Summery: Draco decides to stay away from Harry for their last year at Hogwarts. But being separated from him finally makes Draco realize how much he cares for the depressed Gryffindor.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love too, I do not own anything that has been previously mentioneD in The Harry Potter Books, which is very unfortunate for me.

The Tale of a Dragon

Ch9: You Always Hurt The Ones You Love

After a decent amount of time crying, random muttering and coughing into Draco's chest, Harry was able to slow his sobbing to just the occatiional hiccup.

"S-Sorry. I kinda made a mess of your robes." He said, referring to the one sneeze he had forgot to suppress.

"It's alright." Draco said softly. "No harm done." He had been too interested in the lovely blueberry smell to notice anyway.

Harry lifted his head up and looked at Draco with his puffy blood-shot eyes, which were full of confusion and he slowly sat back down on the toilet.

"Are you ok now?" Draco asked

"I should be."

"Do you feel any better?"

"Surprisingly, yeah. I do."

Draco turned, "Then my work here is done."

"No! Wait!"

Draco paused with his hand on the toilet door lock. He could hear Harry's heavy breathing behind him.

'Why does he want me to stay? Why did I even follow him? I'm an idiot, now things between us are going to be even weirder. I've only just come to terms with the fact I'm attracted to him… Crap! Attracted is definitely the wrong word.' But there was the feeling that maybe attracted wasn't that incorrect.

"I guess we're even now." Draco stated stupidly.

"No. Were not." Draco raised an eyebrow when Harry said that and turned around slowly to meet his gaze. "You've helped me twice now. I haven't helped you. Not every once. Even when I came to see you, I just stood there and watched you cry."

Draco stiffened because he could have sworn he heard someone trying to cover up a snicker, but it wasn't Harry, because he looked completely serious.

'Must have imagined it.' he frowned, still standing stiffly.

Harry miss read this. "I'm sorry to bring it up." He hung his head. "I've just been worried about you I suppose."

'Is he blushing?'

"Harry. I'm fine. Really."

He looked up, unconvinced. "Why did you have a bruise on your face when we were on the train here?"

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time for him to spill his guts, in a manner of speaking.

"Father." It was strange how one word could have so many emotions come with it. Hate, anger, disappointment, loyalty, jealousy and, of course, sadness and pain.

"Sorry."

"I don't want to talk about it. And stop bloody apologising. There's no reason too, it's not your fault." Harry mumbled something under his breath that normal hearing wouldn't be able detect. "Harry. Those deaths were not your fault." Draco wrinkled his nose in contempt. "That's not what your crying about is it?"

Harry shot him an icy look anyone would have thought was impossible for The-Boy-Who-Lived to make. "No."

Draco gave a look that clearly said 'what was it then'.

"I just want people to realize that I won't talk about things until I'm ready. I'm afraid they won't understand, and it's so hard to describe it to them."

Draco paused to think about this. "I know how you feel, so wether you want to be or not, you're not alone." While Harry was pondering this, Draco was able to slip out of the bathroom and head down to the dungeons for another class with the Gryffindors.

What he had said to Harry was something Draco wished he could hear from someone. Words that let him know there was someone that would listen when he wanted them to. And it was clear Harry needed someone to say that to him.


Blaise carefully opened the door. He had just heard a very interesting conversation, where he had found out a number of equally interesting things. Most of which could be used as blackmail, but he wouldn't do that unless he was desperate, he had too much pride for that.

Walking quickly out of the small bathroom he went out into the corridor and headed off to potions with the Gryffindors, he prayed he wouldn't get a spot near Longbottom.


Harry dreaded potions for a number of reasons. One was the Snape was in a much worse mood. Another was the obvious fact that Snape was a greasy bastard. The other was that it was with the Slytherins, and because it was with the Slytherins, Draco would be there.

Harry had been finding himself drawn to Draco recently. There was a new element if mystery to him now and something was definitely making him act different. Then there was his skin, which had managed to heal from a nasty bruise to a porcelain white, which suited him rather well. He wanted to know more about Draco, because when he had held him during his 'breakdown' (as he had dubbed it) it felt so right.

"Potter!"

Harry realized he had walked the whole way to potions and opened the door with out realizing it. Now Snape was bearing his teeth and spitting as he loomed over Harry, berating hi for his tardiness. Most of it just went in one ear and out the other.

Eventually he was able to sit next to his cauldron with out being bothered by anyone. He had been paired with Dean Thomas.

Harry looked around at the pairs closest to him and saw Draco with Pansy hanging of him ('so very typical'), Crabbe with Goyal (Harry laughed at Snape showing his stupidity by putting them together), Hermione with Ron ('lucky them' he thought it in almost a bitter way), and Blaize with Neville (Blaze didn't look too happy).

Harry wasn't paying much attention to how he was cutting the ingredients; he was watching the way Draco and Pansy interacted with each other while his knife slipped with every cough on whatever it was cutting.


Draco tried to focus on cutting his roots into little slivers, and not on Pansy's hand, which had found its way to his thigh. He shifted uncomfortably as it snaked its way up higher, Pansy's face showed no emotion.

Her hand finally rested on his crotch and gave a squeeze. With a sharp intake of breath he lifted her hand up (he almost had to pry it off) and laid it to rest on her own genital region. She looked at him with a flirtatious look on her face and Draco couldn't halp but inch away from her.

"Keep your hands to yourself Parkinson." He spat at her and she looked taken aback by the use of her last name.

"But Drac…"

"You better not be about to call me, what I think you're about to call me."

She whimpered and bettered her eyelashes.

"Do you have something in your eye, Parkinson." Again she looked shocked and slightly betrayed.

"Y-you've never used that tone of voice with me before. Don't you live me?" She said weakly.

Draco laughed a high, cruel laugh that he had heard Voldemort use when his father had stuck his head into the fireplace to deliver a report.

"I despise you Parkinson. I can't even look at your face without feeling the bile rise in my throat." He said it slowly, and in a cold tone of voice, which Pansy hated. He ran his finger up his throat as he spoke, just for affect.

"Fuck off." He said, adopting a sharper and harsher voice the normal.

Pansy looked lost and Draco thanked his lucky stars that he had finally gotten it through her head. And it only took a werewolf level of tolerance to do it.

Before he knew it, Pansy had taken the knife off Draco and shoved it into his thigh, Draco swore loudly. "No one dumps me." She hissed, her demeanour changing at lightning speed, "No one." She got up and stormed out as Snape was making his way over to Draco to see what had caused his profanity.

Snape pulled the knife out before producing a small vial out of his robe pocket and pouring it over the gash. Draco was starting to feel light headed as his potions master was doing this.

"That knife had some of the ingredients on it any your leg bled more then it would have normally, that potion will stop the bleeding and some of the pain, but not all. Go to your room and have a lie down. If you see Miss Parkinson, tell he to stop what ever she is doing and come see me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

He got up swaying slightly and he stoped and grabbed onto the edge of Harry's cauldron for support as a stabbing pain shot through his leg; he felt like he would pass out. He pushed himself up and tried to walk again but it was his dizziness that made him collapse.

"Professor Snape." Draco couldn't see who it was, but he recognised the speaker's voice as Harry's. "I don't think Malfoy can make it on his own."

"You go with him then… And ten points from Gryffindor for making an excuse to get out of class." He added when Harry was already half way to the door with Draco's arm over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and Draco managed a small, half-hearted chuckle.


Harry lowered Draco into his bed and covered him in his black and silver blankets.

"Thanks Harry… Shit, you're bleeding."

Harry's finger had a deep cut on it. "Yeah," he said sheepishly, "I cut in when you yelled. Scared me half to death." Draco smiled, apologizing quietly as he sat up. Harry raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that you had freckles before."

"I don't have freckles!"

"Yeah you do. There blonde. No one would notice it they didn't look closely." He quickly reassured Draco, "There on the bridge of your nose and cheekbones."

"I'll have to spell them off tomorrow."

"No! Don't! I like them, but if you don't, then it's your face, you may do what you wish with it."

"They'll stay then, if they're not that bad."

Harry smiled and Draco noticed it lit up his entire face when he did. It gave a warm fuzzy feeling he wasn't used to getting.

"It's a nice bed you've got, much smaller then I expected though."

"I've always preferred smaller beds. They're much more pleasant."

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Still a bit light headed, but not as much anymore, and really tired."

Harry smiled again. "Sleep." He said simply, standing up and walking towards the door.

Draco decided to take a chance. "What, no good night kiss?" Harry paused before walking back over and resting his hands on the bed. He slowly lent towards Draco and then pressed his lips softly onto the blonde's.

Draco closed his eyes and pushed his lips back. He sucked a bit on Harry's bottom lip and Harry returned it on the top.

"Thank you Harry." He said, as they pulled apart.

"No. Thank you Draco."


It took two days for before Harry's cold started to annoy Draco because technically, it wasn't Harry's cold any more; it was his. He felt like shit and didn't help that he didn't have Pansy to wait on him hand and foot, which usually made him better.

Draco was sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard with his blankets wrapped around his body as tight as possible. His bed was littered with used tissues and he had his knees up with a muggle sketchbook resting on them. Two hands stuck out from the cocoon of bedclothes, one held the sketchbook steady and the other clutched a quill.

He was putting the last little touches on a picture of a werewolf on the cliff edge, silhouetted against a full moon and framed by tree branches. Spells had been placed on it so Draco could use shading with the ink.

It was going well, until Draco sneezed, sending a jagged streak of ink over the entire page. He swore under his breath and let it fall to the ground, throwing the quill to the other side of the room.

'Fucking cold. That was an awesome sketch too, and then, in one sneeze, it was ruined. Stupid bloody fucking cold… What The Fuck!'

An owl had flown in the window and dropped a letter onto his head. The owl left before Draco could get a look at what type it was. He saw what the letter was though.

Draco, personally, had never gotten a Dark Howler, but had seen his father get them from Lord Voldemort. From watching his father, he knew it wasn't a very pleasant thing to get. Draco figured that since it was a howler, the result would be worse if he didn't open it.

With trembling fingers he turned it over and broke the two wax seals, one was the Malfoy family crest, and the other was the dark mark.

As soon as they were broken it felt like the room temperature had dropped by at least thirty degrees. It chilled Draco to the bone and the envelope attached itself to his chest above his heart. It felt like his body was covered in spiders as the feeling of electricity ran through his body.

"Draco Malfoy."

The bodiless voice echoed through his head without bothering to go through his ears first. It was cold, chilling voice, and everything was pronounced in a way that he could hear every capital letter and punctuation mark.

"You have failed to send owls to your father, Lucius Malfoy. Only one has been received."

Draco bit his tongue against the pain, filling his mouth with the rusty taste of blood.

"We have been informed that you have been relocated to the Gryffindor table during meals. Because of this, we are expecting you to comply too our demands. We also want you to befriend the mudblood Gryffindor, Hermione Granger."

The envelope detached itself from the outside of Draco's silk pyjamas and lay on the floor where it burst into flames before it's ashes seemed to sink into the floor.

Draco fell to his knees, white, shaking, and coughing uncontrollably. Repressing the urge to be violently sick over the entire carpet, he wiped his sweat-covered forehead with his sleave. He guessed it was written by Voldemort and (judging by the seals) was approved by his father. Draco was able to drag himself up onto the bed and curled up into a ball before passing out.


A/N: Soon there will be an entire chapter about Draco's werewolf-ism. But there's not much to say about it untill the closer to the full moon.