Hello my lovelies! I cannot apologies enough for no updates on this story, I don't even know if anyone still reads my stuff anymore, but I enjoy writing so I will continue anyway. it would be so nice if you could review for me and tell me what you think :) It's been a really really difficult 5 months for me and my mental health so that's also why I haven't been posting, but I am in such a better place right now and I really hope it lasts for me :) Enjoy! Drarry is coming soon I promise x
Draco felt like he'd died, and when he awoke, he really wished he had. He was covered in a thick blanket and could feel heavy bandages on his arms, as he opened his eyes to a very ornately decorated ceiling with stars and gold beams. He knew he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember where. His brain was just coming to when he saw a great white face with half moon spectacles looming over him, and for a horrible second he was reminded of the glowing full moon. The events of the previous…morning? Afternoon? What time even was it? He remembered all of what had happened, but he had no idea how long it had been. Dumbledore's deep voice startled him.
"Hello Draco. You're in my office. You've been drifting in and out for a few hours, it is 6 o clock in the evening."
Dumbledore was so soothing, and for a tiny second Draco actually believed that he and everyone else was safe and that he was ok. But then the reality hit him, and he shot bolt up right and clutched his head as he tried to find the right words to say, making sure the blanket did not slide down his delicate frame.
"Sir you don't understand, you need to let me leave right now. I can't be here. Forget everything you saw this morning- "
"Draco please." Dumbledore explained as he tried to lie Draco back down, "You are too unwell to leave, and you are not in any danger, I can promise that."
Draco was so frustrated, and he could still feel the quick anger of the werewolf running through his body. "Yes, I might not be in danger, but my family very well could be! You don't understand sir- "
"Your mother is safe for now, please try not to worry about her. We at the order are doing all we can, but for now you need to lie back and rest, you are very injured." Dumbledore lifted his gentle hand in the air before Draco could speak again, and he began to lay back down on the bed he had been resting on.
The Order of the Phoenix, is looking after my mother? Is protecting me? Did I hit my head?
The words came out like vomit from his pale cracked lips.
"Why are you helping us? Why did you bring me here and heal me? In what world are we on the same side or however you want to put it."
Dumbledore interrupted. "Draco you don't need to ask these questions- "
"Let me speak for fucks sake!" Draco practically screamed across the room. He could feel his muscles shaking with this unexplainable rage and betrayal and humiliation and God his head hurt so bad.
"My father is in Azkaban for helping The Dark Lord. Both he and my mother have the dark mark. He helped lure your precious disciple Potter to the Department of Mysteries. I'll ask you again Sir, why are you helping me? Do you pity me because I'm some dirty, bastard werewolf, because I'm some lost soul?" Draco spat. In his rant had begun to stand up on whatever was left of his bruised and scarred legs, and he clung his bed for support whilst the anger flowed through him, bearing his teeth. Draco suddenly felt incredibly aware of how much the wolf lived in him during the hours of no full moon.
He inhaled to continue his vicious rant, but a striking pain shot through his ribs, and Draco grabbed his side, losing his support on the bed and falling to the floor. He couldn't breathe but was breathing too much at the same time, his ribs crying out with every inhale and exhale they had to manoeuvre for Draco's panicked lungs. Dumbledore walked to Draco's weak figure, and gently levitated him to the comfort of the bed.
Draco could feel the fight in him waning, as the anger was brewing into a mighty storm of despair. Dumbledore spoke in an impossible tone of gentleness, one Draco felt he was unworthy of receiving - he was disgusted with himself for both succumbing to the help of The Order, and for failing his mother and The Dark Lord.
"Draco. It does not matter to me, or the members of The Order, what you may think of us, or what your family have done to aid Voldemort. We help because we must, we cannot let the consequences of Voldemort's unfathomable hatred ruin lives like your own. We fight for everyone, Draco, no matter who their family is. That is where Voldemort and I differ." Dumbledore smiled gently and walked to the medicine cabinet.
Draco hated how right Dumbledore was in that moment, but he was in too much agony and anxiety to retort even with a look. So he just turned his eyes away and tried to focus on the softness of the blanket on his body and the pillow cradling his head.
"We've been treating your injuries, you have some from the past few months that have not had a chance to heal. Werewolf injuries are difficult to treat even on the werewolf itself, so I'm assuming Voldemort has forbid you to take any wolfsbane or healing ointments in a further attempt to mark your life?" Dumbledore asked, a little too frank for Draco, as the memories from that night began to circle his head once more. It was hard enough enduring nightmares about it every time he went to sleep, so Draco just nodded in silence.
"You can stay in my office for this evening as you're too weak to be moved, and we don't want you exposed to the prying eyes of students in the hospital wing. All teachers know of your absence, only a few aware of the reason. It appears The Dark Lord does not know of your situation yet, and Professor Snape is keeping watchful eye over your mother. The first sign of intelligence that Voldemort knows what has happened, your mother will be moved to a safe house." Draco couldn't quite believe how much care was being taken of him and to protect his mother, it was both embarrassing, humiliating, but a small bright light of gratitude was eating him up inside.
"Sir, how will you know if The Dark Lord has information on my…condition?" Draco asked hoarsely, his throat sore from its use in the past 24 hours. Dumbledore simply smiled.
"We have eyes in many places Draco."
"Do you think someone's been injured? Attacked? What if it's a teacher!"
Hermione was sitting across from Harry in the common room, the fire light emphasising her wide-eyed worry about the groaning subject heard by Harry in Dumbledore's office.
"Hope it's Snape" Ron sneered back, and Hermione just rolled her eyes.
They had been in heated and concerned discussion for most of the afternoon trying to figure out what this urgent matter was that Dumbledore had been occupied with the whole day. Harry felt a nagging feeling in his stomach. He knew how important his sessions with the pensive were to him and Dumbledore, and he wasn't prepared for another catastrophe, or worse, a death.
No. Not now. Not Sirius. Not now, focus Harry.
"Harry, you're biting your nails again." Hermione said gently, nudging Harry out of his thoughts.
Harry shoved his hand away quickly, twiddling his thumbs instead. A nervous habit he'd picked up in the last few months, whenever he could feel the memories and the thoughts over taking him, since…since…
"Harry, do you want to talk?" Asked Ron hesitantly.
Ah yes, Harry knew what this meant. Did he want to go into detail about his feelings on that night and talk about grief and cry all over their shoulders and have to think about the one family member that ever mattered to him.
Harry just shook his head, and sighed a heavy sigh, whilst Ron and Hermione looked glumly to each other. Harry could feel what a grey cloud of misery he was becoming on their friendship, he'd often leave the common room in the evenings earlier than he used to, to give them some time to laugh together. Time without the boy who'd lost one of the most precious things in his life, where they didn't have tip toe around his emotions. Harry tried to be ok, he really did. But in all honesty, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed, really laughed, and enjoyed a day with the people he loved.
Just as he was about to call it a day with the two of them, Harry saw a girl with white blonde hair across the room and was reminded that he hadn't run into their favourite person, Draco Malfoy, the whole day.
"Have either of you seen Draco in lessons today?" Harry asked suddenly, stunned at the sound of his own voice working for once.
Ron and Hermione both shook their heads, "I'd assumed he'd either got beaten up for being the cock he is ("Ron!" Hermione had interjected), or he'd got to embarrassed to come to lessons anymore, especially with that scratched up face of his."
Both Harry and Hermione looked inquisitively at each other, like they were solving the same puzzle in their heads.
"What, you think something's happened to Malfoy?" asked Ron slightly shocked.
"I don't know. Don't you think its odd though, how he's just not been in the lessons and no teacher acknowledged it? Also, don't you think he seems a bit, I don't know, too sad for Draco?" Harry remarked. He had no idea what he was getting at, but something just didn't feel right about the whole situation.
"I mean, wouldn't you be sad if your father had gone to prison and everyone knew how horrible your whole family was?" asked Hermione, but she too didn't seem convinced by the whole thing, and Harry suspected that she'd be taking a trip to the library at the first opportunity.
"Didn't know you cared for the bloke that much." Said Ron, clearly tired of discussing his least favourite Hogwarts student.
"I don't care." Harry retorted back, with more bite than was probably necessary. But it was true, he was intrigued because he cared for Dumbledore and his friends, not for that slimy twat Malfoy and his family.
Sirius was a relative of the Malfoy's.
Harry rubbed his eyes until he saw blue spots, trying to squeeze out that wretched inner voice that wouldn't stop feeding him memories and pain about Sirius. He decided to call it a night and headed up to the boy's dormitory in a very solemn mood. Harry didn't know yet how violent his dreams would be that night, filled with anger, rage, betrayal, woken after every single one. The odd thing was, he was sure some of those emotions were not his own.
One thing he definitely did not envision was Dumbledore rousing him in the early hours of the morning, asking for Harry on an urgent matter.
"Have you been dreaming Harry?" asked Dumbledore hurriedly.
"Sir? -"
"Answer me Harry."
"…Yes Sir."
"Follow me to my office. Quickly."
This could not be good.