Harry felt as though someone had let all the air out of the room. He hadn't moved from where Draco left him, even as a chill started to settle into his body.
He had definitely botched that right up. So much for a peace offering or whatever that was supposed to be. Harry seriously doubted Malfoy-no, Draco would even speak to him again, never mind using his 'disease infested' hideaway.
Maybe it was better for both of them to return to how things used to be. They didn't have to fight like they used to, but friendship seemed like too much of an uphill struggle to bother with.
Then again, who else did Draco have? Who else did Harry have, for that matter. Neville was great, and Luna was really easy to talk to. But none of them challenged him like Hermione used to, or bonded with him like Ron.
Harry finally broke free of his trance to scowl down at his hands.
Was Draco in pain like that all the time? Harry couldn't think of anything the healers couldn't handle, so how was Draco still suffering?
"Oh... a cursed scar."
Harry touched his forehead gently, remembering the constant, dull ache of his own scar. But, now that Voldemort was dead, he was finally free of their connection. No more visions, no more voices, no more searing pain. Somehow, that left him feeling more vulnerable than the threats of the dark lord invading his mind. He had become useless, now that his job was done. His one and only fate, to kill Voldemort or be killed, and he fulfilled both. After that, it was all publicity, funerals, and watching the crying families of those who supported him and died. An entire year of getting those looks that revered but hated him. A year of tear-filled eyes asking him why he survived, and their child didn't.
He had managed through it all with the support of his friends. That is, until Ron turned those accusing eyes towards him and let loose a rage Harry had never seen in him before. He had understood, at the time, why his friend was so angry. He had lost a lot that day, and the summer leading up to the final battle had been stressful on them all. But Harry was also angry at Ron. Everyone lost something in the war, possibly Harry more than anyone else. He had loved Fred too, and Remus, Tonks, Sirius, even losing Snape was a blow to him after he found out what a good man he had been. Then there was the fact that he, himself, had died. It weighed heavily on him in a way he had not expected. It made him feel apart from everyone else, like he was no longer human. It was something no one else in the entire would had experience, and he felt utterly alone because of that.
He had run away, then, not saying a word in response to Ron's explosion. What was he to say that Ron didn't already know in some way or form? Hermione had stood there silently, looking disappointed in Harry for reasons he no longer cared about. God knows what he did to her, she probably blamed him for her parents. So, without a goodbye to any of them, he packed up and left.
He didn't have anywhere he wanted to go in particular, but he also didn't have a home of his own anymore. His only option was 12 Grimmauld Place, and he really didn't want to be there. Not after Sirius' death or the death's of those in the Order.
But, he moved in with far less hassle than he expected. The house was like a friendly cat and seemed to warm to him immediately, before sending him head first down the stairs on his fourth day there. It was definitely a Slytherin house.
Kreacher was a lovely specimen of Slytherin hospitality, at least until they had a row which ruined the entire kitchen. It seemed all it took to bond with the elf was flinging pots and pans at one another and screaming about blood lines and cold tea. They got on rather well after that. Apparently he had passed some sort of 'is he mad enough to be my master' test.
But even with Kreacher there, Harry was lonely. He had never been completely separated from people he knew, even if it was just the Dursleys for the summer. And then, he used to exchange letters every day with Ron or Hermione. He did get an owl from Luna asking if he wanted to visit her, but after the whole thing with her father, things were a little too awkward to take her up on that. They did meet for coffee a few times in London, which had been the highlight of his month.
But now that he was back at Hogwarts, the castle only served to remind him of what he lost. Everything. He had lost everything to Voldimort. Killing him hadn't magically fixed everything, it didn't bring back the dead, or help his ruined friendships. If anything, killing him had brought Harry more trouble. Now, he was back to squire one again. Alone, confused, and different from everyone else. It wasn't unlike his first days at Hogwarts, when he knew nothing about magic and had never had a friend before.
Harry smiled bitterly at the memory of Draco offering his hand in friendship and let out a laugh at how warped their relationship had grown since then. Time changes everything, and for better or worse Draco and he had moved on from enemies into something else. Was there such a thing as half-enemies? Tolerated house mates?
He found himself smiling still as he headed back to the dormitory. Perhaps he would try to speak to Draco again after all. Because really, who else did they have?
Draco never made it back to the common room after he left Potter to rot in his secret hideaway. He had planned to go down to the kitchens, his stomach growling after his failed attempts at eating in the great hall. He had just made it to the hallway leading to the pear when he was attacked.
A stunning spell came from behind, passing by close enough to singe his cheek. Luckily enough, his reflexes had always been quick, so he ducked and rolled to the side before facing his attacker.
He started to smile at the boy in front of him, a Bombarda already forming in his mouth.
"Aguamenti!"
Draco sputtered in surprise when a jet of cold water struck him from behind, strong enough to knock him on his face. He choked and tried to roll away again, shooting off a stunning spell of his own. The second attacker squawked, giving Draco a small gleam of satisfaction.
"You Death Eater scum!" Came a voice to his left, and before he could fire another stunner, something hit him hard across his back. He fell forward on his knees and gasped for air, feeling a trickle of warmth join the freezing cold water pouring down his back.
His attacker laughed while grabbing his friend and dragging the limp body behind him as he ran away. Draco hissed curses to himself and reached a hand around to feel his back. There was blood there, mixed with the water that soaked his entire body. With a weak groan, he stood up and shook his damp hair from his face.
Of course he would be attacked. Who would be scared of the headmistress' warnings when they could get a one up on an ex Death Eater. Because, honestly, who would listen if Draco went and complained? No one, that's who. Not a single teacher here had any respect for him, and he highly doubted the new DADA teacher had any glowing emotions towards him. Considering they had hired a retired Auror to teach it.
Draco winced when the pain finally hit him from his back. He wasn't sure what they did exactly, but it felt like a serious of small cuts along his shoulder blades. Nothing too deep, thankfully, but he had a sneaking suspicion it spelled out something. With a final glance around the corridor, Draco sighed heavily and put his wand away. He probably had an entire year of this to look forward to. An entire year of being attacked, and undoubtably being blamed for it if he fought back. Brilliant.
More cold water dribbled down his face, sending a shiver throughout Draco's body. He needed to clean up a little, before he went back to the common room. There was no point if losing the last shreds of his dignity, and the very last person he wanted to see looking like this was Potter. He had had enough of his pity for one lifetime, thank you very much.
With another series of curses, Draco set off for the nearest boy's bathroom to clean up. He spent the entire journey trying not to make a sound as his shirt rubbed against the open cuts on his back and clung to his scarred arms. He pushed the door open, muttering to himself about the mess. Really, one would think the house elves were too busy to clean in here.
"Bloody useless..." Draco hissed before leaning against the sink to look in the mirror. He looked awful. His skin was sallow and sickly looking, only made worse by the deep shadows under his eyes. The nightmares never did let him get much rest, but he should be used to feeling tired all the time. Draco frowned at his reflection, realizing what was bothering him most about this situation.
He had done this before, only instead of water running down his face, it had been tears. Then, of course, Potter attacked him.
There was a soft clunk from behind him, and Draco's already frayed nerves sent him spinning around with his wand out and ready.
"Who's there?!"
No one answered, but that didn't fool him.
He muttered a quick,"Lumos," and took a step forward. Unless they were hiding in the drainage, there couldn't actually be anyone in here with him. They would have had to pass him to go the the stalls. So what did he just hear?
"Show yourself!"
He remained tense and ready, ears straining for any sound that would give his guest away.
"Fine, if you shan't do it, I shall reveal you myself... Aparecium!"
No one appeared and the silence after his shout felt like the breath before laughter. Draco peered around for a few seconds longer and frowned at his own stupidity. At least there wasn't anyone to see his paranoia. If anyone was there, the spell would have revealed them.
He muttered, "i'm loosing my mind" and lowered his wand. There was a quiet laugh and a dull, wet sound filled the air as his stomach clenched in pain.
With a startled gasp, he looked down to see a disembodied hand still holding the knife in his stomach. As he watched, the hand twisted the blade a little before pulling back and disappearing again.
"Wha...!?" Draco choked out, stumbling backwards into the sinks. He clutched at the wound, wincing in pain at the slightest touch but desperate to stem the flow of blood.
His mind was racing. There was only one thing that granted someone invisibility that would not be I effected by an Aparecium, and that was an invisibility cloak.
His thoughts were dragged back to the gaping hole in his abdomen with a particularly violent throb.
Even as he tried to recall the spell needed to close the wound, his side exploded with pain. Draco screamed this time, and the blade thrust into his abdomen a few more times before his attacker let out a strangled sound and pulled away again.
Draco slid down, causing his head to smack against the pipes of the sink behind him. He hardly registered it as he struggled to cover the rest of his wounds. There was another weak laugh from somewhere above him, and Draco tried to squint up at his attacker. The room remained empty and a minute later the door swung open and shut on its own.
Draco was struggling just to manage each wheezing breath. He could feel him self fading already with the blood loss, or possibly from the crack to the back of his head. But heart ached more when his disjointed thoughts pulled together and he finally reached an understanding.
Of course, how could he have been so stupid? He knew it was coming, yet somehow he was so unprepared for it. Draco chuckled darkly, ignoring the bubbles of blood now dribbling past his lips. His mind simply refused to lose focus on one simple thing. Something that shouldn't matter so much, something he shouldn't feel betrayed over. It was his own fault for hopping that something had changed in the past week, that he was being simply pessimistic about his future here at Hogwarts. But it looked as though all his predictions had been correct after all.
Harry Potter had finally got around to killing him.
The corridors were oddly empty considering it was just before curfew.
They were typically filled with students rushing to get back to their dormitories before they got caught. But Harry had seen no one since he left the library and he was already more than half way back to his own dorm. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he forced himself to keep from shivering. Something was wrong, and he should have sensed it a lot sooner. If that bloody Draco hadn't been on his mind, he probably would have.
"Hel..."
Harry froze, flicked his wand out and quickly scanned the hallway around him. The voice sounded distorted and too far away to make out clearly.
"Help..." It came again more softly.
"Hello? Where are you?"
"Hel... h-hello?" The voice sounded stronger, echoing now as if in a smaller chamber.
Like a bathroom.
Harry cursed and took off down the hall, hoping his ears hadn't betrayed him. He knew there was a boy's bathroom around here somewhere.
There!
"Hold on!" He called out, bursting through the door and looking around the room for the owner of the voice. At first, he didn't see anyone, but he then realized it was because they were well below eye level.
The body was slumped awkwardly under the sinks, surrounded by an ever growing pool of blood. Harry's eyes focused enough in the dim light to see them lift their head.
"Draco?!" Harry gasped.
Draco squinted up at him with hazy eyes and scowled. "Returned to f-finish the job... Potter?"
"What?... I-I don't understand," Harry stammered, stepping closer tentatively. As he moved closer he could see just how many wounds Draco had. It looked worse the closer he got. Were those stab wounds? Four, no five of them across his torso. "Draco, who did this to you?"
Draco was trying and failing at giving him a dirty look. He was barely managing to keep his eyes open at this point. "Ssyou, isn't it?"
"No! I told you I didn't..." Harry trailed off and knelt down between his sprawled legs. "I did not do this to you. Now, will you let me look at the wounds?"
"You did this!" Draco shrieked, trying to pull away from Harry only to end up trapped between the pipes. "You did this... You k-killed me."
Something snapped inside of Harry, and with a growl, he pulled Draco out from under the sinks. "I didn't attack you! Why would I come back to help you?!" Harry shouted, even as he carefully lay the whimpering Draco out on the floor. "Merlin's bollocks, would you just trust me?"
Draco was gasping for air, looking up at him in a mixture of fear and confusion. "But... It can only be you."
Harry frowned and wracked his brain for a spell to help heal, only half listening now. "Why me? Now hold still, I think I can stop the bleeding."
He pointed his wand at the wound closest to his chest and muttered, "Episkey."
He managed a small smile when the blood slowed to a faint dribble, rather than the steady flow as before. So he continued on, mutter the spell again and again over each stab wound. He found Draco's eyes staring up at him, wide and even more confused.
"Why are you here, then?" the blond asked breathlessly.
"I heard you calling."
Draco's eyebrows drew together and Harry noticed that his face had broken out in a sweat. "I did not call..."
"Yes you did, I heard you call for help."
"No," Draco croaked, a small bubble of blood popping at the side of his mouth, "I did not call."
"I heard you, you git. There's no need to feel ashamed, not when you're..." Harry gestured to the blood around him with a grimace, "not when you're like this."
Draco's only response was to shudder and suddenly his eyes fluttered closed.
"Hey! No, none of that. Just, hold on," Harry ordered, lifting Draco's head off the cold floor to rest on his knees. He cast a panicked look around the bathroom before looking back down at Draco's pale face. "Just... let me get someone."
Draco's eyes snapped open and a bloodied hand reached out to clumsily grasp at Harry's arm. "D-Don't leave... me here. Don't..."
"I can't get help if I... No, wait, I can!" Harry looked at his wand and closed his eyes, focusing on a happy memory. It was harder than usual, but he managed to cast his Patronus. "Go, find Mcgonagall!"
The stag dipped its head towards Draco for a long moment before turning and disappearing through the door. Harry watched its movements with wide eyes. He had never seen a Patronus show any interest in a person it wasn't directed to seek out. It was as if it were acting on its own concern for Draco. Which was nonsense, it's not as though they were alive.
"C-clever Potter."
Harry turned his gaze back to find Draco managing a half hearted smirk. "Sometimes you astound me, Draco."
"Do I?" He wheezed out a short laugh and winced, "even when i'm not even trying, I still... As...tound."
The blond fell silent and his eyes grew unfocused.
"Draco? Draco?! OI, Draco don't you dare—!"
"What is the meaning of this noise—Potter!?"
Harry looked up at the sound of Mcgonagall's voice, ready to let out a sigh of relief. But when he saw the fear and doubt in her eyes, he finally realized how the situation must look.
"I found him here like this," he said quickly, "Look, can you help him get to the infirmary?"
The headmistress remained there gaping at him with one hand over her chest. She had clearly already been asleep when his Patronus had come to her, if her night gown and slippers were any hint.
"Please," he implored, "he's lost a lot of blood!"
"I can see that, move aside, I shall transport him to the infirmary," she directed, waving her wand before Harry had time to move. Draco's body lifted into the air in front of him, and he stood up awkwardly, trying to find somewhere to look that wasn't covered in blood. Mcgonagall was already leading the body out the door when she noticed he wasn't following.
"Come along, Potter, you have some questions to answer."
"Q-questions?"
Mcgonagall stopped, her want still pointing at the unconscious Draco, and answered with a frown, "This is the second time you have been found in a boy's bathroom with Mr. Malfoy covered in blood. I suggest you come along quietly so we can sort this out."
"Last time was an accident!"
"And this time was not?"
"I did not attack him."
"Then there is no reason for you not to follow me," she replied tiredly, " Please, Mr. Potter, I only wish resolve this as soon as possible."
Harry paled and clenched his fists, following behind her stiffly. Maybe it was all a foolish dream, to live in peace with everyone. He should have known this would happen. How could he have been so stupid? To send for someone while he sat there in the same situation as before. Blood on one hand and a wand in the other.
No, something was different this time. This time, someone else had attacked Draco, and Harry was going to find out who.
