Chapter 16: Nightmare
Softly bringing his song to a close, Harry continued to sit on the floor, allowing the silence to seep into his bones. Glancing out the window, he saw the beginnings of the sunset and he got up. Replacing Serin to his rightful spot on Harry's head, he wandered over to the window to stare out at the sun, his thoughts peaceful, for the moment.
How long he stood there, simply allowing the sunset to absorb his attention, Harry was unsure, but as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, he heard Madam Pomfrey moving about the room behind him. For a moment, he was surprised, as he was unsure as to when the privacy ward had been removed.
"Harry?" she asked softly.
Turning around, Harry looked at the matronly witch, "Yes?"
"Perhaps you should go to bed." She gestured at the bed Serin had been hiding under, not long before. "You've had a long day, and you're due for an even longer one tomorrow."
"What do you mean?" Harry frowned, even as he walked closer to her. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow?"
"Well, Mr. Malfoy is supposed to make potions for me, and I suppose you are to do the same. Unless you'd like to help me empty the chamber pots?" She asked with a ghost of a smile.
"Er, no. That's all right. I'll…make potions if that's all right with you." Harry said, not quite sure if she was teasing him or not. Chamber pots? Did they really use those in the Infirmary? He'd always been either knocked out, or trying to sneak out, and had never been stuck in the infirmary for such a long period of time that it became an issue.
Poppy gave a small shrug, as if to say she'd been expecting as much. "Oh well. I guess it wouldn't have worked out anyway; you couldn't leave without Mr. Malfoy, and he'll be unable to leave his caldron." She shrugged again, but this one seemed almost hopeful. "Maybe I'll keep one of the hypochondriac students back tomorrow and make them clean out the chamber pots." She turned away, mumbling to herself. "Perhaps Mr. White? Or maybe Miss Savoir? She's always complaining of stomach cramps, but I know she isn't pregnant, much as she'd like to be…" Trailing off, she continued to frown in concentration, as if the rest of the speculation was still going on in her head, even as she drew the privacy curtains across to form a divider between the space occupied by Harry and Draco, and the rest of the room.
Snickering quietly to himself, Harry turned towards the bed and began to slowly remove his shirt. Toeing off his shoes, he suppressed a gasp of shock when his stocking feet touched the cold floor. Deciding to leave them on for warmth, he slipped under the covers and lay back, sliding his hands up and under the pillow to lace behind his head.
Pulling the curtains closed behind her, Poppy gave a small sigh of relief. She was worried about that boy, his life had been so hard, she'd seen the physical affects, and they were terrible. Anything at all that she could do to ease just a little of his pain was worth it. And that smile and laugh had been exactly what she was looking for. Nodding to herself with a satisfied smile on her face, Poppy headed off to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and if she'd gauged those two's relationship right, she'd need all of her wits about her to keep them from coming to an unfortunate, and sticky, end.
ooOO00OOoo
Per their nightly routine, Serin unwound slowly from Harry's hair and slithered down the pillow and over his neck to curl up in the hollow of his throat. When Serin had first chosen to sleep there, Harry had been a little nervous, unsure if the adder would bite him in the middle of the night when Harry's nightmares struck, but when he'd admitted that to his familiar, he'd been surprised at how affronted the snake had become.
"I will not bite my wizard!" he'd hissed, deeply insulted.
"But what if I wake you up again in the middle of the night, and you're groggy?" Harry had asked, anxious.
"I will not bite my wizard, no matter how ssleepy I am. I am an Adder, the King of Ssnakess! We would never do such a foolissh thing. Only the ssilly consstrictor ssnakess would make ssuch a ssimple misstake, and I am certainly not one of thosse." The disdain dripped from his voice like venom from his fangs.
"If you're ssure..." Harry had reluctantly allowed.
Serin had sniffed, still affronted, "Very ssure."
Now, Harry snorted softly in amusement at the antics of his familiar as he uncurled from his position and slithered down to Harry's stomach where he reared up, a full inch into the air, where he proceeded to look around, hissing into the silence of the room, demanding that any intruders show themselves and face the wrath of Serin! A minute passed, and then two, in which no intruders were discovered before the baby snake seemed satisfied.
"Good," he hissed into the darkness, turning around and settling himself once again in the hollow of Harry's throat. "Ssee that you sstay away, I won't be sso forgiving next time."
Harry strove to suppress the amusement in his tone, "What wass that about?"
"Other ssnakess thought to get in and offer themsselvess ass familiarss to you," Serin said with a sniff.
"Oh? Why would they do that?" Harry asked, watching the rising moonlight cast their rays upon Serin's scales.
"Becausse you are a Sspeaker, and to be bound to one ssuch ass you is a privilege. But," he continued scathingly, "to throw yoursself upon a Sspeaker who already hass a familiar iss common and rude. How dare they do ssuch a thing?" Serin twisted his neck about and looked into the darkness, as if seeing the snakes in question. Satisfied that they hadn't returned, he laid his head upon his coils. "But do not fear, Wizard-mine, I am here to protect you."
"I ssee," Harry said, smothering a laugh. "You'll defend my honor from other ssnakess."
"Of coursse," Serin said, "It is my duty ass your familiar to remove other ssnakess from your pressence."
"Right," Harry said, biting his lip to keep his tone somber. "Ssounds like jealoussy to me."
"Jealoussy?" Serin said, sounding as if he'd been caught. "No, why would you think ssuch a thing? Adderss cannot be jealouss."
"No? How about posssesssive then," Harry drawled.
"I'm ssure I don't know what you're talking about," Serin responded, hiding his head beneath his scales and refusing to budge.
"Of coursse not," Harry said, and let the matter drop. So Serin was bossy, jealous, and possessive, traits that seemed to flourish in the Slytherin House. Their animal was certainly well picked!
Relaxing into the bed, Harry's mind suddenly kicked into high gear, and he repressed a groan of frustration. Now he'd never get to sleep, with his mind running in all directions. It would insist on rehashing the events of the day, from the time he woke up in the morning and was harassed by all and sundry about Weasley's absence, to later that afternoon in the courtyard when IT had happened. Due to that damn redhead, Harry was now soul-bound to Draco Malfoy, and in a prime position to get himself treated like a rug, all over again!
A flush of irritation and anger crossed his features, and Harry hardened his heart. No, not again. Harry was not going to be treated like a slave, or a simpleton, or a child. He may not be an adult in either the eyes of the wizarding world, or the eyes of the Muggle one, but in his own eyes, and now the eyes of the Headmaster, Harry had done, and seen, plenty of things that would have crippled a mere child. All of the responsibilities that his guardians had forced upon him since childhood had made him far more mature than he should be at the tender age of fifteen, and his childhood was now far behind him. And now, he thought, determination thrumming through him, I'm not going to let Malfoy try and put me down again just because we're suddenly soul-bound. He's not the dominant one in this situation, I am.
All of a sudden, realization struck, and Harry's mind reeled with it. Harry was the dominant one, in this, not Malfoy! Harry could walk as far from the other boy as he wanted, and there would be no repercussions at all, he wouldn't feel a thing. Malfoy was the one who would have to follow him around, unless he wanted to be screaming in agony. The pain was the one thing Harry needed to upend the balance of power between the two boys, and shift it decidedly in his direction.
Feeling like a burden had been lifted from his chest, Harry slipped a hand under the covers and retrieved his wand from the pocket of his jeans. Placing it, and his glasses on the bedside table, Harry put his hand back behind his head and allowed for a quiet moment of contemplation.
Harry was the one in charge. Not Malfoy. Harry wasn't the one to feel pain; that was Malfoy. And Harry wasn't the one who was going to have to change alliances in the war because of the binding. Again, that was Malfoy. A deep feeling of relief and satisfaction suffused his being and his eyes began to feel heavy. Things looked much better now than they had a mere five minutes ago. As sleep slowly crept upon him, Harry resolved to try and be nice to Malfoy. After all, it was the thing to do when confronted with those who are less fortunate.
ooOO00OOoo
Harry looked around himself, blinking rapidly. Where was he? The smoke curling about his body lent itself the feeling of fingers sliding rapidly up and down his skin, leaving behind a slimy feeling that would not ease, even as he scrubbed his arms vigorously with his palms. Shivering a bit, Harry took a step foreword, hoping to see a way through the mist. Even as he walked, he was unsure if there was a point, no landmarks were forthcoming, and he had a distinct sensation of walking in circles, despite the fact that the dry sand beneath his feet remained free of tracks. Every so often, a small rock and a few dry grasses revealed themselves, coughed up by the mist like a vile expectorant. Still, he trudged on; instinctively knowing that walking was no worse than standing still. At least this way he was doing something.
Gradually, the ground took on a different shape, and the mist thickened to an impenetrable fog, the temperature dropping so that his breath came out in a visible cloud. He could have sworn that the slimy feeling was becoming a physical presence that froze on his skin when it made contact before being scraped off by his constantly moving palms.
Glancing downward, Harry was shocked to see the sand had taken on a reddish tint, and he was unsure as to when he'd wandered into a desert of red clay. It wasn't until a pungent odor assaulted his nostrils that he realized the previously brownish sand was tinted not with clay, but blood.
Even as he realized the truth, Harry looked up to see the fog part, slipping away as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to betray its treachery. There, laid out before him in all its bloody glory, was the final battlefield with Voldemort that he'd been dreading since he'd seen the Dark Lord's resurrection. Bodies were flung in all directions, some piled atop each other in drifts as if blown about like new fallen snow, as far as he could see.
Horrified, Harry was unable to tear his eyes away and his mind began to slowly process what he was seeing. There, to the left, was George Weasley, his right arm blown clear off and laying a few feet away, his dead body slumped over the equally dead body of his little sister, his twin was nowhere to be found. A little farther on, Harry could see Professor McGonagall, surrounded by a dozen or so black smears that could have been cloaks, or something more, but all he could see was her robes thrown up over her waist, and her legs sprawled wide. Apparently, she'd put up a fight, for her arms were broken in three places, and her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. The look on her face was not one that he could forget, full of pain, fear, and desperation.
Tearing his eyes away, Harry saw all of the members of the Gryffindor Quiddich team, huddled together in one of the snow drifts, looking alive, the bright red of their uniforms a striking contrast to the burnt orange of the sand below. Despite himself, he walked towards them, only slowly realizing what he was seeing. Harry saw that his team members had been stripped of all their skin, apparently while still alive, and it had been neatly folded, and placed into a pile of what he'd mistakenly thought was an oddly shaped pile of rocks. Even the skin over their eyes had been removed, and their lidless gazes pierced into his soul, accusing him for letting their torture occur.
Shuddering, Harry bent over and was violently sick, heaving up his insides in a spreading pool of vomit. Righting himself slowly, he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, eyes once again sweeping the destruction before him. Everywhere he turned, he saw someone he recognized, from classmates and teachers, to shopkeepers and ministry officials. Even the Muggle world hadn't been safe, Harry realized, when he made out the massive form of his cousin as well as a few students he'd known in middle school.
Slipping, almost gladly, into shock, he wandered in a daze, mentally cataloging people he saw, registering their identities deep into his subconscious. So many deaths. Off in the distance, Harry heard a distinctive rattling, gasping sound, and he took off running. Perhaps someone was still alive! As he got closer, the sound increased in intensity 'till he was sure whoever it was must have expired from lack of breath. Skirting around a larger than normal pile of bodies, Harry skidded to a stop when he discovered the source of the noise.
Huddled in a tight group, their indistinct edges blurring, Harry saw ten or more Dementors, gathered around a single, limp, form.
"Stop!" He called, hoping that he wasn't too late. Reaching a hand behind him for the wand he kept in his back pocket, Harry was shocked to find it missing. Patting his pockets frantically, he looked around, hoping it had just fallen out and was still somewhere nearby.
Glancing up at a noise, fear settled over him, wrapping about his shaking form and crooning in his ear like a lover. The Dementors had abandoned the slumped body and were now gathered around him, their dark cowls unable to mask the glee that was coming off of them in waves.
Giving up his search as hopeless, Harry collapsed onto the ground and wrapped his arms about himself like a child striving to keep the nightmares at bay, as he waited for the screams to start. When they didn't, he looked up in confusion, and was once again struck with the excitement the Dementors were exuding.
With silent words they encouraged him, telling him that they were waiting, that there were plenty of bodies left to infect, and plenty of joy to steal. They had time, as much as he needed, to finally step out of that imperfect shell and join them.
Join them? Harry thought frantically, and with a flash of insight, he looked towards the other form, the one the Dementors had been gathered around not long before.
As if sensing the object of his attention, the Dementors parted, giving him an unobstructed view of the broken, mangled, and very, very dead form of Draco Malfoy.
"NO!"Harry screamed, denial strong in his voice, even as he felt a pain like he'd never experienced before ripping into his chest.
oOO00OOoo
With a wordless cry of alarm, Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, shaking uncontrollably. Letting out a ragged sob, he brought his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them, ignoring a hiss from his familiar as he barely managed to scoot off Harry's lap in time to avoid being crushed. Flopping his head on his knees, Harry tried desperately to control his breathing, counting to ten and back down a dozen times. When that didn't work, he slipped out of bed and began to pace, up and down the narrow corridor between beds.
It wasn't enough. Months of running full-out had left Harry with an amazing stamina that was coming back to bite him in the ass now. Even as he walked back and forth furiously, it was barely enough to make his breath shorten, and surely not enough to drive his nightmares away.
Glancing over at the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy, Harry gave in to the inevitable and returned to his bed. Scooping up his familiar, he deposited Serin on his head with a hurried hiss to "Hold on," And dashed over to the other boy.
"Malfoy," Harry said urgently, "Malfoy, wake up."
"Huh? What? Who's there?" Malfoy said, coming awake instantly, and looking around with alarm.
"It's me; Harry," He responded, a jittery feeling settling in his legs, he needed to run. Badly.
"Harry?" Malfoy returned, momentarily confused and disoriented before he understood. "Harry Potter?"
"Yes, it's me. Now would you please get up?" Harry glanced longingly out the window at the moon.
"Why should I?" Malfoy sat up in bed and crossed his arms petulantly
"Because…I need to go outside," Harry was loath to explain.
"Why?" Malfoy demanded.
"Because I do."
"I need a better explanation then that," Malfoy returned, not giving an inch.
Exasperated, Harry reached up with one hand and tugged on a few strands of his hair, carefully avoiding the spots that concealed his familiar. "Well you aren't going to get one. I'm going outside and if you aren't dressed and ready by the time I am, I'm going to leave you behind."
Malfoy's eyes widened at the threat. "You wouldn't dare," He said with certainty, thinking of a Gryffindor's soft mentality.
Turning his head sharply, Harry looked directly in Malfoys storm-gray eyes, and said softly. "For this, I would."
And Draco believed him.
Turning away, Harry slipped silently over to where he'd been sleeping, donning his clothes without fuss, and Draco understood how it was that the other boy had managed to get so close to him without waking up the normally light-sleeping Slytherin.
Bloody Potter, Draco thought with asperity, breaching the barrier of his blankets to stand on the cold Infermary floor. Dragging people out of bed at… he cast a time spell. Three fifteen in the morning?! He glanced grumpily at the other boy, who was quickly slipping on his shoes.
Donning his own shoes, Draco glanced up to see Potter standing a few feet away, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other in impatience.
"All right, Potter," Draco said gruffly, irritated all over again at the late hour. "What is so damn important that you had to drag me out of bed at three fifteen in the bloody morning?"
"I told you, I just need to go outside," Potter replied with annoying vagueness, even as he began to walk quickly to the door.
Moving fast to keep up, Draco settled into a brusque walk, closely following Potter as he exited the Infirmary doors and took and abrupt left. Marching down the hallway, Draco's irritation increased when he noticed that Potters hands were shaking. Bloody prat doesn't even know how to take care of himself. Would rather go out into the cold night air and freeze his balls off then stay in the warm bed. What if we get caught?
Turning right, and skittering down a few steps, Harry entered the Great Hall and made a beeline for the door, looking neither left nor right. Placing his hands gently upon the surface, he pushed lightly, grinning when he felt the doors give without a sound. He knew from Hermione's sermons that the doors to the Great Hall were spelled not to open to students after the sun had set unless a teacher accompanied them, or were in dire need to leave. This kept students from sneaking out and snogging in the gardens or the Quidditch field, reducing the number of places that the teachers and prefects had to look. Hogwarts was a large enough hiding ground as-is.
Turning to the left, Harry kept close to the building and almost ran around the outside, a sob of relief catching in his throat as he saw open spaces where he could run and not the small confines of the Infirmary. Ignoring the grumbles and protests of the boy behind him, Harry headed straight for the Quidditch pitch. There was plenty of ground to cover there, without allowing him to get too far from the main doors. After all, he wasn't looking to get caught, and that could happen if he wandered to far from the entrance and took too long to get back.
Approaching the bottom of the stands, Harry made his way silently between the slats, almost smiling in amusements when he heard a metallic clang and a muffled oath. Apparently, Malfoys night vision wasn't as good as his own. Slipping out between the base of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff stands, Harry paused for a moment and looked about in satisfaction. This would work.
Here, he could run.
Taking a step forward in preparation for a good sprint, Harry was surprised to feel a hand come down upon his shoulder with too much force. Reminded instantly of his Aunt and Uncle of the too-hard-hands, Harry responded on reflex, raising his arm to throw the hand off, he spun around and settled into a defensive crouch, legs spread wide and hands upraised, lips curled in a snarl. He wasn't going to let them hit him this time.
"Back off, Potter," Draco said with authority, very annoyed. He hated following people around and he'd been doing just that for the last five minutes, with no better explanation from Potter than the fact that he 'needed to go outside.'
"Er, sorry," Potter said, standing up from where he'd been crouched like an animal ready to pounce.
"What the bloody hell are we doing here?"
"Nothing," Harry said, and then amended with a flush at Draco's raised eyebrow. "Well, nothing much. I just need to run a bit."
"Run?" Draco said in disbelief.
"Yeah, you know, same thing as a walk, but faster?"
"Cut the games Potter, what are you up to?" Draco demanded.
"I told you," Harry said, exasperated with the other boy, his longing to run only increasing now that he was finally in a place where he could. "I'm out here to run, it helps me think."
"Think?" Draco scoffed. "Think? Well, I suppose you'd need help to think, but this is ridiculous. Why the hell did you have to drag me out here?"
"Because, dumbass, we're connected now. Believe it or not, I'm actually trying not to hurt you. But I won't give on this. I need to run. Now. Try to keep up, won't you?" Harry said sweetly, before turning back around and beginning to jog.
With a muffled oath, Draco did the same, cursing all and sundry for placing him in such a ridiculous situation. I mean really, running around the Quidditch pitch at three fifteen in the morning!
ooOO00OOoo
Harry woke up the next morning with a distinct feeling of relief. Finally, finally, he'd been able to run last night, like he hadn't been able to do in weeks. Even if it was with an annoying shadow at his back. Draco Malfoy, for all that he gloated about his 'handsome body' wasn't in shape at all, and five minutes of a gentle jog had left him with such a stitch in his side that he'd forced Harry to stop. But even with the interruptions, Harry had finally attained that sense of freedom that he'd been denied for so long. By the time Harry had called a halt, annoyed beyond endurance of the other boys whining, he'd finally been able to put his demons to bed, their silence a relief after that horrible nightmare.
Voices from across the room drew his attention, and Harry strained to make out the words.
"Aw, c'mon Draco. What's the big deal? It's just one ittsy bittsy favor," a voice wheedled.
"That is not an 'ittsy bittsy favor' Zabini; that is, in fact, a rather substantial favor that would require massive amounts of time and effort to accomplish. Why would you even think that I'd be willing to do such a ridiculous thing for you?" Malfoy's voice was a mixture of amusement, disdain, and curiosity.
"Because then you'd have the entire school at your mercy. Every single student would be at your beck and call in gratitude."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," came the eager response. "Just think of it, girls throwing themselves at you, blokes kneeling to you in gratitude, and everyone everywhere saying what a great guy you are. Wouldn't it be great?"
"No. It wouldn't. Why would I want anyone to kneel to me anyway? I'd much prefer them on their feet where they can get out of my way." Malfoy replied with a sneer.
"Draco…" Blaise wheedled.
"Enough!" Malfoy said, clearly exasperated. "Is this the only reason you sought me out today?"
"Well, now that you mention it…" Zabini replied slyly, and Harry couldn't help but open one eye just a crack to see the expression that went with such a furtive response. Sure enough, it was everything he expected, drawn eyebrows, slit eyes cast to the side, and one corner of the mouth raised just the smallest bit.
Malfoy's countenance instantly changed from mildly amused to wary and guarded. "Oh, no you don't. I've seen that look before and I'll not get caught in your net today. Whatever it is you're thinking, just forget about it, I'm not playing."
"But you might like this game."
"Frankly, I don't give a damn. I'm in no mood today."
Blaise broke into a grin. "Oh don't be so suspicious of me all the time, Lord Malfoy," he said teasingly. "I just wanted to ask how you were feeling. Rumor has it that the Tarnished Kittens had a bit of a spat yesterday and you got stuck in the middle."
"You could say something like that."
From where he lay, still feigning sleep, Harry tensed, wondering if he should 'wake up' to keep Malfoy from betraying them. Where was that famous Slytherin caution when you needed it?
Across the room, Draco was aware of Harry's deceit and even of the tension. So he does have a miniscule amount of caution after all. "Apparently, the girl broke up with Weasley and he didn't take it so well."
"Oh?" Blaise said, appearing to sit up and pay attention without moving.
"Yes," Draco said, answering Blaise's unspoken question about whether or not he was serious. "It seems he looked up a spell that was supposed to cause them to 'be together forever', or some such rot." The last bit was said with sickening sweetness. "Potter, hypersensitive git that he is, saw the attack coming and deflected it…straight into me."
Blaise gaped at Draco for a moment before asking in a strangled sort of voice, his eyes bulging "Does that mean that the two of you are going to be together forever now?"
Draco snorted, and Harry relaxed. "Hardly. Weasley was far too inept in his spell work and he didn't even manage to say the intonation properly. All he did was send a blast of energy at the girl." He rolled his eyes expressively, "of course, it had momentum, and it threw me onto the ground, where I twisted my ankle."
"Yeah?" Blaise questioned doubtfully. "I heard that you ended up on the ground, screaming."
"And I suppose you also heard that Potter rushed over to me, after he beat the Weasel to a pulp, and professed his undying love for me right there, before I passed out?" Draco snorted.
"Well, Dara did say…" Zabini began doubtfully.
"Of course she did," Malfoy sneered. "You and I both know that half of the schools' population is absolutely infatuated with the idea that me and our savior extroadinare only fight as much as we do because we are trying to 'deny the love blooming between us.'" He pinned Blaise with a sharp stare. "And Dara is the worst of the lot. She's even gone so far as to start a bloody fanclub about it!"
A fanclub? Harry thought, alarmed. For me and Malfoy? As a couple?! The thought nearly made him gag, and he realized that he'd be unable to feign sleep much longer, after all, nobody would believe he was asleep if he was retching all over the place.
"I didn't know that she'd done that," Blaise said, wavering between amusement and disgust.
"Sickening, no? Anyway," Draco continued with a wave of his hand. "Potter did rush over to save the day, if only because Granger drug him over out of some misplaced concept of guilt and responsibility. Then the big oaf walked right over my ankle." He flushed slightly, as if embarrassed, "I might have made a small sound of pain. And I suppose I might have passed out." He flicked his gaze over at Zabini only to find the other boy grinning wickedly. Clenching his teeth together tightly, but fleetingly, over the self-deprecating lie he was being forced to fabricate, Draco continued, "I woke up in the Infirmary later and was told that Granger forced Potter to drag me here. After that, it's just a simple case of overprotective medi-witches and sleep potions."
"Well, it's a depressingly bland story for all the rumors," Blaise said, sounding almost disappointed.
"I'm sure. But then you know, the truth is often much less interesting that what the rumor mills say," Draco said with intentional irony.
"What about Potter? What's he still doing here?" Zabini gestured to the Gryffindors sleeping form.
"Well, he's in trouble for beating up Weasley. He's gotten himself suspended, so he's not allowed to stay in his dorm. Instead he has to stay here and help Madam Pomfrey."
"Oh, that sucks," Blaise winced in sympathy.
"I know, isn't it great?" Draco said with fabricated glee. "I might just feign pain so that I can stick around and gloat."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised. Oh well, I suppose I'd best be off," Blaise said, standing to his feet, and picking up his discarded robe and books from where they'd been resting against his chair. "Time to set the record straight. I'd hate to see what you'd do to the poor unwashed masses if they approached you with their version of events." Even so, his tone of voice implied that he wouldn't really mind seeing the young Malfoy Lord do his worst, especially since the gauge on 'Draco's revenge-o-meter' had jumped up several notches with his ascension from Heir to Lord.
"You do that," Draco said with a wave of his hand as Zabini left the Infirmary. "Get up, Potter, I know you're awake. I want a few words with you."
Groaning silently, Harry did just that, sitting up in bed and placing his glasses over his nose. "What?"
"I don't know what that was about last night, and frankly, I don't care. I just want to say one thing. Don't you ever try and do something like that again," Draco said with as much authority as he could muster, hoping to make a dent in that thick Gryffindor head.
"That's nice," Harry said, unconcerned.
"Now listen here, Potter…" Draco began with a flush of irritation
"No you listen," Harry said, standing to his feet in one graceful movement. "I'm the one in control of this situation, not you. I'm not going to let you walk all over me, and I'm not going to walk all over you either. As far as I'm concerned, we're going to have to make a lot of compromises if our lives are going to be anything but miserable, but this is not something that I will compromise with you over." He saw Malfoy beginning to say something, no doubt hurtful and scathing, but Harry just plowed on, "I'm terribly sorry that I drug you out of bed last night, but I'm probably going to do the same thing to you tonight, tomorrow, and probably every night for the rest of our lives. It's just something that you'll have to deal with. If it really bothers you so much to run, next time we'll stop by the locker rooms and you can grab a broom. But I will not compromise on this Malfoy. Get over it."
Draco's eyes flashed, and he tossed his head in anger, "Get over it? How dare you say such a thing to me! I am Draco Malfoy, the L—"
"Oh, dear, not again. You two aren't fighting already are you?" Pomfrey said as she entered the room. "The days' barely started! Come now, you must stop this at once. It's a beautiful day outside, there's not a single student in the Infirmary this morning, and I'll not have you boys starting the day off on the wrong foot. Here," She said, pushing the both of them over to a small table that had been set up along the side of the room that was filled with food. "I brought you a little something from the kitchen. Eat up, you'll need your strength today, dears."
Overwhelmed by her motherly bossing, both boys sat down and began to eat without a word, neither one daring to make a pithy comment while she hovered so nearby. Even so, sparks were flying by the end of the meal as they wordlessly fought over everything from who would use the jam first, to who would get the last slice of bacon. By meals end, Draco was feeling rather smug, for while he'd had to wait to use the jam, the last of the bacon, eggs, and breakfast biscuits had all made it onto his plate, and Potter had not been pleased.
Humming a little tune, Pompey cleared the table and laid a sheet of paper down. "Here," She said, pointing to the top, "this is a list of all the potions that I need, in the order that I need them. I'm completely out of witches brew, and have only two bottles of both the headache, and stomach ache potions. The dermis, and bone potions are next, followed by the less frequently used ones. This is a book that most of them can be found in. If you're missing a recipe, there should be some in the file card catalogue in the laboratory. It's through that door." She gestured with her wand towards the far end of the room and a door that neither of the two boys had seen before revealed itself. "There's a little closet in the back that should have all the ingredients that you need. If there's anything else, feel free to ask."
With that, she turned away, still humming her merry little tune as she busied herself with changing the sheets on the beds where they had slept.
Following her movements for only a moment, Harry and Draco's eyes met over the paper before Draco began to speak.
"Well. That's it. Come on then," The fair-haired boy stood to his feet, snatching up both the list and the book, and turned away, heading for the laboratory.
Rolling his eyes, Harry followed, amused at the side commentary from he snake.
"I'm jusst ssaying that he hass a point," Serin offered.
"Yess, I undersstand that."
"Then why do you inssisst on running in the middle of the night when it'ss cold and wet?" Serin's voice was baffled.
"Becausse that iss when I need to run."
"Talking to yourself again, Potter? Not an attractive habit," Malfoy sneered from where he was flipping through the book, searching for the first potion.
"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said, not all upset. He didn't really care if he sounded crazy, talking to nobody in particular. He wasn't going to stop talking to Serin simply because nobody else could understand him.
"Well, get over here and let's get started. And don't think for one second that you're going to be the one to brew these things. I might need to take one of these some day, and I am not going to drink one of your horrid concoctions." Malfoy shuddered dramatically.
Harry shrugged. "Fine by me. I don't like brewing anyway."
"Fine," Draco said, "then break-up some of these elephant pellets while I start the cauldron."
OoOO00OOoo
"Harry!" Hermione said, bursting into the room, "we've got a problem!"
"Hey, calm down," Harry said, getting up from where he'd sprawled, face-first into the mattress.
"NO, listen to me!" She said frantically, "Umbridge is pissed. You didn't show up for your detention last night and she's out for blood. I stalled her a little bit by telling her I thought you might be in your dorm, but she's bound to look for you here soon. The whole school knows about what happened yesterday, and they all know you've been suspended and aren't allowed back in your dorm. It's only a matter of time before she finds you've been told to stay here. You've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore, quick."
"All right, Hermione, give me a second," Harry said, rummaging through the pockets of his discarded robe. "Ah, here it is," He retrieved the one-way communication device. "Professor Dumbledore? Professor Umbridge is mad that I missed detention last night, and she's apparently looking for me right now. I've got to get out of detention, please help!"
"What's that you've got there?" Malfoy asked, setting the potions manual he'd been reading aside. They'd finished about half the list before Pomfrey stuck her head in and told them that was enough for one day, she didn't want them to run out of things to do before their detention was up. Since then, they'd both retreated to opposite sides of the room, having seen more than enough of each other to last a lifetime.
"It's a one way communication device," Harry said, tucking it back into his pocket. "Dumbledore gave it to me this summer so I could talk to him if I needed something."
"Hm," Draco said, noncommittally, before raising the book again.
Five minutes later, neither Professor Dumbledore, nor Umbridge had crossed the threshold, and Hermione was beginning to feel a bit sheepish for causing such a ruckus about…apparently nothing. Five more minutes, and the Headmaster finally opened the door, and stepped inside, his eyes sparkling.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, and," he turned towards the last person. "Dear Miss Granger. Thank you ever so much for your quick thinking."
"Oh good," Hermione said, letting her breath out in a whoosh, "So you did catch her."
"Yes. Thank you. The crisis has been averted." Turning towards the boys, the Headmaster began to speak.
"Well done, Mr. Malfoy, for a very skilled acting job. You've managed to keep the story close to the truth, while hiding all the necessary bits. Though," he added with a twinkle in his eyes, "I'd have preferred to talk to you about the story before hand, I understand your situation."
Draco nodded his head regally towards the Headmaster without comment.
"Madam Umbridge is understandably upset about your missed detention, and it took some rather fast talking to avoid her tacking on additional ones. But, this is how we stand: You, Mr. Potter, will take your second detention with her tonight at eight, and You, Mr. Malfoy, will take a similar detention, for your actions against Mr. Weasley, with Professor Flitwick. Don't worry," he hastened to add, when the boys' faces registered alarm. "Filius's office is the one adjacent to Mrs. Umbridge's, and you should easily be within the bounds of the spell, even if you are in separate rooms. Mr. Weasley will serve detention tonight as well for his part in this whole debacle, but with our distinguished Potions Master. And his detention will start quite a bit earlier than yours. In fact," Albus said with a flick of his wand, "I do believe it's starting right now." His face was properly somber, though his voice betrayed his glee. "Tomorrow night will be the same, with your detentions being served in the appropriate places. Questions?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Just one. Do you have a plan yet, as to how we're going to hide this," he made a vague gesture between himself and Malfoy, "from the school?"
"Ah, a good question that is indeed, my boy. And I am happy to say that we just might." Albus nodded his head vigorously up and down, the new, shiny star attached to the top of his gaudy hat twinkling madly in the light. "We will need perhaps another day or so before we've got the details worked out, but what we've come up with is perhaps the best solution there is. I'm just afraid that the brunt of the work of hiding it will still fall on you boys. But we're doing the best we can. I don't want to say too much in case we have to scrap the idea later, but it does seem promising. Any other questions? No? Well, I'm off then, plans and all that." With a jaunty wave of his hand, the Headmaster departed, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, leaving behind the impression of a gay, energetic tornado that just came in and buzzed about the room before sailing out the door with a smile.
ooOO00OOoo
Well, there we go, chapter sixteen, ready and posted. In record time, I might add. Hope you enjoyed the show! Tootles!