I do not own anything here, nor am I making a profit from this. It is purely to pass my time, and hopefully, interest other people. J. owns Harry Potter, not me.
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Chapter Five - Succorbentis?
Well, everything was back to normal. The Gryffindors ignored him. The Hufflepuffs gave him a wide berth. The Ravenclaws were making assumptions that turned into rumours. The Slytherins were being Slytherins.
Hermione was warming up to him again, like usual, and trying to convince the others to come around, but it was slow work. They had seen hell freeze over. Harry and Malfoy were communicating, secretly, and sharing a joke. Ron looked as if he had been stabbed by Harry, and probably thought he had been. Harry had tried to explain that Malfoy had just cheered him up, but that had set off a whole new argument. Why was Harry going to Malfoy before Ron? And truly, Harry didn't have an answer.
Sure, he could have been snide about it and remark on the constant ignoring, or snapping, or jinxing that was occurring since they had returned to Hogwarts…but it was just a cover. If Harry had wanted Ron to cheer him up he would have asked him to a suggested a game of quidditch. Harry just didn't see Ron as the one to go to first anymore. He saw himself alone, as he had the entire summer…and Malfoy had simply been the first one to come along and say anything remotely funny. It hadn't been personal against Ron, it had been random. If Zabini, or Parvati, or even Luna had spoken to him like that, he would have laughed too…maybe.
Harry glanced up, rolling his eyes and muttered to himself. "Speak of the devil…"
Malfoy had just entered the library. And was making a beeline towards Harry. Fantastic. It wasn't as if Harry had strategized this at all, nothing of the sort. So what if it was a Hogsmade weekend, the first of the year, and he had expected everyone to go? So what he had literally dragged a table across the library to the darkest, cramped corner he could possibly find just so that no one would approach him, even if they could find him? That he was doing his potions homework, so that even if they did find him, they wouldn't be enticed to stay? So what if he had specifically told Madam Prince if anyone asked for him, to tell them that he had never crossed the library threshold? Not strategized. He wasn't irritated at all.
Harry turned back to his book, pretending he couldn't see that Malfoy steadily approaching, and that the function of Daisyroot Drought was somewhere on his page. How the hell was he supposed to know what Daisyroot Drought was? Or how it was related with strong sleeping solutions? And as Hermione was still on-again-off-again fine with Harry, he was forced to struggle through his forte of potions alone. Just brilliant, actually.
Malfoy sat opposite him, chin rested on his hands as he observed Harry with amusement. "The answer is not in any potions book; it's common knowledge. Even you cannot be that bad, Potter."
"…Well, as everyone knows, Potions is my forte." Harry replied slowly, glancing around to see, to his complete surprise, that they were completely alone in the library.
"Obviously." When he didn't exaggerate that frustrating answer, Harry felt himself almost growling.
"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Seriously, he was trying to work here! He couldn't very well fight Malfoy, so this situation was infuriating the hell out of Harry. If only he could say one spell…one, dammit. But after pushing it the other day, he didn't dare risk it. No more risks.
Something was amusing Malfoy, for he cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows raised in his signature move. "I'm getting my answer; your bed, or mine?"
And there it was; it turns out they weren't having, remarkably, a civil conversation; Malfoy was just trying to be a prat. Again. "Only funny once, Malfoy…"
"If you're going to propose some fun, you can't just pull out whenever you feel like it." Harry glanced at Malfoy at the serious, lecturing tone, his jaw dropping. "I've no pleasure to look forwards to later now."
Harry could only stare at the blonde, wondering what the hell was wrong with him! This was Malfoy¸the boy who loathed him since first year! What the hell was he playing at? "…I…I'm not…you can't be…why…?"
"Relax, Potter; I have no plans to somehow get you into my bed; Gryffindors are not allowed in the Slytherin Dormitory." Malfoy smirk remained though, as if he found Harry incredibly funny. Harry was still reeling over the 'only' remark. So, did that mean if it was in Gryffindor tower, it would be allowed? No! Stop Harry! Why the hell was he even considering this? He didn't like guys, first of all, and he didn't like the Slytherin Prince! Harry shook his head, snapping his jaw shut. He raised his eyebrows, confused as Malfoy leant over to flick Harry's hand, his grey eyes never leaving Harry's face.
What the hell?
His smirk deepened. "So, Potter, are you still in denial, or do you need further convincing?"
For Christs sake! "I don't know what you mean. Just drop it."
"Sure." He shrugged, as if it was of no real importance but the humour still in his eyes told clearly he was not about to drop anything. His next words only confirmed this. "But indulge me for a moment."
Harry sighed dramatically and slammed his head on the desk, ignoring how Malfoy picked up his book and began flipping through it. He didn't care if he was being childish. He just wanted the prat to leave.
"Mature, aren't you, Potter?" The Blonde Git had the audacity to sound smug, before he pushed the book back towards Harry. Groaning, and not caring in the least how it only proved Malfoy's point, Harry pushed himself up and stared at the page.
And turned bright red.
"Enough of the joke, Malfoy! Am I supposed to be-?"
"How about you get some glasses that don't make you look completely defective, and read."
Growling, Harry turned back and skimmed it again, not seeing what Malfoy was waiting for. He skimmed over the method, and the effects of it…nothing of interest. Until he saw the warning at the bottom of the page.
"Do you require me to read it to you?" Malfoy asked helpfully, his tone far too bright to be considered real. Harry knew the real Malfoy…and this wasn't it.
"I think I'll manage-"
"It says 'extremely potent potion; effects wear off within 72 hours'." He spoke over Harry anyway, watching with his never wavering smirk as Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you know what that means?"
"I'm sure you're planning on-"
"It means," Harry actually growled this time, not even trying to hide his complete frustration. "when I flicked you, it should have left a bruise, and you should have been in pain. So, Potter, try again. Are you still in denial? Because the lukewarm sausages we had for dinner the other night should not have burnt you, and when the ink spilled, you looked as if you were about to cry. If it's not through that potion, what is it?"
"You need to find yourself a hobby." Harry snapped back at him; for the first time since Malfoy had arrived, anger grated at him. "It's none of your business. I. Am. Not. Sick."
"Oh, great; denial again."
"What is it to you anyway? You hate me, I hate you; remember?" Harry grit his teeth as Malfoy only smirked further, eyebrows raised and his head shaking. Why was he even listening to this shit?
"Like I said, Potter; if you have a plan, stick through with it until the end, don't get shy halfway and give up; Slytherins don't give up."
"No, Slytherins manipulate until they get what they want, and if it's too dangerous, run away like the dogs they are. They know nothing of determination, so don't you bloody preach to me! You're nothing more than a Dea…" Shit. Say it. Harry's throat clamped shut. Say it! Call him a Death-Eater! He'll bloody leave!
"You can't even finish a sentence through? Pathetic, even for you, Potty."
"Just leave!"
"No. I'm determined to get what I want." Harry slammed his hand against the wood, finally meeting Malfoy's cool gaze with a pair of furious emeralds.
"Which is for me to admit that I'm sick? Then you'll piss of and just leave me alone?"
"You'll have to test that theory."
Hands shaking, Harry withdrew his wand, pointing it at Malfoy's chest. His wand. Not his fake one. Malfoy was going to bloody leave, one way or the other. "Get out. Leave me alone. The joke's over."
He expected a jibe or two. He expected the arrogant git to maybe leave. He didn't expect the smirk to flick back to Malfoy's face. Malfoy slowly pulled out his own, pointing it at Harry's face, his own calm and collected. He glanced at Harry's trembling hand, but didn't comment on it. He just stared back at the furious, slightly scared boy.
"Go on then. I'll even give you first shot."
God, Harry wanted to. A simple stunner. The curse to make him vomit up slugs. Even a simple expelliarmus just to see the expression on his face…
But Harry didn't move, like he knew he wouldn't. Like Malfoy, somehow, knew he wouldn't.
After a few moments of furious silence, Malfoy snickered. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, his teeth clenched together furiously. "Of course not; you're weak, Potter. Go on, embrace your true Gryffindork colours! Curse me! Just like all the blood-traitors and Mudbloods!" He paused here, cocking his head to the side, considering. Harry tightened his fingers around his wand, inching to use it…but something was off. Something just wasn't sitting right…
"Tell me, did the stupid little elf die? It deserved to, the retar-" Malfoy shut up as he was flung backwards across the library, slamming into a shelf before slipping to the floor. Books cascaded around him, toppling off the shelves dangerously, but he only held his stomach, wincing slightly.
Harry swallowed, trying to dry his mouth. Shit. Shit! He stared at his body, waiting for something to happen. What was going to betray him next? His neck? Leg? What was going to stop? His lungs? Kidneys? Heart?
But nothing happened. His magic didn't react this time. Thank god!
Harry sighed shakily, he sat back down to ease his trembling when he remembered the Blonde-Git-From-Hell. "Don't insult Dobby." He muttered softly, knowing Malfoy would hear. He refused to look up at him, instead started to flick through the pages again, eyes searching blindly.
He heard Malfoy shuffle to his feet, but still refused to turn away from the book. It was his fault. He should be in Hogsmade, drinking butterbeer and mucking around with his friends, not irritating Harry in an isolated part of the library.
"Daisyroot Draught is a beverage; sugar water. It won't be in a potions book."
Harry snapped his head back to up see a cloak disappear around the shelving, shaking his head in disbelief. He had willingly assisted Harry with his Potions homework?
Draco Malfoy just, sort of, apologized to him?
.
.
.
Harry glanced at the map, double checking it again before deciding to venture out. It wouldn't do to be caught now, not when for so long he had been fine. It would become an annoyance if he was caught now. Or did he want to be caught? To finally tell his friends exactly what was wrong?
No. Not that. Never that.
Harry's eyes swept the map, smirking as he ensured everyone was in bed. Ron and Hermione were sharing one… as disgusting as that was to Harry, who considered Ron his brother and Hermione his sister. It just felt…wrong, for his two best friends to get all mushy and cuddly with one another.
Sighing, Harry put the map away and snuck out of the dorm, walking aimlessly through the corridors. He knew his feet would take him where he needed to go…it didn't help that he didn't want to go at all. That his mind was constantly in a fight with his feet, demanding that he go back to bed and ignore the fiery nurse in the morning. His feet won out, as they did every Tuesday.
His feet did have a good point though, Harry thought sourly. He...wasn't doing well on Tuesdays. It was getting harder to get up at midnight and wander to the nurse, knowing she would just tie him up, start the treatment, and retreat to her office. Harry loathed the stillness, the silence. He hated the straps that held him in place. And he detested the treatment. It made him…small. Weak. Insignificant. And with the year he was having, that was not what he wanted on his mind. The reason that so many people with this disease died was suddenly becoming clearer to Harry. He could…associate with them. He just...he was just tired.
At least the school was slowly turning back to normal. The rumours about him and Malfoy were slowly dwindling away into nothingness; the Gryffindors were being friendlier towards him, with the exception of Ron.
Ron, it seemed, held a grudge. Long enough for Hermione to realise she was wrong about his stubbornness. When Ron was angry, he was angry, and no amount of reasoning would convince him otherwise. It also didn't help that he had remembered something everyone had forgotten; it wasn't the first letter from Malfoy. And, that potions class, they had gotten along. Ron was not forgiving of these 'crimes' it seemed, and was steadily ignoring Harry until he apologized.
That wasn't going to happen. Harry had apologized once for something beyond his control, he would be damned if he did it again!
Harry paused his next step, listening intently. He thought he had heard…
Sighing, he pulled out the map, growling as he read it. Harry Potter was walking steadily down the corridor…with Ron and Hermione a few feet away from him. If this wasn't bad enough, Malfoy was a few corridors away, as was Filtch. Great.
"I know you're there. Take it off." Harry spun around, holding out his hand expectantly. There was a stilled silence for a moment, then a flourish as suddenly his friends appeared, looking slightly hassled in being caught out. Hermione handed over the cloak obediently, blushing and muttering an apology for taking it. "And you were following me because…?"
"Where were you going?" Harry glanced at Ron, surprised he had spoken. It was the first time in days he had even looked at him. Of course, Harry couldn't answer that though.
"None of your business."
Ron set his jaw stubbornly, eyes blazing when Hermione broke in, obviously trying to get through this with as little shouting as possible. "Harry, you sneak out every night, at the same time. Don't try to deny it, Dean and Seamus have been checking for us." What? Great, they were all spying on him? What happened to being ignored? "You really shouldn't be sneaking about like this."
"I have permission." Harry replied steadily, watching coolly as they glanced at one another, as if they expected this retort.
"No teacher would give permission to wander the school at night. So, where are you going?"
"Hermione, it's really none of your business."
She sighed impatiently, stamping her foot like a kid. "Harry! We don't like playing this card, but we're prefects! We have a responsibility to report anyone we see wandering around. Just tell us where you go, and let us come along, and we won't report you." Hell no! "You should trust us a bit more, Harry, given everything we've all-"
"Oh, no! You don't get to play this card!" Harry snapped, "As friends, I should be able to trust you not to explode inkwells and cast stinging jinxes!"
"Harry…you defended the Slytherins, against us! I'm not going to divulge who it was, but they were angry!" Hermione glowered, raising her eyebrows as if she had every bloody right. "You were exchanging messages with…well, you know. And after everything we've been though, everyone we've lost…it's not fair for you to choose them over us! It's just not fair!"
Harry clenched his jaw to stop the plethora of choice swears that he oh so badly wanted to throw her way. How dare she? "I. Wasn't. Choosing. Anyone!"
"What's going on with you and Malfoy?" Ron burst out, looking both uneasy and livid as he asked. He shifted slightly, as if he didn't want to know the answer, but his stubborn set of his jaw said he needed to know.
"Nothing."
"There were rumours!"
"So I heard."
"Every rumour has a slither of truth in it." Hermione added unhelpfully, joining forces with Ron to glare down Harry. She waited impatiently for Harry to deny it, but he just shook his head, trying to hold back his bellowing. Barely.
"What did the note say?" Hermione asked suddenly, ignoring Harry's incredulous stare. It was as if she was provoking Ron!
"Nothing. It was just a joke." Harry managed to bite it out without yelling, but whipped his head back to the steadily livid Ron. He was doing nothing to keep his voice down.
"A joke? With Malfoy?" His face had turned a blotchy red, his eyes wide and furious. "What's going on with you and Malfoy?! It's not…natural! You're both guys for Merlins sake!"
Oh, so apparently he had believed the rumours. Fucking Typical!
"Ron! There is nothing going on!"
"But you defended them! You defended Malfoy!"
"You're both bloody morons!" No. He wasn't holding this back anymore. "There is nothing going on! We loathe each other just as much as we used to! Rumours! That's all it is to it! Fucking rumours!"
Ron puffed himself up though, instead of looking bashful he looked more smug if anything. "What were you doing in the library with Malfoy then? You were talking! Chatting!"
"Why the bloody hell are you spying on me? I'm guessing you missed the bit where I blasted him across the room then?!"
"You're…you're…fraternizing with the enemy!" Ron bellowed, jabbing Harry in the chest. "Come on, it's not normal! It's…sodomy!"
"EXCUSE ME?!"
"Tut tut, listen to you all; you're going to wake the entire castle."
Oh, for the love of…!
Harry cursed fate again, the stupid bloody notion ruining his entire fucking life, and turned around to glare warily at Malfoy, who was leaning against an adjoining corridor wall, his trademark smirk already in place. How much had he heard?
"Fuck off, Malfoy!" Ron bellowed, snarling at him. "You stay away from Harry!"
Malfoy just raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. "I don't listen to you, Weasel. Potter," Harry cringed as he turned to him, amusement shining through his eyes. "McGonagall asked me to inform you that your detention starts in five minutes." And with that, he turned and walked away, calm as could be.
Harry was stunned. Why was Malfoy helping him? Why?
Harry turned to his friends, furious. They were both glancing at each other, finally looking bashful. "Happy now? One big mystery solved! Here's another; why the hell am I friends with you?" He snapped, twirling around and storming down a random corridor. How dare they? Harry's blood was boiling, more than it had in weeks…it felt like when he saw Romilda trying to push that Slytherin girl down the stairs….he felt…alive.
And then it shattered. He was only alive if he was angry? What a life.
Harry leaned against a wall, desperately trying to calm himself down. He almost succeeded too, before the drawl edged closer.
"You're embarrassing me, Potter. Look, I'm blushing! Who knew you reciprocated my crush?"
Harry turned to the smirking Malfoy, shaking his head blankly. He didn't even have a response.
"…my friends," He eventually muttered, "are complete and utter idiots."
"Tch, I could have told you that on day one." Malfoy rolled his eyes, grinning suddenly. "In fact, I distinctly remember trying to tell you that."
Harry just stared at Malfoy's grin. He had never seen the blonde smile before, only his trademark smirk…and here he was, grinning as if he had just heard a joke. Grinning as if he wasn't a Malfoy. It softened his face, made him seem less…cruel.
Instead of replying, Harry pulled out his map, scanning it and sighing relief as the two dots returned to Gryffindor tower. Finally. Another dot, however, showed a pacing Pomfrey in the hospital wing, her movements growing more frantic by the moment.
"What's that?"
"A map."
"Let me see."
"No." Harry tucked it back into his pocket, grateful he had put his invisibility cloak there already and continued to the hospital wing. It took him a few corners to realise that Malfoy was following him.
"No, go away."
"Why? I already know you're heading to the hospital wing."
"Get lost, Malfoy."
"After I assisted you earlier? You owe me." Harry glanced at the aloof tone Malfoy was keeping, surprised when he grinned again. The twit was bloody enjoying himself!
"Why the sudden infatuation with me, Malfoy?" Harry really was curious. Malfoy had barely spoken to him all year, and when he did, he hardly swore or cursed him. It was…eerie. Uncomfortable. But, Malfoy, instead of answering, just shrugged, easily keeping up with Harry.
"I believe it was you fraternizing with the enemy." Harry rolled his eyes, stopping as he glanced at the door of the hospital wing. He really didn't want anyone in there. If demanding didn't work...
"I…I don't want you there. Please, can you just go?" Harry swallowed nervously, hoping it worked. Hell, he even tried his kicked puppy-dog eyes for a spin. Malfoy's grin slipped; he looked as disgusted as Harry felt.
"If you've resorted to pleading, Potter, it must be good." He cocked his head to the side, the grin reappearing as Harry bit his lip. "You don't use magic anymore, not when you can avoid it; slightly dangerous in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, wouldn't you say?" Great, the blonde was stalking him more so than normal. If he could catch on, had other people? "None of your 'friends' know either, so telling me would definitely repay your newly acquired debt."
"It doesn't count as a 'debt'."
"Anyway," Malfoy spoke as though Harry hadn't; his eyes glinted with amusement though. "I've always had an affinity to feeling special."
Harry sighed again, knowing that a determined Malfoy wasn't a good thing. He seemed to recall several death-eaters magically appearing in the centre of the castle, pun not intended. No, a determined Malfoy was to be avoided at all costs.
"I want to know what you're in denial about." Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded like a whine. Somehow, Malfoy made it a demand.
"No one knows, because I don't want anyone to know." He didn't care that he had finally admitted that there was something to tell, because Malfoy barely blinked at the disclosure.
"I won't tell anyone."
"You're a Slytherin!" Harry burst out, his frustration getting the better of him. "And worse, a Malfoy!"
"…you saved my life, Potter." The amusement was gone. It was either fury or frustration, but Harry couldn't place which one. "In the burning room. I. Won't. Tell. Anyone…and anyway, you can't stop me from following you into the room."
Merlin, Harry knew he would regret this. Sighing once more, he turned and entered the room, not even waiting to see if Malfoy would follow him or not. There was no real reason to, either. Malfoy wouldn't let a chance such as this get away from him. Not in a million years.
Madam Pomfery was there in a second, waving her wand to lock the door and turning to point a finger at Harry, much like Ron had earlier. "You're late, Mr Potter! I was just about to go and search for you!"
Harry nodded, barely able to speak. "I…got caught up on my way here." He ended up mumbling out when it became clear that the matron wanted some answer from him. She sniffed, turning to the bed to jerk to a stop, glaring at Malfoy.
"And why is Mr Malfoy here?" She asked coldly, raising her eyebrows as she regarded him. To Malfoy's credit, he just stared back, a mask of indifference on his face already. "It's past curfew; return to your room."
Harry smirked slightly, watching as Malfoy narrowed his eyes and glared at Harry when he remained silent. Harry said he could come, but he didn't say anything about staying after all.
"Go on! Shoo!" She snapped waving her hands at him as if he were some small child. Malfoy just threw a filthy snarl at Harry, rolling his eyes dramatically and stepping to the side before Harry spoke.
"Actually, I asked him to come." He intervened lightly. "I didn't want to be…I wanted company."
"…Mr Weasley or Miss Granger are not adequate company, are they?"
Harry stared at her for her tone, actually making her sniff as if embarrassed by what she had said before continuing. He expected this from students, not from the teachers too. "…I'm trying for inter-house unity."
Pomfery just continued to glare at Malfoy though, snapping back at Harry. "You do remember what happened the last time you tried that, don't you?"
"Yes, it worked!" Harry snapped back, frustrated and exhausted. He just wanted to be back in his room, asleep, ignoring all the nightmares to come.
If she was angry at his tone she didn't give any inclination. Her tone, however, remained cold. "It's your decision, Mr Potter. I would suggest you think carefully about who you bring, however; you stated that you didn't want the school to know?"
"Malfoy won't tell anyone." Harry replied warily, walking past her and the silent blonde to his bed.
God, the horrid machines were already hooked up and ready to go, taunting him as they sat there. Harry couldn't help but cringe, his feet screaming at him to stop, turn, and bolt. This was hell…and with an audience!
He shrugged out of his jumper and tossed it down uncomfortably. He watched as Malfoy approached the bed too, his eyes taking in everything.
"Did you take your potions today?"
"No."
"Good."
Harry watched as she connected a needle to his arm, taping it there before bustling to the other arm. The needles connected the machines to his arms, the thin tubes more repulsive than they seemed. They were going to instigate this…again.
Pomfrey waved her wand, and shackles appeared on the bed. Harry sighed again, allowing her to restrain his arms. She smiled apologetically at him, but he could barely see it. He wouldn't be able to move at all this time?
"…You almost ripped it out, last time." Pomfrey explained softly, "That could be potentially worse for you. It's imperative that we don't leave those potions in your systems. It would…worsen your current condition." She threw a glare at Malfoy before she continued speaking. "I'll start the machines in a moment. I need to double check…" She trailed off however, hurrying to her office to do only god knows what.
Leaving Harry shackled to the bed.
With Malfoy.
"…Why are there machines? They look…muggle." Harry sighed, turning to stare at Malfoy as he eventually spoke. He was standing near the bed, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, his face completely disinterested. His eyes, however, shone with curiosity.
"They are. Muggle, I mean. Um…Pomfrey explained it to me a while ago, they've been magically adapted to be used for our…purposes."
"Which are?"
Harry shuffled uncomfortably, clenching his teeth as the restraints didn't allow him to move much at all. "It's just diagnostic work. It just reports that everything is fine, working as it should…" He trailed off before trying again. "…there's still a chance for you to bugger off."
"And miss this?" He sounded as though he was told to skip Christmas. "Never." Malfoy conjured a chair, nice and comfortable looking, and plopped his feet up on the bed, completely at ease. As if he wasn't about to witness Harry being tortured.
Well, he didn't really know about that, did he?
"Are you going to give me an answer now, or are you still claiming healthy?"
"…Fine. You win." Harry had to roll his eyes to avoid the smug, self-satisfied expression on Malfoy's face. "I'm slightly sick." He ignored the overenthusiastic shock.
"I wouldn't have guessed!" Malfoy drawled, before cocking his head to the side. "Slightly, huh?"
"Do you have to push every single bloody word?"
But the blonde just smirked, not allowing it to spread to another grin. It was a shame, he looked better when he grinned. "You're hooked up to muggle machines; if you need a diagnostic report, there are spells that can do that."
"Not on a cellular level."
"…Slightly?" Malfoy's repeated, eyebrows still raised. "What do you have?"
The one question Harry didn't want asked. And, funnily, one he couldn't answer; he couldn't pronounce the word. "…I dunno what it's called. It's not important."
"Liar."
"Yup." It was finally Harry's turn to smirk as Malfoy's face dropped at his clear admission.
"Tell me."
"No."
Harry grinned, suddenly was the little battles that he was winning, but they still made him as giddy as if he had won a duel. The Slytherin git just made it too easy sometimes.
And then Pomfrey re-entered the room. She double checked the machines once more, nodding to herself.
No. Not already.
"Wait, wait a moment." Two sets of cool eyes spun to Harry, as if curious as to why he asked. It was acceptable for Malfoy, but Pomfrey's gaze just made him bristle with barely controlled anger. She, of all people, knew. "…I mean, can you run by me what they do again?"
"…You've been in this process countless times, Mr Potter. This is the third since you've been back at school. The hospital even stated you had your first treatment there."
"I was knocked out for that." Harry pointed out, still quite irritated about how the hospital had only allowed him to be stunned for the first treatment. To ease his nerves. It was potentially dangerous if they did it again. Dangerous. Harry called bullshit on that! "And anyway…Malfoy doesn't know. And I've never really paid any attention." He was stalling, and everyone knew it.
Pomfrey indulged him. Well, she stared at his shoulder coolly for a moment. Then she continued to get him ready, ignoring the frustrated groan that escaped him.
"This machine will send a potion through your system. It records any abnormalities." Great. She was supposed to be helping him avoid it for a few moments, not speed up the process and inform Malfoy. "This machine will check your blood; clean it if it isn't alright. Okay?" She didn't wait for the nod, but switched on the machines. "I'll be in my office. Mr Malfoy…if anything happens, get me immediately."
Harry clenched his eyes shut, cringing as both machines begun. The slight humming was nauseating, reminding him of what was to come. He glanced over to stare at both tubes. One was filling with red, taking his blood to clean it…the other was oozing a thick, black potion. It.
Harry watched as it made its way through the tube, jerking as it finally reached his skin. His fists clenched, ensuring his nails were cutting into his palms; anything to evade the feeling of the potion.
It slid down his arm, a constant burning sensation, invasive and cruel. It slithered into his fingertips, holding a few seconds before inching forwards again. God, it hurt. His veins were burning, his hands shaking as the potion invaded his body. It searched his hand, shifting through veins and muscle to find anything to use against him, indifferent to the pain. It liked pain, often trying to hurt him, before sliding down his body, trying to find a new section of muscle to abuse.
It hurt.
Harry tugged at his wrist, his jaw snapping shut as he realised he couldn't move it an inch. He tried to breathe slowly, like he did every Tuesday, but it wasn't working. He could still feel it in his hand, tugging at his bone, infecting him.
"You still alive there, Potter?" Oh. He had forgotten about the blonde. Damn.
It took a few moments to speak without seeming too pathetic. "…yeah…"
"Baby." Malfoy scoffed, his tone dismissing him immediately. "Did you end up finding the Daisyroot Draught?" He actually seemed curious. For anyone else it would have been believable.
"Hmm…yeah…alcohol…"
"No, it's sugar water. Real alcohol is cognac, vodka if you're desperate. Coloured water doesn't count."
Harry forced his eyes opened, staring at Malfoy with, he was sure, confusion written all over his face. Why was he being nice to him? They were chatting? Really? "…I wouldn't know…I only drink…argh!" Harry snapped his mouth shut, cutting off his cry as it slithered through his elbow. Not here. He wasn't going to show Malfoy any weakness. "Butterbeer." He managed to snap out, intent on ignoring it squirming through his arm.
Malfoy had waited patiently for him to finish however, only lifting his eyebrows and scoffing at him. "You haven't lived. Never had firewhiskey on top of the astronomy tower? Never played Wizard or Mudblood?"
"What… the…hell… is that?" Wizard or Mudblood? He definitely hadn't played that with Ron or Hermione before.
"It's a game. Used for recreational purposes when one is bored. Reliever of monotony."
Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring Malfoy's superior smirk. "How …do you …play?"
"You have to do whatever someone tells you. Tell them something. Do something. Prove you're a wizard. If you don't, you're dubbed Mudblood. And all the experienced players incorporate drinking in it. It's an excuse to get drunk, and get dirt on your housemates. It's okay." If Malfoy was ready for anything, he wasn't ready for Harry to snort with laughter, his eyes finally clearing of some of the pain, amusement taking its place. Firstly, Malfoy was babbling. Secondly…
"It's called… truth or …dare… It's a muggle game!" He managed to get out between chuckles, watching as Malfoy paled and stubbornly raised his chin higher.
"It's called Wizard or Mudblood." He repeated coldly, glaring as Harry chuckled again.
"Sure it is."
The potion wriggled up along his arm, resting on his shoulder. No. Not resting. Sitting there stabbing his shoulder, shifting through the muscle as if it wasn't connected to a bone underneath. He shrugged, wincing. Bad move. It stabbed harder, burning into his shoulder.
"…You not gone yet?"
"Doesn't look like it. Honestly Potty, you need new glasses. Sellotape went out in the fifties."
Harry just grimaced weakly, sighing as Malfoy turned his steel gaze on him again. Did Malfoy usually babble this much? "I'm guessing the Weasel and the Know-It-All don't actually know yet?"
Hell no! "They'd be…unbearable." Harry managed to get out, staring at Malfoy as if he was insane. Well, he was spending the night sitting here, so he probably was.
"Attention is a good thing."
"It's hell." Harry spoke clearly, raising his eyes to meet Malfoy's. Of one thing, this he was sure on. And nothing Malfoy could or would say would persuade him otherwise.
The potion slithered into his chest, focussing on his heart.
Harry gasped, trying to move his hand up but they just wouldn't move. He jerked around, trying to dislodge the potion, trying to make it shift to the side. FUCK!
Harry growled, clamping his teeth onto his lips to try to displace the pain. Make it stop! Make it stop! The thing tightened, strangling his chest. The pain! Dying was easier! Dying was preferred!
Red burned Harry's eyes, a thumping blocking out all noise. He could do nothing but notice the pain, plead with it to leave him alone. It was holding his heart, squeezing it and giggling with glee as Harry writhed on the bed. Each second was an hour.
The potion slid down to his stomach, kicking and tearing as it went.
Harry could only gasp, drawing in deep breaths as he suddenly remembered to breathe. He panted, shocked on the bed. Hands trembling, Harry swallowed tightly, wincing as his throat stung horribly. Slowly his gasping evened out, leaving his chest trembling instead as he panted.
He shifted, trying to sit up but winced again as the restraints kept him in place. Those fucking restraints! Harry jerked his hand again, cringing as he felt it dig deeper into his skin. He wanted to sit up. He needed to. Lying here was so pathetic.
Harry blinked roughly, trying to ease his stinging eyes as he saw the blurred outline of someone in front of him, hovering over him. He realised, with a frustrated start,that he was crying. Oh, fantastic! He blinked again, quickly clearing his eyes. He had cried in front of Malfoy!
Harry stared pointedly at the ceiling, away from Malfoy. Said blonde git from hell slowly sat back down, as if in shock he was standing in the first place. Why had Malfoy stood?
The next half an hour was spent in silence. Harry kept a focus on the blank ceiling, trying to think of a bluff that could get him out of this position but failing miserably. He pretended he could ignore the evil thing sliding around his body. Nothing hurt like his chest had, but it was 'smarting' all the same.
Harry cringed again as Malfoy was the first to break. "Potter, I don't fucking care if you're in denial or not. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you."
"It's…" Harry swallowed again, trying to wet his parched, throbbing throat. "…none of your…"
"Potter, I spent last year watching people get tortured, and didn't particularly want to see it again."
"I told you…to leave…" Harry reminded him, wincing as Malfoy growled and snarled at him. Welcome back old Malfoy that we all know and love.
"I wasn't expecting that. Some warning could have been nice. Tell me what it's called."
"I told you… I don't know the name-"
"If you don't tell me now," Malfoy snapped, cold eyes glinting furiously, "I'll head straight to Gryffindork Tower and tell the Weasel and the Mudblood." Yes, he would.
Harry sighed again, hurriedly thinking it through. He could still refuse…it's not as if Ron would believe anything that Malfoy told him. Hermione would be a problem though.
This was just cruel. Harry thought sourly, pointedly not facing his rival as he thought. He couldn't even rub off the tear tracks, with his hands strapped down like this. Trust a Malfoy to use everything to his advantage.
The potion slithered up his left shoulder.
"They wouldn't believe you." Harry managed to mumble, trying to believe it himself.
"Wouldn't they?" Malfoy looked as if he were in his prime here. And he probably was, the conniving little ferret. "You sneak off every night, and when I enlighten them that you hardly do magic anymore, well, there's the chance that they might get suspicious. And if they get to the hospital wing before you, well, that might be a little incriminating, don't you think? I'm sure I can convince the Know-It-All to take a trip into my pensive too. If I just leak it to the prophet, everyone will start rumours. So many choices."
"What happened to not telling anyone?" Harry asked coldly, snarling at the blonde, who just shrugged his shoulders. He was unperturbed.
"Slytherin."
Harry opened his mouth to reply…and froze. Should he? To tell or not to tell? He could easily make it out to be…something different.
"Or," He said slowly, letting his plan develop before he said it, "I could convince them… I'm sneaking out to meet you." He let that sink in, smirking as Malfoy's eyebrows rose again and shock flittered across his face. "Ron already thinks there's something going on."
"So I heard. However, there's one major flaw in your plan."
"Oh? And what's that?" Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself now, letting a small grin flit onto his face. The pain was easily ignored when he had an outlet, he discovered, and was determined to keep said outlet.
"You don't have the guts to do it." Malfoy smirked back, smug, conceited. Oh, really?
"You interrupted our conversation today, coincidently."
"Don't twist this, Potter."
"Well, I did stand up for you the other day. Not the other Slytherins…for you." Harry continued, grinning again. "As for the hospital? I'm sure they have a Contact-Exemplifying-Potion in here somewhere; I even have the note to prove it."
Malfoy cocked his head to the side, amusement twinkling in his eyes again. "Very clever Potter." Harry allowed himself a quick chuckle. It didn't last long. "I'll play along if you do."
"What?" It had to be a joke. The potion slid across his throat.
"I said I'll help convince them."
"Don't even joke about that!" That would be worse that telling him the damn name! More rumours would come out, the prophet would get involved, it always did, and there would be no possible way for Ron to ever start talking to Harry again. He didn't even like guys!
"Tell me the name, Harry." Malfoy purred, chuckling as Harry jerked to stare at him nervously. "Or I'll help develop our story. You know I can. And will. And I may not be as subtle about it as you might have planned."
"Go to hell Malfoy."
"Planning on it. Now, the name?" He retorted quickly, knowing already he had won. His bloody arrogant face was just asking to be punched!
"I don't want-"
"Don't care."
Harry growled again, shaking his head hopelessly. "Why do you-?"
"Enough dodging the question!" Malfoy snapped, his irritating snapping out. This was the Malfoy that they all knew and…well, hated. "Give me the bloody name or I'm going straight to the Weasel!"
Harry glowered at him, furious. However, when his glare did nothing but amuse the blonde ferret, he finally conceded, turning away to face the empty wing. Malfoy waited quietly, already won.
Eventually, Harry spoke softly.
"Succ…Succie? Argh! Succorbits?"
"Succorbentis?" Malfoy asked quietly, his face immediately hidden by that insufferable mask. He was no longer snappy, irritated, or even amused. He was a hollow blank.
Harry remained quiet, not wanting to speak ever again. "...You…you have Succorbentis?"
Harry sighed and nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. For once, Malfoy was in a shocked silence. He didn't even come up with a retort. Grabbing every reserve of confidence, Harry turned to meet Malfoy's wide-eyed stare. He wasn't blinking.
"For fuck sake, Malfoy! Stop staring at me like that!"
The blonde snapped his jaw shut, and finally took a blink. A single blink. "…you know it's an incredibly rare disease, right?"
"Yeah, I've heard about that."
"…you know incurable, right?"
"Not technically... But the last guy that got it…he was getting better, before, well, you know…he went insane…and his suicide..." Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's wide stare. He wasn't even acting like himself anymore! If Malfoy was going to be like this, everyone else was going to be insufferable! He didn't want, nor need, their pity. "Stop staring at me like that. It's creepy." He continued to stare. "Stop it!"
Malfoy went silent, his brow furrowed softly. "No wonder you're in denial."
It was said so quietly that Harry wasn't sure if he had heard it or not.
They remained in a strained silence for a few moments, neither looking at the other. Honestly, what do you say to a person that just found out that their rival was dy…sick? What do you tell a person after you've disclosed your illness? It wasn't as if they were friends, or could comfort one another.
Silence suited Harry fine. It was steadily becoming a friendly acquaintance.
"Why aren't you in hospital?" Not a great acquaintance of Malfoy's, however. Oh. Thirty seconds and he was back to normal? Well, not normal, normal Malfoy was a git…but how he had been today. Happy, odd, slightly eerie Malfoy. It hurt more than it should have, that he was shocked enough for an entire half a minute before deciding he didn't give a flying fuck if Harry was ill or not.
"I can take the medicine here, can't I? Hospital was driving me mad; they wear lime green uniforms. Bright lime green." Malfoy smirked at that, slowly returning to the git he always was. "And there's nothing to do in hospital. Anyway, I want to finish my NEWTs…or so I've told McGonagall."
Harry mumbled, sighing as Pomfrey came rushing from her office, double checking everything was okay as the last of the potion slithered back to the foul hole where once it came. As soon as it had left Harry's system she flicked the machine off, and started releasing his arms.
Harry groaned relief, glaring at the machine that held the potion as he slid on his jumper again, covering his sore arms from view. He had cuts where the restraints had held him, but apart from that, everything seemed okay. Just sore.
"What's wrong with my chest? It…hurt a bit." He ignored Malfoy's scoff next to him, instead waited for the answer a bit too intently.
"…nothing dear. That's where your magic resides; the heart is the heart of all magic. Now…I have to analyse and record this…I'll give them to you tomorrow."
Clearly dismissed, both boys quietly left the hospital wing, each one thinking of something to say and yet unable to say a single thing. They didn't speak as they went their separate ways.
Draco couldn't believe it.
Potter was dying.
It was incurable.
And no one except him knew.
He grit his teeth angrily, snarling at the portraits as he paced through the castle. He wanted to scream. Not from sadness, fuck no, but from pure, unadulterated fury. It was insufferable! The fucking injustice! How was this fair?
After everything that Potter had done, the universe was trying to kill him?!
There was no one as good a distraction as Potter was. How was he supposed to survive through this monotony that had become his life if Potter was gone?
Merlin, he wanted to scream!
Small explosions followed the seething blonde to the dungeons; if he couldn't shriek, everything would shatter instead.