Thanks so much to all who have been giving this story so much love recently! I know there hasn't been an update in a while, but life is finally freeing up a bit so I think I'll be able to update this more frequently!
Hope you enjoy this new chapter!
Xxxx -DxH- xxxX
After an entire day of hustle and bustle with nurses and healers running around the wing, poking, prodding, taking samples, and questioning the two boys, night had finally come—and with it, brought silence.
Harry lay in bed, staring at the white ceiling of the hospital wing. The moon was high in the sky by now, bathing the edge of his bed in a soft glow. Though he would like nothing more than to relax into his own bed and fall into a deep slumber, awakening the next morning only to find this day had all been a bad dream, fate would not be so kind. And thus, he was resigned to simply staring at the ceiling—feeling anything but drowsy. Thankfully the gash marring his chest so far hadn't been causing him much pain, so there was that.
He sighed noiselessly, turning his gaze to the window.
Why can't I ever do anything without some kind of tragedy happening?
He was still having a hard time processing this new reality. Him and Malfoy, somehow connected by magic? The thought alone sent a wave of unease down his spine. What sort of magic could make two people share the same pain and thoughts like that? He had never heard of any kind of spell that could do that.
Had that snatcher that he and Draco faced created that spell himself?
Harry shuddered, his chest tightening uncomfortably. He waited for the feeling of anxiety to pass, but it didn't.
What the—
His heartbeat suddenly quickened, pounding beneath his ribcage, the small feeing of anxiety roaring into a wave of terror overwhelmed him.
Harry gasped, trying to calm himself and sort through his thoughts.
Sure, the idea of the snatcher that took him and Draco out made him nervous—but it wasn't so bad that he should be having a full on panic attack!
As he continued to take deep breaths, willing his hands to stop shaking, he heard a voice invade his thoughts—terrified.
No...no! Please, stop...!
The voice caught him off-guard. Where—? Harry looked around, dazedly, and saw Draco stirring in his bed. The blonde was asleep, but thrashing his head back and forth.
Could it be...?
Harry took a gulp of air and swung his legs off of his bed. His bare feet shuffled lightly on the cold linoleum as he crept over to Draco's bed across from his. As he got closer, he was finally able to see the distress on Draco's face—the beads of sweat at his temples.
Another nightmare? Harry wondered, recalling the sight similar to the one he had witnessed that afternoon.
"M-Malfoy," Harry whispered nervously, one hand clutched against his chest, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.
Draco didn't wake, continuing to mumble nonsense as he thrashed his head to the side.
"Malfoy!" Harry tried again, slightly louder. He poked a finger into Draco's shoulder, trying to rouse the blonde. Draco twitched, and another poke had his eyes flying open—scanning around the room in terror.
His eyes met Harry's.
For a second, neither of them breathed. Then, as if regaining his senses, Draco scrambled away from Harry—pressing himself back against the headboard as far as it would allow him.
"Get—" Draco swallowed, trying to clear his raspy throat. "Get away from me."
He looked like a cornered wild animal, eyes wide and chest heaving with the effort of breathing.
The sense of anxiety that hadn't left Harry's chest suddenly started to dissipate.
He looked at Draco with wide eyes, horror donning on him as he suddenly understood. The anxiety and sudden panic attack hadn't been his own—he had been feeling Draco's!
Harry opened his mouth. Before he could get a word out, Draco slid out of bed, donning a pair of hospital slippers. Without a word, he strode past Harry, heading for the exit of their room.
Harry watched Draco's back with a conflicted expression. "Where...are you going?" He called hesitantly.
Draco stopped, but didn't turn around. Harry was sure that there was a snarky remark coming his way, but the blonde didn't retort. After a stalemate of silence, Draco finally left, pushing the door open and leaving with a flutter of his hospital robe.
Should he be out wandering around? Harry stared at the door, biting his lip.
It really wasn't any of his business if Malfoy wanted go to a night stroll around the hospital...right?
The tightness in his chest had reduced quite a bit by now, but still wasn't completely gone.
Is this what Malfoy is feeling right now? Or maybe this is only a fraction of it...
Harry sighed, unsure if he should follow. If Malfoy tries to leave the hospital or do something dumb though, I'm going to be in trouble too!
After a while of going back and forth on the matter, he finally caved. Mind made up, Harry strode across the room and pushed through the doors to exit the wing.
The hallway that lead to the wing they were currently residing in was perfectly straight—a left corner at the end the only indication as to where Draco could've gone. Harry began to creep through the corridor slowly, feet chilled against the cool stone ground. He glanced down and cringed. Oops. In his spontaneous decision to leave their wing, he had forgotten to slip into the hospital slippers next to his bed. He could only hope that there wouldn't be many nurses roaming the halls to gawk at his less-than-tidy appearance. Merlin only knew what he looked like after the multiple surgeries and all of the tests that he had endured the past 12 hours. Forget the bare feet—that was probably the least of his concerns!
Harry groaned softly. He hadn't seen his reflection since he woke up in the hospital, so there was no telling what he looked like now. He glanced around, trying to find something to glean his reflection off of. The stone hall however was completely blank, save for windows that filled the area with rays of pale moonlight—lighting the otherwise pitch-black corridor.
He reached the end of the hallway at last and turned, glancing around.
The narrow hallway now opened up into a larger room, a high desk standing at one end of the room, and what appeared to be elevator doors jutting out of the wall opposite. There were several more hallways that branched off from the room, leading to Merlin knows where.
"Great," Harry mumbled to himself. "Where am I supposed to go now?"
"May I be of assistance?" A high-pitched voice suddenly cut through the silence.
Harry started, not expecting an answer. "Um, excuse me?" He glanced around wildly, trying to discern where the voice had come from.
"Up here, my dear boy," the voice came again, grandmotherly in tone.
He finally glanced up at the tall desk at the end of the room, and saw a small figure sitting behind it, barely visible in the dim lighting.
Harry made his way over cautiously, momentarily forgetting concerns over his appearance. Once closer to the desk, he was finally able to see the face of an older woman, spectacles perched on the end of her upturned nose, silver hair swooped back away from her face. She wore the same hospital robes that all of the St. Mungo's nursing staff he had seen wore, so Harry could only assume that she was a nurse there.
Relaxing slightly, Harry paused, glancing around. "Sorry to bother, but I wonder if you might've seen another patient come this way a little bit ago?"
The nurse finished scratching some writing with the quill in her hand, then placed it down, nodding. "Yes, young Mr. Malfoy was here not too long ago."
Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the best way to word his next sentence. "Um, yes, that's great...I, uh...Do you know...? Well, I just mean—," He cut himself off, trying desperately to figure out what he himself even wanted to know. To find Malfoy? Even if he found Malfoy, then what? Confront him? Tell him to go back to their wing? Why was he really out of bed to follow him in the first place? He remained silent, debating whether or not to simply return to his bed and try to get some sleep.
While he struggled with his internal debate, the nurse went back to writing on some parchment—stopping here and there to shuffle around pages and place sheets that she had written on to different stacks. She finished one last sheet, then placed her quill down and glanced at Harry through her spectacles.
"Mr. Malfoy said nothing to me when he passed by earlier," the nurse said promptly. "However, I can tell you that he went down this hallway here." She pointed to one of the corridors to her left, identical to every other corridor there. "I'm sure you'll find him there."
And that's what I'm afraid of... Harry thought. "Uh, thank you for your help," he replied stiffly to the witch.
She smiled slightly, eyes crinkling. "There are bathrooms that way if you'd like to take a bath and freshen up," she added. "It might be nice."
Harry flushed. Ok, apparently he really did look that bad. "Um, yes, thank you, I'll do that..."
He quickly made for the hallway that the nurse had pointed to and didn't stop walking until he had made several turns—completely losing site of the room he was just in. Before he knew it, the hallway once again opened—this time, to a small alcove with a door to the right and to the left. A sign hung from the ceiling, indicating a bathroom to the left, and a staircase to the right.
Well, this way to the baths I guess...
Xxxx -DxH- xxxX
Harry wasn't really sure what he was imagining when he pictured what a bathroom at St. Mungo's would look like, but it definitely wasn't this.
At first blush, the bathroom appeared rather ordinary. When he walked in, it was an average size room housing a toilet, sink, and changing area. At the end of the room was a door marked for the baths.
Upon entering, Harry was greeted with an enormous room—tiled flooring, large windows with gorgeous stained glass—it was surprising to say the least. In the center of the room was a large, circular bath, raised with steps leading up to it. To call it a bath though was like calling a Phoenix a chicken. Harry had never seen so big a bath in his life! Even the Prefect's bath that he had visited in his fourth year at Hogwarts seemed small compared to this.
Steam billowed from the tub, creating an air of haze and fog around the room. Harry breathed deeply through his nose. The fresh, soothing scent of herbs wafted from the tub. It smelled so warm and inviting—and after the hellish day that he had had, there was nothing that was going to stop him from getting in that tub.
He glanced down at himself. Clad in only his hospital robes, he decided it was probably best to just strip and change back into the robes again after. A nice soak and scrub would give him the opportunity to rid himself of some sweat and blood that had yet to be removed since his stay at the hospital had started.
There was a shelf of towels off to his left, so Harry decided that he would divest there—dropping his glasses on top of the pile of robes before fastening a towel around his waist and slinging another over his shoulder—making his way to the bath.
Harry marveled again as he climbed the steps leading to the bath. Calling it a bath really was improper—it really was more like a small pool! He carefully swung a leg over the smooth stone wall of the tub. Toes slid into the water, followed by legs, and torso.
Harry hissed in pain slightly as his wound came into contact with the hot water. He glanced down at his bandaged torso. Was it alright for the wound to get wet? Oh well. He was at a hospital, wasn't he? The worst that would probably happen is that he would get an earful from one of the healers. It would be fine...probably.
Finally submerged in the tub, Harry allowed the water to envelop him. The temperature was somehow the perfect degree of being hot enough to penetrate his sore muscles, without being so hot that he felt the need to jump out for fear of being scalded.
He sighed, feeling the first inkling of relaxation that he had felt in a long time.
Now this is nice...
After soaking for a few more minutes, he decided that he may as well begin washing himself. He swam away from the edge where he had been lounging, making his way to the center of the tub.
In the center of the bath was a large sculpture of a mermaid—a waterfall of colored water trickling gently into the bathtub all around her as she sat frozen—unmoving hands in the middle of washing her hair. The sound of the waterfall was pleasant. It added just enough of the sound of running water to keep the bathroom from being completely silent.
At the base of the sculpture, the mermaid's curved tail created a cove where all manner of bottles and jars sat—ready to be used. Harry eyed the bottles warily. He had learned from experience that it really was best to avoid putting any unfamiliar magical goop onto one's skin—especially when you had no clue what it was supposed to do. Some of the jars looked harmless enough, containing salts and dried herbs and flowers that he assumed were responsible for the pleasant scent in the bath. Others however, housed brightly colored gooes—their purpose a mystery to perhaps anyone but the one who was responsible for stocking the bathroom there.
After some more observation, Harry carefully avoided the bottles he deemed most suspicious—finally managing to find a few that he thought very closely resembled soap.
He poured some into his hand, slicking it into his wet strands and lathering until his wild mane of raven hair finally began to submit to the soap and lay flat. Another minute of lathering passed and he began to rinse the soap out—finally feeling a bit more clean and presentable. A good scrubbing of his body was due next—but a sudden noise stopped Harry's had mid-grab for the next bottle of soap.
Somewhere, in the room, he had heard the splash of water.
It was hard to tell which direction it had come from because of how high the ceilings were and how the sound vibrated in there—but Harry knew what he had heard.
He froze, senses on high alert. He instinctively searched around for his wand, before remembering that he hadn't had it since he had been checked into the hospital. Left without a wand in his hand made him feel incredibly vulnerable. He grabbed the towel around his waist and tightened it for security.
Then, Harry heard it—the faintest sound of someone humming. The sound was so incredibly soft that he was amazed he was able to hear it over the sound of the waterfall. He was sure he wasn't mistaken though. Which meant...
Is there...someone else in here?!
His limbs froze and heartbeat quickened. No way—was there really someone in the bath with him?!
There were several more splashes, easier for Harry to hear now that he was straining his hearing to catch every sound possible.
Why...would there be someone else in the bath at this time of night?
Harry frowned, his paranoia getting the better of him. He swam to the mermaid sculpture again, ducking underneath the waterfall and quietly moving around to the opposite side of the bathtub. Through the veil of the waterfall, he was able to make out a figure at the far side of the bath. The figure, definitely a person, was perched on the edge of the tub, long legs splashing in and out of the water gracefully. That's what the splashing sound was...
But who...?
The sound of rustling fabric broke Harry's train of thought. Before he could do much as blink, he saw a hospital robe being tossed to the ground. He looked back to the ledge and the figure had disappeared. Where—? He scanned the water around him.
Then, he felt something. A brush of something against his leg.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"—...Ahhhhhh!"
Xxxx -DxH- xxxX
Harry screamed, jumping to get away. An equally horrified scream answered his, followed by the wheezing and spluttering sound of someone choking on water and trying to regain their breath. He chanced a gaze at the figure that was gasping a few feet away from him. A lack of glasses made it difficult to discern facial features, but there was no mistaking that platinum blonde hair.
"Malfoy?!?!"
Draco wheezed a few more times, seeming to finally catch his breath. He turned wide eyes over to where Harry stood, only feet from him.
"Potter? What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?!"
"What am I doing here?! That's my line!"
"I was here first!" Draco snapped, wiping water out of his eyes and slicking back his soaked blonde hair.
"But...you..." Harry faltered, recalling the words of the nurse he had talked to earlier.
I can tell you that he went down this hallway here. I'm sure you'll find him there...There are bathrooms that way if you'd like to take a bath and freshen up...It might be nice...
...There was no way...right?
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling extremely agitated. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I only came out here because I didn't want you getting us into trouble. I just happened to want to take a bath—it's not like I followed you in here!"
"Get into trouble? Ha! And how did you suppose I was going to do that, Potter?" Draco crossed his arms over his bare torso, water droplets sliding down his lean abs to the surface of the water below. "Where I go and what I do has absolutely nothing to do with you."
"Well actually it does now that we're Auror partners! Oh, yeah, and now that we have this bloody psycho link that somehow makes us share thoughts and injuries, you prat!" Harry growled back. He gripped the towel at his waist, suddenly feeling like he was in a very vulnerable state in front of someone he generally considered to be his enemy.
Draco noticed the motion and scoffed, his signature smirk sliding its way to his features. "Acting like a scared little virgin, Potter? Not even man enough to have a bath without a towel to protect your virtue?"
Harry felt his cheeks flush, gaze inadvertently dropping to Draco's bare waist. He couldn't be sure without his glasses, but he was pretty positive that he didn't see a towel there. In fact, the portion of lean torso visible above the water was—
He quickly cast his gaze to the wall before he was caught. His cheeks burned darker in shame.
What the bloody hell am I doing, looking at Malfoy's junk...
A choked sound escaped Draco's lips.
Harry turned his gaze back just in time to see Draco's expression—wide-eyed, jaw slackened—meet his own. Was he imagining things, or was Draco's face red?
"What—all out of taunts?" Harry was still plenty embarrassed, but he tried to play it off with a roll of his eyes—not dwelling on Draco's stricken expression. He waited for Draco to answer, but found that the blonde had fixed his gaze firmly at the wall—refusing to respond.
"...Spoiled child," Harry finally muttered under his breath, turning at last to leave the bath.
...At least I'm not a pervert!!
Harry stopped, eyes going wide at the voice that suddenly sounded in his head. Did Malfoy just...? He whipped around to see Draco's flushed face still trained firmly at the far wall—refusing to spare him a glance.
...Was that just Malfoy's thoughts that I suddenly heard?! Harry's face flushed further. It was, wasn't it?
Then—wait...did that mean...?
Harry almost collapsed. Did Malfoy hear when I said something about staring at his crotch?!
He could feel his face absolutely burning in shame. Somebody kill me, please.
An uncomfortable silenced stretched in the bathroom as the two refused to look at one another—simply staring, red-faced, at opposite walls. They were at a stalemate and neither seemed intent on breaking it with the first move.
At last, the sound of banging finally broke the tension like a too-tight string of wire finally snapping. The sound of voices and footsteps poured into the bathroom, scaring the living daylights out of its two occupants. Harry and Draco whipped their gazes to the door in time to see a small band of bodies entering into the bathroom.
"Harry, Draco! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere!" Davies was at the front of the group, panting as if he had been running a marathon. "You left your beds and nobody knew where you were! The nurses on night shift were scared out of their minds after they saw that you weren't in your rooms—woke half the place up trying to find where the two of you had gone!!"
A small group of female nurses behind him sighed in relief, holding their red faces and taking little care to hide their ogling of the two men in the bathtub.
"It's all fine and dandy if you want to take a bath—just let somebody know, yeah?" Davies chuckled in amusement, finally taking in the picture of the two patients in front of him in the tub. "My you two are awfully red in the face. See? Time to get out!"
Both of the boys looked utterly mortified, and Davies at last had the grace to feel a bit of shame at barging in. "Now that we know you're safe, we'll wait just out here for you to finish and escort you back to your room."
Harry had never wished so badly for the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he did now.
Based on the expression that Draco was wearing, neither did he.
Xxxx -DxH- xxxX
The two exited the bath in mortified silence, dressing and walking wordlessly out of the bathroom.
True to his word, Davies was waiting in the alcove in the hallway by the time Harry and Draco exited the bathroom—ready to escort them back to their room.
"Now, as I mentioned earlier, it's alright for you boys to get up and get a change of scenery—just tell someone ahead of time, alright? Merlin knows what would've happened if Myrla hadn't told us that the two of you had gone to the baths," Davies lectured incessantly as he guided the two, strolling leisurely down the stone hallway. "Well, it turned out to be fine, anyhow. Just don't do it again!"
They arrived at their wing silently, neither Harry nor Draco daring to breach the awkward air that had settled between them.
Davies bid them goodnight after he ensured that both boys had actually climbed back into their respective beds—waving his hand to extinguish several candles before leaving through the doors with a soft thud.
The room was once again plunged into silence.
It was going to be a looooong night...
