual manner, with a loud POP. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Draco standing there in the doorway, staring at him in puzzled hurt. He jumped off the desk and approached him.

"Draco, that was-"

"Dobby, I know," said Draco. "So, this whole thing has been a mistake, has it?" he continued softly. "I suppose it was at that."

"No, Draco!" Harry said. "You know I didn't mean that, it was just-"

"I think I can draw my own conclusions," said Draco. He turned to go, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I loved you, you know," he said, then walked out. Harry rushed to the door, but running footsteps far away told him he was too late. Draco was gone.

Harry sank to the floor, drawing his knees toward him and resting his forehead on them. What had just happened? What had he done?

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Earlier that evening, Hermione and Ron were standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, arguing in whispers. Harry had disappeared to God knows where again, and Ron wanted to follow him. Hermione had an inkling where Harry had gone, and why, and was not interested on walking in on any of the scenarios she was imagining.

Ron had gone up to his and Harry's dorm a few minutes earlier and grabbed the Marauder's Map, rushing back down to meet Hermione on her way in.

"Look!" said Ron, shoving the Map under her nose. "There he is, all the way down by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He's not up to anything good, or he would have at least told me where he was going!"

Hermione had spotted another dot moving toward Harry on the Map, so she grabbed Ron's wrist and forced it down to his side, not wanting Ron to see the name under the little moving blip.

"Ron, we can't just go around spying on him," she said. Ron looked down to his wrist, grasped so tightly in Hermione's hand it was beginning to hurt.

"Hermione, it's not spying!" he said. "We're his friends, we're worried about him."

Ron wrenched his wrist free of Hermione's grasp, glancing at the Map again. His eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "Look!" he gasped. "It's Malfoy, and he's heading right toward Harry. Come on, Hermione, come on, we don't have time to argue about this." He looked imploringly at Hermione, who was staring at him in stony silence. "All right," Ron said, "if you won't help Harry, I will."

With that, he turned and sped off, robes flying out behind him. Hermione shook her head and followed him at a similar pace.

Ron entered the corridor leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom just in time to see Draco running toward him, head down. Ron saw him coming and boiled over in anger. Whatever he'd done to Harry, this time, he was going to pay. Ron raised his wand, not thinking, wanting to lash out at the one person he was sure had hurt his best friend somehow.

Hermione arrived behind Ron just in time to see what he intended to do. She reached for his wand, screaming, "Ron, NO!", but she was too late.

Ron had already pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Draco, bellowing "Inficio!". Draco hit the floor with a thud, knocking his head hard on the stone flagged floor. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth. Ron stood there, surveying the damage he had caused with a grim smile of satisfaction on his face.

Hermione rushed past Ron, dropping to her knees and placing one hand on Draco's neck to check his pulse. "He's still alive, anyway," she said, glaring at Ron. "Go and get Madame Pomphrey." Ron just looked at her, uncomprehending. "Ron, go," she said sharply. Ron turned and walked quickly in the other direction, occasionally looking back over his shoulder as if to check and see if Hermione was actually serious.

Harry heard Hermione's shout from far away, as he walked disconsolately back toward Gryffindor Tower, and came on the run. He turned the final corner, saw Draco lying there on the floor, and dropped quickly to his knees by Draco's head. He sat on the floor, cradling Draco's head in his lap, wiping blood from Draco's face with the edge of his robes. Hermione crouched down beside him, laying one hand on his shoulder. Harry looked over at her in panic.

"Ron's gone to get help," she said in answer to his wordless question.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Ron thought Malfoy had been blackmailing you or hurting you or something, I don't know," she replied. "I tried to stop him, but I couldn't reach him in time."

"And you?" Harry said. "What did you think?"

"Nobody that looks at you the way he does would hurt you, I think," she replied.

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Draco woke up in bed, feeling slightly nauseous and very dizzy, wondering what the bloody hell had happened to him. He lay very still and kept his eyes closed. Memories started flooding back to him. He remembered running down a dark hallway, full of hurt buzzing in his mind and heart like so many bees. He remembered facing Weasley, wand raised and faced contorted with anger. Pain and rage washed over him as he remembered. This situation, every bit of it, was Harry's fault.

Draco heard voices close by, outside the bed curtains around him. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep, in case somebody was watching him.

'Go, Potter," he heard Madame Pomphrey's voice say. His heart beat faster and his stomach suddenly rolled over as he heard Harry's voice reply.

"But, Draco... is he going to be all right?"

"He'll live, if that's what you're asking," came her curt reply. "But he's very ill. Now, off with you. Your presence isn't going to rectify the damage you and your friends caused tonight. I thought I'd seen everything, but the Venom curse, no one's used that one in years, and you should have known..."

Draco listened to her berate Harry as she ushered him out the door. His first impulse was to jump out of bed and defend Harry, but he realized Madame Pomphrey was right. Anger welled up in him.

Madame Pomphrey entered his room. Draco was still pretending to be asleep, but she wasn't fooled, having nursed generations of Hogwarts students.

"Here, drink this," she said irritably, reaching him a glass of foaming purple liquid. Draco opened one eye and looked at her impassively.

"It will help your stomach," she said, a little more gently. Draco tried to rise up but fell back as violent waves of nausea rushed over him. Madame Pomphrey supported his head as he drank the contents of the beaker.

"Sleep now," she said. "They can't hurt you here. You're safe."

No, he hurts me in a different place-my heart, Draco thought, a little incoherently, as he drifted off to sleep.

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Draco woke deep in the watches of the night, heart pounding, in the grip of a nightmare he could not remember. Convinced he was still dreaming, he felt arms tighten around him.

"Shh, love, its ok." A warm hand caressed his shoulder and stroked the side of his face. Draco realized this was no dream, but he chose to pretend he was still sleeping. He didn't have the energy to wake up and be mad at Harry. Besides, he'd never been in bed with Harry before, and he loved it. Harry obviously had no concept of personal space and seemed to regard Draco as his very own fuzzy blanket. Harry's knees were tucked up behind Draco's and Draco could feel Harry's body pressed against his back, stomach moving peacefully as he breathed. He could also feel Harry nuzzling the back of his neck occasionally.

Draco wondered if he would ever get used to being this close to Harry. Lately they had breathed the same air every moment they were together. Draco shivered a little, remembering some of the time they had spent alone recently. Behind him, Harry, sounding quite anxious, said "Are you all right? Do you need me to get Madame Pomphrey?"

"I'm fine," said Draco through gritted teeth. He'd never been less fine in his life. Harry was rubbing his hand back and forth across Draco's stomach, apparently in an attempt to comfort him, but his touch was having the opposite effect. Draco grabbed Harry's hand, forcing him to stop. Harry entwined their fingers and slid his arm around Draco again as tightly as he could. Draco, heart finally beating slower, started drifting quietly off to sleep. Long after he'd thought Harry asleep, a muffled voice whispered in his ear, "I love you too, you know."

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Sunlight streamed through the large window by Draco's bed. He had just come back to consciousness again. He was extremely weak but felt much better than he had the night before.

H recalled last night with a pang of guilt. Harry had risked a great deal to sneak into his room, and he was probably already facing suspension at the very least.

Madame Pomphrey bustled into Draco's room, bearing a steaming tray of what was probably his breakfast. Draco's stomach turned at the thought of food.

"You eat every bite of that, young man," she said sternly. "And don't even think of getting out of bed. You may get up and get dressed later, IF I think you're up to it. Professor Dumbledore has requested a meeting with you, Potter, Weasley, and Granger, but you're not going to be there if you're still feeling ill."

Draco meekly picked up his spoon and attempted a bite of porridge. He was still feeling slightly nauseated, but he was determined to eat every bite if it meant he got to see Harry later. He wasn't about to let Harry face Professor Dumbledore alone. Madame Pomphrey watched him eat a few bites and then, seemingly satisfied, turned and walked out the door.

Draco thankfully swallowed his last bite of food and fell back against his pillows. He let his head fall to one side, falling into a daydream about snuggling in bed with Harry the way they'd done the night before. Feeling warm all over, he absentmindedly slid his hand under the pillow and was surprised to feel something there. He pulled his hand back out from under the pillow and found he was holding an envelope.

Draco looked at the envelope for a moment. He recognized the handwriting, the same as it had been on that first note his owl had brought him from Harry. The only difference was that this time the front of the envelope said "Draco" instead of "Malfoy".

Draco apprehensively slit the top of the envelope open with his finger. A small round object fell out. Draco picked it up, and his heart leapt with relief when he realized what it was. Harry wouldn't have left his ring with him if he were mad at him.

Draco unfolded the single sheet of parchment left in the envelope and read.

Draco,

I love you. I don't know if you heard me tell you last night, and I need you to know. I left you my ring. I want you to put it on your finger, because you'll know then that I do love you. I want you to leave it on your finger, to remind you how I feel every time you look at it.

Ron's mad at me, but I think Hermione understands somehow. She was the one that sent Ron for Madame Pomphrey, before I got to you last night. I haven't told them the truth yet, but I'm going to. I'll never tell another lie like I did last night.

Until I see you again, love,

Harry

Draco looked at the ring, now lying in the palm of his hand. He didn't need it to know Harry loved him, but he wanted to wear it. The thought of having the ring on his finger all the time made him feel as though he really belonged to Harry.

Draco slid the ring on his finger and rolled over in bed, clutching his pillow for comfort in lieu of Harry. He was still exhausted and sleep overtook him almost immediately.

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