DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. 'Sides, you'd get more blood out of a turnip then you would money out of me! HA!

AUTHORS NOTE: A turning point in the story this is. Pleased I am. (Isn't Yoda adorable! That cute little pistachio!)

SUMMARY: Harry feels like he's in hell, Draco's living through a nightmare. Can they help each other before it's too late to save either one?

FROM THE LAST CH. Voices in the room soared, trying to figure out what had happened to the composed Slytherin. Eyewitnesses, Harry among their number, had seen him plodding to the dungeons, looking as if he were about to die. Now, however, he seemed to be in perfect health. If his gait was a bit stiff, and his movements a tad guarded, no one noticed. His face was barely marred and, on a Malfoy, the face was everything. Who knew Pansy made such a good nurse. Look out Poppy, Parkinson's gunning for ya!

Tainting the Innocent

Chapter Seven

Thursday, Harry was clomping through the dungeons towards Snape's office for an Occulemancy lesson. Since making it into NEWT level Potions, remedial classes didn't work as an excuse, so he'd consequently been serving a lot of detentions. He had improved over the summer, but Snape compensated for that by being extra brutal. Just as he was approaching the corridor that led to the potion master's office, he heard voices coming from farther down the hall. He could barely make out what was being said, but could tell that the speaker was highly agitated. The closer he crept, the clearer the words became until he realized that the person speaking was none other than Draco Malfoy. Finally reaching the door to the empty classroom, Harry stood there listening in on the boy's conversation with a growing curiosity.

"She hasn't written…why the hell hasn't she written? Oh, God," he groaned.

"Drake, calm down mate. It's only been a few days," Blaise Zambini said. "Maybe she doesn't know yet." There was a double grunt of agreement. Harry knew those grunts without needing to see who had made them: Crabbe and Goyle.

"Of course she knows," he shouted. "She's made it her life's mission to have her finger on everything that goes on in the wizarding world. It's not improbable that she knew of the prison break before word even reached the Ministry. She should also know I'd be worried beyond belief." You could hear the hard soles of dress shoes slapping the floor angrily. "Argh! WHERE IS SHE!" Thuds and splintering wood gave a counter point to screams. Harry could feel vibrations in the stone wall from several heavy things slamming into it and an almost tangible crackle of magic singed the air. The sounds of destruction continued along with those of panicked voices. There was a sickeningly wet smack and a great bellow of pain.

"Draco, please, stop" Pansy Parkinson sobbed out, but her voice was barely audible over the roar of magic and collisions. Harry could guess what was going on: Malfoy, terrified by the lack of correspondence from this woman, has worked himself into such a state that his magic went out of control. Right now, he was a danger to himself and those unlucky souls trapped in there with him. Not one to stand by when people were in danger, even when those people were Slytherins, Harry palmed his wand and opened the door.

A tornado of splintered wood, metal, and dust spun around an entranced Malfoy, with bolts of silvery-blue magic woven through. His hair, usually so rigidly gelled back, whipped about his face leaving red welts where it hit. Zambini, Crabbe, and Baulstrode huddled together into the far corner. Pansy, only a few feet from Malfoy, had plastered herself on top of a prostrate Goyle. A growing pool of blood spread from his head and Harry now knew who had been hurt. Some of the bigger pieces were bashing into her, but she refused to move from her protective position over the incapacitated goliath. She couldn't remain at the eye of the storm for long, though.

Her loyal bravery spurring him into action, Harry dashed into the room. First, he'd focus on getting to the trio in the corner.

"Potter," Zambini yelled in a mix of confusion and relief. Despite the animosity between houses, the sight of a Gryffindor was reassuring during something like this. Standing over his charges, Harry cast a shielding spell, and helped them to their feet. He tried to get them to go swiftly, because the shield weakened with each projectile that hit it.

"Our wands…we tried to stop him but our wands were sucked away," Zambini moaned after they'd exited the room, holding a hand to his bleeding head. Apparently, Goyle wasn't the only one on the injured list.

Millicent grabbed Harry's arm in a death grip, staring into his eyes intently. "You've got to get back in there; you've got to save Pansy and Greg!" Harry nodded his agreement and ran back in.

It was much more difficult getting to the other two without being brained, but he finally managed it. Pansy was shocked speechless when she looked up into his face, but complied quickly once she understood what he was about. Harry cast Wingardiam Leviosa on Goyle, then he and Pansy grabbed hold and pulled him through the maelstrom. Ever so gently, the injured boy was lowered to the ground and Parkinson lifted his head into her lap.

Once more, Harry ran willingly into hell, his goal this time being the cause of this disaster. Using all of his Seeker agility to dodge the debris, Harry worked his way across the room. "Malfoy," he yelled, hoping to startle the other boy out of this trance. He tried several more times, ducking and weaving to avoid being hit, before deciding to change his course of action. "I promise I'm not going to enjoy this," he gritted out, "even if it is you. Stupefy!" They stunning spell failed to work, so Harry mentally scrolled through his repertoire of spells, trying to find one that wouldn't seriously injure the distressed boy. "Riktusempra," he tried again, withholding some force from the spell, but apparently not enough. Malfoy went flying into the wall behind him and his magic storm slowly died down.

Harry wobbled towards Malfoy, careful not to trip on the wreckage strewn about the floor. With a heave, Harry got the other boy into a standing position and gently slapped his face a bit. "Come on, Malfoy, wake up. I don't have the energy to levitate you out, so you'll have to move under your own power." His eyes fluttered.

"Mum…mum," he mumbled, his head lolling back.

"Malfoy, I may have been hit in the head one too many times tonight, but I still know I'm not your mum. Now wake up." There was a loud moan from the blonde as his head rolled forward onto Harry's shoulder. With another moan, he began to lift his head.

"P-Potter," he asked weakly, trying to look at Harry but unable to focus his vision.

"One and the same. Can you walk?" Malfoy's head drooped to his shoulder again, and he took that for a nod. He started dragging the barely conscious boy across the room and Malfoy slowly tried to keep step.

"Draco," Blaise yelled, happy to see his friend all right. Harry had lied about being too low on magic to float Malfoy out of there because he new these people would need to see their leader like this, on his feet. Gladly passing his burden onto the other boy, Harry collapsed against the wall in exhaustion. He looked around at the battered Slytherins, and was glad to see they were relatively fine. Most of them, anyways.

"Is he going to be okay," Harry asked, worriedly glancing at Goyle.

"I don't know," Pansy said with a tearful, trembling voice. "He was hit pretty hard, and the blood won't stop!"

"Try putting pressure on it," he suggested.

"What," they all asked, looking at him questioningly.

"I said to put pressure on it, to staunch the blood. Here," he pulled his shirt over his head and tore off a sleeve, handing the rest to Crabbe. "Tear this into pieces, please. Now watch." Harry folded the sleeve, placed the makeshift bandage over the nasty gash, and pressed. Goyle moaned in pain and the other students looked unsure on whether to stop him or not, but seemed to decide to let Harry do what he felt was necessary. Besides, if he'd intended them harm, he could have just left the lot of them in there with Malfoy. Wrapping and tying some of the pieces to hold the bandage in place, Harry asked what had been burning in his mind through this whole ordeal. "What happened in there, anyways?"

He pretended to be oblivious to the looks passed between the others, tending to Goyle's wound instead. "He'd tried getting close enough to wrestle Draco to the ground, but a desk hit him in the head," Baulstrode answered, deliberately ignoring Harry's true question.

"And why," Harry persisted, refusing let this be, "would he have needed to wrestle Malfoy to the ground? Why had his magic gone wild?" His eyes were fierce as he shifted his gaze from person to person for several tense moments. Pansy opened her mouth, seeming ready to finally answer, but Zambini spoke first.

"Potter, it's not ours to tell. Draco would be beyond furious if we told you, of all people, something that personal. I'm sorry." He stared blankly at the boy before nodding his head in understanding.

"Alright then, how about we get these two blokes to Madame Pomfrey?"

"Doing your Hero's Duty by us 'till the very end, huh Potter," a subdued voice asked. Harry turned to look into Malfoy's eyes, trying to figure how best to answer. His first impulse was to respond with something scathing, but there had been no malice in Malfoy's voice. Also, he really did feel responsible for these people until he could give them over to responsible adult hands. He finally settled on a simple statement of the truth.

"I'm going to help all of you until no longer needed, but I'm no hero."

Malfoy snorted and smirked. "No arguments here. Let's get going then."

They were just about to go-only needed to levitate Goyle, who had yet to awaken-when Crabbe slapped his head and groaned. "Our wands! How are we ever going to find them in that mess!" He looked back at the destroyed room with dismay. Harry raised his arm and used Accio to call the wands to his hand. "Oh, yeah. Thanks, Potter."

"Don't mention it." Millicent did the honors with Goyle, and they all headed off, Crabbe assisting a woozy but stubborn Malfoy.

Madame Pomfrey almost had kittens when the battered group stumbled in. She immediately took charge of Goyle, inspecting him thoroughly before pouring countless vile potions down his throat. "Is the young man going to be alright, Poppy," Dumbledore asked from the doors. Snape and McGonagall came in right after him looking quite worried. Even Snape.

"Yes, Albus, he should be fine in a few days. Blunt trauma to the head causing a serious laceration and a minor concussion. Nothing I can't fix. The blood loss was minor, since this is a head wound. Always appear to bleed a great deal, but rarely enough to do real harm."

"Thank you, Poppy. I know he couldn't be in more capable hands." She beamed with his praise and moved on to Malfoy, slumped over on the bed next to Goyles'. While she tutted over the bone weary but otherwise sound boy, Snape turned towards Harry with a snarl.

"What the bloody hell did you do to my students, Potter?" He spit out the name as if it were a most disgusting word. "Three-hundred Points from-"

"Don't you dare, Severus! There is no basis for your accusation but your own vile suspicions."

"I don't need concrete proof; everything that walking disaster is involved in is his fault. He probably attacked them viciously, the little delinquent, and is now going to hide behind your skirts to avoid his due punishment."

"Please, you delusional prat, one boy against six? Are you implying that your students are so weak as that?"

"Who to say he didn't ambush them. That would be just his way! He probably-"

"SAVED OUR LIVES," Pansy yelled loudly enough to rattle the chandeliers. Poor Goyle groaned in pain from the noise and Pansy glanced at him apologetically. She turned back towards her head of house, glaring at him fiercely. "All of us had gotten into an argument and Draco's magic went wild. We lost our wands, and Goyle got his head bashed in trying to get to Draco. Harry heard the commotion and rushed in to save us! He didn't cause a bloody thing, and if you try to punish him I'll-" she had been advancing on him menacingly, nearly backing the professor into a corner, but stopped suddenly when Dumbledore's hand landed on her shoulder.

"Severus, is Miss Parkinson's testimony proof enough for you of Harry's innocence?" Snape could only stare at his student as he nodded his head. This was not an easy girl to woo, and Potter had won her loyalty through one act of Gryffindor stupidity. When Pansy Parkinson cared enough about someone to stand up to a teacher, even Snape backed down; that girl could be as vicious as the bulldog her sister had turned her into. "Good! Now that that's settled-Poppy, how is Mr. Malfoy. Having your magic run wild is a dreadful experience."

"Oh, he's fine Headmaster, sound as a bell. Just a bit of exhaustion, but a good night's sleep should fix that. He could even go back to the dorms tonight, but I'll want to keep Gregory until he wakes up, and then for observation."

"That sounds fine. Well, you heard her, everyone off to bed, off to bed. Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore turned to him, a twinkle in his eye, "everyone will be excused from morning classes tomorrow only if you take that time to recuperate." Malfoy stared at him flabbergasted. Dumbledore knew he wouldn't take the offered respite, being just as anal as Hermione when it came to school, so he'd hinged everyone else on his decision. That man knew his students entirely too well for someone who barely had contact with them. Nodding stiltedly, he stood and started towards the doors, expecting his friends to fall in behind him. Pansy, on the other hand, had a different idea. She poked him in the ribs as he walked by but when he ignored her she grabbed his arm and spun him around.

"What," he squawked, not in the mood for one of her I'm-a-girl-and-can't-say-anything-so-I'll-just-torture-you-until-you-figure-it-out-for-yourself games. She stared at him pointedly and then switched her gaze to Harry. He grimaced when he realized what she wanted. Deciding to get it over with, he turned towards his rival, and held out a hand. Harry took it reluctantly. "I don't know if you've figured this out yet, Potter, but a life debt is a magical pact in the wizarding world. We," he seemed reluctant to continue, but trudged on, "each of us, owe you one."

Harry was shocked. He hadn't expected this at all. Yes, he'd known life debts were magical, but it'd never occurred to him that any were owed. He said the first thing that came to mind. "There is no debt, Malfoy." The blonde smirked and rolled his eyes.

"You are such a Gryffindor, Potter. Only one of those thoughtless self-sacrificing gits could say something like that." He shook his head and exited the infirmary followed by his friends, leaving behind a very baffled Harry.

2ND AUTHORS NOTE: Ok, long chapter. Is that yea-ness or what? Tell me what you think!