Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.
I'm soooo sorry it's taken me forever to update, but it really isn't my fault. I just moved into my college which is around 300 miles away, and then I had to get my laptop all checked out and then our internet connection didn't work and we had to get that fixed. So, yeah. But it's all good, and here's the next chapter.
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He fought the darkness that held him under, not liking the feelings of helplessness and vulnerability it brought, but it was a strong force. The black was punctuated with visions of faces leaning over him and hands touching him, touching his chest and then his side, and that always brought pain. He tried to get them off of him, but he was never awake enough to fight them off completely. Or maybe the faces and the pain was the dream and he wasn't asleep enough to make it stop. The questions caused his head to ache and he was pulled under, struggling all the way.
He woke up suddenly, not knowing why, but discovering that he was in a bed in the infirmary with the privacy curtains closed. Light was filtering through the material and he became aware of soft voices across the room, which must have been the stimulus that woke him up. He listened in, identifying Potter's and Dumbledore's voices.
"It was just like you said, sir," said Harry. "how love was the power I had that he didn't know. When the curses met, I could feel all of his hate and loathing through the connection. But then you said to remember what made me strong, and I thought of all of my friends and how I loved them, and he couldn't handle it."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, "you see it is very easy to hate someone, but to love them, to truly love them through all of their faults, takes true strength, and he couldn't do that."
Draco frowned, what sort of rubbish was that? He tuned out the conversation, and took stock of his condition. His hand, which he was sure he had broken, was now fully functional and only slightly sore. He was shirtless and his lower torso was wrapped in bandages, and experimenting slightly, he was able to sit up with out too much pain. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was early morning, meaning Pomfrey would be coming in soon. He wondered if he could leave before she came in.
Slowly he eased out of the bed and stood, albeit a little shakily. The floor was frigid on his bare feet, and the white pajama bottoms did little to conserve his body heat. He found the button up shirt and pulled it on, fastening the buttons as he silently slid the curtain open a tad. Harry and Dumbledore were still talking in another closed off section and he slipped out and headed towards the door, his bare feet making no noise as he crossed the room. All of the beds were in use and all had the curtains pulled shut. He frowned again and reached out to turn the handle.
"I would advise against that, Mr. Malfoy," said a voice behind him.
Draco whipped around, hand reaching for his wand that was usually in his pocket, but it wasn't there. It was Dumbledore, and by his side was a very ill looking Harry Potter.
"Is that so?" he asked coolly, trying to regain his composure after his shock.
"Yes, unfortunately the entire wizarding news world has decided to camp outside these infirmary doors in hopes to get a picture or statement from those who fought in the battle, and as many in here are seriously injured, peace and quiet is a must."
"I see," said Draco.
"And now would be the best time to step away from the doors as Poppy will be entering soon." He guided Harry to the side, one hand on his elbow, and Draco noticed that Harry seemed to need the support.
He followed them over to the side just as the doors opened, emitting a very harassed looking nurse followed by a horde of doctors. Flash bulbs went off, and people shouted questions that could not be distinguished from all of the voices. Draco got the impression that the entire hall was filled with reporters just waiting to descend like a flock of vultures on a piece of raw meat.
"Those imbeciles!" Madame Pomfrey hissed once the doors were shut, effectively cutting out the noise. She glared at Harry. "And what do you think you are doing?" she demanded, outraged. "Right back into bed this instant!" She rounded on the person accompanying the boy hero. "Albus, what do you think you are doing having him out of bed! His link with You-Know-Who was severed rather abruptly when he cast the curse and I have no idea how this is going to affect him!" She turned to Draco. "And you, visiting hours are - you!" She cut off, finally recognizing him as her patient. "What are you doing up! You've been delirious with an infection induced fever for two days straight!"
"Two days?" Draco asked.
"Yes, two days. And here you are, wondering around with bare feet and your shirt half open. Really! Back to bed. Now."
Draco turned to Dumbledore. "What did I miss sir?" he asked. "While I was out, that is."
"I believe I shall tell you everything, after you get back in bed."
Draco consented to this, there was a firmness in Dumbledore's voice that left no room for argument. He walked back to his bed and climbed under the covers; it was cold in the room. He watched Dumbledore help Harry back into his own bed as Harry was beginning to shake from the strain of being up. His eyebrows knitted as he observed his deathly pale nemesis until the Headmaster shut the curtains around the bed. Dumbledore walked over to his bedside and conjured up a chair.
"He'll be fine," said Dumbledore, noting the direction of his gaze.
Draco suddenly realized that he was staring at Potter's curtains with a look of concern on his face. He quickly slipped his cold, uncaring mask back on. "Pardon?" he asked nonchalantly.
Dumbledore studied him thoughtfully with his light blue eyes and then he smiled, almost indulgently. "What do you wish to know?" the Headmaster asked.
Draco felt that Dumbledore had just seen straight through his mask and jumped on the change of topic. "Is Blaise alright? Is there anyone else left?"
"Mr. Zabini is recovering well, however, his leg was crushed and while he can still walk, he will have a limp. Miss Parkinson survived with only minor cuts and bruises and a Mr. Randell, the fourth year one, is temporarily blind although his sight will probably return."
Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not his brother?"
"No, no one else," said Dumbledore. "I'm sorry."
"Are all the Death Eaters in custody?"
"A few escaped, but not many. Severas has given us the complete list of those involved."
"Sev?" asked Draco, opening his eyes in surprise at the mention of his godfather. "He what?"
"He gave us a list of – Oh," said Dumbledore. "You didn't know."
"Didn't know what?" asked Draco completely confused and not liking that feeling.
"Severas was a spy. He has been for sixteen years now, that was why the Trojan Horse bound him as well. Didn't you see him when you came in?"
Draco shook his head. "No, I- I guess I…" he trailed off. Suddenly it was all clear, all of the advice Sev had given him, telling him to think before he acted, to not let power blind him, to truly examine everything before accepting anything that would affect his entire life. "All this time he was telling me not to join the Dark Lord, and I never realized that it was because he wasn't on his side, I just thought-" he stopped himself abruptly. Dumbledore may be the leader of the light side, but that didn't mean Draco fully trusted him.
The Headmaster tilted his head slightly to the side and studied him again. "I owe you an apology, Mr. Malfoy" he said finally. "I fully expected that you would turn out exactly like your father, and I never thought…," he shook his head and looked him directly in the eyes. Draco couldn't move, it felt as if Dumbledore was peering into his very soul. "I am rarely wrong about people, and that is because I am an open minded person, but even I can fall under the terrible curse of prejudice, and I did with you. I am sorry."
Draco pulled his eyes away from that fathomless gaze and ran a hand through his hair, pulling on it slightly, a childish habit of discomfort he subconsciously reverted to now and then.
"I shall leave you to get your rest," said Dumbledore. "You are most likely tired. You may see your friends when you wake up and no doubt you will be leaving the infirmary in the near future."
Dumbledore got up and smiled at him as he closed the curtains around his bed. Draco lay back on his pillow, his mind full of things that needed to be sorted through and analyzed, but he found that he was rather tired. He closed his eyes and drifted off.
He woke up around noon and Madame Pomfrey gave him lunch, then led him to Blaise's bed. His friend looked up at him with his usual easy smile.
"There you are, Drake," he said. "Was getting a little worried about you."
"How are you doing Blaise?" he asked, pulling the bedside chair closer and sitting down, looking over his friend. Blaise was flat on his back, his left leg propped up on cushions and wrapped in an all encompassing brace that ran from his foot to mid thigh. He had on shorts and a t-shirt and the blankets were kicked to the bottom of the bed.
"I'm alright," said Blaise. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"You were dying when I found you," said Draco, thinking back on the battle, Blaise bleeding and on the ground, Harry dueling the Dark Lord, Lucius trying to kill him, the knife in his side. He froze, feeling his blood go cold.
"Drake? Draco what is it?" Blaise asked, concern apparent in his voice.
"The knife," said Draco, softly, touching his side.
"What about the knife?" asked Blaise.
"When I pulled it out," said Draco. "It disintegrated."
"Wait, it what?" asked Blaise, starting to sit up, and then laying back down with a grimace. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," said Draco. "He threw it, it hit me right here, and when I pulled it out, it went straight to ash."
"What do you think was on it?" Blaise asked, his brown eyes filled with worry. "Poison?"
Draco shook his head. "Pomfrey would have mentioned something. Knowing Lucius, it was probably some dark curse. It looked old, must have been a heirloom"
"But you're fine, right?" asked Blaise. "I mean, wouldn't have you already been affected if it was a curse?"
"I don't know," Draco admitted. "But most of the older curses took a while to become noticeable."
"Or, maybe it's so old the curse faded. It's happened before," said Blaise, anxiously.
"Maybe," said Draco, knowing that the chances of his father using a faded curse were near nonexistent. "That's probably it," he agreed. "It did look really old from what I could see of it."
He was spared making any further empty reassurances by the door opening. They both turned to see the Weasley siblings and Granger slip in through the doors accompanied by the shout of questions and the many flashes of cameras.
"Harry!" called Hermione, spotting her friend and running over. She gave him a hug, then waved the two red-heads over.
"Ron," said Harry, "Ginny, I'm – I'm sorry about your dad."
"It's okay, mate," said Ron, giving a tight smile. Ginny nodded though tears threatened to spill out of her bright eyes.
"What happened to their dad?" Draco whispered to Blaise, watching the three crowd around Harry.
"He was killed in the battle," Blaise whispered back. "Your dad killed him."
Draco nodded, a horrible, guilty, dirty feeling in his throat. "How?"
"Avada Kedavra," said Blaise quietly.
Draco looked back at the Weasleys, and, as if feeling his gaze, the four turned and stared at him.
"Ron, don't do it," said Hermione.
"Do what?" asked Ron, a murderous edge in his voice.
"What you're thinking about doing," said Hermione.
"So you're saying I shouldn't kill him? Well, I say there are too many Malfoys in the world. I would be doing the entire race a favor by killing one off."
The door opened and McGonagall rushed in, followed by Madame Pomfrey.
"Draco dear," said Madame Pomfrey, rushing over. "I need you to stay seated, alright?"
"Why?" asked Draco, looking at her in askance, then at McGonagall. There was pity in her eyes. "What's going on?" he demanded, starting to get up.
"No, no, no," said Pomfrey. "You need to sit down. You need to sit down and stay calm, alright? Can we do that?"
"No, we can't," said Draco, standing up. "What is going on." It was a statement.
"Please sit down, it may be a shock," Pomfrey began.
"Your mother committed suicide," said McGonagall bluntly. "An hour ago."
Draco actually stumbled back a step, but he caught himself and then turned away from them. His hands ran through his hair and started tugging again. "How?" he asked.
"She hung herself," said McGonagall. "I'm sorry. If you would like to talk-"
"I don't want to talk," said Draco. He turned back around and saw the four
Gryffindors staring at him with looks of horror on their face. "I've got to get out of here." He brushed past them all and headed towards the door, but McGonagall stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Not that way," she said. "Come this way." She handed him a blue soft dressing gown and led him to the fireplace. "Put that on." He did so and she took a bit of floo powder and through it in the fire. "Potions Lab," she commanded and turned to Draco. "Don't stay too long and try to pull Severas away from his potions, alright?"
Draco nodded and stepped into the flames. The heat licked pleasantly at his body and then spewed him out into the dim, damp lighting of Severas' private potions lab.
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So , I'm thinking about writing shorter chapters, but updating sooner, maybe like one chapter a night. Would that be good even if they're not as long?
Review and let me know what you think of that, and also how you liked the chapter. Thanks.