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Not three seconds after the Bludger knocked Hermione out cold, Draco reached the ground and jumped off his broom.
"Vaisey, you imbecile!" he shouted. "50 points from Slytherin and I'm reporting this to Slughorn!"
"Oi! What for?" It was Goyle asking, but Draco was too busy running over to Hermione's lifeless form to care.
He hadn't considered this. If Crabbe had still been Beater, he might have, but Crabbe had been suspended from the team last season due to some rather unsubtle illegal maneuvers and had failed making it onto the team this year, when Vaisey had decided to try for Beater instead of Chaser.
He couldn't get to her. She had gone clean through the front of the stand, and was now covered in debris.
And he felt absolutely nothing from the ring. It was as if someone had turned it off. He dreaded thinking about what that could mean.
If only he had let her sulk on third floor.
"Baddock! Pritchard! A little help here!" he yelled.
The two younger Slytherins made their way over and laboriously helped him uncover Hermione by removing pieces of wood that hadn't broken clean off as she went through.
"She's bleeding," said Baddock. "We should get her to the hospital wing."
"I'm not sure we should move her," Pritchard muttered. "Perhaps we should send for Madam Pomfrey?"
"Have you all gone completely mental?" Vaisey haughtily asked. "We're supposed to be practicing here! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the pitch this close to the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match? Those losers actually think their efforts matter."
Draco gritted his teeth, ignoring the idiot, and crouched down next to Hermione to feel her pulse. It was beating, thank Merlin.
It was hard to see her injuries in the dark, so he took out his wand to look her over. He was no expert in medicine, but it was quite obvious that she had a piece of wood through her left shoulder.
"What do you think?" Baddock asked.
How was he supposed to know?
Before he could reply, he felt the pain returning as she was fighting her way back to consciousness. Definitely her shoulder. And her chest where the Bludger had hit her. But it didn't seem like she had any mortal wounds.
He made a decision.
Hermione slowly came to, to see a bunch of Slytherin Quidditch players looming over her. Some looked annoyed or resentful, some looked genuinely concerned, and Malfoy was as white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, Malfoy?" one of the others taunted. "Can't stand the sight of a little blood?"
She sat up, slightly frowning. Blood? She looked down herself and noticed a few cuts and bruises, not to mention the thing sticking through her shoulder. Her eyes widened. Slowly she grabbed a hold of it with the other hand and pulled it free. She didn't really feel it. She decided she must be in shock to feel so numb, but she'd definitely live. Draco moaned and really did look as if he was going to be sick.
"I'm all right," she said, a little surprised at the truth. "I feel fine."
"Go to the hospital wing," Draco whispered. He seemed to be shivering a little. Well, he must really make a poor Death Eater, if he couldn't even stand the sight of a few scratches. Ok, maybe it was more than a few scratches, but she really didn't feel any pain and it wasn't bleeding that badly.
"It's really nothing," she said again.
"I said go!" he growled. "And m-make sure she gives you something for the pain. Even if you don't feel it."
He looked as if he was about to faint. He was even paler than before if that were possible.
She shrugged and he seemed to gasp.
"Well, then," said a rather unpleasant-looking person. "If she's all better now, what about we get back to practicing?"
"I'm done," Draco replied, staggering to his feet. "I'm going."
And he did just that.
Draco walked unsteadily towards the changing room, but by the time he reached it, he realized that he was in no condition to change just now, so he just grabbed his cloak and made his way slowly towards the castle.
He had never been in so much agony before in his entire life. If he breathed too deeply, he was rewarded with a stabbing pain, and his shoulder burned like the very devil.
The edge of his vision was growing black and he had to grit his teeth and focus on staying alert. He had taken too much. He would be stupid to not realize that, but it wasn't as if he'd tried this before! So, instead of opening the bond a little and letting some of her pain trickle over on him, he'd just ripped it open and received a flood. All of it, if he were to judge by her behavior and the way she was even now in no great hurry, as she was walking through the castle.
He dragged himself up the front steps.
At least the dungeons weren't that far. He was so glad that he didn't live in a tower. He would never be able to make it there.
"Oi! Draco!"
Draco stopped right inside the Entrance Hall and tried to school his features into something that didn't look as if he were suffering greatly from his momentary stupidity. Nobody needed to know this; not even Blaise, who was the one making his way down a set of stairs with a book in his hand.
"What's up, mate?" Blaise asked as he caught up with Draco, giving him a rather forceful pat on the shoulder.
Draco didn't reply as he was too busy crying out and dropping to his knees, leaning heavily on his good arm, so he wouldn't go face first on the floor.
Blaise had hit the exact spot on Draco's shoulder where Hermione had been impaled. Draco had never felt such excruciating pain before. Briefly he wondered why it would hurt on his body, but just arrived at the conclusion that this really had been a very, very bad idea to begin with.
"You need to go to the hospital wing," Blaise quietly said.
"N-no," Draco gasped. "I'm fine, really. Just a little… winded…"
"This is 'fine'?" Blaise asked, showing Draco his hand. It was bloody.
Draco laughed a breathless, humorless laugh. "I didn't know it could do that," he muttered. "But this does explain the pain."
"Come on," Blaise said. "I'll help you up the stairs."
"No," Draco said. "I'm fine. I need to go to my room."
"You're not fine," Blaise argued. "What the hell happened to you?"
Draco slowly struggled to his feet. He could actually feel blood running down his chest now. In an oddly detached way he thought it was interesting how powerful this jewelry was.
"I fell off my broom," he lied. "Nothing you need worry about. It's just a scratch. Happened a hundred times before. You know that."
"Is that so?" Blaise said, narrowing his eyes. "Then you don't mind me doing this?" He grabbed Draco's shoulder and pressed, making Draco cry out in pain, his knees buckling again. This time Blaise caught him. "I don't understand why you refuse to go see Madam Pomfrey," he said, "but you need to. You're rather badly hurt, Draco. It's plain to see." He shook his head. "You're usually the first one to point out if you even get the tiniest scratch.
"I'm-I'm not," Draco gasped, slowly gaining his footing again. "I'm not hurt."
"Draco…" Blaise sighed.
"N-no, it's true, Blaise. I'm not hurt. She is. Granger is hurt."
Blaise quietly looked at Draco for several seconds. "I saw Granger before," he said conversationally. "She was going up and looked a little battered, dirty and pale, but not as if she was in any pain."
"No, isn't that funny?" Draco gasped. "Please help me to my room. N-not sure I can really walk by myself anymore."
Blaise sighed again and went to Draco's good side, dragging his arm around his own neck. "What the hell do you think you're up to?" he asked as they slowly began walking.
"Couldn't control it," Draco mumbled. "I only meant to take some of it so she wouldn't pass out again or, you know, blame me for almost killing her."
"You really care about her that much?" Blaise quietly asked.
"What? No!" Draco shook his head emphatically and then had to stop as he got dizzy and felt like vomiting. "I was in breach of the contract, Blaise. If she… if she realized how badly she was hurt, she could make me take it off her. I couldn't do that." It wasn't actually true, but he didn't think that Blaise would understand the truth.
Blaise swore violently. "Still all about the bet is it?" he spat. "You need to get over this… this need to fuck up everything for yourself in your pursuit of putting Granger down."
"I suppose so," Draco mumbled, unwilling to share with Blaise the real reason why he didn't want to let go of the bond. It would just give him the wrong idea. Nobody would understand that it was nothing like that at all. His need to feel her wasn't because he wanted anything to do with her. It was… it was just as if he was seeing colors after living his whole life seeing monochromes.
Blaise sighed. "What did Granger say when you did this? Did she at least say thank you?"
"No," Draco moaned. His shoulder and chest felt on fire. "She doesn't know."
"How could she not know? Look at her and look at you!"
"She was passed out. I did it before she woke." He stumbled a bit. The blackness at the edge of his vision had expanded, and he was now seeing black spots as well. "And Blaise…" he quietly added. "She's not going to find out. Then it would be for nothing."
"Is this really worth almost killing yourself over?"
Draco was almost unable to move his feet. "I'm not almost killing myself," he murmured.
"I hate to break it to you, mate, but you look anemic on the best of days. Right now you look like Death personified."
Draco gave a low laugh. "I feel it too, but I'll be fine in the morning."
"If you're taking her pain, can't you just give it back? Stop this nonsense?"
Draco very slowly shook his head. "I… don't know… how…"
Blaise stared at him. "So you'll just be keeping it, then?"
Draco slowly shook his head again. "I can't keep it open after I lose consciousness, can I?" he murmured. "When you get me to my room I will pass out and she'll get it back. She's been given a sleeping draught already, so she probably won't even notice much."
"Madness," Blaise growled. "If you bloody fancied her, I would get it, but for a bet? For the chance to get to control her for… what? Another week? Madness. You're an idiot and you owe me one."
"Nine days," Draco weakly responded. "And I do. Thank you, Blaise."
Blaise didn't respond. They had reached the wall to the Slytherin common room and Blaise had to almost carry Draco through.
"Almost there, Drake," Blaise muttered, sounding slightly worried. "Hang on."
Draco conjured up the energy to nod.
"This is interesting," a cool voice said. Draco managed to lift his head enough to see Theo sitting in one of the armchairs, reading a book. "What happened?"
"Don't tell him," Draco almost inaudibly whispered, barely moving his lips. "He-he'll misunderstand. He'll think I want her for myself." He drew his cloak closer around himself to hide the bleeding.
Blaise rolled his eyes, dragging Draco through the common room. "The klutz fell off his broom at Quidditch practice. Banged his head and a few other bits that are not likely to take any permanent damage. Madam Pomfrey says he just needs some rest in his own bed."
He was nothing if not a very adept liar.
"She wouldn't want to keep him for observation?" Theo inquired.
Blaise snorted. "If she kept him every time he took a dive from his broom, she might as well set up a permanent room for him up there."
"Hey…" Draco feebly objected.
"He'll be as right as rain in the morning," Blaise said, ignoring Draco's objections. "You'll see."
"I suppose I will," Theo said, sounding doubtful.
"Thanks," Draco whispered when they were out of earshot.
"Yeah, well, don't make a liar out of me."
Draco faintly smiled. "You are a liar."
"Don't make a worse liar out of me. And that's one more you owe me."
Finally, they reached his room, and Draco used his last strength to stumble onto the bed, heedless of the dirt and the blood on his clothes. Blaise managed to snatch the cloak off him before he landed on it.
"You're pitiful, you know that?" he conversationally said, removing Draco's boots.
Draco couldn't even move anymore. He was so tired. And his left arm was strangely numb. "Blaise…" he weakly muttered.
"Yeah, mate."
"Could you… I need to report Vaisey to Slughorn tonight. I said I would."
"He did this to her?"
Draco nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Fucking arsehole. Yeah, I'll tell Slughorn. How did he do it?"
"Bludger. Straight… her… through stands…"
Blaise frowned, trying to make sense of the barely audible words. "And you're sure it was on purpose?"
Draco slowly nodded. "He's too good to…"
Blaise waited a few seconds for Draco to finish the sentence before he realized that his friend was out cold. With a sigh he left the room.
Draco slowly woke. He really wanted to just go back to sleep, but he had better get up now before anyone – specifically Theo – got suspicious. He was so tired. His head hurt. His shoulder hurt worse.
He sighed. He couldn't go to the hospital wing, ergo he would have to get up and make a suitable impression of being alive and well. He knew Theo would be looking for any discrepancies. He tried to sit up and then fell back with a hiss as his chest turned out to still be sore as well. He gingerly felt his ribs to see if they were ok, but it seemed like it was just the soreness.
Taking another person's pain really wasn't as fun as it might sound.
He slowly sat up and carefully began removing his Quidditch outfit. The real problem was the shirt. The blood had scabbed and the shirt stuck to it, both on the back and front and it bloody hurt when he tried to pry it free. Finally, he managed to get it off and went to look at himself in the mirror. He looked horrible. He was more pale than usual and had dark circles under his eyes. His torso was much worse, though. There were dried blood smudges everywhere, and the wound, albeit closed, was still present, and it looked angry.
He sighed and covered up before going to the bathroom to clean up.
Next...
"Oi, Granger!" someone called out as she was passing the Slytherin table. Puzzled, she stopped and turned. Zabini? What…? "How's your shoulder?" he asked.
She frowned slightly. Why would Zabini care? Why was Malfoy frowning even harder at him? "Uh…" she slowly said, her eyes flickering between the two Slytherins. "It's fine, thanks." Why was Malfoy eating nothing but Brussels sprouts?
Zabini beamed at her. "Good, good. Carry on."
She slowly turned away, just to hear a loud clank and swirl back around. They were inconspicuously eating their lunch. She narrowed her eyes. Was Zabini just wincing?
