Now, I know that I usually don't specifically address comments/reviews, but one certainly caught my eye, and so I must respond to sssh.
sssh: I am gay. That sounded like a come-on. Wanna fuck? I have an enourmous cock that I'm sure you'll love.
Sorry for that; I just had to do it. And now, back to the story:
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys
by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Twelve - Dawn and Dark
A jet of red light shot from the wand and arched up the staircase...
And hit Dumbledore hard in the chest...
...and bounced off, deflected by a sort of mystical energy that had surrounded Dumbledore. The spell ricochéed off of the stone walls, nearly hitting Lucius, who ducked and allowed the stunner to soar past him down the staircase.
"I am ashamed of you, Lucius," Dumbledore said clearly, loudly. "I thought you had at least one scrap of dignity. Clearly I was mistaken. Now, I shall have to ask you to leave my castle."
Lucius was about to shoot back a response when an incredibly tired but extremely happy Hermione Granger skidded to a halt right behind Dumbledore, yelling, "Professor!!"
But then she stopped, and, looking around, took in the intense oddity of the situation. There were a few moments of terrible, tense silence, in which all three people looked around at each other. Then, Hermione spoke, very quietly, two words: "Draco's awake."
Without another word, all three of them forgot the quarrell and started racing towards the Hospital wing.
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The first thing Draco felt was in intense pain. He chest did not feel like it was on fire; no, it was much worse than that. There was a sharb, slicing throb that nearly drove him mad as it pulsed through his heart and his entire body. His head, however, did feel like it was on fire. It burned him, cutting deep into his soul. He screwed up his eyes, trying to block out the light as he attempted to sit up. It was a failed attempt.
Blinking, bewildered, he tried to remember why he was here, why he was in more pain than he'd even experienced in his entire life.
And then he remembered. The bullet. The spell. And...
The betrayal.
A wave of sickness washed over Draco like he'd never felt before. Harry, his Harry, in bed with... He couldn't think about it, couldn't conceive it, it was irrational, impossible.
This was his Harry.
The Harry who loved him.
Or was it...?
Had Harry really truly loved him. Had he just tricked Draco, played him for a fool, maybe, even, on Dumbledore's orders in order to get Draco to turn to the light side.
Had it all been a trick? A game to Harry?
"DRACO!"
It was Harry's voice. Harry was there. Harry had seen him awake. What would Draco do? What could he do?
The hangings of Draco's bed were ripped open, and Harry apeared. Draco winced as the new light smashed into his eyes and fed his nearly unbearable headache. Harry was silhouetted in the bed's frame. Harry with his adorably messed up jet black hair, even more attractively disheveled because he'd slept in a chair for the past week. Harry with his glasses askew, anxiously gazing at Draco's lying form. Harry the betrayor. Harry the cheat.
Draco felt no empathy. He was just a game to Harry.
"Draco!" Harry was half-shouting hoarsely. "Oh, Drake. Drake, I was so worried about you. So worried! Oh, Drake, thank god you're okay! I missed you so much!"
Harry grabbed Draco's hand, but he instinctively recoiled and said nothing.
"Drake...?" Harry said quietly, almost pleadingly.
But just then, three new people entered the room. It was Hermione Granger, followed quickly by Albus Dumbledore, and Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy. Draco didn't have the time nor did he make the effort to recognize the oddity of the scene, but somewhere deep within him it registered.
"Draco!" all three of the newcomers said at once. As one, they rushed over to the bed, shunting Harry to the side.
"Draco," said Hermione quietly. "How are you?"
But something harsh, something dark, was clawing through Draco, pushing through his soul.
And he lashed out.
"How dare you talk to me like that, you filthy mudblood!"
Harry and Dumbledore gasped; Lucius smirked.
Then Draco turned to Harry. Instead of yelling at Harry, as Harry expected him to do, Draco simply leaned in close to Harry's ear and whispered, "Don't even touch me again, Potter."
Draco pushed the covers away from his body and stood up, ignoring the searing pain in his chest and head, and knowing full-well that he probably shouldn't be walking right now. Nevertheless, Draco began to stride across the Hospital Wing towards the exit, calling behind him, "Come, Father. We're leaving."
And as Harry watched them go, his life crumbled and fell to his feet in shambles.
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I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It had to be done. Review and I'll update (assuming that my computer survives).