Author's Notes: Yeah. So... There's a reason why Draco was out of commission for several days. Just saying.
Harry woke up in the infirmary, his chest and left arm bandaged up. Both back and arm still ached.
If he was being treated… why hadn't Madam Pomfrey patched him up all the way? He pushed himself up with his arms, but the pain grew so intense that he had to lie back down. Harry knew what Snape was going to say when he snarled at him next… "You twit! Jumping in front of an enraged Hippogriff is how you get killed! As usual, you are exceedingly lucky!"
Looking beside him, he saw that the table was full of blurry objects. He licked his dry lips, swallowing. No one was sitting in either chair beside the bed.
"Good, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said across from him, her blurry shape coming around his bed. "How are you feeling? Not too hot or cold?"
"Just right." Harry squinted in the afternoon light. "How long was I out?" He reached for the blurry shape of glasses beside him, but he couldn't grab them. His arm hurt too much. The kind Healer placed them into the hand of his unhurt arm.
"Since Monday." After Harry put his Glaxxes on, Madam Pomfrey caught his eyes. "Today is Wednesday."
"Great," Harry said, unhappy that he'd missed the first day of several classes. He looked at the table to his left again and saw Get Well cards, candy, and flowers overflowing it. "Was I hurt too badly to heal up right away?"
The vials in Madam Pomfrey's hands slipped onto the empty bedside table on his right with a clunk. She turned with a fierce expression on her face. "Am I to understand that you jumped into harm's way because you thought I'd mend it in a jiffy?"
Harry blinked at her because yes, he rather did think she'd be able to fix it with magic.
"Helga help me." Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and breathed out. When she opened them again, her blue eyes had softened. She shook her head sadly. "That's not how it works. Not everything has an easy or quick fix." She paused and then took a careful breath. "There was slow-acting poison in those hippogriff talons, Harry. Had I simply healed your wound your M.V.S. would have accelerated the poison's effects and killed you within a few days."
"M.V.S?"
"Magical vascular system, the pathways that channel magic, similar to how blood pumps through the cardiovascular system. You might've heard the more common term for it: magical core."
Harry shifted so he could sit up because his back was sore. He winced when pain stabbed through his back.
"If you remained prone it wouldn't hurt as much," she admonished.
"So…" He was having difficulties thinking straight. "You couldn't use magic."
"Yes. I had to find a way to stabilize your M.V.S. without lifting my wand, and that required draining some of the toxin off the old fashioned way."
Harry looked down at his unmarked arms. "By bleeding me?"
"With leeches," Madam Pomfrey said promptly.
"With leeches," Harry dully repeated, imagining giant slimy black creatures on him.
"Yes, they are experts at blood-sucking. These particular ones I had to specially order to make sure they were free of trace magics."
A thought came to him as the School Healer bustled about with the vials. "Hagrid! Was he hurt?"
"He was hurt?" The witch radiated concern.
"He was scratched by the hippogriff's talons too!"
Clucking, she shook her head to herself and stood. "Thank you, Harry. You may have saved his life," she said.
Madam Pomfrey quickly left the room. The sound of the door shutting and locking behind her filled the empty room.
Harry let out a heavy breath and then took a deeper one. He forced himself to sit up despite the screaming pain and put his feet on the floor.
"Where do you think you're going?" Snape's tinny voice sounded.
Harry looked around in confusion.
"The Foe-Glass, you fool boy. On the bedside table."
Slowly, Harry twisted his legs as he turned to keep them as straight with his shoulders as possible. On the table with the vials the Healer had abandoned was a strangely warped, translucent piece of glass. On it was Snape's dour face and large nose, elongated because of the glass' curvature. "Hullo," Harry said dumbly.
"Shall I inform Madam Pomfrey that her charge has lied to her?"
Harry felt the flush of anger and immediately let out a groan as the anger seemed to intensify the pain. He lay back down with a soft fwump, his head hanging off the side of the bed. "I'mnot lying. Hagrid said that if you bowed and Buckbeak didn't like you that the talons were 'nasty sharp'. His words, not mine."
Snape was silent for a moment. "You are not to leave your bed," he said caustically.
Harry shifted again, trying to get comfortable. He stared at the walls. He stared at the empty beds. He stared at the interplay of light and dark blotches on the ceiling. "I'm bored," Harry stated to the silence.
A derisive snort could be heard from the bedside table. "There's certainly an easy remedy for that." Harry immediately knew from the tone that Snape would soon have his revenge. Several rolls of parchment floated from another table to drop next to him. "Your missed class work and assignments."
"I am not doing it when I can hardly think straight!" Harry announced angrily. "Couldn't you send someone to visit?"
"I'm sorry," his guardian said insincerely, "Did you expect a trio of dancing monkeys to entertain your majesty?"
"I saved your daft godson from an enraged hippogriff," Harry hissed out.
An unsympathetic huff issued from the Foe-Glass. "You are an idiot if you believe that matters to me."
"You owe me!" Harry said indignantly.
Snape actually chortled in a nasal manner and then responded dryly, "I will ask Dumbledore if I might present the hero's medal at your awards ceremony."
"You're joking. Please, Merlin, let him be joking," Harry gritted out. He didn't want a bloody medal! He especially didn't want the attention and fawning that came with it! The members of the various fan clubs were bad enough.
"Potter, if I owe you for your act of chivalry towards the damsel in distress, then we're even the moment this antidote is complete and shoved down your ungrateful throat."
"Antidote? " Harry frowned. That's right; Madam Pomfrey had talked about venom in the talons. "Did it have a long brew-time?"
Snape made a disgruntled noise that was half-derision and half-exasperation. "Imbecile. Antidote for Hippogriff Venom has never been successfully brewed."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling dumb. He then deliberately said the next words as thoughtlessly as possible, "I suppose it's hard to make an antidote from scratch?"
"Hard to make—No, it's a rather simple potion," Snape snarled with intense irritation. "I've only waited three days to deliver it to Poppy because I desired to have an excuse to lambast you for being an unthinking twit and to allow you the delightful experience of being within fifty hours of certain death."
Surprised that Snape had taken the bait, Harry grinned as the adult went off, but by the end of the rant Harry's grin faltered, "Certain death? I don't feel like I'm about to die."
A deep, frustrated sigh issued from the Foe-Glass. "I won't bother explaining the complexity layered in an exotic, insidious venom to a child who doesn't have even a basic understanding of Golpalott's Third Law."
"Do I want to ask?" Harry stared up at the ceiling.
"You will learn about it next year in Potions if you manage to live that long." After a long minute of silent murmuring that emanated from the Foe-Glass, Snape spoke again. "...Gilbert will be arriving shortly."
"Gilbert?" Harry echoed and then realized that Snape was making doubly sure he wouldn't leave the infirmary. "I don't need a keeper," Harry said snippily. Merlin, his back and arm hurt.
"The irrational desires of a child are overruled," his guardian stated, unsparing in its assessment.
Harry wasn't being irrational! "Do you think I'd want to escape when I feel this awful?" Harry glowered at the warped image of his guardian.
"You've needlessly endangered yourself last year and the year before that. Why should I believe that will change in the future?"
"Because I've tried to do everything you've asked of me," Harry said. "Honestly, you act like I try to get myself into these situations."
"Luck will not always be with you," Snape retorted.
"I know that. You're the one who drilled strategy and survival skills into my head this past summer, remember?"
"Then, why do you persist in running into danger to save the day?"
Harry paused and then opened his mouth. He faltered before he managed, "I just get this feeling that if I don't interfere then things will turn out badly, but if I do then everything will turn out okay." Once he had put it into words, Harry thought it sounded foolhardy. "That sounds really stupid," he muttered to himself.
He expected Snape to begin to lecture to him again. Another minute drifted by without response. Then, the professor said, "Would you say this, feeling," Snape's tone dripped with distaste, "is an urge to choose one way over another or an unavoidable response to the events unfolding in the present?"
Shifting to try to ease the pain some in his back and failing, Harry frowned. "If it was the former, do you think I'd jump in without a second thought?"
Snape scoffed. "There was once an eleven-year old idiot who brazenly went after the Philosopher's Stone in the bowels of Hogwarts after being explicitly told not to."
"Okay, so I might not have been thinking then, but I'm thirteen now. I'm not trying to get myself killed," Harry told the ceiling. When Snape didn't respond for a long time, Harry frowned and carefully swiveled his head to look at the Foe-Glass. The warped glass showed a distracted Snape. "I'm leaving," he announced. The bed's springs creaked as he pushed himself up again.
"You have spent far too much time in Draco's company," Snape's voice said snidely. "Not only have you picked up his penchant for baiting me, you've also become bizarrely attached to my company."
"Bizarrely? You're the first adult I've trusted. What part of wanting you around is strange?" When his guardian didn't respond for a long moment, Harry was having one of those feelings… Not the compulsive-about-to-do-something-insane one, but a deep feeling of foreboding as if he had ventured into a minefield without a proper metal sweeper.
"The part where you seem to think your trust is relevant to me," came the cold tone.
Harry felt as if he'd been physically struck. He took a breath and chuckled a little.
"Did I say something funny?" The acidic voice lashed out.
"You can't mean that."
"My purpose as your legal guardian is to make sure you live to adulthood, nothing more, nothing less."
Harry shook his head. "You expect me to believe that's all there is?"
"Any idealistic notions of family are solely your attribution to this relationship, not mine."
Harry's chest was hurting, and it had nothing to do with his injury. "But you've taught me, shown me how to think, how to use my magic… you've protected me from Voldemort, even though you're Marked by him!" Harry heard his words grow feebler, desperation drawing his voice thin. "I'll go live with Mrs. Longbottom without a fuss. That's why you're doing this, to make me go willingly; you don't need to worry about that. I'll go," he said, turning his hopeful eyes upon the Foe-Glass.
"You have no idea how difficult it's been to keep after you as I'm compelled to do as your Guardian," Snape sneered, his nose beak-like. "Thus far, I have found that raising you has been an inconsiderate, devastating drain on my physical and financial health."
"If I'm such a burden, then why did you bother? Why not let Draco's father take me in?!" The pain he felt from angrily swiping his hand to the side caused dizziness, but it was nothing compared to what Snape had done to his heart.
Snape's eyes were hard, beetle-black. There was no warmth, no softness. "Because it was the headmaster's wish."
Harry recoiled to see the stark emptiness in the professor's tired face. Had it all been an act? An act to get on his good side to make him more pliable…? Lucius Malfoy's jab from two years ago echoed into his mind. "If you never wanted to raise me, why bother teaching me anything? Why trouble yourself by being nice…? You hate brats."
With a snort, the next words were harsh and cutting, "Did you think that I was without my own chess board?"
The world seemed to tilt as the enormity of the adult's words crashed into Harry's idyllic view of family life.
Harry was a pawn and would be nothing more than a pawn. At first, Harry expected anger… but it was deep sadness that came in its stead. The Boy-Who-Lived would be a valuable prize to any who served Voldemort. If Harry wanted to survive, he could not trust Snape, the one adult he so desperately wanted to.
He cared little about whether Mrs. Longbottom was right about his guardian's true motives. If Snape truly intended to turn him over to Voldemort, he wouldn't have gotten nasty the moment Harry spoke of trust; he would have played nice until such a time that opportunity came. The pain bit deeper.
"I'm an idiot," Harry whispered, hating the brokenness in his tone. Blinded by tears, he pushed himself up and touched his feet to the floor. The lesson was that Harry should not trust former Death Eaters. The anger rushing into his head nearly drowned everything else out, blotting out the physical pain. He would play this game. He had to if he wanted to survive.
"Potter, get back in bed!" Snape's voice snapped at him.
"NO!" Harry bellowed, his bitter thoughts overflowing. "You're only doing this so you can hand me over to Voldemort, aren't you?!" He spat out the lies. "You don't care about me at all! You just want to save your own skin, so you can crawl back to your Dark Lord and serve me up on a platter! Well, I'm not going to sit back and let you do it! I'd rather die!"
Despite the debilitating pain that the anger couldn't erase completely, Harry stubbornly shuffled to the door. Where was his wand? Desperately, he looked about not seeing it. A wind that didn't touch him kicked up inside and several fabric blinds crashed over.
When the Potions Master didn't correct his accusations, Harry felt even angrier. It meant he was right about the lesson; Snape wanted him to believe it and act the part. Rage fueled Harry's limping gait. Upon reaching the door, he grabbed the handle, and the entire door disappeared, leaving only the handle. He dropped it to the ground, body swaying. Panting and sweating, Harry continued marching forward, furious at Finnigan and Hagrid and Draco and Snape, especially that greasy-haired—
When Harry came around again, it was night-time. There was someone passed out across his legs, snoring. Harry sat up slowly. With a grimace of pain, he retrieved his glasses and put them on. In the faint moonlight, he saw a pile of nearly-white blond hair. "Draco?"
"'Nother hour, Mama," his roommate muttered in his sleep.
Harry sighed in irritation. Where was Gilbert? His legs were numb from the weight on them. "Draco! Wake up!" He jerked his legs trying to dislodge them and failed. "Get off."
Draco groaned and then lurched back into his chair.
"Are you awake yet?" Harry asked sharply.
"Mm? Harry?" Draco said groggily, sounding befuddled. "Harry!" He was entirely too gleeful.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't sleep on my legs again. I can't feel my feet." Harry shifted slightly, turning his head away from him despite the pain that shot down his back. His toes tingled uncomfortably.
"I wanted to be the first to tell you that my father's taken care of that vicious beast. Next year, it should be good as dead," Draco said confidently.
Harry's chest constricted, and he turned to look at Draco. "You dim-witted toad," Harry said.
"What? But I—" Draco had the nerve to act offended.
"It's your fault that Buckbeak reacted the way he did. Hagrid bloody warned you! He warned all of us the danger of disrespecting a hippogriff!" Harry hissed out venomously. "And what did you do? You baited the hippogriff."
Draco stared at him as if he was a complete stranger. "Harry, how did you react when I showed you that letter from my mother?"
Derailed, Harry gave him a muddled look. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Where did we first meet?"
"Madam Malkin's, of course," Harry said still confused. "And why are you asking?"
Draco smiled dangerously. "You should know that if it weren't for me, that hack would've been sacked. I know how you like that half-giant."
"And you're a narcissist who baits others to get attention," Harry countered.
His fellow Slytherin flapped his mouth open momentarily. He then pressed his lips together thinly. "You have no right to speak to me that way when you run into danger like a bloodyGryffindork."
"Better than running away from a fight you start," Harry shot back.
"Did you—" Draco took in a deep breath, expression stunned. "Did you just call me a coward?"
Harry smirked. "Did I? I don't recall saying that." He had no idea why he was baiting Draco, but it felt good.
A long breath was exhaled, and Draco looked rather subdued again. "Harry, I hardly think your judgment can be trusted on this sort of thing."
"Oh?"
"You do reckless things that no sane witch or wizard would ever attempt to do on a broom or off," he said solemnly. "I used to wonder why the hat didn't put you in Gryffindor where you could be surrounded by other hotheaded individuals without a lick of sense between them. Now, I understand that you simply have a death wish and you were Sorted to a place where you couldn't disguise it as bravery."
"You…" That was ridiculous. "I'm not—I don't—"
"I'm surprised I never saw it before, but it makes sense," Draco informed him with a serious, overconfident tone. "You see, our housemates tell me when you say something rather peculiar. That way we can get a day-to-day sense of what's going on in that Muggle-raised head of yours."
"You think I want to die?"
"Pansy said you called yourself 'The Boy-Who-Lived-When-He-Really-Ought-To-Have-Died' last year," Draco quoted. His eyes looked at him with a kinder form of pity, the sort Harry had never expected the Malfoy Heir to send at anyone with sincerity.
"I was angry at everyone who thought I'd done something special when I was toddler!" Harry hissed out furiously. "I was angry to discover that a great many of my friendships were nothing but a lie!" A lie just like his home with Snape; the adult had never wanted to raise him in the first place.
"You said, 'I'd rather go fighting'," Draco quietly recited, "That 'I don't want to die under the foot of someone else.' You remember that? You said that on your birthday a month back."
"It's the truth," Harry said fiercely. "If I'm going to die, it won't be on my knees begging for mercy." Which was more or less what he'd yelled at Snape what must have been hours ago. Harry's chest clenched painfully. He frantically wiped his face with the hand attached to his good arm as tears began to pour down his cheeks. He hadn't really lost anything; he was just playing the game, but why did it have to bloody hurt so much?
Draco reached for his left hand, and Harry immediately yanked it away, despite the pain that incurred. "You still don't see it, do you? I heard from Theodore about the basilisk. What you said about it last year. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you don't have a death wish when you ran towards a voice that talked of killing people."
"Professor Snape doesn't think I have a death wish." Any of Harry's remaining grief hardened into simmering anger, and the tears stopped. Ugly loathing welled up at the thought of the adult.
"People change their minds. He wouldn't have asked us to watch over you if he didn't think you presented a danger to yourself," Draco answered softly.
"I should've let that hippogriff give you what you deserved," Harry ground out. "Then you'd be moaning about the pain and expecting everyone to do everything for you, and not over there telling me with your know-it-all smirk that I'm suicidal." Additionally, if Harry hadn't jumped in front of Buckbeak, then he might never would have spoken of trust so easily and Snape would have never felt the need to be so vicious and cruel.
Harry would not—could not—allow the growing anger to overcome him. "Which I'm not, by the way," he choked out, mercifully feeling the start of numbness sink in. "You seem to forget that Sirius Black is my godfather." Draco flinched. "That's why you're keeping lookout, however shoddy it is. Because if he's gotten past the dementors once, who's to say—"
"That he won't do it again," Draco interrupted tightly. "Why did you come back to school? You could easily afford private tutoring."
"And miss out on Quidditch? No thanks." Harry chuckled at Draco's perplexed expression. "Besides, I doubt Sirius Black wants to murder me."
The door opened and several lanterns on the walls lit up to a low-level light. Draco stood up and stepped aside. "Good evening, Madam Pomfrey," he said respectfully with a slight bow.
"I suppose he's awake," the Hogwarts Healer said sternly. Draco nodded.
Harry asked, "Is Hagrid alright?"
She set the tray with vials and measuring spoons onto the bedside table. "The first batch of antidote went directly to him."
"He was in a bad way?" Harry looked between them.
"That…" Draco glanced at the Healer and changed what he was about to say, "When Professor Hagrid came in, he was slurring his words without a whiff of alcohol on him. I don't think he would have lived through the night if my godfather hadn't made the antidote."
Harry knew all about the half-giant's habit of drinking. He was glad to hear that the half-giant had stayed sober despite the mess his first day of classes had been.
"What am I going to do with you?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry severely. "I wasn't happy to see that your condition had worsened when I arrived back."
Harry plucked at a thread on the bandages. "So, that's the antidote?" He looked at the nondescript blue glass vials sitting next to a blue decanter.
Letting out a ragged sigh, the Healer nodded. "Let me have my say first."
He kept plucking at the thread, not missing how Draco watched him intently. "Okay."
"You must not leave your bed while you are recovering here, or next time I'll have you restrained."
Harry waited, expecting more. When he realized that was it, he dully said, "Okay."
Madam Pomfrey opened both vials and measured out four tablespoons of one into the small squarish glass and a teaspoon of the other. Picking up a regular spoon, she stirred it furiously and offered it to Harry. "Drink every bit of it. You will have to have another dose before the poison is completely counteracted over the course of the hour."
Without doubting the Death Eater's brewing capabilities, Harry took the antidote and kicked it back, and very nearly retched it back up. He clamped his mouth shut on the foul mixture and swallowed several times. "Ugh," Harry gagged and accepted the glass of water Draco offered him. He drank more swishing it around. Even after he finished the glass, the repulsive taste had clung to his teeth. Then a moment later, he belched very loudly.
"Good one," Draco said with a hint of laughter, taking the empty glass from his hand.
"It's a sign that the antidote's taken effect," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now, are you experiencing dizziness, faintness of breath, itchiness, or a ticklish feeling in the back of your throat?"
"No," Harry said, accepting another full glass of water, and drank thirstily.
"Do you have the compulsion to scratch your eyeballs or pluck your nosehair?"
He blinked at her. "No…"
"Good, you don't seem to be experiencing any adverse effects." The witch picked up the tray. "Mr. Malfoy, I trust that you'll notify me should Harry need it."
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey. My services are at your disposal."
Harry thought Draco was really laying it on thick and wondered why he was doing that. Madam Pomfrey bustled out of view, entering her office. The lights dimmed lower.
Draco re-took the seat next to the bed. "Muffliato," he murmured. Harry frowned, wondering what he was up to.
"It'll keep our conversation private." It was a statement that Harry already knew to be true because of Snape using it around him.
Harry was stared at flatly, "What upset you so badly that your magic went wild? Prefect Tellwyenth and I found you in the corridor with the nearest suits of armor knocked to pieces."
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said through clenched teeth. A mysterious breeze fluttered Draco's hair.
"Fine, but if you ever change your mind..." Draco trailed off with an irritated tone.
"I won't," Harry said.
They sat in silence for a moment as Harry thought. Sirius Black came to mind, followed by the hazy beginnings of a scheme. "Well, there is something I wanted to ask you… But maybe I shouldn't…" He tapped his lips with a finger.
"Whatever it is, ask," Draco said impatiently.
"Do you know if Sirius Black is a supporter of Voldemort?" Draco's father was definitely a supporter Voldemort and Draco had been so gleeful when he thought Harry had made himself out to be the Heir of Slytherin… so Harry thought he might know something about it.
Draco's nose turned up. "Not that I'm aware of nor is he the sort. Besides, the whole condition of his arrest rested on far too much circumstantial evidence, if you ask me."
"Which parts?" Neither had Harry any idea that Draco Malfoy was interested in Magical Law, though it might explain his interest in Cryptographic Magic.
"Well," Draco hesitated, frowning. "Almost twelve years ago, Black was the first to arrive at your house after your parents had been murdered, which could have easily been the result of either regret or grief. Second, there were no direct witnesses of the Fidelius Charm—the spell that would make Black a Secret-Keeper—being cast nor magical traces of it being cast on Black. Then, supposedly, he murdered his friend Peter Pettigrew along with a crowd of Muggles—despite Black's public love of consorting with them."
"What I find most interesting," Draco continued apparently enjoying that he had Harry's undivided attention for once, "is that all that was found of Pettigrew was a severed thumb and a pile of blood-stained robes, when the street had a large crater in it from a Disintegrating Spell... And yet Pettigrew's clothes were largely intact. They shouldn't have survived the blast."
Harry thought about that for a long moment. It did seem very suspicious.
"At any rate, I'm curious as to why there's been no public outcry to rush Black's death sentence to break the Blood Magic binding you together. It's public knowledge that he's your godfather because of the Pedigree Scroll. But I suppose, since no one's ever escaped from Azkaban before, no one considered him to be much of a danger to you."
"…" Harry nibbled on his lip thoughtfully. "So, what did Black have to do to become my godfather?"
"A godparent makes an Unbreakable Vow to protect, nurture, and provide for the godchild. The ceremony requires the living blood of a predecessor to the infant or child. Changes can't be made without that person," Draco said.
Harry thought about that. "What happens when you break an Unbreakable Vow?"
"You die, of course. That's why it's considered unbreakable." Draco smiled to himself. "Oh, I know why the Ministry's been so quick to dismiss any assertions that Black poses a danger to you. Can you imagine the scandal if Black managed to kidnap you? Fudge's administration would be lambasted by the public for his incompetence and the duffer would get impeached." Draco laughed delightedly and then noticed the unimpressed look on Harry's face. Draco took on a serious expression. "Oh, I suppose you don't know why that's funny. I don't want you kidnapped. It's my father, you see. He really wants Fudge replaced."
"You don't need to worry about me getting kidnapped. I think he's after Snape," Harry said.
"Really? What makes you think that?"
"I don't know," Harry lied, making absolutely certain that his body language matched his words, "Call it a hunch."
Draco grinned broadly. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me; it makes the cryptograph more exciting to unravel," he said, appearing to have seen through Harry's lie. "I'll ask my father over the holidays to pull the old records to refresh my memory."
"Er, you won't tell your father, will you? About me asking about Sirius Black?"
Narrowing his eyes at him, a smile curled on Draco's lips. "Hm… But it's how I win favors from him... He's always so interested to know your business, not that I tell him anything tooimportant, of course."
"What do you want?" Harry said flatly.
"Do my ears deceive me? Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is asking me for a favor?" Draco's cackle did not relieve Harry's uneasiness.
"Come off it. No need to carry on like that," Harry muttered
"I desire an end to your ridiculous friendship with Granger."
"I won't do it. Pick something else," Harry answered hoarsely. He wouldn't be able to stand it, not being friends with Hermione.
"I want you to stop speaking to her, then."
"That's it?" Harry's mind calculated that if he agreed he could still write to her… but the whole school might end up thinking that Harry hated her when he suddenly gave her the cold shoulder. "No." Harry didn't want her ostracized.
"You can still have your letters and notes, Harry…" His roommate said as if reading his mind; Harry immediately thought of his cupboard, just in case. "You can still sit by her in class even. And then I won't tell my father or anyone else of your sudden interest in the 1981 conviction of Sirius Black."
"You're a ruddy arse."
"So then we've an agreement?"
Harry breathed out. He didn't understand why Draco suddenly didn't want him to be friends with Hermione; during their first year Draco had suggested that Harry date her. "Only limited to this term. It's over when Christmas holiday starts."
"Done," Draco said immediately. "Now, back to the issue at hand. You haven't convinced me that you don't have a death wish."
"You're an insufferable git," Harry said with a low voice, his back burning from tension. "You've blackmailed me and you still believe I want to die?"
"If not for sharpening skills of influence and manipulation, what else are friends for?" Draco sounded as if he imparted a wise proverb.
"I could name several that don't include manipulation, like loyalty, trust, and friendship for the sake of friendship." When Draco gave him a condescending smile, Harry scowled, "If I wasn't hurt, I'd wipe that smirk right off your face."
Draco clucked his tongue in a disappointed manner. "My, what savage words. Here I am, doing you a favor and you're threatening to beat me."
"No. I'm going to kill you," Harry curtly informed him.
There came a quiet laugh, while Harry's anger grew and his injury burned. "Might I add that you shouldn't make threats that you never intend to follow through." Draco was inspecting his perfect nails, a clear sign that he didn't feel endangered at all. "You've saved me from a painful stay at the infirmary. I hardly think you're going to murder me."
"People's minds change!" Harry threw his words back at him. The air stirred lazily around them.
Dropping his hand, Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. "No wonder your magic goes wild if you've gotten into the habit of repressing your emotions."
Harry took a deep breath, banishing the nasty response from his mind. "Get out. We're done talking."
"Aww, is ickle Harry-kins afraid—"
Reminded of Dudley, Harry shouted, "SHUT UP!" A wind tore through the room and something made of glass exploded.
Draco stared him down as he cast a Canceling Spell, just as Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office. "What was that?" Seeing the glass container of cotton puffs in pieces, she waved her wand, "Reparo." The container was good as new, though several cotton puffs were outside of it.
Harry's face was flushed with embarrassment.
"What's going on here?" The Healer asked with an accusatory tone.
"It was his accidental magic, Madam Pomfrey," Draco responded grimly with just a bit of pity, "The pain's bothering Harry too much."
Harry's mouth flapped open, mortified. "It's not—"
"Oh you poor dear!" She glanced at the clock. "It's not too early for the last dose. I'll be right back." None the wiser of Draco's machinations, Madam Pomfrey hurried back to her office.
"You…" Harry growled.
Draco smirked. "Did you think I was charming her because she tended you so well? How romantic, Harry."
Madam Pomfrey came back, carrying the very same tray with the antidote before Harry could formulate a biting retort. She set it down and then measured the same amount from the first vial and twice as much from the second. After stirring it vigorously, she handed the blue glass decanter to Harry. "There you are, dear."
Harry's tongue curled up in anticipation. Clamping a hand over his nose, he downed the second dose. It was even worse than the first one. Harry moved his hand over his mouth as he struggled to swallow the vile concoction down. Someone had taken the empty decanter from him as Harry's eyes watered and his throat contracted in rebellion. Thankfully it went down, and he snatched the offered glass of water drinking it thirstily. His stomach ached.
"Alright dear?" Madam Pomfrey's kind voice asked.
Harry finished the glass, smacking his still-dry lips. When he opened his mouth to answer, he let out an almighty belch that reverberated throughout the room. As soon as the glass was filled, he gulped down more water. Everything tasted and smelled foul.
"Lay back down. You have fifteen minutes before I can safely heal your wounds, dear." He heard Madam Pomfrey walk away.
Sleepily, Harry belched again. Draco pulled up the covers and tucked him in. Harry glared at him, though it was difficult to maintain when his eyelids kept drooping.
"You remember the Rogue Bludger from last year? Ever since, everyone knows you've got no sense when you've to deal with pain. And now your heroic actions have cemented the notion," Draco said loftily.
"I still don't like you," Harry said through a yawn that nearly cracked his jaw.
"You don't because I've expertly cornered you into doing something you don't want to do," Draco asserted, removing Harry's Glaxxes. "Now get some rest. She can heal you up just as easily while you're sleeping."
Harry didn't want to, but when his eyes shut another time he fell asleep.