They returned to the Infirmary, Harry half-carrying half-dragging a nearly unconscious Malfoy the length of the school. He had placed Malfoy in the bed, and Ron stood beside him now, glaring at him.
"I told you we couldn't trust him," the redhead hissed. Malfoy was asleep, but he didn't want to take any chances. "He tried to kill me."
"It wasn't him," Harry was too drained to get angry. All the worry, the anxiety, the danger had left him feeling worn out. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a few days.
"It certainly looked like him," Ron shot back.
Running a weary hand over his eyes, Harry sighed, "You don't understand-"
"Obviously!" Ron's near-death experience had done nothing for his temper, "What aren't you telling me!?"
With the most recent threat, Harry felt Ron deserved to know what afflicted Malfoy. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to let the Slytherin's secret out. It was too personal, and it would be adding salt to the wound to let Ron know. It was Malfoy's family; Malfoy should deal with it, not the Weasleys. Harry opened his mouth, but closed it, deciding Ron shouldn't learn of the curse yet. "I-I'm sorry, Ron," Harry murmured, "I can't tell you. It's Malfoy's problem."
Ron turned quite red in the face and jerked a finger at Harry, "You value that thing over your best friend's trust, fine." He turned and stormed out of the room, heading back to the common room.
As he looked at Malfoy, Harry found himself not worried about making up with Ron. He just hoped Ron would keep the night's incident to himself, instead of letting a teacher know what had occurred.
However, the anger that had radiated from Ron had not left the room, filling Harry with a sort of loneliness. He knew he couldn't run after the redhead to apologize, Ron would need at least a day to cool off. Harry turned his head to Malfoy's bed, and, noticing that the boy was shivering unconsciously, climbed carefully under the covers with him. He wrapped his lithe arms around the other boy's chest, and once again felt the aching cold that pervaded the Slytherin.
Harry ached too, but differently. His pain was not physical; it could not be touched or held like Malfoy's. His heart hurt. Hermione's death had left an open wound on his heart, and it still pained him to think of her or even mention her name. Sirius was dead, and Ron was mad with him. Malfoy was suffering, and Harry was sure that it was his fault. If he had never been born, perhaps these people would be happier. Perhaps they would have found better lives, living longer. Harry did his best to choke back a sob that threatened to release itself, but it fought its way to his lips.
At the noise and the shudder of Harry's chest, Malfoy stirred, "Merlin... why do you cry so much...?" His voice was muffled, as if he was waking from a deep slumber.
Harry froze, cursing himself for waking the other, "Sorry... I didn't mean to wake you..."
In slow, lazy motions, Malfoy turned onto his back within Harry's embrace, pressing himself hard against the Gryffindor. His hand moving lethargically, Malfoy reached over and carefully removed Harry's glasses, dropping them on the floor beside the bed, "Why do you care?"
A watery grin slowly spread across his face as Harry replied, "True. I should just let you suffer the light sleep of the cursed."
"You know..." Malfoy mumbled, his voice laden with sleep, "I'm going to start getting used to you being there... What are the girls going to think? I'll be labeled..." Despite his sorrow over Malfoy's pain, Harry couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of Malfoy being marked gay.
"Sorry," Harry smiled, brushing a few strands of hair from Malfoy's closed eyes. The boy was so exhausted. His brush with the curse had left him pale, much paler than normal, and his once vibrant hair was now dull, like tarnished silver, and stuck to his forehead with sweat. His slender body shook with chills, even as Harry crushed him to his own warmth. It wasn't enough. He didn't have enough strength to protect this boy, this one boy. He could save the school countless times, but he could do nothing to save one boy. "There has to be a counter-curse," Harry found himself whispering.
Malfoy stirred uneasily in his arms, "I've looked."
"Who put it on you? They must know the cure," Harry asked unthinkingly.
Malfoy tensed, coming more awake, "Does it matter?"
Harry sighed, and he rubbed a hand up and down Malfoy's arm, trying to warm them, "I just want to help you..." He received no reply as Malfoy stared into the darkness of the Infirmary, waiting for sleep to reclaim him.
......
The privacy curtains slid back without the slightest bit of noise, and Madame Pomfrey stared at the two tortured boys. They were so young to go through such agony. Growing pains were one thing, but having a devastating curse placed upon one when one was seventeen... It was horrid. Lucius should have stayed behind bars, where he belonged.
Young Malfoy had fallen asleep wrapped in Potter's arms, and even in repose the Gryffindor had a look of fierce determination over his charge. Ebony black hair mingled with silvery blonde as their heads touched ever so slightly on the pillow, causing Madame Pomfrey to smile. Just two months ago these boys had been enemies, and now they lay together- protector and protected.
A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her, and she turned quickly to find herself up against Snape's large nose. "Severus," she whispered as a greeting.
His distinctive drawl softened to a murmur as he looked at the two boys, "How is it coming?"
"Not well. The curse took hold of young Malfoy earlier but Potter managed to bring him out of it without hurting anyone."
Snape sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "The last time this cure was attempted, it failed miserably. We just can't be sure of what will happen with such powerful wizards."
"You must remember," Madame Pomfrey pointed out, "That Riddle did not wish heartily to be cured. If young Malfoy can destroy the evil in his heart, he will be cured. Riddle merely wished the pain would stop."
The Potions professor glanced at her, "Riddle was a powerful wizard. It was not whether he wanted it or not, his magic was a variable that cost us dearly."
"James was not strong enough," the nurse gently reminded, "He was torn between Lily and Riddle. Harry does not have that choice. The only other person who could have threatened his heart was the girl, Hermione Granger, but she was killed by Riddle's own hand."
With a curt nod, Snape conceded, "He must not know until the ritual. James knew, and we lost Riddle because of it. Potter must not find out what he must do."
"I have faith in Potter," Madame Pomfrey tilted her head up slightly as she looked at the sleeping boys, "As does Albus."
"That's what you said last time," Snape growled, his eyes shining on the boys, "I do not want to lose him. My godson will not be used as a pawn for Voldemort." The Potions professor took a step forward and soothed back Malfoy's bangs from his face. "He will not, as long as I am alive," Snape vowed.
......
It had been two days since they had been released from the Infirmary, and so far everything had gone back to normal. Potter stayed away from him, and he steered clear of Potter. It was as if nothing had changed, although sometimes, as they sat in class, he could swear those green eyes were pressing into his back. Yet, when he turned, Potter was looking at his book or the teacher. Perhaps it was all in his mind.
He slid off his school shirt, breaking into a new round of shivers as the cold dungeon air hit his skin. It was then he remembered the nights in the Infirmary, the warmth of Potter's arms, the feeling of comfort that meant more to him than the heat. Draco shook his head, trying to stop his runaway train of thought. If he didn't watch it, he would become dependant on the bloody Gryffindor.
He shimmied into his shirt, the coarse fabric of a Muggle sweatshirt scratching into his skin. Hopefully, it would be warmer than the robes he usually wore. As long as his classmates didn't see him, he was fine. The Slytherins weren't as averse to Voldemort as he was, and would not treat it well to see the most respected Slytherin wearing a Muggle shirt.
Draco slid under the covers of his bed, and then- it happened.
He shivered hard as he realized it.
The warmth that usually resided at his back was gone, and he missed it.
Cursing to make Satan cringe, he stood from his bed and threw on a cloak over his decidedly Muggle outfit. The chill had resided slightly, and he didn't shiver greatly as he walked from the common room at a trot. He didn't know where he was going, or why he was going, all he knew was that sleep was impossible at this moment.
He rounded a corner at a decent speed, and collided into another body. The two rolled over each other and ended up sprawled in the middle of the hall, a tangle of arms and legs.
"Ow. Ow!" Draco froze at a familiar voice.
He looked down to see a face with glasses askew, nose wrinkled in slight pain. "Potter!?" he gasped, not exactly sure how it had happened. All he knew was that he was lying atop a disgruntled Harry Potter in the middle of the night in a deserted hallway. How Potter had found him, he had no idea. The castle was enormous, and he was well outside the Slytherin jurisdiction.
"Malfoy! Gerroff!" Potter shoved at him hard, and Draco tumbled backwards onto the floor.
If he had known better, Draco would have recognized that the feeling pervading his mind was relief. Yet he didn't recognize it. All he knew was that something was happening in his mind, and it had to do with emotion. As he stared at Potter, the boy trying to fix his glasses in the darkness, he felt a growing resentment. Somehow, Potter had unlocked emotion within Draco.
Emotions were something Draco could live without. They were pesky, annoying, constantly misinterpreted, and better left to the romantics- namely Gryffindors.
"Potter, what are you doing out here?" Draco found words forming on his lips though he relished the silence.
"Couldn't sleep," the other mumbled, propping himself up against a wall. He gripped a shining fabric in his hands as if hell itself could not tear it from him. Draco scooted against the wall next to him, unconsciously touching shoulders with the boy.
This boy had made him feel. Somehow, in the few days they had spent together, Draco had started weighing the consequences of his actions, trying to decide if the curse was worth fighting. Potter released a sense of right and wrong into his mind that now confused him. All his life he had done what he wanted when he wanted, no questions asked. Now, it was not the case. Not only was his life in the balance, but the lives of classmates and countless, unknown Muggles. And the scary part was, he cared. Much as he didn't want to die, he didn't want completely innocent people to be killed because of him. It was Potter's doing, all of it.
A small prickling in his arm caught his attention, and he fingered the pale skin gingerly, drawing up his sleeve to look at it. The outline of the Dark Mark had grown darker, tracing a gray skull along his arm.
"Does your arm hurt?" before he could resist, Potter had reached over and jerked his arm closer.
"Let go Potter," Draco growled, reclaiming his arm and holding it close. To his ultimate shock, Potter did not look fazed by his tattoo. "Aren't you going to pale, flinch away, and curse me into oblivion?" Draco asked cautiously. Potter shook his head. "Why are you hanging around me? Why do you keep trying to help me? I'm not some abandoned puppy you can take home."
To this, Potter's jaw dropped. He seemed to think for a moment, though Draco knew this to be impossible, then grinned, "Because you're so cute."
Draco did not smile, "I'm being serious you prat."
Potter's face fell quickly, and he drew his knees to his chest, staring at the floor in front of them, "I-I never want to hear you scream like that... Like in the Forest... Never again..." A shudder took his frame as Draco stared at him. The Slytherin opened his mouth to say something, but Potter beat him to it, whipping his head up and glaring fiercely at him, "I will protect you."
Automatically, Draco started to protest, "I don't..." He paused, going through the events of the night that had led him here. He certainly couldn't protect himself, that much was evident when he had nearly killed Weasel. "Okay..." he breathed, greatly shocked at himself.
Potter blinked, his mouth hanging open, "W-What?"
Growing irritated at Potter's lack of gray matter, Draco frowned, "What, Potter, have you cotton in your ears or is your brain oozing out and blocking them?" Potter glowered indignantly, and pushed Draco's shoulder, knocking him off balance. Draco sat up and shook his head. He had gone alone for so long, all he needed was a safe place to stand, and if Potter could provide that for him willingly, then who was he to object. It would save his sanity, that was for sure.
A steady tapping had grown over the minutes, and Potter suddenly stiffened. Before Draco knew what had happened, Potter threw the shimmering fabric over them both and had slapped a hand over Draco's mouth. Draco resisted very much the urge to bite Potter's hand, and looked in amazement through the material of the cloak. It was an Invisibility Cloak. Where had Potter gotten his grubby hands on one of those!?
Putting the questions aside, he watched as Professors Snape and Dumbledore walked frantically down the hall. Snape hissed in displeasure, looking at the Headmaster in annoyance, "Why is he coming now?"
Dumbledore looked more agitated than Draco had ever seen, and from the way Potter fidgeted, Potter had never seen him so irritated either. "He demands to see his child. Legally I cannot stop him."
In that moment, Draco knew whom they were talking about. His father had come to fetch him.
Snape stopped walking, and stomped the ground with his foot. Draco felt Potter shake with a suppressed chuckle at the tantrum-like action. "It's one in the morning, Headmaster, surely there's rules!?"
The Headmaster ignored the Head of House and said instead, "Wake both boys and bring them to my office." He paused suddenly, and looked around. "Mr. Potter, do come out. It's impolite to spy."
Grumbling, Potter threw off the Cloak and stood. "If you would," Dumbledore grinned, "follow me please."
Potter glanced over at Draco to find the boy very, very pale.
......
Harry discovered the reason when he opened the door to Dumbledore's office. Lucius Malfoy stood in the room, fingering the irritable paperweight that had scorched Harry's hand a few days ago.
"Delightful trinkets you have, Headmaster," Lucius turned to watch the party come in. Harry was first, casting a look so hateful Lucius had to smile. Harry made sure to place himself in between Malfoy and Lucius as they stood in the room. Harry noticed Malfoy tugging at his robes a bit, trying to cover what he wore underneath. Dumbledore came in, followed by Professor Snape.
"Draco, how wonderful to see you are well," Lucius nodded to his son, "How are your studies?"
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore cut in, "If that is all you wish to discuss, I'm afraid you will have to owl your son or wait until break. Bringing these boys out of bed at this hour is disastrous to their studies."
At this, Lucius looked lazily amused, "I do not recall sending for young Potter." Harry received a look that chilled him, but he could feel Malfoy shrink even further from his father though nobody else noticed it.
"Coincidently, Headmaster," Lucius drawled slowly, "His scores are not the only thing I am here to discuss. May I have a word in private with him?"
"Certainly, certainly," Dumbledore scuttled to the door, shooing Snape out before him. Before they left, the Headmaster cast a glance at Harry that clearly said something. Harry was to stay and make sure Malfoy got out of the room alive and in one piece.
The office door closed, and Harry had not moved. Lucius was looking at him expectantly. "I'm staying here," Harry clarified. His anger was slowly building against the man before him. The man who brought pain to so many people years before. The man who should have stayed in Azkaban, but had been released after a short three months by Voldemort. The man who tortured the boy behind him.
"Is this what you have become, Draco," Lucius spoke softly, with a deadly tinge in his voice, "A spineless coward who hides behind Harry Potter?"
"This isn't his choice," Harry growled, "It's mine. I choose to stand between you and him. He didn't ask me to." In a motion too fast to see, Lucius brought up his walking cane and sent the end crashing into Harry's head. Stars exploded before his eyes as he spun and hit the ground hard on his knees and elbows. He groaned, blinking away the dots and lines that crossed his vision. Something warm started down his cheek, and his glasses had been knocked clean off.
Behind him, Malfoy stood still, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into tight fists at his side. Harry worked to get to his feet using Dumbledore's desk as a brace as Lucius moved to Malfoy. The man took the cane and held it to Malfoy's chin, pushing his face up, "They will try to save you. They will fail." He paused, and his thin lips curved into an ugly sneer as Harry watched, "You feel it, don't you? The icy fingers of the curse gripping your mind. Soon, your world will grow dark, and you will feel nothing-"
"Stop IT!" Harry launched himself at Lucius, knocking the older man away with enough force to send him stumbling but not falling. Harry found himself in a position he had never even dreamed of a few weeks before. His wand was at the ready, his arm trembling with anger and fear for the younger Malfoy. Taking a deep breath lest he do something incredibly stupid, he exhaled with a tremor, "Leave. Now."
"Do not order me, boy," Lucius had regained his composure, and was giving off a cool fury that, in any other circumstance, Harry would have cringed away from. But not now. Now he was the only thing between Malfoy and his father. "He may be your pet, but he is still my son."
"I treat him as a human," Harry spat, his anger increasing that this thing would dare call himself a father, "He's just an object to you. You put the curse on him, didn't you?" All this time, Malfoy's gray eyes flicked back and forth between the two, and he felt a gnawing at his gut that he recognized as fear for Harry.
"He will be powerful," Lucius moved with the slickness of a snake, his motions lazy and deadly all at once as he walked towards them, "As the Dark Lord."
"NO!" Harry yelled, stomping his foot and holding his wand steady, "I won't let you use him!"
"Headmaster," Dumbledore just walked into the room, their allotted time used up, and Lucius turned to him, "I will be removing Draco from the school. This school is run by Muggle-lovers, and he will not receive a proper wizard's education here."
Harry could feel Malfoy's shock as clearly as his own. Both their jaws dropped, but Harry spoke, "Transferring him!? It's seventh year! School's almost over!"
The look on the older Malfoy's face was unrelenting. "Come, Draco," he spoke with the air of victory, "I'm taking you home. A house elf has your things ready." Malfoy cast a pleading look at Harry, but Harry was powerless as Lucius grabbed the boy by the arm and hauled him bodily from the room into the hall.
Harry ran after them as soon as his legs could work, and he moaned to Dumbledore, "Stop him! Can't you do something!?" He looked to Dumbledore, his green eyes full of anguish. He had failed his charge, and it hurt as surely as if he had handed Malfoy over.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was soft, reassuring, "I cannot. Legally he is allowed to take his child out of the school."
"NO!" Harry slammed a fist into the wall, not even flinching at the pain. He pressed his forehead to the cold stone and pounded the wall again and again, "No, no, no, no!" Groaning at his failure, he slid down the wall and curled at the bottom, barely feeling Dumbledore's hand on his head. When he looked up, Draco and his father had disappeared.