IX-
Dear Hermione. Dear Ron. Dear Ginny. Dear Dumbledore's Army.
Thanks. Thanks for cursing me. Thanks for handing me to Voldemort. Thanks for rescuing me.
Thanks.
Thanks for nothing.
Harry sat looking bleakly up, writing his mental note, the epitome of self-pity. Draco coughed and turned over in his sleep. He heard his teeth chattering, muttering something incoherent. He added more.
Thanks.
If you never did this...
Draco mumbled again, crying out softly.
I never would've given Draco a chance.
Harry stood slowly, pulling himself up. He was weak with hunger, afraid to bring in Voldemort or one of his inferius. It was time to escape. But it was too dangerous now, in the day time. Instead he lay next to Draco, eyes fluttering closed.
"So that's your plan?" The D.A. was gathered close in the Gryffindor common room. "You're going to resurrect Harry from the dead and have him take on You-Know-Who." Neville nodded and Hermione sighed, dropping her head. "I hope you realize it's hopeless. I mean... he's gone. You know how it goes. Tomorrow-" Her voice quavered and Ron gulped, knowing what she was getting at.
"Tomorrow he'll be an inferius for all we know. Could be a week. Could be a month. But-" He slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit! I don't want to see my best friend walking around like his- his puppet!"
"Ron-"
"You know I'm right, Ginny!" He shouted. Hermione put her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him. He looked into her eyes, hesitating. "You're- you're right." He whispered. "I'm sorry. Sorry."
Draco turned in his sleep, body screaming for warmth. He was wearing nothing beneath the thick bed sheets. Wasn't allowed anything. His brow creased, sweat dribbling loosely down his forehead in rivulets. His fingers gripped the sheets tightly.
But he felt warmth return and his brow relaxed, fingers loosening.
"Hnnn...?" He slowly opened his eyes, which were hazy and filled with a far-off image. "Potter? Potter! What are you doing?" He shot backwards, hands out.
"Nnn? Ah! Sorry! Sorry!" He too fell back, rolling off the bed. In his sleep, he had moved over Draco, their cheeks touching. Hands moving down... finding warmth any where they could... "It was an accident..."
"Don't touch me, Potter." He scoffed, blushing in humiliation. But that far-off image... that dream...
It wasn't necessarily without Harry Potter...
He blushed deeper, the dream returning. Thoughts brimmed in his head and he couldn't help it-
"Why do you care so much-" He stumbled on his words, garbling them slightly in his nerves. He paused, taking a deep breath.
"What are you-" Harry sat staring back at him, confused at his words.
"Why?" Draco repeated, "Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"
"..."
Harry hesitated, pulling himself up. His cheeks were tinged with an off rose color, hair falling over his eyes.
"...I don't know. I guess... it's just not fair... the way- you just..." He sighed heavily. "You don't deserve it." Draco's head remained bent, hands tightening on the sheets.
"Oh." He murmured.
"Why the sudden...?"
"... I don't know." He turned, falling back down on the pillows and pulling the covers up to his chin. "Forget it."
"..."
"It's almost midnight."
"So?"
"So... we should get ready to... escape." At this Draco slammed his fist down, sitting back up.
"And how the hell do you propose I escape? Hmm? Look at me, Potter."
"...Um...?"
"What am I wearing?" He hissed. At this Harry reddened, his face resembling a tomato.
"I-" He coughed, bowing his head and glancing away quickly. "You can... just- use the sheets as a robe... or-" He sighed. "I don't know."
"Well you better think of something then." Once more he collapsed onto the bed, turning away from Harry.
"Malfoy?" Harry said after a few moments of silence. Draco pretended he was asleep, breathing gently. "Malfoy!" At this Draco sat up, grunting angrily.
"What?"
"We will escape."
"Great. Good for us."
"I'm serious." Draco scoffed.
"Yeah? And if, if, we escape, you think it'll change anything? You think it'll change this?" He pointedly shook a finger at his stomach and Harry winced, frowning.
"I don't-"
"No. You don't know." Draco's voice cracked. "Escaping isn't going to change anything..." He whispered miserably, chin trembling. "Nothing you can do is going to save any one. Especially me."
"Draco-" But he had turned his back, shaking his head.
"Forget it, Potter. It's not worth it." But he felt the bed sink with Harry's weight and turned, right in time to see Harry move close.
"It's worth it. Worth defeating Voldemort. Worth getting out of here. If we can figure one thing out... maybe the rest will fall into place."
"Fall into place?" Harry nodded. Draco looked away, gulping. "You're so simple." He heard Harry laugh and turned back to him, angry at the thought that Harry was mocking him. But he only saw a warmth he had lost, only saw a faint speck of hope. He sighed and leaned against the headboard. "You're... so weird Potter." Silence descended once more, not necessarily unwelcome, and they sat, lost in their own thoughts for some time.
Finally, Harry fell asleep. Draco stayed up, looking down into the stained covers, hands caked with blood and tinted scarlet.
"You know Potter... you're not so bad." He whispered into the growing nighttime.
