Finally, chapter 4 has arrived. I had been thinking about splitting this into two chapters, but I fgured you would rather wait a little longer for a bigger chapter :)
It seems like Draco had the worst luck (or maybe the best) because more trouble is headed his way.
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Draco awoke early next morning, showered quickly, and snuck quietly out of the Slytherin dorm. He crept through the corridors cautiously, trying to make as little noise as possible. He headed down to the almost empty Great Hall and snagged a few sausages and a scrambled egg. He promptly stuffed them in his mouth without breaking his pace. After a slightly painful swallow, Draco continued walking until he reached a deserted courtyard. He found a stone bench in a patch of sun and sat down, letting his damp hair dry. He took a moment to stare up at the morning sky.
It was a cheerful blue and the air was surprisingly warm for the early fall. A few small clouds lazily floated by and formations of owls dipped in and out of the wind currents. The breeze was crisp and fresh and dew still peppering the grass. If Draco weren't so exhausted he probably could have enjoyed the view more. Although, this was usually the only time he could find to be alone so he'd take it.
Draco leaned back and laid on the bench, his arms folded behind his head. The sun struck his stomach and warmed the skin underneath his gray sweater and collared shirt. Draco sighed and absentmindedly twirled his hair around his finger. It had started to dry but it was frizzing slightly. He pulled out his wand and tapped it twice on his scalp. A ripple of magic ruffled through his hair, giving him goose bumps. His hair fluttered and relaxed, now sporting a glossy sheen. Draco tested it with his fingers and was pleased. Perfect as always.
Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't possibly imagine a more carefree and picturesque morning if he tried. He was so thankful for this small moment of peace. He hoped that it would be enough to get him through the day. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.
Draco opened his eyes again and saw something he hadn't expected. He sat up and squinted, trying to make out the shape that was twisting and weaving through the air. It looped circles around the Astronomy tower and zoomed through the small, stone arches in the bridges. It soared higher and higher until it was directly in the sun. Draco had to look away. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, willing the purple spots to stop swimming in his vision. He blinked furiously and then looked back at the sky, one hand shading his eyes.
The shape had started falling at a breakneck speed. The shape became bigger as it spiraled towards the ground. Draco stood up on the grass, eyeing the shadow. Suddenly he saw a golden glint in front of the shape. It darted around spastically as the shadow closed in on it, an arm out stretched.
Draco then realized that the shape was plummeting straight for the courtyard. He tried to look for a place to take cover but he was distracted by a familiar voice.
"WATCH OUT!!!"
"Potter?!" Draco exclaimed as he looked up just in time to see snitch, broom, glasses, scar, and haunting green eyes. Before he could say anything more the small, golden stitch bounced solidly off his forehead. While Draco fell backwards, Potter pulled out of his tailspin at the last moment, his toes barely disturbing the grass. Harry reached up high, propelled off his broom, and snagged the snitch right out of the air. He then landed unceremoniously on Draco's stomach.
Draco made a deep, choking noise as all the air in his lungs burst out. He coughed and gasped raggedly, his eyebrows furrowed furiously.
"Well this is familiar position," Potter remarked with a chuckle as he sat up, straddling Draco's stomach.
"P… p… POTTER!" Draco growled, his fists shaking. He opened and closed his mouth several times, too enraged to form a sentence. He sat up suddenly and glared at Potter. The two were now nose-to-nose, Draco fuming and Harry waiting patiently.
"What in the name of Merlin were you doing up there! Quidditch belongs in the Quidditch pitch, and I can't even begin to imagine why or how you stole that snitch and enchanted it to work outside of the stadium! You're barking mad! You could have killed someone! More importantly, you almost killed ME! What do you have to say for yourself?!" Draco sat stiffly, breathing hard, waiting for a response. Potter looked back at him, an expression of surprise on his face. Then, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," he said as he looked away. "Just getting in some early morning practice. And I didn't steal this snitch. Professor McGonagall did me a favor and let me borrow one of the old ones. See," Harry snapped his fingers and a small, battered snitch zipped into his hand, folded its wings and sat silently.
Draco gapped between Harry and his snitch, baffled. Even in his wildest dreams, Draco had never thought that Potter would actually apologize for any pain that befell him, especially if Potter himself had caused it. Draco eyed him warily. He thought for sure that it had to be a trick. Suddenly, a firm hand clamped around his shoulder and the snitched rolled to the ground.
"Urg," Harry groaned while he clutched his chest with his other hand, "I don't feel so good." Draco's eyes widened as Potter swayed weakly, his face pale. Draco lifted his hands and stared at them uselessly, wishing that they knew what to do. Then without warning, Harry's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward into Draco. They fell softly into the grass and both were very quiet. Harry was unconscious and Draco was shocked into silence.
"P-p-potter?" Draco wheezed nervously, "T-this isn't funny!" Draco wondered disparagingly who would happen upon this scene first. The Daily Prophet would read "Only Malfoy Heir Found Canoodling Publicly in Hogwarts Courtyard with the Boy Who Lived". Draco's stomach turned. His father would probably find him before anyone could even begin the rough draft of that article. The only thing left to report on would be the mysterious murder of Draco Malfoy.
Potter murmured something into Draco's chest and shifted his weight, still in a deep slumber. Draco looked down at Potter. He noticed that his eyes had bags under them. Maybe, Draco thought, Potter couldn't sleep because of his fight with Weasley the other night.
Draco wriggled uncomfortably. The more he thought about it, the stranger he felt. He had to get away otherwise… well, he didn't know, but that strange foreboding feeling that was hanging over him made him queasy. He was afraid to stick around and find out just what might happen. He freed his shoulders and he was about to make his escape when a hand grasped his wrist.
"I'm sorry. I just felt a little dizzy," Harry sighed in a drowsy voice.
"Sure you did," Draco snapped back, his patience worn out, "You look like you haven't slept in weeks. Not like you looked better before either, but there's only so much a person can tolerate looking at on a daily basis."
"How sweet! You do care, Malfoy," Harry exclaimed with mock affection.
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy retorted as he leered down at the black haired boy. Harry gazed dreamily into space, a grin on his lips.
"Ron sure knows how to keep me up at night."
"WHAT?!" Draco gaped in surprise at Potter's face. Harry turned his attention slowly to Draco whose mouth was in a perfect, cartoonish O.
"What do you think I meant by that, Draco?" Harry said playfully, an evil you-fell-for-it smile stretched across his face. "Don't tell me… Are you jealous?"
"What! WHAT!" Draco squeaked helplessly as he tried to pull his hand out of Potter's iron grip. "Listen to yourself, Potter! Just because every other prepubescent witch hangs your picture on their wall doesn't mean that-"
"You're not denying it," Harry said coyly as he pulled Draco towards him. The blonde forgot all about his Malfoy pride and flailed around desperately.
"NO, NO, NOOO! Stay away from me you- you-"
Draco didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.
"HARRY?!"
Draco whipped his head around and saw a very furious red head standing over them. Weasley's jaw was clenched and rage darkened his gaze. Draco took note of his white knuckles and shaking fists, hoping that the near future didn't involve a black eye.
"P-perfect timing, Weasley," Draco said, trying to find his usual cool, spiteful, and completely Malfoy tone of voice. "Potter here fell off his broom and is to sickly to drag himself to the hospital wing. Isn't that right, Scar Face?" Draco looked down at Harry for support and the smirk quickly fell off his face. Harry was asleep again.
"Malfoy…" Ron snarled with so much venom Draco jumped in surprise. "You have five seconds to tell me what really happened before I bash your pretty, little nose in!"
"That is what happened!" Draco cried in a cracking voice, afraid for his valued physical appearance, "He fell off his broom, right on top of me!" Something twisted in Ron's features and Draco immediately wished he could take that back. All of a sudden, Draco was yanked to his feet; Ron's face an inch away from his own and his shirt clenched tightly in Ron's balled fists.
"You bloody prick! I'm sick and tired of you prancing around this school like you own the place! You are no better than anyone else here. In fact, you're the worst! I think it's about time someone knocked you down a peg or two!"
Draco felt a wave of cold fear sweep through his body and his heartbeat raced. He was truly terrified. He even saw bits of his life passing before his eyes and everything… but there was something that distracted him from total panic. While he could certainly see a dangerous fire burning in Weasley's eyes, it didn't sidetrack him from the other things he saw. Like pain. And betrayal. And hurt. If he didn't know better, he'd say Weasley was on the verge of tears.
It was then that he remembered an old muggle proverb along the lines of 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Although Ron was clearly not a woman, Draco realized that it applied fittingly to the circumstances. It was true that Draco didn't really know the extent of Harry and Ron's relationship, but from what he had gathered, he knew what Weasley was feeling. He was jealous.
Draco couldn't explain why his stomach coiled uncomfortably with sorrow. He didn't know why he felt sympathy for Weasley. Or even why he suddenly felt like it would be a relief to let himself be punched. But Draco did. He couldn't express it in words, but, for some reason, Draco knew exactly what Ron was feeling. He could sense it. The blonde boy felt an achy feeling in his chest.
This was crazy. He knew Ron hadn't done anything yet, and he didn't think that Potter's landing had done that much damage but… his heart hurt all the same.
Ron drew back his fist and Draco tried his best to block his face. He held very, very still, tensed up and ready for impact. But the blow never came. He peeked hesitantly through his arms and saw Ron looking down at his friend. Harry had a loose grip on the bottom of Weasley's slacks.
"Please, mate, he's telling the truth," Harry said softly, a tired smile on his lips. "I don't feel so well. I know this isn't the best time for me to ask but… do you think you could help me to the infirmary?" Draco looked between Potter and Weasley. He could see Weasley fighting with something internally, something agonizing. His eyebrows bowed and a look of utter sadness flicked across his face. By the time Draco had blinked, however, it was gone. A small smile was now in its place.
"No problem, mate," Ron said with a defeated sigh as he let go of Draco's sweater to kneel at Harry's side. Ron hauled him up with a grunt and Potter hung feebly on his shoulder. Draco watched the two, feeling a sadness of his own stir. He smiled to himself. He may understand what Weasley was feeling, but he didn't have the foggiest idea what the red head was jealous of.
"Draco can help, too," Harry piped in abruptly. "Seeing as he was the one to break my fall, he's probably got some bruises of his own. After what I saw in P.E. the other day, I bet he bruises like a peach."
"Shut up, Potter!" Draco bellowed, his cheeks red, and about to begin another rant. However, the angry look in Weasley's eyes made him shut his mouth. "Anyway, it looks like Weasley's got things under control." Draco turned on his heel and walked off, although something deep inside was begging him to stay.
"Get over here, you slimy git. It's the least you could do." Draco stopped. He was sure he had imagined it. There was no way that Weasley had said that. He peeked over his shoulder cautiously, expecting them to be heading in the opposite direction. But low and behold, Ron fixed him with an icy leer and tapped his toe impatiently in the grass. "Hurry up. We don't have all day, ya know."
Quietly and reluctantly, Draco shuffled over to Harry's other side. He slipped under Potter's arm, and copied Weasley's stance by putting one arm around Potter's midsection while the other gripped his wrist. Draco could smell that same spicy scent as it wafted off Potter. The heavenly aroma filled his nose and made him light headed. This coupled with the heat that Harry's body radiated made Draco's heart flutter anxiously.
"Are we ready to go now?" Ron demanded impatiently.
"R-right. All set," Draco muttered while noisily clearing his throat. They started forward, clumsily at first, but at least they were making headway. Malfoy glanced over at Potter while they jostled him about. His head lolled on Draco's shoulder for a moment, Potter's messy hair tickling Draco's cheek. Then in a quiet whisper, Potter sighed almost inaudibly in Draco's ear.
"Thanks."
Draco felt shivers ripple across his skin from where Harry's warm breathe had landed. He looked down at Potter, astonishment on his face. The black haired boy closed his eyes and smiled so sweetly that Draco felt the corners of his own lips tremble. Suddenly, remembering they weren't alone, Draco stole a glance at Weasley. The look of torment and despair weighing on his features ruined the happy feeling that spread though Draco. He looked down at his feet and his heart began to throb all over again.
With an exhausted sigh, Draco wondered if Madame Pomfrey had a cure for empathy.
…
Although maneuvering Potter up flights of changing stairs cases to the hospital wing had been a challenging task, it had been accomplished. Of course, it didn't hurt that Weasley was tall for his age. It seemed to Draco that at times Ron was carrying the both of them. It felt more like Draco had latched on to Potter's waist and was merely another weight for Weasley's shoulders to bear. Even though the red head was lanky, it was obvious that he wasn't weak. Draco assumed it had something to do with all of the manual labor the burrow required to stay in one piece.
But still, dragging two boys to the infirmary was no small feat. There were moments when Draco saw looks of determination break on Ron's face, like he would get to that hospital wing if it were the last thing he ever did. Draco could tell that even though Weasley had asked him to help, it wasn't because he needed it. In fact, the way Weasley had barked orders at Malfoy indicated that he wasn't wanted along at all.
'So then why on earth did he ask for my help?' Draco wondered as he lounged on a bed in the far corner, watching Ron watch Harry. He was now resting peacefully on top of the covers as they waited for Madame Pomfrey.
'If Weasley wanted Potter all to himself then that would have been the perfect opportunity.' Draco pondered for a moment as he folded his legs up and propped his chin on his knees. Potter shifted around on the bed and moved one hand to rest on his stomach. Draco stared intently, taking in Weasley's reaction.
He observed Weasley's face change expressions like Neville's potions changed color: quickly and consecutively. Draco saw Ron's hand hover in the air, his eyes wide and cheeks pink. Draco didn't feel his head lift, or his body lean forward. Neither did he realize that he was holding his breath while he waited attentively for Weasley's next move.
It was like watching him play a game of chess (the few times Draco had seen him challenging fellow students in the library.) Weasley's steely blue eyes darted about from fingertip to wrist, taking in every inch of Potter's tan hand. Draco didn't dare speak. He could practically feel the pressure in the air crackle as Weasley hovered between making a life changing decision and giving up.
Draco watched as Ron's hand slowly descended, quivering slightly. Draco stifled a gasp as he gaped between Weasley's frightened expression, and his freckled hand. He felt horror well up in his chest. It was as if he was watching a natural disaster in slow motion. He wanted desperately to do something to stop it, but he had no clue where to start.
Suddenly, gravity pushed against Draco as he leaned precariously over the edge of the bed. He jerked his foot out to stop himself from tumbling onto the stone floor. Draco managed to catch himself, but his shoe landed with a thump like thunder and the bed creaked like a whistle of lightening. Draco looked up in panic and saw Ron's face mirror his expression back, his hand mere inches from Potter's.
For several long moment's they stared at each other, trying to guess what the other would say. A look of recognition passed over Ron's face and his eyes shot fearfully to his out stretched hand. He jerked it back hastily and held it in his lap like it was injured.
"What the bloody hell are you looking at?!" Weasley growled in a murderous tone. Draco shrank back on the bed, awkwardly repositioning himself as he started at his reflection in the shine of his shoes.
"N-nothing," Draco lied quietly, "Nothing at all." He kept the relief that was dancing in his chest to himself.
Then suddenly, almost as if she had sensed the discomfort of a student, Madame Pomfrey burst through the doors, her faded red dress and white apron ruffling in the gust of her stride.
"What are you lot doing here? You're first classes are about to start!" She asked in the hurried and impatient tone she often used. When Ron didn't answer, Draco did.
"Potter fell off his broom and collapsed from exhaustion." He said it all in one hushed breathe. Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened and she bustled over to Harry's side.
"He's feverish," she remarked in surprise as she put a hand to his forehead. Harry opened his eyes slightly. He lifted his hand to point in Draco's direction.
"He's hurt, too." Harry muttered faintly, "Bruised up pretty bad around his stomach." Draco shook his head frantically behind Madame Pomfrey's back. For once, he didn't want any attention. Besides, he was sure it wasn't that bad.
"Merlin, what's next?" Madame Pomfrey murmured to herself as she advanced on Draco. She lifted his shirt swiftly and without permission. Draco felt goose bumps break out on his skin as cool air hit his exposed skin. It was only when he heard Madame Pomfrey gasp that Draco looked down. He gasped as well.
Two purple bruises shown brightly where his hipbones poked ridges in his skin. There was also a perfect elbow shaped mark at the bottom of his rib cage.
Draco stared in disbelief. He hadn't even noticed. Then Madame Pomfrey started poking the bruises and he wondered how he could have possibly ignored this. Draco yelped and hissed before yanking away.
"Ow! Don't jab it so hard!"
"My apologies," Madame Pomfrey said dryly, "It wouldn't be the first time you've over exaggerated an injury." Draco blushed and irritation warped his features. Weasley snickered and Madame Pomfrey turned on him instead.
"Are you injured?"
"Well, no but-"
"No excuses," Madame Pomfrey snapped curtly, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. "Out."
Reluctantly, Weasley trudged out the door, casting one last, forlorn glance at his friend before shutting the door. Draco wanted badly to follow him out.
"Mr. Malfoy, take the bed next to Mr. Potter." It wasn't a request it was a demand. Draco strode over and plopped down, jostling his bruises. He winced at the pain.
"I bet this has something to do with that new class," Madame Pomfrey complained as she whirled around her cabinets, inspecting bottles and mixing liquids. "I told the head master this was a bad idea!" She marched over to Draco and shoved a jar that contained an odd green liquid into his hands.
"Drink half of that for the pain and have Mr. Potter drink the rest when he wakes up." Draco glared over at Potter who was once again dozing tranquilly. "In the mean time, I'm off to consult Dumbledore on this matter. A wizarding school is dangerous enough with out anymore of his foolish notions!"
"But, wait! This has nothing to do with-"
"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey commanded. "I will return in a moment." With that, she disappeared through the doors, her heels clacking away. Draco glared crossly at the door. It seemed like no one cared for his opinion anymore. He tipped back the glass and guzzled his half of the potion. He gagged at the taste and shivers of displeasure racked his body.
"Save some for me, Malfoy," Harry chuckled from his bed. Draco's head snapped in Potter's direction, startled. He saw Potter peeking over at him with one eye, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. Draco sighed, overwhelmed and helpless. It seemed as though his life no longer had any control. Like a higher power was stringing together all of these odd incidents. Draco took a deep breath.
'This should be fun,' he thought sarcastically.
-
Oh it will be fun, Draco. Very fun.
Draco's right, though. A higher power (called the author) is messing with his life. ;)
Hope you all enjoyed!