Draco was perfectly still in the bed Poppy Pomfrey had placed him in, as people scurried in and out of the infirmary. Beads of sweat covered his forehead and he was even more pale than usual – which was quite a disconcerting sight, considering he had always looked a bit ghostly. His pale hair clung to his face, and anyone would have been sure if he could see how messy it was, he'd throw a fit.
In the corner of the dimly lit room, three concerned adults stood, discussing the unconscious boy.
"Severus, keep your voice down!" Pomfrey scowled deeply as the Potions Master glared.
"I suggest the both of you keep the bickering to a minimum, we have a serious matter at hand here." Dumbledore said, instantly silencing them both. He, just like every other day at Hogwarts, had his mask of coolness on, but deep down he was seriously troubled. The old wizard had no idea who would do such a thing, and why.
"Have we been able to determine what exactly the poison was that entered Draco's system?" Severus Snape questioned, eyes flickering between the Headmaster and the nurse. Dumbledore sighed, and shook his head.
"No, Severus. We were able to seize and remove most of the poison though, which has helped his state greatly. Although he will be unconscious for a day or two I assume, and he will be running a fever. Draco is quite fortunate that a prefect just happened to hear a scuffle and found him… if she hadn't, he would have surely died."
"A scuffle? Did the prefect happen to see anybody at all around the area?" Severus shifted his weight side to side, feeling fatigued from the stress. 'Lucius will no doubt have my head for this,' he thought bitterly, as his gaze flickered over towards the sleeping boy. Draco grimaced and twisted his body slightly, gripping at the white sheets tightly.Madam Pomfrey had forced a potion down the Slytherins throat earlier that was supposed to keep his slumber peaceful and dreamless, yet it seemed even that couldn't work properly with the poison in his body.
"I suggest you two take your discussion elsewhere. The poor boy needs as much rest as he can get, and you will just be getting in my way when I tend to him." Both men stared at Poppy, but she didn't waver. With a sigh Severus shuffled out of the infirmary, soon followed by Dumbledore.
Madam Pomfreyleaned over Draco's form and patted a cold cloth against his forehead and cheeks. He was deathly pale, yet his skin felt so on fire she was shocked his body could stand it. He seemed to relax a bit at her touch, yet the grimace didn't leave his face. As she dabbed his skin with the cloth, Poppy wondered what he was dreaming of. Had he caught a glance at the person who tried to kill him? If he didn't, how would they figure out who the attacker was? Surely it wasn't safe to ignore it, and let the person run free, because they could try and hurt Draco again. It was such an unusual assassination attempt, no doubt - Draco had been found lying face down in the grass with an arrow sticking out of his back. The tip was embedded near an inch into his flesh, allowing the poison covering the arrow to quickly taint his blood and flow through his veins. He was definitely a very strong young man, Poppy decided, figuring not many his age could stay alive for so long after that.
"Madam Pomfrey…" A males voice spoke out quietly, startling her slightly.
"Harry, what're you doing here? It is quite late, dear boy, you should be asleep." Harry gave a slight smile, but shook his head.
"I couldn't sleep… I also heard some rumors of a certain Slytherin getting hurt, and I was wondering if I could visit him for a moment." Harry's voice quavered and he averted his gave.
"I'm not sure if that would be good right now, he's very -,"
"Please! Just a moment, I swear." Harry pleaded, and she sighed. Madam Pomfrey stepped outside the room, leaving Harry alone with Draco.
Harry shivered as he neared the bed, dreading what he was about to see. He bit his lip when he glanced at Draco's face, taking note of the pained look and almost colorless lips. Draco turned his head slightly and Harry thought his love might wake up, but to his dismay those gray eyes never opened. He lifted his hand and let his fingers trail the edge of the Slytherins chin and cheek bone, caressing softly. Draco's features softened, making him look more peaceful in his sleep. Harry smiled slightly and leaned down, placing his lips upon Draco's forehead. His skin was hot to the touch. The Gryffindor frowned and stroked Draco's hair away from his face, and sighed. Slowly he turned and left, deciding he shouldn't try and press his luck with Madam Pomfrey.
The corridors were eerily quiet as Harry dragged his feet towards the staircase to go up to the seventh floor. He paid no attention to the silence though, being deep in thought and quite troubled. Who would attack Draco, and why? But most of all, why was Harry so concerned? Just because he snogged the boy doesn't mean he fell in love… or did I, Harry thought, brow knitted and confusion on his face. Harry had trouble accepting the fact the past five years of Hogwarts Draco and him sneered and fought with each other, loathing the other with such intensity, and it could all be thrown away with a single passionate moment. It caused him to wonder if hate and love were truly opposites, when it was so easy to switch from one emotion to the other without noticing it happening.
Harry looked up; shocked his feet had led him so quickly to the portrait guarding his room. It was of a beautiful young female with bright red hair and green eyes much like his own, with a petite body and jewels adorning her robes. She eyed him warily, wondering why he was out so late, but she did not question him as he mumbled the password, admitting him to the small yet lavishly furnished room.
It was dim; only lit by a few candles placed around the room, illuminating it enough to make navigation easy but dark enough to hide most of the room's details. With a flick of his wand, more candles lit up instantly, flames burning intensely. Harry slid off his robes, carelessly chucking them over a wooden chair, and plopped down on his bed. He had so much on his mind. Years ago he would have scoffed if Professor Trelawney predicted in the near future he would (involuntarily) 'come out of the closet', fall for a blonde Slytherin, and lose one of his best friends. It was definitely too much for a boy so young to endure in such a short time period, but Harry knew he had to be strong and fight the temptation to break down, completely fall apart. The topic of great changes in his mind led to that certain blonde once more, and with a sign Harry decided Draco was on his mind too much. Though he couldn't stop thinking about those gray, sharp eyes, and the strained and helpless look upon Draco's face when he visited earlier that evening. Would he be all right? Harry would never forgive himself if Draco died right after their last not-so-cheery encounter… he could only hope he'd have a chance to say his apologies someday, and preferably soon.