Afterwards, both of us lay exhausted in the hospital beds, trying not to think anything at all with every bit of energy we had left.
Finally— :Truce, Malfoy? I...can't keep this up much longer. At all.:
A pause, then— :Truce, Potter. Though I'll never admit it to anyone else.:
:Fair enough. So...we're stuck in each other's head. And we're wrung out. What can we do?:
Both of us were silent for a bit.
:...Potter, if you concentrate very, very hard, do you think you can write?:
:...I'm not sure. Maybe. I know I can keep from gargling and twitching, but I can't swear to writing.:
:If I got Pomfrey to bring you paper and a quill, do you think you'd be able to convey our situation to her?:
For far from the first time since the beginning of this hospital stay I wished desperately that I could look at Malfoy and judge his honesty. But that wasn't possible. And when in doubt, be a Gryffindor. Which meant trusting him to be honourable.
:I think so...probably. Again, I can't swear to it, but I'd do the best I could. You really think you could get her to bring me a parchment and a quill?:
:...Probably...that depends. I make no promises. Hold on. And if you breathe a word of this I'll kill you.:
I tried not to hold my breath.
Malfoy started to make strangled, gurgling noises and thrash about a bit. I refrained from laughing hysterically at them only because I couldn't control my voice enough to laugh and because I thought...possibly...Malfoy was executing the plan. It was just as well I did nothing, for Madam Pomfrey hurried to Malfoy's side, ignoring me since I wasn't doing anything.
I found I was able to get a vague idea of what was going on with Malfoy just by focusing on *Malfoy's* being instead of mine; this was vaguely disturbing to both of us, but not enough to disrupt Malfoy's actions.
Malfoy was making vague writing motions with his hands, then pointing at me. Madam Pomfrey frowned, didn't seem to quite be getting it, but hurried off and returned immediately with a paper and quill. She was irritated when Malfoy tried to wave her toward me, saying indignantly, 'Well, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You students and your pranks—' before, with a roll of her eyes, she brought the paper and quill to my bed. 'Do you want this, then, or has he been wasting my time?' I hoped most fervently that I'd be able to write as I'd said.
I took the quill in one hand, and she propped the paper on the bed before me. Fortunately the quill was one of the expensive self-inking sorts; an open inkpot would have been asking for far too much trouble. I concentrated as hard as I could and brought the quill tip to the paper. In a sprawling, jerky hand I managed to scrawl:
potion in snapes class last friday went wrong
we cant move right, and we hear each others thoughts
It looked more like a child's first attempt at printing than anything truly legible, and by the end of it I was shaking with exhaustion, but Madam Pomfrey frowned over the paper and finally nodded firmly. 'All right, boys, I'll contact Professor Snape immediately. We'll get you worked out somehow. In the meantime hold tight, will you? Don't strain yourselves, especially you, Potter; I may need you to write a bit more.' And she was gone, taking the quill with her. It was just as well, I reflected, otherwise I might have made odd-shaped blots on the blanket.
:Well done, Malfoy. If I'd gotten her here, I'd have been too fagged to write anything.:
:I know. I was. That's why I did it, and sent her to you. Like it or not, we're stuck working together until this damned potion wears off, or they counteract it.:
:Oh please let Snape be able to counteract it. I hate this. No offence, but not being able to move or speak is really horrid.:
:Not to mention being stuck listening to my thoughts, and likewise? Don't worry, the feeling's mutual, Potter.:
:To be honest, it could be worse...I could be stuck in Snape's head, or one of the girls'.:
:...Good point. I think I'd kill myself if I had to do this with, say, that Mudblood Granger girl, or Pansy.:
:Stop calling her a fucking Mudblood, Malfoy, or I swear on my father's grave I'll smash your face in when we're free of this gods damned potion. She's a better witch than anyone else I know, and so fucking what if her parents are Muggles? It's not like she can help that, damn you. She's a better, truer friend than you'll ever deserve.: ...I wound down a bit. :So just...shut up about her, will you? If I were stuck like this with her, we'd probably have been fixed by now.:
...Malfoy was quiet for a long minute.
:You really don't care about Muggle blood, do you, Potter?:
:No. I don't. It doesn't MATTER. Muggles are people too, Malfoy. They just can't do magic. So they figure out other ways to do things. They're not fucking inferior. Most wizards can't use a gods damned telephone.:
:...As if we'd want to?:
:It's a hell of a lot quicker and more personal than owl post, Malfoy. Muggle technology has its place.:
:...But they can't do so much that we CAN. So what if they can do a few things more easily than we can? And I do mean a few.:
:For one thing, Malfoy, wizarding folk would have died out entirely without Muggle-borns, or ended up with five eyes or something. Too inbred. The population was too damned small. And yes, Muggle genetics tells me that. Muggles understand a LOT of things we don't entirely.:
:Right.:
:They DO. And for another, Muggle technology involves a lot of people working together to reach a goal. They're working together in a way wizards never have. And if we piss them off enough, they'll use that to come after us. And even if they couldn't wipe us out, they could do some serious damage if they decided to.:
:...Riiiiiiiiiight.:
:You're a blind fool, Malfoy. I shouldn't have wasted my time on you.:
:...You really believe this nonsense, Potter? These fairy tales?:
:It's the TRUTH, Malfoy.:
:Then show me. Prove it. PROVE to me that they've got some kind of worth.:
I clenched my teeth. Why should I bother? Why should I try to explain this to Draco Malfoy, of all people? Why should I try so hard?
...Because it's right.
I opened my mind to Malfoy as wide as I could, wordlessly showing him all of my Muggle childhood, all of the things the Muggles could do when they chose to, all of the things they could be, all of the things they were already and all of the things that they could BE when they needed to; I showed him every goodness, every potential I knew of and could see *becoming* in Muggles, and admitted their flaws easily; I pointed out the similarities between the two cultures, seeing problems in both. I showed Malfoy my sense of obligation to Muggles, that I could do something they couldn't, at least in the same way, or as easily, and that that meant to me that I needed to protect them, to use this thing they couldn't to keep them from harm, at the very least to keep them from abuse, simply because I could and they couldn't.
:...Even those bloody Dursleys you grew up with...?:
:Even them.:
Malfoy had nothing to say for a very long time.
:But...why, Potter? Why do you feel sorry for them? Why d'you think you have to waste your life protecting them? What's the point?:
:It's because they CAN'T and we CAN, Malfoy; they're almost like children, nearly defenceless, but they're not LESS than we are...they just aren't as CAPABLE as we are. Do we hesitate to protect children? Never. Neither do we hesitate to protect endangered species. And they're not animals, they're people; they're just like...poor people, or people who simply can't do a sort of thing we can. We HAVE to take care of them, or at least do them no harm, because they ARE like children; they can't fight us as equals. They're PEOPLE, dammit. Just a different sort of people. You don't hurt people. They've got as much right to exist as we do. They feel, and think, just like we do. THAT'S what's important. Hurting things that are weaker than you isn't honourable or fun; it's disgusting.:
Malfoy was silent again. I took advantage of it.
:And I'd like to take this opportunity to point out to you that basing superiority on birth or race or how much money your family has is really, REALLY stupid. Why be arrogant about such things? It's not like you personally had anything to do with any of it. You can't claim any credit for where you are. Accident of fate, that's all. If that's all you have to be proud of, that's not saying very much for you, is it? Except that you're insecure enough to NEED to know you're better than everyone else. But what's important is what you make of yourself, not what you got to start out with.:
:I—:
I felt a little bad, lecturing a captive audience, but I also knew I'd probably never get another chance like this to make Malfoy really listen to me. I settled back into the pillows (I found I'd tensed up a lot while expounding), quietly satisfied with myself, and let Malfoy think things over. I'd just challenged his whole world-view, and you don't change paradigms easily.
Finally he 'spoke'.
:Maybe you're right, Potter. No one's ever...put it like that before. I'm not saying I like you for saying it, mind, and I'm a bit upset, but...maybe you're right.:
:There's nothing wrong with being proud of what and who you are, Malfoy. Don't get me wrong. You're an excellent Seeker, you're brilliant, you've got tons of things to be proud of that you really can claim. Nothing wrong with being proud that you're beautiful, but there's no need to despise the plain-faced just because they got a worse deal than you.:
I almost didn't catch what I'd 'said'. Then I bit my lip in irritation. And spared a bit of myself to observe that I COULD bite my lip—without biting through it—again.
:Beautiful, Potter.: He made what could be best described as a mental laugh which had nothing of real amusement in it. :You think I'm beautiful, do you? Or was that just an example?:
:Well, both, really,: I admitted. I knew I was blushing and was intensely grateful that there wasn't anyone around who could see. What a fucking mess. Gods damn my subconscious. Or my not-so-subconscious, actually. It was true, I'd admired Malfoy's fragile loveliness since I'd first seen him, but oh GODS I'd never wanted to tell him that. And now I was stuck in a conversation neither of us could walk away from. I waited for him to start the battle.
I didn't get what I expected.
:I'm—er—flattered, I guess. I didn't know you went that way, Potter.:
:...I don't, really, I just...well, someone'd have to be blind not to notice you, wouldn't they?: Oh gods, I felt such the idiot.
< p class=MsoBodyText>:Now I'm MORE flattered. I think I may be blushing.::You're not the only one...:
Malfoy laughed. Actually laughed; I heard it with my ears, not my mind.
:You just—!: I leapt at the distraction.
:Yes, I did, didn't I? Interesting. This potion may wear off yet. Just when I was starting to like you, too.:
I was just about to reply to that with incredulity when Madam Pomfrey entered the room, Snape in tow. He didn't look like he was feeling helpful.
"Well, well...you two didn't avoid the effects after all, did you. I had been wondering why you both managed to miss out on the whole thing. Unfortunately, I don't believe there's anything that can be done for you; you'll have to wait it out, like everyone else." Snape acted regretful, but I sensed a bit of satisfaction under his tone. Damn him.
Malfoy managed to wave one hand sharply, clearly showing (at least, it was clear to me) our dismay and protest. Surely he could at least TRY something! There had to be something.
But Snape just smiled thinly. "There's no help for it, boys; we don't know exactly what went wrong with the potion, so we can't risk meddling with it. Everyone else seems to have gotten through the effects and returned to normal, and I've no doubt you will as well. Eventually." He turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Was that all then? I have more important things to do than reassure two students, you know." I hated him more than ever; I could almost see the expression on his face, just by hearing his tone of voice as he swept out of the room without waiting for an answer. What an ass!
:You're right there, Potter, although I must admit it's kind of fun to watch when you're not on the receiving end of his attitude.:
I was so angry that I didn't notice that Malfoy'd been answering my unfocussed thoughts. :DAMN that man! He's fucking ENJOYING this! How can he not even TRY to help? Gods DAMN him!:
:Settle down, Potter. There's nothing to be done for it. It's not like we can argue with him, not that arguing with him would really do anything for us anyway. You heard him; we'll have to sit this out. And I'm regaining control of my body, a bit, slowly; I think it WILL pass. Relax.:
:But...: I finally made myself admit the fear that had been lurking in the back of my head ever since this situation had come up. :...what if it doesn't go away?:
:It has to.:
I'd have been a lot more reassured by the firmness of this statement if I couldn't sense his fear behind it.