Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I just borrow them from time to time for my own personal amusement.

A/N: The first part of this story could almost stand alone as a one-shot and this part is taking a little bit of a different turn than most people expect, but I have my reasons. Harry is going through a rollercoaster of emotions right now: confused, violent, livid, now guilty, and possibly concerned? If you like the ideas the ideas I put into this I'll continue it.


Tabula Rasa

Part 2

Harry didn't see Malfoy for the next three days. Malfoy was missing from the Great Hall at all meal times and he hadn't shown up to any of his classes on Monday. Not that Harry noticed. Why would he notice Malfoy? They weren't friends anymore. They never had been. He hated Malfoy. Still, it was strange that he was missing. Besides, he got a strange impression from all the glowering Slytherins that something was wrong.

Secretly, he hoped that he was okay.

Fucking Malfoy. What a git.

On Monday evening though, about halfway through dinnertime, Malfoy appeared. Harry could feel his blood boiling again, fury flowing through his cheeks; he was getting ready to confront the arrogant Slytherin. Harry was holding his breath, waiting for the foul git to come over and antagonize Harry and the other Gryffindors, as he did every mealtime.

This time would be different. He was prepared.

Harry was was ready to give Malfoy a piece of his mind, when Malfoy did the inexplicable and sauntered right by the Gryffindor table never once glancing at any of them. He strolled right by the Ravenclaw table without flashing his usual devastating smile at the girls, glared furiously at the Hufflepuffs, and took his place at the head of the Slytherin table between Pansy and Blaise.

No, this wasn't right.

What did Malfoy think he was playing at? He always came over during dinner and insulted Harry. He was a creature of habit. It was his ritual.

Always. What's the git playing at now? Probably some new scheme.

Stupid Malfoy.

Harry watched Malfoy through narrowed eyes as he casually conversed with Pansy and Blaise. He appeared unfazed, completely calm and collected. Harry could feel his blood curl again. Why the hell was the prat ignoring him?Malfoy wouldn't even lock eyes with Harry and he had his stupid poncey hair in his face again. More so than usual. His stupid hair was covering his ugly, stupid face.

That was so Malfoy.

God, he hated Malfoy. Ignoring Harry and the entire Great Hall liked he owned the place, as if he were too good to speak with anyone that wasn't one of his precious purebloods. What's so good about purebloods anyway? They're probably all inbred that's why they're all so ugly.

Yeah, stupid Pansy and Zabini fawning over Malfoy. He was probably just skiving off class and then Harry's mouth dropped.


Pansy had reached up and softly brushed Malfoy's fringe out of his eyes. Malfoy winced slightly, grabbed her wrist, and threw it back at her. "Don't," he threatened and Pansy looked away probably embarrassed. Malfoy had wanted to keep his face hidden underneath his pale fringe, but it was too late. Under his fringe, Malfoy's left eye was half-closed and swollen up to the size of a miniature snitch; he had a dark bruise that stretched from his eyelid to the middle of his cheek. It was a horrid violet, blackish colour and his cheekbone appeared to be almost protruding from underneath his pale skin. His skin was a ghastly greyish colour, definitely not the usual pale white that Harry had noticed so often, small cuts seemed to take over the entire left side of his face.

Harry's gut wrenched and started contorting in a manner he never knew possible. He had just been punched in the gut.

Had he really done this to Malfoy? Had he really punched him that hard and pushed him that violently against the windowsill that he had practically destroyed the left side of his face?

There's no way. No, it couldn't be.

Malfoy was obnoxious; everyone hated Malfoy, not just him. He probably made another one of his horrid remarks and someone finally gave him what was coming to him.

Yes, that was probably it.

Someone else had destroyed Malfoy's face. He probably deserved it. Harry could breathe again, he knew he wasn't responsible, but for some reason his stomach hadn't gotten the memo yet and he felt the need to empty it.


On his way out of the dining hall, he ran into Blaise. He grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and threw him firmly against the wall.

Oh no, not this again.

He desperately hoped that Blaise wasn't going to kiss him. If he was, at least Harry could empty the contents of his sloshing stomach on him.

That would be a plus.

Harry flinched and closed his eyes in anticipation. Once he opened them again, Blaise was pressed up against him hard: his ebony wand knifed against his throat.

"Potter," he spat much in the same way as Malfoy usually did.

What is it with these Slytherins and treating his name as if it were an insult?

"I don't know what type of game you think you're playing at," he continued his voice like venom. "But it stops now. I know that you and Draco have always loved carving each other up, but I thought that was over. Draco thought it was over that you two had reached some sort of strange understanding. That you were no longer enemies. I told him he was mad, that you would never care for him, but I never actually thought this whole friendship facade was some ploy to attempt to kill him!"

"What? I wasn't trying to kill him. I was just..."

"You were just WHAT?" roared Blaise. "Trying to ruin him? Humiliate him? Blind him for life? He trusted you. He's a fool."

"Malfoy's a foul git you know that Zabini, he started it, he always does. I didn't push him that hard, he's just milking this. Why doesn't he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?"

" Why doesn't he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?" he mimicked in a tone way too screechy to be Harry's voice.

"Because you can't use healing potion so close to an eye you idiot, don't you ever read? Besides—he's allergic to healing potion, you know that. That's probably why you did it..."

"What? Malfoy's allergic to healing potion? I never knew that. He never told me," Harry responded his voice lower now.

"How could you not know that? You've put him in the hospital countless times. Why do you think it always takes him so long to recover from your brawls? What did you think that he just likes to sit in the hospital in pain instead of being instantly healed? That he likes wearing splints, braces, patches and whatever else you do to him?"

"No, I just always thought he was milking it. That's so Malfoy pretending like he's dying. He's injured me too countless times. I know it was never that bad. He broke my nose and jaw once ..."

"You idiot, you're even denser than I thought. Malfoy's always been allergic to healing potions. Your broken nose, jaw, whatever, were always healed instantly—obviously, you always feel some discomfort afterwards, which is actually mostly a side effect of the healing potions themselves—"

Harry looked at Blaise his emerald green eyes darkening as he continuously blinked his eyes, desperately hoping that this is all some prank and that Harry really wasn't that clueless.

"My God, you really don't know anything. It must be true then, what they say, that those muggles dropped you on your head as a child."

Harry glared furiously at Blaise and was considering lunging at him.

"Anyway, Draco is allergic to ALL healing potions, he has to heal the other way, the you know, the other way."

"What the muggle way?" He inquired.

"No, not the muggle way, he's a bloody pureblood wizard. I suppose that you don't know that muggle medicine is toxic to purebloods."

Harry's eyes widened again.

"Of course you don't," he continued. "You don't know anything. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you, but I guess it's necessary, so you don't keep killing Draco. No, he doesn't heal the muggle way. He just has to bear it. I guess you could say, he heals the natural way, holistic or something like that. He can't take pain potions or healing potions he just has to deal with all of it that's why his recoveries are always so long. He's NOT milking it you prat," he snapped at Harry.

"I-I don't believe you," Harry stammered. "I-I didn't know... Besides, if that's really the case, then why isn't he scarred all over? We've had quite a few encounters where...well you know...he was accidently cut."

Blaise scoffed at Harry. "Right, accidentally cut Potter. You really are dense, aren't you? I never said he was allergic to anti-scarring potion or dittany, did I? Luckily, he's not, the vain git that he is, but he still has to deal with the pain the entire time. Always. I can't believe you didn't know Potter? I always thought you just liked seeing him in pain and mocking him while you were fine after you're little fights."

"I-I.."

"Look, it doesn't matter now Potter, it's just that as you know, Draco is ill and after this last little incident between you two, he's gotten worse. I've already spoken with him and he promised me that he's going to stay away from you. So just do the same okay? He promises and the rest of the Slytherins do too, that we'll leave you and all your little Gryffindor friends alone. We'll pretend that you don't exist. Just leave Draco alone, okay? I know he's a prat, but I'll do my best to keep him in line. Just please, Potter leave him alone."

"Uh..uh.. is he okay?" Harry asked timidly.

"Haven't you been listening? Of course, he's not okay he's spent the last three days in the hospital wing. Just leave it Potter, you've done enough."

Harry's mind was completely clouded over—he was was about to respond, he wanted desperately to respond, to defend himself, but he just couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of and took off. He sprinted down the corridor, straight through the east wing of the castle, way past what he thought were the Hufflepuff dorms, way past the Ravenclaw dorms, and all the way out of the castle, knocking down anyone who was foolish enough to get in his way. Once he was outside, he ran straight to the quidditch pitch thankful that that it was deserted and finally stopped as he greedily gasped for air. It was a long time since he had last run. He supposed he was out of shape.

It didn't really matter know. Nothing matters now.

This couldn't be true.

It just couldn't be. All those fights with Malfoy...their truce...why hadn't Malfoy ever mentioned it?

Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned it?

Did everyone really think that Harry was that much of a sadistic bastard that he and Malfoy would brawl and each of them would wind up in the hospital wing twice a month, with Harry knowing that Malfoy couldn't heal properly that he was supposedly ill, as Blaise had told him? Is that why after their brawls Malfoy usually left him alone for a while because he needed time to heal properly before their next brawl?

It couldn't be.

He was a monster.

His stomach twisted in knots again; sour bile ramming its way up his oesophagus, Harry tried to push it back down like before, but this time, he actually did lose his dinner.

Oh God. This isn't happening.

Perhaps it wasn't true. You couldn't trust Slytherins, perhaps Zabini was lying.

Yes, that must be it. It had to be.

He was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors are good. And Slytherins are bad. It was as simple as that.

Wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Yes, there was never a wizard that hadn't gone bad that wasn't in Slytherin.

That's what Hagrid had told him. What Ron had told him. What everyone believed.

Yes, Slytherins are bad and Gryffindors are good. Blaise had to be lying.

~fin~ or end of chapter if people like this and want me to continue.


Author's Note: So, what did everyone think? Don't kill me, I know that Harry's upset and you feel bad for him, but at least now Harry is no longer pissed at Draco, right? Is Blaise telling the truth? Perhaps. I'm not going to tell you what Malfoy's intentions are or whether or not you can trust him because it's a secret and only I know the answer to that...muuahahaha...but don't worry if people like this short fic I will attempt to lengthen it and turn it into a story. I've never really written a slash scene before, so I tried my best to write a believable one, especially while in Harry's head. Let me know what you think and how I can make it better. I've tried my best to keep all the dialogue as in character as possible. If you don't think that Harry, Malfoy, Blaise, or whoever's dialogue sounds real or that they wouldn't speak that way let me know and I'll try my best to change it. Also, if some part of the story was hard to follow, or sounds awkward let me know and I'll go back and fix it. At this point, I don't have a beta and if anyone is interested I would love for you to help me. If not, if everyone could just leave me some constructive criticisms and point out any errors including grammatical errors, I would greatly appreciate it. That's all for now. Thanks so much for reading; any type of reviews, positive or negative are greatly appreciated. Cheers.

~Icicle