Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: see previous
A/N: I am not a medical encyclopaedia. I am a second-year occupational therapy student. We don't do medical procedures and suchlike that the nurses do. Therefore I am no expert on illnesses so don't bother flaming because they will simply be used to toast marshmallows.
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Chapter 10: Peeves Upsets Snape
"No Malfoy again?" commented Ron as they waited outside the Potions dungeon that afternoon for the start of their lesson.
"He's really ill," Harry informed him brusquely, in a low voice.
"How bad?" asked Hermione, equally quietly.
"Really bad."
"Get in!" Snape ordered form the back of the queue of seventh-years (which was directly behind the Gryffindor trio). "Potter, a brief word."
Harry exchanged looks with Hermione, mouthing, What have I done now? at her. He waited as Snape has asked, and the teacher spoke to him when everyone else was inside the room. "I overheard your discussion with Granger and Weasley just now. Draco's starting to show signs of improvement, although he's in no fit state to be playing Quidditch just yet – and Poppy would cause no end of trouble if he attempted to do so." His tone changed abruptly. "In, before I take twenty points from Gryffindor for loitering in the corridors."
Harry scuttled into the dungeon and took his place between Ron and Hermione. They, along with the rest of the class, were silently watching Peeves writing extremely rude words on the board, mainly about Snape.
The dungeon door banged shut, the sound echoing throughout the room, and a number of objects on the shelves shuddered and rattled from the force of the bang. Snape walked swiftly, silently, to the front of the room. Peeves had not yet seen him; he had been too absorbed in his activity to hear the slam of the dungeon door.
"I hope that you do not mean what you have just written, Peeves," said Snape, his voice dangerously quiet.
Peeves did a somersault and faced Snape. "Oh, but I do, Professor. I mean every word of it." He cackled loudly and threw the chalk at Snape, hitting him on his rather large nose.
"Out."
"Shan't." Peeves blew a raspberry. "You aren't my teacher. How about me breaking a few more cauldrons, Snapey?"
Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "You do and you are out of here." He raised his wand. "I could Summon the Bloody Baron…"
Peeves' expression lost some of its cockiness and laughed nervously. "I – I was just leaving. Forgive Peevesy his little joke, your Professorness." With that, he bowed and zoomed out of the room through the door. Snape was seething, and Peeves' little stunt meant that for once, not even the Slytherins escaped his scathing tongue – he took ten points from Zabini and Nott's red-coloured potion that was supposed to be –
"Translucent blue," Snape informed them acidly, before removing the points. "I never thought that seventh-years could possibly be this stupid; you have managed to surpass even Longbottom in stupidity levels. Next time make sure you can actually read the instructions before you come to the lesson. If you can't, get someone else to read it to you." Zabini and Nott turned as red as their potion, which Snape disposed of with a flick of his wand before he assigned them detention. Everyone was immensely relieved to escape the dungeons and get out into the fresh air.
"I can't believe Snape!" Ron exclaimed. "What is his problem? I mean, I knew Peeves did that stuff last year, but still…"
"Maybe he's worried about Malfoy," suggested Harry. "I heard they had to call a doctor in."
"It must be bad, then," said Hermione soberly. "I can't remember the last time that happened."
Ron tutted loudly. "For God's sake!" he exploded. "Do you have to talk about Malfoy?" He stormed off towards Gryffindor Tower, causing several students to turn and raise their eyebrows in surprise.
Harry and Hermione watched him go and Hermione turned to Harry. "Spit it out," she ordered. "What's going on? And don't say it's nothing; I know you too well, Harry Potter."
"I don't know what you're talking about," retorted Harry defiantly.
"Oh, give it up!" Hermione hissed furiously. "What do you think I am – stupid?"
Harry said nothing, but folded his arms across his chest.
"If you don't tell me, I'll write to Sirius…" She smirked; she had won and they both knew it.
Harry sighed, defeated. "We've called a truce. That's all there is to it. Don't push me any more, Herm. Please," he added desperately.
Hermione was silent for a moment, thinking. Eventually she relented. "I suppose so."
"I'm going to see Hagrid during Break. You coming?" Harry asked her.
"I should really look over my notes for the next lesson…"
Harry grabbed her hand and tugged her along, effectively ending her protests. When they arrived at Hagrid's hut, Fang was fast asleep in his basket and the two took their huge mugs of tea outside while Hagrid updated them on some creatures he was meant to be acquiring for his fifth-years' lesson.
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A week passed before Madam Pomfrey allowed Draco any visitors besides Snape. Pansy Parkinson was first, although he originally pretended to be asleep until he had had enough and then told her in no uncertain terms to shut up and go away. Miffed, she stood up. "That's OK, Draky. You're bound to be irritable while you're still so ill." When she bent down to kiss him, he pulled away and she stormed out, banging the door behind her. Pomfrey went flying after her and gave her a long lecture about disturbing her patients.
As he still wasn't deemed well enough to get out of bed, he tried to sleep instead. As he lay down, he was hit by a violent coughing fit – something that he'd been suffering from a lot. It jarred his constantly aching head badly. Pomfrey gave him a half-teasing lecture about the risks of going out in a near-blizzard. He'd found himself warming to the school mediwitch recently, and was now able to take her teasing in good humour.
A while later he awoke to find Harry sitting in the chair Pansy had vacated earlier. "How are you?" asked Harry awkwardly.
Draco shrugged. "Tired. I've got a headache and a nasty cough. I feel great," he retorted sarcastically.
Harry glared at him. "I didn't come just to get a whole load of abuse off you, Malfoy!"
Draco flinched. "Don't suppose you've heard anything about my mother, have you?" he asked, before he was hit by another coughing fit. It was several minutes before it subsided and when it did, he collapsed back against the pillows, exhausted. Pomfrey arrived with a jug of water and a glass in her hand. "Drink," she ordered, handing him the glass. "All of it."
Shakily, Draco took the glass from her, not daring to disobey her. It tasted awful; she'd definitely put something in it.
"Good boy. Now, don't go getting yourself worked up." Pomfrey turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, make sure he behaves himself." There was a twinkle in her eye as she walked off to check on a third-year that was suffering from the effects of a miscast spell in Transfiguration.
"I haven't heard anything, I'm afraid," Harry told him. "Sirius is doing all he can to find things out, though – and he's got a lot of links. But it's like she's just vanished into thin air."
Draco slowly struggled into a sitting position, a fearful look on his face. "You don't – you don't think she's…dead, do you?" he asked hesitantly.
Harry reluctantly nodded. "We have to view that as a serious possibility. That, or she could be held prisoner somewhere. There's also the chance that she could have left of her own accord."
Draco frowned. "But surely she'd leave a note or something? Maybe contact me since she left? I am her only child, after all."
"Not necessarily. Going slightly off the point here, but when I was ten, there was a supposed 'big scandal' in Privet Drive. Mrs. Morris left Mr. Morris one day. Nobody knew anything. No note or anything." Harry shrugged. "It can happen."
"But it's unlikely," said Draco dully.
"I'd say so."
Draco agitatedly fiddled with the blanket covering him. "Harry, there's some important stuff in Herbology I'm missing. Could – could you get Hannah Abbott to come up and help me with my work? I don't want to get behind, and Hannah's my greenhouse partner."
Harry blinked at him. "Do you realise how like Hermione you sound?"
Draco looked distinctly uncomfortable at this comparison. "Father's been on at me since my OWL results. I have to do well in my NEWTs; I have to!"
"What's all this about schoolwork?" demanded Pomfrey, hurrying over the moment her ears had detected academically-related words. "You'll talk of no such thing yet, Mr. Malfoy. Give yourself time to recover first." She went back to the third-year.
"Please, Harry!" Draco pleaded desperately, speaking quietly to avoid Pomfrey overhearing.
Harry glanced at his watch and stood up. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "I should go; lunch'll be starting in a minute." He walked out and down to the Great Hall. On the way, he met the aforementioned Hannah Abbott, a pretty Hufflepuff girl with thick blonde hair and kind blue eyes. She was also a prefect. "Hannah, could I have a word with you?"
She stopped. "Of course. Is something wrong?"
Harry shook his head. "No no. It's just that Malfoy wants you to go up to see him in the hospital wing – he's worried about missing some important work and he said you're his greenhouse partner so he wants you to keep him up-to-date, rather than anyone else."
Hannah eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you two hated each other's guts?" she inquired warily. "How do I know this isn't one of your big Gryffindor pranks on the thick, gullible Hufflepuffs?"
"It's not. Look, you'll just have to trust me. Will you go?"
Hannah paused, then nodded. "Oh, I might as well."
"Great. Thanks!" Harry hurried off to the Hall to sit with his friends. Hannah watched him go, puzzled. Then she dismissed it – she knew that Draco was ill, so she merely assumed that Harry had got injured in a Quidditch practice (nothing new) and he had happened to talk to Malfoy. She didn't actually mind going – Draco had always been fairly decent to her.
She ate her lunch quickly while discussing the morning's lessons with Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan, and then went up to the hospital wing, schoolbag on her back. Pomfrey let her in. "He's tired, so no more than ten minutes," she cautioned. Hannah nodded and sat down beside Draco, who looked up from the book he was reading. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice weary.
"I've only got ten minutes, so I can't really do much with you today," she apologised.
"I don't care. Maybe next time you come up we can do more." He put his book on the bedside table and lay down, shivering slightly. His head was beginning to ache badly. "Just tell me what's going on in school. I'm missing it all, being up here."
"McGonagall took thirty points off Slytherin at lunch yesterday because they started a food fight, and fifteen off Ravenclaw for retaliating. Flitwick chucked Parvati Patil out of Charms for putting make-up on in his lesson and he confiscated it. And – and Pansy Parkinson was seen kissing Blaise Zabini. Very intimately," Hannah told him, nervous as she delivered the last item of news.
"Thank God for that," Draco murmured, closing his eyes in an effort to get rid of the flashing lights that were clouding his vision. It didn't work, and he was starting to feel nauseous.
Pomfrey came over. "Miss Abbott, you should go now, if you don't want to be late for your lesson."
Hannah smiled at Draco, her eyes dancing. "I do believe I'm being kicked out." She stood up and picked up her bag, throwing it onto her back, giving his hot hand a small, comforting squeeze. "I'll be up to see you later, Draco," she promised.
He heard her leave, and opened his eyes. "Madam Pomfrey…"
"What's wrong?" the mediwitch asked.
"There are these weird flashing lights in front of my eyes," he whispered. "My head's pounding and I feel sick."
"Migraine," Pomfrey informed him briskly. "You've never had one before? Thought not. Those are common symptoms. I'll give you something for it." She left and returned moments later, a glass with a dark blue liquid in a glass. "Get it down you."
He took it from her, but his hand was shaking so badly that some of the liquid splashed onto the bedclothes. Wordlessly Pomfrey took the glass from his hand. "Let me."
He hated feeling so helpless, but he allowed her to do so nonetheless. He was very rarely ill, so he was unused to this kind of treatment. He was oscillating between the extremes of hot and cold. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face and body, and he clenched his fists tightly, digging his nails into his palms so that he could focus on that pain instead of his pounding head and his aching, sweating, shivering body. The migraine was intensifying and he couldn't prevent a small moan from escaping his lips. Pomfrey was immediately at his side, and she was quick to place a fresh, cold cloth on his forehead and cooling packs around his wrists, before darkening the room with her wand. She didn't like this one bit, and was anxious about the Slytherin's rising temperature. This done, she sat down beside the bed to keep watch, worrying over the nature of Draco's illness. There's something not quite right about this, she thought to herself.
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TBC
Author thanks:
Ruperts-a-Honey
A Monkey's Harp: I'm not telling you if Draco's OK or not! And I'm taking 'cruel' as a compliment!
AshleyPorter: keep up with the Draco-sympathy! There should be lots more to come!
Lucidity: come, now; I'm hardly going to go killing off Draco of all people, am I?! There will be a little more Snape further on, but he's not particularly prominent in this fic. Virtual chocolate sounds tempting…I hope it's Fairtrade chocolate!!
Evanescent Dawn: 'Damage Done' is one of my fics (scroll down my profile and you should find it). Poppy's always come across as strict and firm, yet warm and maternal – it's why she's so good at her job. I'm intrigued – who do you think the Death Eater is? Re the whole thing with Lupin's excessive cheerfulness – a lot of my teachers always seemed far more cheerful than normal when they were clutching test papers in their hands, and my dad (before he quit teaching last summer) always relished tests! Snape does care a great deal for Draco, but he's not very good at showing it. Draco says thanks for the best wishes you sent!
The Lady Quotes: I'll pass on the "flowers, candy and other good stuff" to Draco, providing Poppy lets him have them!!
Rebell: I know you can't help but feel sorry for Draco!! I love evoking these kind of emotions in a reader!! Hee hee!! I'm cruel, I know. My purpose in life is to get the poor kid some overdue sympathy! And don't bounce too much; damage could be caused!
Riob: No names beginning with X. That's absolutely definite (although you could always look on the Harry Potter Lexicon – that's supposed to be a very good website; and no, I don't know the website address). You would indeed be correct about staffroom gossip! Teachers rarely talk about anything but the pupils in the staffroom!! (And if there are two from the same school that are married to each other they continue to discuss the kids at home as well – believe me on this; I know!) Pomfrey's aware of the truce. She picks up on far more than people realise. (Turns Weasley-hair-red from praise). Wow. Making someone feel ill just from reading my stuff is a new thing for me! My writing must be effective! ;) I hope you don't remember too much about the original story – it'll ruin some of that carefully-built tension!
TinorialPeredhil: Of course Lucius is good at what he's doing; it's how he's got as far as he has done! "The Final Showdown" is indeed intended to sound brutal; these things always are. I'm not trying to give you heart failure; I won't be held responsible for anything that happens to any of my readers in the course of reading this story. They read it entirely at their own risk. And keep the Draco sympathy coming! And I was always wary of super-cheerful teachers – for a good reason! And for chapter 9 – such a nice loooooong review!!
