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The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.
The ground was cold against his palms. That was the first thing Draco noticed as he regained his consciousness. Opening his eyes, Draco found he could tell very little about the room he was in between the half-light and the haziness edging his vision. It didn't help that he was stuck on his side, and as he struggled to sit up, he found that he was unable to. Attempting to at least shift against the hard ground, Draco was alarmed to discover he couldn't even do that. Panic setting in, Draco's eyes darted to a corner when a soft chuckling arose.
"You're a fool, Malfoy. How could you think I wouldn't come after you considering what you've done to me? You let your guard down so carelessly, it was all too easy." Theodore Nott's cruel, taunting voice grew louder as he stepped nearer to Draco.
"Nott, why?" Draco asked, licking his lips nervously. "We were friends. We had each other's backs, I was always there for you—"
"Shut up!" Nott demanded, lunging threateningly toward Draco. "We were not! You never had my back. It was always 'Nott, help me do this,' 'Nott, help me scare Potter,' 'Nott, don't you agree Mudbloods are scum?' It was always me in your corner, never the other way around. You treated me like a lap dog, not a friend."
"So that's why you decided to get back at me? For not being as good a friend as I should have been?" The scorn in his voice was all too apparent. "All of this, just because I didn't pay you enough attention?"
"You truly are stupid, aren't you Malfoy?" Nott laughed wildly, pacing in and out of Draco's view across the stone floor. "This was never about friendship. It was always about revenge. Making sure you got what was coming to you. Every night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face at the thought that you were just a floor down tossing and turning in your sleep. When I realized my threats were keeping you up at night in the common room, too scared to dream, I was elated. But it wasn't enough for me, not after what you did."
"So, sending letters wasn't enough? Scaring me wasn't enough? Threatening me wasn't enough?"
"Don't get all indignant with me, Malfoy. You forget you're the one in the Full Body-Bind Curse, and I'm the one free to do whatever I want. I didn't send the first letter just to scare you. It really was a warning. I didn't know what I'd do if I saw you in person. I didn't know if I could keep myself from killing you the moment I laid eyes on you. But then you came to school anyway, and you pushed me over the edge. I waited until I found your weakness—that stupid oaf, Goyle—and I threatened to take it away from you. Even then, you wouldn't leave. I knew then that I had to take action.
"Potter was drunk at that party, rambling on with Weasley about some map that showed the location of everyone in Hogwarts. He thought he was being quiet, but I could hear him slurring the password all the way across the room. Sneaking in there the next day was too easy, and I nicked it. But where Potter was drunk, you were wasted. We spoke that night, though I knew you'd remember none of it. You told me how much you loved Goyle, but that you couldn't tell him. You were too scared to ruin the friendship, and you made me swear not to tell."
Draco's cheeks flushed with mingled fury and embarrassment as Nott mocked him.
"After that, after hearing you still had the ability to love, it was too much. I wanted you to hurt. I laced your next letter with Dragon Poison, and hearing that you were laid up in the Hospital Wing gave me more joy than I've felt in a long time, Malfoy. I wanted to make you feel the way I'd felt for so long, but I needed you to do something for me first. So, I sent you your next letter with simple instructions. I knew Slughorn liked you, and that getting those ingredients from the storeroom would be no problem, but for some reason, you didn't come to me. You went to the library instead. Then I saw you with Slughorn and thought, 'This is it,'—but you never came. I was so infuriated, I wrote your next letter without thinking, and almost gave myself away.
"That's when I coated your cauldron in Bulbadox powder. I stole Potter's invisibility cloak that night to get past those Aurors patrolling the corridors. But watching your pain as the boils erupted across your skin wasn't enough for me. So, I followed you out to the Quidditch pitch, and I Confunded your broom. I was so close to getting rid of you when Potter pulled another one of his heroic stunts. I came even closer with the Devil's Snare, but even that stupid lump Longbottom foiled my plans. So, I had to catch you by surprise.
"Dropping that gargoyle was merely a distraction to keep you on your toes. I'd already started brewing the Polyjuice Potion, but I stole the bicorn horn and boomslang skin myself, and I snatched some hairs from Goyle's robes when he wasn't looking. Tricking you after that was all too easy. You were happy to believe Goyle could want a spineless coward like you, and you came running into my trap with arms wide open. Now that you're here, I will finally have my revenge for what you've done."
The hopelessness of his situation was beginning to weigh heavily on Draco, and he tried to move his fingers again to no avail. Eyes wide and frantic, he searched for any possible way of escaping, before finally letting them land on Nott's face.
"But why?" Draco cried, confusion plain on his face. "If it wasn't that I was a bad friend, what did I ever do to you to deserve this?"
Draco cried out as Nott kicked him in the face, blood pouring from his nose and dribbling down his chin.
"Why?" Nott repeated mockingly and gave a cruel laugh. "Why?" he asked again, more menacingly, and gave Draco another kick. "Because it's your fault my family fell apart!"
"What?" Draco gasped out through the pain. "How is that my fault?"
"My father is in Azkaban because of you and your damned family!" Nott was raging, kicking any part of Draco he could reach. "My father went to Azkaban, and you're lying here in front of me!" he howled, stomping away from Draco and resuming his heated pacing.
Draco found he could move his fingers now Nott was losing focus, and quickly decided on a plan of action.
"Not my f-fault," Draco said thickly around the blood in his mouth. "He had a choice."
"Not your fault?" Nott gave a wild laugh, his eyes crazed as he turned back to Draco. "It's your father who promised mine it would all turn out right this time. 'Potter's done for,' he'd say, 'We've almost got him now,' 'There's no way the Dark Lord will lose this time, his powers have grown so vastly,' all his words! Your stinking coward father told us it would work. He promised the Dark Lord would get rid of Potter, and then we'd be on top. And maybe he would have been correct—if not for you."
Nott stalked around him slowly, Draco's eyes following him until Nott disappeared behind his back. Draco's breaths came quickly and shallowly, fear making his body rigid in place of the curse.
"You just had to ruin it for the rest of us, didn't you?" Nott's soft voice came from behind him. "Crucio."
But Draco was ready for him and rolled out of the way of the curse. He pushed himself up to his knees, head swimming at the sudden movement, and staggered as he stood. Draco turned his wand on the spot where Nott had stood, only to find that he had disappeared into the dim light of the room.
"I'm the coward?" Draco choked a laugh out past his fear as he turned in a slow circle. "Come out from under Potter's cloak if you're so brave!"
Focus pooled his palms in sweat as Draco made a mad dash for the door, barely ducking under the stunning spell Nott threw after him. He whirled back around just in time to see Nott's arm disappear back under the cloak and raised his own wand for the attack.
"Levicorpus!" Draco cried, and a shout left Nott as the cloak slipped off his suspended body.
"Bombarda!"
Draco dove out of the way of the blast, splinters of wood flying like thousands of tiny arrows from the wardrobe Nott had destroyed. They struck Draco in scores, and as his concentration waned, Nott fell back to the floor and drug the cloak over himself once more. Draco's breath came in ragged gasps, his cuts stinging, and pointed his wand toward the last place he'd seen Nott.
"Crucio!" the disembodied voice came from the far wall, and this time Draco was not quick enough.
This pain Draco had not felt in months came rushing back in a blaze of white-hot agony, and he fell to the floor as a scream ripped from his lungs, on and on until his throat hurt.
"You had him!" Nott shouted above his screams. "You had Potter in your grasp, you were so close to ending it for all of us, and you let him go!"
Draco could barely hear him over his agony as he convulsed on the floor.
"Even when we lost, you promised me you'd do all you could to get my father off! You swore you'd testify, but you vanished like the coward you are!"
Nott let off the curse, and Draco fell still on the floor, weak and breathing heavily, but alive. His respite did not last long before Nott was casting the curse again and Draco writhed as the pain wracked his body.
"You promised! You and your arrogant father promised us, and you lied!" Draco thought he heard tears in Nott's voice, but he couldn't be sure. "This is all your fault! If you had just handed Potter over, if you had just killed him in the battle, if you had just been there for me—"
"Expelliarmus!" another voice cried in the darkness, and Nott's wand flew across the room with a clatter.
Heavy footsteps ran toward them, and as the Cruciatus Curse was lifted, Draco turned just in time to see Gregory run at Nott with a roar. Draco tried to tell him to stop, but the words couldn't escape his raw throat. Gregory didn't bother to use his wand in this duel, instead subduing the smaller boy with sheer strength as he tackled Nott to the floor, not far from where Draco lay.
"Draco?" a third voice, Draco thought it could be Hermione, called out in the dim light. "Oh, Draco!" she cried again, and he could vaguely see her drop to her knees by his side through the waves of nausea that wracked through him.
Her cool fingers on his cheeks, feeling out his injuries, were the last things Draco felt before he slipped into the darkness that had been creeping in from the edge of his vision.
…
When Draco awoke in the Hospital Wing, he opened his eyes to find his mother holding his hand tightly, her own eyes swimming with worried tears. She was talking softly to someone else on the other side of his bed, but Draco could not bring himself to look at them.
"Mother?" he croaked after several tries, his voice rough with disuse.
Her eyes flew down to examine his face, and the tears fell more freely as she gripped his hand to her chest.
"Oh, my boy, my precious boy," she whispered as she smoothed her hand across his forehead, unable to say much else.
"Please, don't cry," Draco forced out, using all his effort to lift an arm and brush his thumb against the back of her hand. "Mother, I'm fine, see?"
She glanced down at him and shook her head, and, as if unable to bear it any longer, she released his hand and hurried from the Hospital Wing. Draco watched her go, a hole stretching open in his heart to release the sadness within it, until a soft cough brought his attention back to the person on his other side. Turning his head with great difficulty, Draco found Gregory staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He flinched back as Gregory reached toward him, but the taller boy only brushed his fingertips against a bruise on his cheekbone before withdrawing them.
"I'm sorry," Gregory finally murmured, a frown pressing down the corners of his mouth.
"No!" Draco gasped, guilt saturating him. "Why?" he demanded then, the first spark of fight coming back to him.
"I was supposed to be there for you, and I failed you. You got hurt, you could have—" Gregory's voice broke, and Draco's stomach clenched uncomfortably. "If Hermione hadn't figured out where you were going, that you were going at it alone—if she hadn't found those letters under your bed—why didn't you tell me before then?" Gregory's words cut like a whip as fury colored his cheeks, and Draco cringed back in their wake. "Why didn't you tell me someone was doing this to you? Why did you wait so long? I could have helped, I would have put a stop to this, and I—"
"Gregory," Draco let out the word in a rush, his heart splintering. "Stop, please, stop. This isn't your fault. This was nothing to do with you, it was all me. I didn't want to burden you; I didn't realize how serious those threats were. It all just escalated so quickly, and then he was threatening you—" Draco paused, tears welling up in his eyes. "He was making me think he would come after you too, and I couldn't let him hurt you, Gregory, you mean too much to me."
"Draco, you're my whole world," Gregory said after a moment of silence, like it was the most obvious fact in existence. "You are the centre of my universe. If anything happened to you, I would fall apart. Nothing would make sense to me—up would be down, day would be night—it would all derail. I'm here because of you; I've stayed this long because of you; everything I do is for you. Draco, I—"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Goyle, but visiting hours are over for the night," Madam Pomfrey's voice struck like lightning, and Draco, preoccupied with staring at Gregory in a state of awe, snapped around to look at her.
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, but I just need a moment to—"
"Mr. Goyle," she snapped, and Gregory gave Draco a pained look before heading for the door. "And please," Madam Pomfrey's voice softened as she called after him, and Gregory turned back to look at her. "Don't sleep outside the door tonight. Go back to your dorm."
Draco's heart swelled at that, but curiosity wriggled into his joy like a worm to an apple, and he turned to his mentor with a vague frown.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Two days," she answered quietly, putting her hand on the rail at the end of his bed. "I was very worried for you. However, it is not time to sleep again just yet, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother has composed herself, and Professor McGonagall has been waiting for you to wake up to ask you some questions about that night. Can you hold out a bit longer?"
Draco hesitated only a moment before he gave a slight nod.
"Yes, of course. But could you bring me something to eat?"
Madam Pomfrey gave him a curt nod and walked toward the door. McGonagall and his mother replaced her moments later, the former coming to stand by his head as his mother resumed her seat and took up his hand. Looking into her face, he could barely tell she had been crying, and she turned to him with a soft smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. Draco felt a bit foolish as McGonagall stared down at him, but he fought back his embarrassment and forced his screeching muscles into a sitting position.
"Good evening, Headmistress," Draco said levelly, giving her a respectful nod.
"Mr. Malfoy," she answered, her stern face looking even graver than it usually did. "You have been put through many challenges this term, and I am pleased that you have come through all of them a better man. You have shown immense bravery and compassion; I am very impressed with you."
"Thank you, Headmistress."
"I have a few questions for you about Theodore Nott. He is being held at the Ministry now, and your testimony will decide how harsh of a punishment he receives."
"Of course," Draco's lips suddenly felt very dry, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed.
"Let's start here. When did Mr. Nott first send you an anonymous letter?"
Draco shuddered at the flood of memories and swallowed the rock that seemed to form in his throat. Steeling himself, he launched into his tale. He told her about the letters, about the "accidents" that had followed him that year. He told her about how Nott had baited him into the dark corridor, disguised as Gregory, and how intense the following battle had been once the potion wore off. He told her about waking up in that dark room, about why Nott was so angry, and how he had used the Cruciatus Curse on him. He told her how his friends had come for him, but that he could remember nothing after that. McGonagall was quiet for the duration of his story, only nodding sternly as she took note of what he told her. Even after he'd stopped talking, she wrote, her mouth pressed into a thin line. However, once she had finished, McGonagall gave him a small nod before heading for the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. We will be sure Mr. Nott is brought to justice."
Draco frowned at that, pushing himself up further regardless of how it hurt.
"Wait, Professor!" He called, and she turned back to him. "What Nott needs is help, not punishment. He isn't well, Professor. He's just lost his father, and he's hurting. I hope you'll consider that in the report you send to the Ministry."
McGonagall stood and stared at him for so long Draco began to feel nervous, but she gave him another nod.
"You do not cease to surprise me, Mr. Malfoy. I am very impressed by this request." Turning to his mother, her face seemed to soften. "Narcissa, if you could meet me in my office shortly, I will have the Floo prepared for you to return home."
With that, she swept from the room, and Narcissa turned to Draco with a resigned look on her features.
"I don't suppose any level of begging will convince you to come home with me, my love?" she murmured, and Draco could not bring himself to do more than shake his head. She only sighed and leaned down to lay a kiss on his forehead before standing up and releasing his hand. "Then I will see you in two weeks for the holidays. Goodbye, my love."
"Goodbye, Mother," Draco whispered to her retreating back, now alone in the dark
Sliding down to lay flat on his back, Draco stared up at the ceiling. Though he had made it through, though he had come out alive, he felt no elation. No sense of peace fell over him—instead a vague numbness sent him off to sleep.
…
News had spread quickly around the castle in the two days it took Draco to recover, and when he was released the next morning, he was surprised to find himself something of a celebrity. People he didn't know greeted him in the hallway. Girls in younger years blushed and giggled as he passed by them on his way to class. The same children that threw jinxes at his back were now smiling and waving to him, and it was all beginning to feel very strange. The first time it happened, Draco was coming out of the Hospital Wing to find a group of First Years whispering with thinly-veiled reverence and staring at him with wide eyes. When a stuttering Ravenclaw girl handed him a homemade card a week later, Draco thought he had been teleported into a different dimension. He'd mentioned all of these strange occurrences to his friends one afternoon at lunch, but to his chagrin, all but Gregory laughed at him.
"What's funny about this? People keep giving me gifts and looking at me like I'm—" Draco paused, the idea ridiculous even to himself.
"Famous?" Harry finished. "It's because you are. You made the front page of Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet, and The Quibbler after what happened with Nott. Here, we saved you a copy."
Draco glanced down at the headline of the paper Harry slid to him, and his stomach twisted.
"Reformed Death Eater Attacked: Draco Malfoy's Brave Stand Against Death Eater Sympathizer" Stared back at him from the cover of Witch Weekly, a photo of him unconscious in the Hospital Wing under it.
"Oh, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey is thrilled to know some hack got into the Hospital Wing and snapped my photo," he muttered, shaking his head. "This is too much. I'm no hero. He attacked me, and I fought back. What's the big deal?"
"I know," Harry said gravely, nodding his head. "That's what I've been trying to tell people since I was eleven."
With that, the table burst into a fit of laughter, Draco passing the paper back around to Harry and feeling better than he had all week. For the first time in years, Draco could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as he realized his situation. He was safe now. The Dark Lord was gone. He hadn't received a single piece of hate mail since Nott was taken away. No one at school was there to threaten him now. A smile pulling at his lips, Draco finally let go of the breath he'd been holding since he was sixteen and looked toward his future with hope.