The weekend passed with unbearable slowness for the young Slytherin and the potions Master. While the entire school waited anxiously for Harry Potter to reveal himself, they had the added burden of knowing his predicament. It was one of the few times that Severus would actually admit that ignorance was blissful. Both would have preferred ignorance to the heart-rending task of waiting out the healing process.

With each minute that passed, Draco became more and more agitated. Every hour that Harry did not wake the blonde began to fear more that he would never wake. While Draco's concern may have been surprising to some, Snape knew his pupil well enough to have long since realized that, behind all of the taunting and rivalry, there had always been admiration there, as well as a great deal of respect. It was hurting the young Malfoy more than he wanted to admit to see Harry so weak. Potter was supposed to be invincible, unconquerable, the Saviour of their World. Draco's own depression became so bad, his agitation grating so heavily on Severus' nerves, that the potion Master finally dosed his favourite pupil with a calming potion just so the boy would get some sleep. It took a second dose and a promise to watch over the Gryffindor before the blonde finally succumbed to the draught. One or the other of them always sat over the boy, keeping him hydrated and waiting for him to open his eyes.

It was at 8:26 on the following Monday night, the third day after Draco found the boy shivering in the Great Hall, that Harry awoke, more or less healed of his sundry and significant injuries. Reaching instinctively for the glasses that he knew would be there, emerald eyes blinked several times as the world came once again into focus. He felt like he had been hit by a steam engine, though he quickly remembered why that was. Oddly, the first thing he noticed was that his redheaded boyfriend was nowhere in site. The second thing Harry noticed was the blonde boy sitting in a rather comfortable looking deep navy blue armchair placed by the bed. That brought on the realization that the bed he was in was not his own. Unable to speak around his parched throat, the Gryffindor resorted to a small cough to alert the other to his regained state of consciousness.

He was surprised by the other's calm reaction to the sound. Harry thought that Draco had been engrossed in the text; however, slate blue eyes met his in a weary gaze that spoke of the hours that the other young wizard had spent watching over him. It seemed that the book was naught but an act to keep the others from becoming suspicious of Draco's diligence. Harry wondered what other noises he had made in his unconsciousness for his former rival to be so desensitised. Before he could attempt to get a word out, Harry found himself holding a small tumbler of, presumably, water. Warily, so as not to choke himself, the brunette sipped the cool liquid, letting the fluid sooth his disused throat.

Once Draco was sure that the glass was safely out of the way, he flung his arms around the bewildered boy. Despite the momentary lack of propriety, an embrace long enough to convey the turmoil he suffered throughout the ordeal, Draco quickly remembered himself. Never let it be said that Malfoys were not in control of their emotions; the Slytherin boy quickly composed himself, settling far enough away on the bed to give the former invalid breathing room.

"What was that all about?" The broken tenor croak was almost endearing and Draco could not completely stifle a chuckle at the absolutely flummoxed appearance of his former nemesis.

"We've been worried about you, you bloody prat." Sharp silver eyes caught the brief flash of fear that passed over the would-be hero's countenance. Although he was confused for a brief moment, it quickly passed as the truth became evident. Of course, Harry was worried about just who "we" entailed. As though they had been summoned, the other two thirds of the aforementioned "we" entered the room.

Emerald eyes narrowed suspiciously as Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape entered the chamber. Logically he knew both men could be trusted, and in fact Snape had most likely been the one to heal him. Still, Harry was not certain that they were the only others that knew of his whereabouts and condition. Hogwarts being what it was, after all. He was about to ask them a thousand and one questions from how long he had been unconscious to who else knew, to how was he going to make up his work. Before he could utter a syllable, though, he was cut off by the Headmaster himself.

"Ah, Harry, my dear, it is good to see that you are once again among the living." Twinkling blue eyes gave him an appraising look, but Harry was too worried about the scowl on his Potions Professor's face to notice or appreciate the Headmaster's light heartedness. That was one of the rarer scowls that did not portray anger or frustration but disappointment. The young Gryffindor had seen it often enough, usually directed directly at him, to be able to readily recognize it. Though he was not certain how much, exactly, the two older men knew, he was certain that the disappointment was once again aimed at him.

Hanging his head, Harry waited for the verbal castigation that was sure to come.

Draco was shocked by Harry's behaviour, even more so than he had been three nights ago when he had found the whimpering bundle of boy. Despite everything that had happened to Harry, Draco had never seen him loose face in front of Dumbledore, and especially not in front of Professor Snape. Of course, that was assuming one did not include instances of being half out of your mind from injuries, which the blonde most certainly did not. Looking from the two adults back to the trembling and ashamed boy on his bed, Draco's eyes snapped wide. The stupid, self-sacrificing, golden boy of Gryffindor thought that Severus was mad at him.

With a slightly exasperated sigh, silver blue eyes met with cool black and indicated the need for a private conversation. The invitation was met with a curt nod and both Slytherins stepped outside while the Headmaster chatted inconsequentially, or whatever he was doing, with the skittish teen.

"The bloody git thinks this is his fault!" Unable to contain himself, Draco exploded as soon as they were a safe distance from the bedroom. A part of him wanted to start pacing again; apparently it had become a bad habit during times of great stress or anxiety. However, he was too overcome with fatigue, keeping a near constant vigil over someone was a bitch, and simply slid down the wall. Resting his head in his hands, the cunning but exhausted teen began plotting a very painful demise for the Weasel.

"Most people do in this sort of situation." The quiet voice interrupted his plotting, answering a question he only now realized that he had asked. Looking up at his dark professor, Draco had nearly a thousand things he wanted to say, questions to ask, screams and curses all stuck in his throat, vying to get out. Nothing came, though, and he settled for gazing piteously into obsidian orbs before turning his head away. He almost did not notice when Severus manoeuvred himself onto the floor beside him. One arm wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders as the two figures, so like father and son if not for their opposite appearances, waited to be called back into the room.

A number of minutes later, the exact time unnoticed by anyone of the four, Draco walked with the elder Slytherin to the bed where Harry was ensconced. From the look on the emaciated brunette's face, it seemed that the Headmaster had tried to explain the situation fully, but had somehow failed. Confusion was present, underscored by horror, as though the boy thought he did not quite understand but was afraid he understood perfectly.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you could be of assistance," Albus greeted they cheerily. "I seem to be unable to explain the nuances of Wizarding Law. I think perhaps a fellow student's perspective might clear things up for young Mr. Potter."

Draco nodded absently, seating himself at the end of the bed that had once been his own, and hopefully would be again sometime soon. Manipulative old codger. The blonde was sure that there was some reason that the Headmaster wanted him to tell Harry what was going to happen to Wea... to Ron, he just could not figure it out yet.

'Better start referring to that vermin by his given name, damn loyal Gryffindor doesn't like the "pet" names.'

Harry felt the bed shift and heard the put-upon sigh breathed by his classmate. Lifting his tousled head, piercing green eyes watched the other boy steel himself for a potentially painful conversation. Regardless of the Headmaster's best attempts, Harry did not really comprehend the gravity of what had been occurring. 'Or maybe,' he thought to himself, 'you just don't want to understand.'

"There are a number of reasons," Draco began without preamble, something for which the Boy Who Had Been Lied to Far Too Many Times was infinitely grateful, "why Ron's action are unforgivable.

"In the muggle world, it is, as I am sure you are aware, illegal to abuse animals." Harry nodded his assent, and Draco continued. "It is similar in this world. All magical creatures must respect the rights of other magical beings." Harry opened his mouth to protest the implication that Ron was not respecting him but Draco quickly cut him off.

"Please just listen. Now," Draco continued, doing an impressive, albeit unintentional, impression of Professor Snape in lecture mode, "as you know, every magical creature has an inherent resistance to malevolent magick, the stronger the being, the stronger its resistance." The Gryffindor blanched slightly, getting an idea of where this was heading.

"I've seen you in battle, Harry." The melodious voice was quieter, more thoughtful. "You have survived Avada Kedavra. You can throw off Imperio and you can meditate though Crucio." Looking down at his lap, as if the green and grey-stripped pyjama bottoms could help him get through this, Draco suddenly gained some necessary strength. "Any hex Ron could have cast on you would have been completely ineffective. But that is the funny thing. Ask any pureblooded wizard, the first thing he would reach for when enraged would be his wand. It is a matter of upbringing, you live with magic your whole life, you use magical solutions. Much as I am loathed to admit it, Weasley is a pureblood. Now, for some reason he resorted to physical violence like some magically deprived squib, or worse, a muggle." Harry could not escape the resolute gaze that met his eyes.

"He knows more about the nature of magic than you do, Harry. He knew you would be impervious to his hexes, so he hurt you the only way he could. It was not just blind rage, Harry, if it had been we would not be here. No, he though about it; the bastard exploited your weakness."

By the end of Draco's, admittedly accurate, tirade, emerald green eyes were fill with tears that threatened to spill down pale cheeks. Despite his most fervent wishes to the contrary, Harry knew what his friend had been telling him was true, he just did not want to believe it. If he were to believe what was being claimed, then Ron had only ever used him. It did not bear thinking about; he had to distract himself.

"So, what will happen now?"

Draco, who had looked away once he finished venting to allow Harry the privacy of his emotions, suddenly looked back at the brunette, brow furrowed at the quietly reserved and resigned question. The prat was still blaming himself, of that much Draco was sure. However, he did not know how to respond to the timid question. Personally he thought that Weasley should suffer a long, agonizing, gut-wrenching death, but he did not think that that suggestion would go over well. Needless to say, he was relieved when the Headmaster spoke up.

"Mr. Weasley has committed a serious offence. I am afraid that a simple detention will not suffice in this case." Silver eyes were not the only ones to observe the look of utter dejection that passed over the Boy Hero's face, as though he was hoping that it would merely be a case of a month with Filch. "I am afraid your friend," although there was no discernible sneer on the Headmaster's carefully composed face, Draco could tell that Albus had a very low opinion of Harry's former best friend. "Your friend will be expelled and, unfortunately, his wand will be broken and the core destroyed." Everyone in the room watched as all of the colour drained from Harry's face. Draco personally wanted to wring the boy's neck; expulsion and a broken wand was the very least that prick deserved. The Headmaster seemed to notice the Gryffindor's dismay as he continued.

"Harry, Ronald is lucky that he is not facing Azkaban. From the way he treated you, you would have every right to press formal charges. If you did that, he would most certainly be locked up for a indefinite amount of time."

"NO!" The protest did not surprise anyone, but at least two of the three were disappointed. Unfortunately, emerald eyes did not rise from the soft fleece throw that covered the bed. The downturn of the head made it difficult to hear what Harry was mumbling, but Draco caught snippets. "...my first friend..." "... he didn't know..." "...loved me..." It was enough to make the blond Slytherin want to weep, to see this world's saviour brought so low by one he thought he could trust.