Harry's eyes opened and he looked at the two of his friends. "When did you
guys get here?" Hermione put her arms around him. Harry winced at her
touch.
"Did Malfoy do this to you, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry stayed silent. Ron looked at Hermione with a look telling her this wasn't the time to be asking questions with Filch and Peeves looking for them. Ron lifted Harry onto his back and once again joined Hermione underneath the cloak. They walked steadily for a while; having Harry on his back was making Ron's pace a great deal slower than what it should have been.
The halls remained clear of Filch and Peeves, which made things a hell of a lot easier for Hermione and Ron. After a good long walk they finally reached the Fat Lady, who was snoring away, mumbling to herself. Hermione whispered to the Fat Lady and then told her the password. Ron hurried Harry inside, thankful that they didn't get caught. Hermione helped Ron lay Harry on one of the chairs, then when to go mix potions together to help Harry cope with the pain. "What happened with that bloody Malfoy, Harry?" Ron demanded, looking worried for his best friend. Hermione returned to where Harry was laying with a bowl full of Murtlap essence. She soaked a face cloth in it then placed it gently onto Harry's chest. The wound stung for a bit, but then the pain was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling. "Harry, can you hear me? What happened between you and Malfoy?" Harry looked up at Ron and apologized.
"I don't really know. I'd rather not talk about it right now." Hermione and Ron nodded consecutively. "Sorry guys." He put the face towel back in the bowl and pushed himself off the chair. "I'm going to head to bed now." As Harry made his way up the stairs, Ron looked at Hermione.
Harry flopped down on his bed; he couldn't sleep so there was no point in trying to. He pulled the sheet up over him, rolling over to his side. When he heard Ron's footsteps coming up the spiral staircase, Harry closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wanted to avoid talking to Ron. There was absolutely no way he could tell Ron or Hermione what had happened with Draco. Ron knew he was awake; Harry's snores just weren't believable, but he figured Harry didn't want to talk, so he didn't bother him.
The stars outside plastered the midnight colored quilt draped over the land, each star slightly illuminating a small portion of the night sky. Ron was soon fast asleep. Harry looked up at Ron and then down at himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and flinched as the skin around his wound moved. A trickle of blood ran down Harry's chest. With his right forefinger, Harry wiped up the blood and then licked it off the tip of his finger. The warm somewhat bitter taste covered his lower lip. Harry swung his legs over, onto the floor and climbed out of bed. He walked over to the window, a cool breeze catching his unbuttoned nightshirt. With the help of the wind Harry let his shirt fall to the floor. The fresh air blowing in through the opened window was especially appealing to Harry. He walked over to the window and lifted himself up into it. After a few minutes of trying to get into a comfortable position, he finally found a decent spot, with his back propped against the inside wall of the window.
His left arm fell into place across his stomach, with his hand wrapped around his hip. There was no way Harry could manage even a wink of sleep, there was too much racing through his mind. His fingers played with the edge of his right pocket in his pants. The wind blew against Harry's small body, setting some of his wild hair into his face. Harry looked towards the sky through his hair; his eyes glistened and reflected the moonlight. Placing his right hand over his heart, the tips of his fingers graced over the torn flesh. Draco's imaged flooded Harry's brain. Harry's fingertips traced over his chest, circling around his nipples, stimulating his mind. His fingers running down his skin sent chills down his back. Harry closed his eyes, smothering himself with his thoughts about Draco. Although it took him a while, Harry finally found peace with his mind and was able to fall asleep.
"Did Malfoy do this to you, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry stayed silent. Ron looked at Hermione with a look telling her this wasn't the time to be asking questions with Filch and Peeves looking for them. Ron lifted Harry onto his back and once again joined Hermione underneath the cloak. They walked steadily for a while; having Harry on his back was making Ron's pace a great deal slower than what it should have been.
The halls remained clear of Filch and Peeves, which made things a hell of a lot easier for Hermione and Ron. After a good long walk they finally reached the Fat Lady, who was snoring away, mumbling to herself. Hermione whispered to the Fat Lady and then told her the password. Ron hurried Harry inside, thankful that they didn't get caught. Hermione helped Ron lay Harry on one of the chairs, then when to go mix potions together to help Harry cope with the pain. "What happened with that bloody Malfoy, Harry?" Ron demanded, looking worried for his best friend. Hermione returned to where Harry was laying with a bowl full of Murtlap essence. She soaked a face cloth in it then placed it gently onto Harry's chest. The wound stung for a bit, but then the pain was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling. "Harry, can you hear me? What happened between you and Malfoy?" Harry looked up at Ron and apologized.
"I don't really know. I'd rather not talk about it right now." Hermione and Ron nodded consecutively. "Sorry guys." He put the face towel back in the bowl and pushed himself off the chair. "I'm going to head to bed now." As Harry made his way up the stairs, Ron looked at Hermione.
Harry flopped down on his bed; he couldn't sleep so there was no point in trying to. He pulled the sheet up over him, rolling over to his side. When he heard Ron's footsteps coming up the spiral staircase, Harry closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wanted to avoid talking to Ron. There was absolutely no way he could tell Ron or Hermione what had happened with Draco. Ron knew he was awake; Harry's snores just weren't believable, but he figured Harry didn't want to talk, so he didn't bother him.
The stars outside plastered the midnight colored quilt draped over the land, each star slightly illuminating a small portion of the night sky. Ron was soon fast asleep. Harry looked up at Ron and then down at himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and flinched as the skin around his wound moved. A trickle of blood ran down Harry's chest. With his right forefinger, Harry wiped up the blood and then licked it off the tip of his finger. The warm somewhat bitter taste covered his lower lip. Harry swung his legs over, onto the floor and climbed out of bed. He walked over to the window, a cool breeze catching his unbuttoned nightshirt. With the help of the wind Harry let his shirt fall to the floor. The fresh air blowing in through the opened window was especially appealing to Harry. He walked over to the window and lifted himself up into it. After a few minutes of trying to get into a comfortable position, he finally found a decent spot, with his back propped against the inside wall of the window.
His left arm fell into place across his stomach, with his hand wrapped around his hip. There was no way Harry could manage even a wink of sleep, there was too much racing through his mind. His fingers played with the edge of his right pocket in his pants. The wind blew against Harry's small body, setting some of his wild hair into his face. Harry looked towards the sky through his hair; his eyes glistened and reflected the moonlight. Placing his right hand over his heart, the tips of his fingers graced over the torn flesh. Draco's imaged flooded Harry's brain. Harry's fingertips traced over his chest, circling around his nipples, stimulating his mind. His fingers running down his skin sent chills down his back. Harry closed his eyes, smothering himself with his thoughts about Draco. Although it took him a while, Harry finally found peace with his mind and was able to fall asleep.