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.
Yo! First of all, thank you to all the amazing reviewers! You really make my day each time I see that I have another review, it's amazing - I really didn't expect so many people to like my story.
Secondly, I'm sorry that this is so late! Between Uni, writers block, work, and seriously not happy with the finished product, I know I am ridiculously overdue for a new chapter. So, here it is! I hope you all enjoy it!
Thirdly, because I am so overdue, the next chapter should be ready within a few days. Hope that makes up for the delay :)
Last, I'm sorry already for the chapter. I have a feeling a few people may not be as happy with me as they usually are. :P Enjoy!
Chapter Eleven - Numb
Harry glared at the fading white of the ceiling numbly. It really was an ugly colour, wasn't it? A sickly pale. Just what every ill child wanted to see when they visited the hospital wing. There was water damage in the top left corner. You would think that, being in a school of magic, that that would be easily fixed…but apparently not. There was mould inching its way across the surface just above Harry's bed, and even that looked like it was dying. Fantastic. Even the mould couldn't survive here.
Numb. That was what Harry had been labelled by the complete and utter dipshit of a trainee Healer that had to evaluate him. Numb. It was bullshit! All because he had wanted to cross off something on his list, apparently he was suicidal. No disregard for his own life. A hallow copy of the boy he used to be. Despite the fact that he was in the hospital wing every bloody Tuesday to try excruciating treatments just to 'check up' on his health…oh yes, he definitely had no disregard for his own life.
His session with the Healer did not go to plan.
She asked copious amounts of questions, some of which had abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with his 'suicidal' tendencies. Actually, most of which. Was it true he was engaged to Draco Malfoy? How did it feel to kill He Who Must Not Be Named? Where did he disappear to in the summer? When did he first realise that he was gay? Were his eyes inherited from his mother or his father?
…
Did any of it fucking matter?
She could grab that over enthusiasm and shove it up her fat arse. Maybe that was why he was considered 'numb'; because he wasn't eager about answering private questions to a twelve year old bint!
Merlin, it was painful.
She was obviously a gossiper. The prophet would know by tomorrow that he was sick. And he would be forced to leave Hogwarts by lunchtime, before he was confronted by the Weasley's. He would probably have to live out the rest of his pitiful life in the hospital, being ignored to his face and talked about as soon as the nurses left his room; a life surrounded by lime green. Fantastic.
Harry sighed, glancing at the door Pomfrey disappeared through before turning back to the dull ceiling. He had been left alone for over an hour now; honestly, the blonde bimbo wouldn't have that much to say about him, would she? How many imaginary disorders was she labelling him under?
A knock on the door made Harry bolt up, almost wishing the bloody thing would swing open even if Goyle was behind it. There was only one person who would visit him…but the insufferably little shit of a blonde wouldn't knock, now would he?
Damn it, why was he feeling sad over that? Malfoy didn't mean anything to him; he was simply…a what? Friend? Companion? Rival? He wasn't any of those, and yet he seemed so much bloody more…the stupid git.
Harry grit his teeth angrily as the door swung slowly open.
Okay, fine. If he was to be honest, it wasn't so much about the idiot of a trainee healer that had him pissed off. He was used to the fact no one understood the concept of 'privacy'. He was used to the fact that certain people fainted when he was around…yes, no joking, fainted. He was even used to the school turning on him and treating him like shit every few months of the year. This didn't faze him anymore.
No, it was Malfoy that had him feeling like shit; angry, but upset, and a whole fucking rollercoaster of emotions that Harry just didn't need at the moment!
The arrogant arse, how dare he just leave?
Harry had woken up from a nightmare; again, just in time to catch Malfoy's floating head disappear through the door, muttering furiously to himself. His mask wasn't even on, so Harry caught the full front of the unadulterated fury that was radiating from the blonde.
What the hell was he even angry about?
They weren't considered friends, so he shouldn't give a damn that Harry took the risk in battling the Womping Willow. They hardly spoke, and even when they did, it was mainly a collage of insults or a battle of supremacy. What right did the blonde git have to be so bloody furious and just leave?
So what if Harry was having a nightmare? So what if he had yelled out? It was more humiliating than annoying, in any case.
So what if he had fallen asleep mid-conversation? He had bloody been pulverised by a tree for fucks sake! And anyway, Malfoy had ample opportunities to poke him awake again, if he had chosen to.
…
Why would he leave?
He was the only person that knew about Harry, that Harry, Merlin, trusted with this… and he had just left?
…
Harry was tired of being alone. The fact that even Malfoy was tiring of being company was just…depressing.
So, not only did he have to suffer Pomfrey's insistent yelling in the morning about the removal of his restraints, and the trainee idiot, but he also had to deal with Malfoy being a complete dick again. Just what he needed on a day like this; isolation.
Harry punched his bed angrily, wincing as his shoulder throbbed slightly. Damn it all! He had thought Malfoy was different. He was essentially treating him like an actual human being, half the time. The joking and spending time with someone that didn't see a walking corpse was nice. His smile was brilliant. And it seemed just as Harry was getting used to entertaining company again, poof! In came the prick from first year. He wasn't allowed company, apparently. No, he had to live out the rest of his…he had to live out the next few…he just wasn't allowed company.
"You're looking better, Harry! Much less pale."
Great. Just what he needed to make the day just that much better; a lecture from Hermione and Neville. And it was only nine thirty! What a day this was turning into!
Neville looked happy and cheerful, like he always did. He was rushing towards the bed, glancing around very conspicuously in an attempt to find, Harry was sure, Malfoy. Jeez, Neville was taking supportive to a whole new level wasn't he?
Hermione was trailing behind him, both looking cross and relieved, and as though she would rather be anywhere other than here. Neville had obviously dragged her along, as one of the least angry Gryffindors. Usually it would have made Harry rather happy…today, it was impending torture.
God, he wished he could at least get out of bed. He felt like such a cripple, laying like this in the flimsy pyjama's the hospital wing had to offer. It was as if his illness was put out on display. Potentially dangerous, given one of the smartest witches of their age was already scrutinizing Harry's face.
"So, how are you?" Neville asked as soon as he reached Harry, taking in the rumpled bed opposite and grinning. "Where's Malfoy gone?" Hermione's face winced slightly, but otherwise didn't change. Bloody Neville, and his stupid optimism.
"Dunno, when I woke up he was gone…I mean, not like that!" Harry rushed to cover himself, embarrassment rising straight to his face as Neville rose his eyebrows. His friend sniggered, nodding to himself.
"Sure, Harry, sure-"
"No! I mean…he slept in that bed! That one!"
Neville snorted, plonking himself on the end of Harry's bed. "I believe you, I believe you!" Then stop laughing. "Why are you blushing, Harry?"
"Piss off."
Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore his mate's laughter; it wasn't nearly as infectious as Malfoy's. Instead, he turned his eyes to Hermione.
She was standing a little away from the bed, eyes not knowing where to sit. In the few minutes Harry watched her, she glanced towards Malfoy's bed, to the door, to the ceiling, back to Malfoy's bed. When Harry eventually caught her eye, she at least had the nerve to look slightly abashed.
"Hi, Harry." Wow. Really, that was it? After weeks of mutters and downright disappointment, the only thing she could sum up now was an awkward 'hi'?
"Hi, Hermione." Okay, Harry couldn't really fault her on that. He sat there awkwardly, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. They weren't exactly close, at the moment. Even small talk was damn well near impossible to think of. What the hell was he supposed to say? Nice weather? Especially yesterday? Yeah, sure.
They didn't speak for a few more moments, Hermione blatantly not making eye contact, Harry staring at her dumbly. Seriously? Nothing?
"…So...you're healed now?" She was hesitant to ask, pausing slightly between each word as if he would shatter if she didn't. Merlin.
"Yup…I'm all good here."
"That's good…" And the silence resumed.
Harry had to withhold a sigh, glancing around to pray for Pomfrey to come out of her office. Hell, he would even take the diagnosis rather than this. Thank god Ron wasn't here. Harry might even prefer him right now.
"You always know how to add a bit of excitement, Harry." Neville grinned, glancing warningly at Hermione before smiling back at Harry. As if Harry hadn't, in fact, seen the fairly obvious conversation between them. God, he was sick, not blind. "A normal stroll not exciting enough?"
"A bit mundane, really." Harry replied with a smirk, glancing at the steadily angering Hermione. "Need to keep everyone on their toes."
"Malfoy was on his." Neville smirked, effectively vanishing Harry's. His grin widened. "As soon as you started running, bam! It was like he teleported to the tree. I've never seen anyone run that fast, besides you."
"Years of chasing each other." Harry muttered, smacking Neville as he snorted again. "Not like that, you tosspot! I meant years of chasing each other to beat one another to a bloody pulp! Stop changing my words!"
"I haven't said a thing!" Neville laughed again. "Were you always this easy to tease? I would have started years ago."
"I'm grateful you've only figured it out now. Really, filled with gratitude. You could even say I'm indebted."
"You're spending too much time with Malfoy, you sound like him." Neville said ruefully. His grin, however, didn't falter. Way too opportunistic.
"We miss you, Harry." Effectively, the almost happy mood disintegrated. "Just…why would you do that? Why would you try to kill yourself like that? What have we done to cause you to turn to…to that!?"
Ah, well, that was the question, wasn't it?
Harry sighed, turning to Hermione again. Arms crossed, and exchanging angry glances with Neville, Hermione looked ready to cry. She still cared for Harry, he didn't doubt that...but she was going about it the wrong way. Again.
Harry fumed at that, gritting his teeth to try to calm his anger again. She just admitted that it was Gryffindor trying to make his life as bloody hard as possible with the jinxes and the rumours…she just didn't think that it was drastic enough for Harry to snap? Everyone had pressure, as Harry was steadily figuring out. Everyone snapped at some point. It was never a matter of how much, rather a matter of when.
"We don't know what we would do without you, Harry. We miss you, all of us. Please…come back to us. Don't hide in the library and spend all your time alone…or with Malfoy, just…be our friend again." If she had stopped there, Harry might have considered it. Hell, he couldn't lie to himself; he missed his friends too. "We can forgive all the Malfoy nonsense, we can-"
…
Fuck that.
Harry listened to his friend speak, not hearing a word after 'Malfoy' was spoken. They would forgive him? Really? Oh, it was too much.
They would we friends again, if Harry wasn't friends with Malfoy? Not that they were, of course, but still…that was almost like any pureblood saying he couldn't be friends with Hermione because she was a half-blood. Didn't they see the hypocriticalness?
"I'm not engaged to him." Harry said quietly, effectively stopping Hermione's lecture. "But I'm not going to stop being friends with him either."
"Whoever implied we were friends?"
There was no god.
Three sets of eyes flicked to the door, each one groaning when they spotted Malfoy leaning against the frame. His posture showed he did not look impressed. And his bloody mask of on again, in perfect place of indifference. Wonderful.
Now that he had the required attention, he started towards Harry's bed. It was so quiet his footsteps echoed. Hell, Harry could hear his own heartbeat. He was surprised Neville didn't comment on that too.
Malfoy didn't glance at either Gryffindor around the bed. Instead, he sauntered towards his chair, kicked it a tad closer to Harry's bed, and threw himself into it. Not able to resist a taunt of some kind, he then rested his feet across Harry's knees, and reached for the loathed Rubik's cube on the bedside table. A perfect picture of complete and utter disregard for either Gryffindor.
It was rather brilliant, really.
Harry blinked in disbelief. Malfoy, who cursed the cube to hell and back daily, was sitting there playing with it. Seriously? What the hell had gotten into him?
"You're looking horrendous, Potty. I never knew there was a shade under 'corpse', but you've perfected it." And he came with a taunt. Who wouldn't want him?
Hermione sniffed next to him, eyebrows raised at Malfoy. "Harry was speaking, Malfoy."
"Congratulations, Harry; apparently you can speak." Malfoy drawled, not taking his eyes off of the game in his hands. What the hell?
"Uh…yeah…it's a talent." Harry was too reeled of the fact Malfoy had just willingly called him Harry. Not Potter, but Harry. It was unnerving as fuck! Voldemort popping back out of the ground would cause less of a stir!
"Hello, Malfoy." Oh, please don't go there, Neville. This won't end well. "How have you been lately? Haven't had much of a time to speak yet this year, have we?"
The silence before was nothing compared to the intensity of Malfoy's halted movements. Harry wanted to bellow at Neville to run. Run, and hide, and pray that he couldn't find him! Jesus Christ, didn't he ever hear that you weren't supposed to provoke the fucking rabid dog?
Sure, Malfoy wasn't rabid, or feral in the slightest…but his vicious tongue bloody well could give you a lashing that made you want to hold onto testicles and change countries.
Malfoy didn't blink. "That might be because of a steady and rather attractive lack of communication between us; Potty, inform your…friend." A sneer would have seemed encouraging in comparison to the disgust that radiated from the blonde.
"You don't have to be so rude-"
"That's something we should change then, shouldn't we?" Neville overrode Hermione, sending her a quick glare before forcing a smile back at Malfoy. Harry tried to shrink under his sheets a little more. Maybe if he changed beds, he would be out of the firing line? "Now that you're with Harry."
Oh, god.
"Potter, inform Longbottom that every word he utters drastically lowers the entire I.Q of the room."
"Stop being so pathetic!" Harry shrunk a little deeper in his bed. "We're talking here, not you! You can get out unless you're going to be well-mannered!"
Harry winced as Malfoy slowly stopped fiddling with the Rubik's cube. Instead, he found the time to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Up to his elbows. Exposing the still quite vivid Dark Mark on his forearm.
Hermione was practically growling.
Neville, though his face hardened, turned back to Harry in an attempt to rekindle conversation. "So, Harry…Pomfrey heal you all up? You going to be back in classes again tomorrow?" Obviously.
"Yeah, looks like it." It was difficult, trying to keep your eyes on three different people, each capable of casting several nasty spells within a few seconds. And then maintain conversation; Harry was quite proud of himself, actually.
"Can I ask why you decided to attack the tree? Seriously, Harry, what the hell were you thinking?" Neville looked as if he was torn between berating Harry and looking mildly impressed. "You attacked the Womping Willow, the only tree that can hit back."
"It provoked me." Harry shrugged, glancing at Malfoy at his snort of amusement. "Stared at me funnily."
"It's not funny, Harry." Hermione was back in action, it seemed. "We could have lost you."
"Implies you have him." Bloody hell, the stupid git should know the difference between a mutter and a near snigger by now.
Hermione glared at Malfoy once more, her eyes hardening. Oh, god, Harry knew that look; it was her Gryffindor courage coming into play. This wasn't going to be good. "I came to tell you that Gryffindor wants you back, Harry. That you don't have to hang around with the scum like Malfoy anymore."
Harry didn't dare breathe. He glanced at Malfoy, who…didn't look perturbed. He just sat there, playing with the cube. What the fuck? Malfoy never let comments like that go, and yet there he was, watching it fly through the window. He didn't even blink!
"Harry?" Oh, he had been waiting for the reaction for far too long. Slowly, trying to keep his eyes on Malfoy for as long as possible, he turned back to Hermione. She wasn't looking as calm as she had a moment ago.
"Yeah, sorry, what?"
"We've already forgiven you- " Why was Malfoy snorting? "We want you back."
…
Forgive implied Harry had done some wrong. And from where he was sitting, the only wrong he had done was contract a faulty gene.
"Hermione, I don't want-"
"As entertaining as it is watching tiny Gryffindork brains try to communicate with an ounce of intelligence between them, Potter, send Bucky and friend home. I've heard 'imbecile' is contagious."
Were they twelve?
"Funny, so is cowardice."
Yes, yes they were.
"Um…guys, can you stop-" Oh, please Neville, just give it a break. He should know a useless cause when he saw one.
"Potter." Malfoy's voice was ice. "Send the Mudblood and companion out." The threat was all too clear.
Throughout this torture, Harry thought he was doing fairly well in hiding his anguish. Until Malfoy stood up.
Pure panic flooded through Harry, bloody screaming at him to stop the blonde. Yes, he was a complete dick most of the time, and a bastard the rest, but…
He was a constant. He was company.
And Harry couldn't risk that sliver of normalcy leave. Malfoy barely blinked whatever the crisis. He couldn't go.
Harry wouldn't let him.
His arm snatched out without permission, practically clinging to Malfoy's. God, he was pathetic. He could feel the disappointed stares radiating from Hermione and Neville, but couldn't find the effort to care. Harry wouldn't beg someone, not the Harry they knew; that Harry hadn't returned to Hogwarts, however.
"Sit back down, you arrogant prat." Don't let his voice tremble. Don't let it tremble. "Just…sit." He swallowed tightly, loathing himself as he glanced at his 'friends'. "Guys…sorry, but do you mind-?"
"He just called me a Mudblood, Harry." Hermione seethed, "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Of course it does. It does…Really, it was just a word. Harry had been called worse since the rumours started; words didn't really faze him anymore. Words that the blonde didn't utter.
His silence was enough of an answer.
Hermione's lips were trembling, her face a mixture between hurt and anger. She was still his friend…but it was better this way. She wouldn't be hurt in a few months.
It had to be better this way.
Harry couldn't watch as his friends left. He was so…pathetic. Seriously? He had just let one of his best friends be insulted, watched. What type of friend was he?
Malfoy turned around, a sneer on his usually impeccable face. Great. The mask was preferable. Anger and disgust rolling off in waves. It hurt more than it should that the sneer was directed at Harry; what the fuck had he done?
"I see the infamous dick from first year has made his dramatic return." Harry snapped, finally letting go of Malfoy's arm. As soon as he did, however, the sleeves came down. It was sad, in a way. Not enough for Harry to forgive the twat, though.
"Oh please, he never left." Malfoy snapped back, letting his mask slip. He shouldn't have; pure fury was radiating from him, and glaring straight at Harry. He looked as though he was about to lunge at him, and beat him to a bloody pulp. And by the way his fists curled together, Harry was sure the thought had crossed his mind.
"You don't have to be an arse to my friends-"
"When are you going to get it through your thick skull that they are not your friends anymore?! They don't give a flying fuck about you, and you shouldn't give a fuck about them!" Harry winced slightly as Malfoy began bellowing, swallowing nervously. He hadn't been this nervous in weeks; Malfoy looked ready to kill. "They're nothing but Mudbloods and Blood Traitors and fucking scum!"
"Oi! They're still my friends-"
"That's bullshit, and you know it! Tell me, did any of them visit when you snapped your arm? Have they wondered once where you fucking disappear to all the fucking time? Did they ever notice that you don't sleep, don't eat, and don't use magic!? Have they!?"
"Shut the fuck up!" Harry snapped, shoving the sheets back and rising unsteadily to his feet. No. They were his friends still, no matter what this bloody bastard said; they had visited now, hadn't they? "Stop being such a fucking arsehole!"
"Slytherin."
One more comment, and Harry was going to break his fucking nose.
"No! You don't get to play the Slytherin card every time you feel like being a fuckwit!"
"Actually, I think I will play the Slytherin card! Situations like these are why the Slytherin card exists in the fucking pack!" Malfoy snapped, sneering at Harry.
Was the nice Malfoy just a figment of Harry's shattering imagination? Honestly, what had him so worked up that he would lose all composure like this? He looked ready to kill. And Harry was slowly joining him.
"Watch yourself, Malfoy. I can be as much of a Slytherin as you can be, and I'm just about ready to knock you off of your high horse." It was an effort to remain calm and keep his voice steady; this effort was relinquished as Malfoy snorted again, rolling his eyes.
"Try." He sneered, arms outstretched. "You have no wand. If you try to use magic, you're likely to kill yourself. So try, Squib."
Harry blinked, anger vanishing as hurt replaced it. That was really all he was, wasn't it? Nothing more than a squib in Malfoy's eyes. A fucking freak, like he had been told his entire childhood.
"That's right, you're nothing more than a pathetic, dirty thing in most wizards eyes now. Just like your pathetic little mudblood friends-!"
"Fuck you, Malfoy! You don't even bloody know them, just like you don't know m-!"
"I know enough to know I can't trust a fucking single one of them! Not after they melted my face off! I'm starting to believe the Dark Lord actually had some sense in-"
"THAT WASN'T NEVILLE OR HERMIONE! SO FUCK YOU!"
Shit.
Harry's chest was heaving, his hands trembling as he regarded Malfoy. He could hardly hear, the thumping of his blood rushing through his veins. He hadn't felt this alive in weeks, in months. He wanted to punch Malfoy, and keep punching until all the anger was gone. Malfoy needed to hurt.
He didn't hear the door slam open; Pomfrey's bellows were a mile away, to him. The only thing that mattered was Malfoy's furious glare swivelling round to meet Harry's.
"You know who it was." Not a question, not a demand. It terrified Harry as though he was under veratiserum.
"I know who it was." Harry quietly acknowledged, watching with grim satisfaction as Malfoy blinked in surprise. "Have all along."
Harry didn't quite know how it happened, and truth be told, neither did Pomfrey. One moment, they were bellowing at each other, like they would have done years ago. One whispered sentence from the both of them, and suddenly they were on the floor shrieking.
Harry was going to wipe that bloody sneer off of his ugly face! He swung his fists wildly, barely registering as they connected to Malfoy's stupid aristocratic nose. He couldn't hear a thing. Didn't want to. The only thing that mattered was the rhythmic swinging of his fist and the crunching of Malfoy's face.
Harry cursed as he was suddenly kicked in the gut, winding him. Malfoy was just as strong as he had always been, and he lived up to his reputation.
He was straddling Harry within a moment, swinging a fist at his eye and his other at his cheek so his head swung about. It wasn't good enough punishment, apparently. Suddenly Harry's chest was pulled up by his collar, and slammed back against the tiles.
Fuck stars, his entire vision went black. Then again. And again.
Harry's fight left him, and his hearing clicked back on. He almost wished it hadn't.
"You stupid, stupid fuck! How dare you do something so reckless! To cross it off a fucking list?! HOW DARE YOU!"
A bang exploded the air, and suddenly he wasn't being hit anymore. His face hurt, his arms and back stung, and his head felt as if it was on fire…his stomach sunk to the edge of hell. Malfoy had found his list. Fuck, Malfoy had found his list. He…
He should just die now. Use magic. End it.
Before the ridicule began.
The ridicule that Harry just couldn't take.
"Get up! Get up now, you useless little-!"
Harry winced as he was hauled to his feet, limping slightly. When had he hurt his foot? Did it matter?
Not anymore.
He let himself be dragged towards a bed, feeling exactly like the trainee healer had described. Numb. He was numb again. And couldn't summon the effort to care. Malfoy had found his list. Malfoy had the list. He read it. He had read it.
"I cannot believe you would do something so immature! Are you nothing but brutes? You're education in hanging in the balance, Mr Potter, and you do this?! I don't know what the Headmistress is going to say…!"
Harry blinked as his wrists were restrained in the bed again, hating the constricted feeling in his chest. He hated this feeling, hated feeling…weak.
"You two stay here and don't you dare move! Resorting to that…!"
It was an incredible effort to finally lift his eyes and turn to face Malfoy, who was similarly restrained in a bed. It seemed she didn't trust them enough not to strangle one another while she was gone. She was wrong; only one of them would be strangled. Harry would allow it.
He was bleeding from his nose; it was obviously broken. Apart from that, it didn't look as though he was perturbed at all. Except his eyes, however. His eyes were still furious.
Harry couldn't even ask for it back.
They waited in silence for a few moments, both waiting for the torture to come. And did it come.
McGonagall was not pleased. After an hour of berating, she decided on a week's detention. Harry got three. They weren't allowed to be near each other again. Only after lunch were they allowed to be healed.
Harry sat in silence. Only his eyes trailed after Malfoy.
The blonde left without looking back.
He assumed their engagement was off.