Hey guys, here's the new chapter. Thanks to everyone for the kind words - you gave me motivation to keep writing. My person is alright, so I was a lot calmer when writing this chapter. I even tried to write some humour!
Seriously, thank you to everyone that wrote a review and wished me well. :) I hope I don't disappoint. I had an epiphany for the next chapter today, and it's going to be a good one :)
like always, do not own hp, this is only for fun, not profit.
Chapter Thirty Nine – The Duel
"…Anyone with half a brain can tell you're not well."
Harry cringed at the very thought; it was all for nought if everyone knew the truth. Why was he shirtless in the eighth years' bathroom at quarter to three in the morning, with an awfully potent lotion spread across his back, if everyone was aware he was ill? Why was he counting spells in an effort to stay awake?
Well, obviously, because Draco couldn't know how serious it was getting. But it was so much more than that. This year had begun with hopes of normality. One last year without the threat of Voldemort hanging over his shoulder; a year at Hogwarts, as it was supposed to be without the interruption that often came barrelling into Harry's life.
And when that didn't seem possible, at least a year at home. A year in the one place he had always belonged, with or without company.
To be blunt, he was hoping to die in comfort. Even when he couldn't utter the horrible disease's name, or when he ignorantly assumed the Healers were paranoid and inflating the seriousness of his supposed sickness; he had always been inching towards the prospects of a year, a last year, in the relief that came with Hogwarts. Comfort.
And here he was; jumping at every sound, and praying to deities he didn't believe in to keep the Slytherins asleep. The bathroom was freezing, and the glass wall which looked out into the depths of the lake didn't help. Each breath was pulled from Harry and chilled before it had left his lips. The others probably had charms to defeat this cold, but Harry was defenceless. He was left to glance at the shadows which appeared through the gloom of the lake, and curl his arms around his chest.
Surely the bruise was healing?
But no, there it sat. Spread across his back, a purple hue that snarled at him with a ferocious glee. If only the horrible thing would leave as quickly as it had appeared. It was a reminder he would rather not have.
"…Anyone with half a brain can tell you're not well."
The simple sentence had been plaguing his thoughts.
Was it so obvious? To Slytherins, sure. They spent every waking moment with him.
Did the other houses suspect? Did they know?
Harry squared his shoulders in the darkness of the room, staring at his silhouette. It had taken a while for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the bathroom, for he didn't dare turn on the lights in case they woke everyone else, but when they adjusted, he could see enough.
He didn't look too bad.
Yes, he had lost some weight. He had always been skinny though. He looked a little tired, but that could be attributed to study stress. He didn't look terrible.
He still had his father's hair. He still had his mother's eyes.
"…Anyone with half a brain can tell you're not well."
…
Alright, his eyes were a little dulled. Well, he was exhausted. The strain would have an effect on anyone. Everybody had bags under their eyes; so what if his were a tad more pronounced?
His hair wasn't as messy as it could be; it was a little limp. But it wasn't lifeless, or grey. It hadn't changed much, just a little.
…
His weight was a little more distinct; easily covered up by clothing. His cheekbones didn't jut out sharply, or anything. He was just thin…skinny...scrawny. Alright, he was bony. It could be worse, though. His joints were not prominent.
It could be worse.
It could be-
Who the fuck was he kidding? If anyone looked at him twice, they would see a noticeable difference. He was just lucky Ron and Hermione hadn't cornered him in a corridor yet. If either of them looked like this, he wouldn't even consider not confronting them, if they were speaking or not.
How was this attractive?
Seriously, what did Draco see in him?
Harry ended up turning from the mirror, unable to continue staring at the stranger he was transforming into.
And that was how Draco found him not an hour later.
Truly, did he have a sixth sense? A tingling in his toes whenever Harry was having an existential crisis?
He didn't question why Harry was standing in the bathroom at near four in the morning. He didn't ask why his shirt was discarded across the room, or why he was standing in the dark, doing seemingly nothing.
Harry had twisted around near a mirror again, frustrated at the constant presence of the bruise when the door had opened. It only took a glance for him to recognise the blonde prat's silhouette.
He took a step away from the mirror.
Draco didn't seem perturbed. He allowed the door to bang shut, and whispered a lumos.
Harry ignored the flicker of jealousy at the simple action, wincing at the sudden light. He had quite liked the darkness.
He expected Draco to waltz up to him with a frown, or a difficult question. Instead, he stared for a bit, then wandered past Harry towards the opposite end of the bathroom. Running water echoed throughout the room, and steam began to rise from one of the cubicles.
Oh.
Maybe he just wanted a midnight shower; it wasn't uncommon in a boy's dormitory. In fact, Harry had had his own awkward run-in's years previously. He remembered a particularly embarrassing night where Harry, Ron and Seamus all shuffled into the bathroom within five minutes of one another. Stuff of nightmares.
Well, if he was there only for coincidence…?
Harry shuffled over to grab his shirt from across the room; if Draco was showering, he could wipe away enough of the lotion before climbing back into bed. The smell would remain, but at least his back wouldn't be as oily. Maybe he could pass the scent off as shampoo.
"Where do you think you're going?" Draco's voice was quiet, even for the softness of the room. It nevertheless managed to still Harry.
Anywhere. But he couldn't very well mention that; Draco had been nothing but helpful the past few days. He didn't fight, didn't snap, and didn't demand a single thing. It was very unfair of him.
"Bed-"
"But we'll never get another chance like this if we tried." Draco drawled in return. Harry hadn't seen him move, but suddenly he was across the room. Sneaky prick. "Everyone else is asleep."
…
Didn't he see him?
How skinny, and pale, and unattractive he was? He had oil smeared across his back, and small bruises littering his sides. The only thing that should find him attractive was a bloody koala, and that was only because he smelt too strongly of intoxicating, potent eucalyptus.
Harry glanced at his hollow torso, curling his arms around his chest. "I don't think-"
"Luckily for you, I do think." Draco came closer, "And I've decided that I'm tired of the moping. How much longer do you think it'll continue for? Give an approximation so I can decide whether or not to prohibit it now; there are other things I want to do to you that I can't while you're sulking."
Harry blinked at that; "I think I'm allowed-"
"No, you're not." He continued, smirk in his tone. "I forbid it."
"You…forbid it?"
"That's right. No more moping, no more sighing. I forbid it."
Harry clicked his tongue with irritation; who the hell did Draco think he was? "Actually, I don't think you have to right to do that; being my life and all."
"That's where you're wrong." Draco drawled. He had finally reached Harry's position, and stopped before him, a picture of ease. Harry's arms had stopped being crossed to hide his chest; now it was crossed in defiance. "I control this liaison; your moods, your behaviour…you."
"And why would that be?"
"Do I really have to say it?" Draco almost sneered that; fucking bastard. "I'm a Malfoy; power comes with the name."
"Tch, and say I continue to mope." Harry really didn't understand why he was growling back. "What can the omnipotent Malfoy overlords possibly do about that?"
"Chastise you." Draco whispered, eyes blazing.
In hindsight, he should have known better than the challenge a Malfoy.
Harry didn't have a shirt on, so Draco couldn't grab that. He made do with what he had, however.
Harry let out a growl as he was shoved into the tiled wall, refusing to wince at the pressure on his bruised back. His wrists were snatched up rather quickly, one pressed into the wall, the other to his hip. They stood chest to chest for a moment, so close Harry could feel Draco's hammering heartbeat. And then his throat was being nipped at; pain, and pleasure, tingling down his spine.
Harry clenched his jaw and refused to make a sound. He tried to twist his wrists away, but Draco's grip was iron. When he tried to move his neck, he was scolded with another bite; this one broke the skin. But then Draco was sucking on his neck, licking and altogether taking advantage of his control.
Harry could feel his face getting hot; the steam filling the room certainly didn't help. It took a long lick up his throat, to his jawbone, that reminded Harry of the challenge. He couldn't let Draco win this particular exhibition of domination.
He tried to push himself off the wall; an effort to even the playing field.
Instead, Draco twisted his ankle around Harry's and pulled, sending him toppling to the floor. He handed heavily, bruising his arse. That bastard didn't know when to stop.
Before Harry could get up, Draco was there again. He nestled in Harry's lap, rolling his hips. Oh, good god. He tried to roll back, but the pressure was removed immediately. He tried to kiss Draco, but his mouth was just out of reach.
Draco continued to give hickies, or nibble on his throat, and nothing else.
Damn him.
"Dra-"
His wrist was released in lieu of covering Harry's mouth. "Who allowed you to talk?" Draco scoffed. "You're sulking, remember?"
…
Last straw.
Harry growled, and bit those fingers covering his mouth. He wasn't helpless, and Draco was about to realise that. He didn't have utter control over Harry; he had influence, but not control.
Draco whipped his hand away with a yelp. But Harry wasn't done.
His free hand managed to grab Draco's chin, holding it still so he could finally connect their lips. He kissed him deeply, taking control for once. And, surprisingly, he wasn't bitten.
Harry pushed off of the wall, folding in over Draco and forcing him to lie across the cold tiles. He ripped his other hand free, using it to caress the warm flesh of Draco's stomach. He had always been ticklish there; his stomach quivered, and he gasped against Harry's lips.
This was how it should be.
They kissed slowly, and gently. Hands trailed around each other, exploring as if they hadn't caressed one another before. Draco didn't seem perturbed by the oil that covered Harry's back; he didn't even seem surprised. His fingertips traced lines along his shoulders, drawing shapes along his skin.
When Harry needed a break, he simply rested his forehead on Draco's, breathing deeply to avoid panting like his body needed. He knew Draco was staring at him, but he refused to open his eyes. He just needed a minute.
"You're allowed to have dark days." Draco spoke quietly, "Just not every day. You're not allowed to let bad days alter who you are."
"Is this the Malfoy overlord speaking again?"
"Yes. Because this is what I do; bring you back from the bad days."
And he had, Harry realised. He had been feeling wretched and miserable. He had stared at his body and wondered who the hell would ever want him.
And Draco had come in, made him angry instead. He had completely wiped away the foggy clouds of unhappiness that had been hovering just in sight on Harry's mind for days. And then, he had transformed anger to lust. He had forced Harry to admit to himself he wasn't fragile, and he could still take on Draco. He wasn't weak.
Harry rolled off Draco as he moved to get up, blinking as the prat offered to help him stand, too. "Come on. Shower. The salve only works after you've washed it off." Of course he would know what it was. "As I'm sure Pucey Junior forgot to tell you." Omnipotent git. "And anyway, I came in here hoping to perv on you showering; I don't like to be disappointed."
And his Draco was back.
.
.
.
Harry jotted down the small diagram Draco was showing him, trying hard to keep his face impassive and confused at the complicated potions illustration, and not Draco's foot running up and down his calf. It wasn't an erotic move in the slightest, but it was comfortable. Draco probably wasn't even aware he was doing it; he was making his own notes and teaching Harry simultaneously, and quite effortlessly, so what was one more task?
Regardless, it was almost impossible not to concentrate on his foot. Up, and down. Drawing a line across his calf. And again. It was impossibly warm in the library today, and it wasn't solely due to the overcrowded tables.
Students were assembling around tables, sprawled across the floor, even using Madan Prince's desk as she did her stalking through the shelves. It was noisy, too; the soft chatter between friends fifty times over got quite loud. Harry was fighting a headache, though that could be due to lack of sleep. They hadn't gone to bed until quite early, and then Parkinson had decided they needed to be woken at six. Two hours sleep did not bode well for the other Slytherins; Draco had been in a sour mood all day.
"So, do you get it?"
"…uh, not really."
"It's simple." Draco sighed, "You just have to scribble this down in the exam and you're set. See the opposites? Just write about them if we get a question relating to ingredients. High, and low classification. And the five sub-classes for each."
"…Alright."
"Tch, it's what we've been going over." Draco muttered, flipping through and finding a different page. "Here." He shoved it at Harry. "Remember this?" Vaguely. "Read it over, and then look at the graph and see if you understand."
"I just don't get how the graph will help; half the information is missing."
"Do you remember information for Defence?" Draco asked, eyebrows raising. "How do you answer those exams?"
"Defence is just easy for me-"
"Exactly. And you're woeful at potions, so we should try different methods of remembering material, shouldn't we?" Draco paused, glancing beyond Harry across the room at that. He kicked out a chair, so it was probably to invite one of the others to their table. It had remained blissfully empty until now due to Draco's vindictive glare. "If you have a picture in your head, and you scribble it down as soon as the time begins, you don't have to struggle to remember it all. You scribble down the basics, and summon up the rest when you need it. This graph will have the basics. It's your job to learn about the small details that go with each. Get it?"
"No."
"Tch, just memorise the graph. Read that page, and memorise the graph."
Harry turned to the Slytherin that joined them. "Welcome to hell…"
Not a Slytherin. Ron.
Draco had just invited Ron to join them at study.
Harry could feel his mouth drop open, and regardless of how Ron smiled a little uneasily and squirmed in his chair, he couldn't shut it. Ron. Ron. What the hell was Draco-?
"Oi." Harry snapped his eyes back to the conniving blonde git at he flicked at his hand. "Are you going to write any of this down, or continue gawking?"
Harry just sat there. Draco had his eyebrows raised, looking like an irritated tutor more than anything else. He didn't spare Ron a glance, didn't seem perturbed at all. What a deceitful little snake. He pointedly stared at the quill in Harry's hand, before going back to his own work.
Harry swallowed nervously, glancing back at Ron. He was getting his books out, studying Charms. What if he noticed how different Harry looked? He was close enough to notice the bags under his eyes, or how skinny he was, or what if a bruise popped up while he was here? He was sure to notice. He was going to notice. Oh, shit. No. No, no, no. He was going to-!
Draco's foot continued its procession. Up and down. Up and down.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, glancing up just in time to see grey flick away. He was an utter bastard, but Harry didn't know what he would do without him.
Slowly, he turned back to Ron. "This is a bit surprising…How have you been?" Damn him for his voice cracking.
"Yeah, alright, mate. You? You seem a bit tired." He was normal; this could be Ron of any year.
"I didn't sleep much last night." And curse Draco for smirking at that; it made Harry's face heat up with embarrassment.
"…nightmares?" Ron asked awkwardly, scratching at his head. God, it made a smile itch out across Harry's face. He was just…so familiar. So Ron.
"Of a sort."
"Is that so?" Draco actually spoke, if quietly. He smirked at Harry, eyebrows raised before turning back to his work. Oh good god, he was going to pay for that comment. "Potty, if you're not going to write, why am I wasting my time?"
"Because you love tormenting me." Harry replied evenly, but snatched up his parchment as Draco gave him another steady stare. He couldn't afford to lose his tutor; not when he had a chance of passing Potions.
Harry glanced at Ron as he wrote, giving him a small smile as he scribbled down the horrible graph. Ron looked a little awkward, but struggled through his own work. He had decided to sit there, and as any true Gryffindor, would sit it out. He didn't seem to mind being near a Malfoy if it meant studying near Harry.
They were silent for a while, which seemed to spread through the library as others caught sight of this strange seating arrangement. It was…nice.
Harry couldn't focus on the page. He tried to read the paragraph, but his eyes continued to glance over towards Ron; he was reading the same line over and over again, frowning, and scrunching up his nose. He always used to do that if he didn't get it. But he usually would have given up by now. As Harry stared at Ron, he saw Ron throwing glances at Draco. Ah, that explained it. He didn't want to provide a moment of ridicule. Then, he glanced at Harry.
They caught each other's eyes, and both had to fight the urge to laugh. It reminded them of Hermione forcing them to study.
"Explain the graphs."
Harry jolted in his chair, turning back to Draco. He was still writing, concentrating on his own work. "Uh…you see, there are high and low classifications…and five subclasses for each."
"Uh-huh."
"And…if we get a question about ingredients…we just have to copy this down."
Draco finally glanced up, eyebrows raised.
"I think we've looked at this graph enough." Harry continued, face burning. "Can we go over the acidity and alkalinity of potions instead?"
"We've already gone over that." Draco's face was boredom, but his eyes glittered with amusement. "Which is why we're onto a new topic. You just read about the subclasses, right?"
"…yes…" He sounded too calm for the past half hour of useless study. It felt as if he was walking into a trap. He glanced at Ron, but he offered no help, with a silent shrug.
"Good. Tell me about them."
Harry remained silent. For the life of him, he couldn't remember anything of what he just read. His mind was blank.
Draco smirked. He was going in for the kill. "How about this; there are 10 subclasses. For each one you get wrong, I'll tell Weasley something about your nightmare last night."
"You bastard."
"High risks. Go."
Oh, shit. Double shit.
Harry flicked his eyes to the book in front of him, just as Draco snapped it shut. It echoed through the library, all too loud. His notes were incoherent.
"Er…high risks…right…"
Draco's smirk deepened, and he turned towards Ron. "The nightmare last night entailed Harry and a bathroom."
"Shut up!" Harry turned back to Ron, who was looking quite uncomfortable. "Don't listen to him. It's…" He was about to say 'not true'…but that wouldn't be honest. What he had done in the early hours of the morning had certainly happened, and he didn't want to insult Draco by denying them. "…Just ignore him. And you!" He turned back to Draco, who just cocked his head to the side.
"High. Risks."
"Come on, I don't know them!"
"I was in the nightmare."
"Organic matter!"
"Such as…?"
"Uh…blood…plant material? Uh…"
"Organs." Ron threw in, which Harry snatched up eagerly.
"Yes, organs! Um…fur…"
"In the nightmare, I had him-"
"BONE!" Harry didn't think it was possible to go that red. Draco just smirked, the bastard. Ron was frowning now, his own eyebrows raised. "See, I know them. Do we really have to-?"
"Low risks; inorganic. Go."
"Metals, water...uh, foo-ood?" What else? What else did he use when making potions? "Spells! We use spells!"
"One more."
"Uh…" What the hell was it? Think, think, think! "I think…"
"I was quite controlling in the nightmare, wasn't I?" Draco smirked, "I shoved you into a shower cubical, and-oomph!" Harry threw himself across the desk to stop the blonde git, shoving his hands across his mouth. He used too much force; he slid across the desk and slammed into Draco, sending them both toppling to the floor in a pile of books and parchment.
"Shut the hell up!" Harry warned, yelping as Draco bit his fingers, as he had yesterday. A subtle reminder of last night, and the horror that Draco was about to reveal said activities to Ron.
"It was dark, so we couldn't see, but we could-"
"No! Stop it! Shut up!"
"Harry decided to-"
"LA-LA-LA! Nothing!" Harry ended up trying to squish Draco's face and mouth, which was quite difficult when he kept trying to bite at his fingers, and he had two arms to use to shove them away, too. "Come on you heartless bastard! I got nine of them!"
"His pants were-"
"NO! No more!" He needed to shut him up. He needed to shut him up now. "I promise you now, Draco, that I'll take a Dreamless Sleep for the rest of the fucking year if you don't shut up!"
Draco was laughing. He snorted, unlike him, and rolled his eyes. God damn it, but now Harry was fighting a smile too. They had just made complete fools of themselves before the entire library.
"You're always threatening that." He chuckled, eyes shining brilliantly. "The last one was 'chemical substances', such as antimony in liquid form."
"And how the hell was I supposed to get that?" Harry demanded, getting to his feet. He glanced around the library, sighing as every person watched with interest. Ron…
Ron looked embarrassed as all hell. He was bright red, and staring at the ceiling rather than their miniature fight. If anything, Draco looked rather pleased with his effort.
"You'll remember it though, won't you?" Draco smirked. "Now, draw the fucking graph properly."
.
.
.
Harry watched as Ron left the library, his parchment filled with potions notes. He had given up Charms within twenty minutes, and instead discreetly copied everything Draco was saying about potions. He may not like Draco much, but he couldn't discredit his ability with a cauldron.
It had calmed down a lot after the agonising test Draco had tortured Harry with. It was as if one mortifying moment had drowned out the rest, and so they could sit comfortably with one another. Ron told Harry how the others were going, and Harry assured him he was just tired. They chatted about quidditch for a bit, and threw glances at one another each time Draco fastidiously brought the conversation back to study.
Of course, Draco and Ron never spoke. They exchanged glances, and remained wary of one another. There was not a single threat, or ridicule spoken the entire time. It must have been torturing the both of them.
"Alright, what was that about?" Harry asked as soon as Ron had left, turning to give Draco a flat stare. It had been brilliant, but Draco knew why Harry was avoiding them. He knew.
"It's not fair if I monopolise all your time, I suppose." Draco shrugged, indifferent. "And, to be honest, I thought I would have a chance at embarrassing you. It didn't really work, though, after you tackled me."
"I warned you to shut it."
"I can't say I disapprove." Draco smirked in reply. "It certainly made Weasel turn a nice shade of scarlet, didn't it? Next time, straddle me. I want to see if he'll turn purple."
"You're impossible."
"You're a idiot."
"Git."
"Prat."
What was the conniving little snake planning?
.
.
.
Draco landed in the office first, all too aware that if he didn't, Harry was most likely crawl back to bed. He ignored both Healers, who looked at him expectantly. He wouldn't acknowledge them as proficient healers until they healed Harry. That hadn't occurred yet, and so neither would their status. They were above Pomfrey, but still not worthy of credit.
The floo roared behind him, so he held out a hand to stop Harry from falling. And, sure enough, his brunette clung to it the moment he fell from the fireplace. He straightened himself, and shuffled awkwardly. He didn't want to be here.
"Good evening Mister Potter. Please follow me." The older one was very much all business, which was preferable to the tears and sobbing that came with Pomfrey. Would she be able to show empathy, however, when Harry needed it? Draco assumed that was why the other one was there.
Said other one was grinning at him. Draco almost bristled as she threw him a wink, but he had better control than that. He offered her an indifferent glance, then turned back to the elder. It was her he wanted to talk to.
"Do you mind if Harry and I have a moment of privacy before it begins?" He asked, ignoring the glance Harry threw at him, and the smirk on Healer Harris.
"We have a very tight schedule."
"It won't take more than a minute; you have my word."
"A literal minute?" Trainee Harris scoffed, folding her arms.
"That's what I said." Draco had to drawl. He really disliked this girl.
"Fine. Come along, let us show you to your room."
Good. Or not, depending on the situation. As it was, Draco felt sick. He didn't want to do this. Not at all. Damn Harry for making him do this.
Harry was staring at him in confusion; he had probably picked up on his unhappy emotions. He couldn't hide anything from the brunette anymore; he was becoming an open bloody book.
"You've completed number thirty two, correct?" He asked instead, ignoring Healer Harris. She was watching them like a hawk, and had no qualms about them knowing.
Harry just frowned. He didn't know where it was going. "No."
"You were the youngest seeker in a century, a record you still hold."
"…But it doesn't feel as if I'm accomplishing anything if I just go with that."
"…Fine. We'll hit two at once."
"Which two?"
Time to commit. "Thirty two and twenty one."
Harry was silent besides him. Good. If he spoke, he would give them away. He was bound to say something stupid that would arise suspicion.
They approached the room, standing in awkward silence as the others left. Harry was the epitome of guilt, which got a few curious glances. He shuffled, crossed his arms, bit at his lip. If he was worried, Draco was fucking terrified.
"One minute." Healer Harris winked as she left, lingering on Harry. "Time's on."
As soon as the door shut, Draco pulled out the wands. Plural.
He tossed Harry his, pretending not to care when he caught it clumsily. He held it awkwardly, too, as if it was a stranger to his hand.
"Right. The record for the quickest duel was fifteen seconds." Draco summoned a stopwatch. "No particularly mean spells."
"Alright." His voice wavered. He looked terrified. "But what about-?"
"Bow, Harry."
They faced each other, and bowed. Merlin, Draco's heart was thumping loudly. Harry looked worried; he kept chewing on his lip. No, focus. He had to beat fifteen seconds.
They straightened up, and Draco clicked the stopwatch.
"Stupefy!" He snapped, hoping it got him before throwing up a quick shield charm to block Harry's curse. It hadn't fully dissipated when he threw two more out. "Digitus Wibbly! Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!" The first spell missed, but the Impediment Jinx hit its mark. Harry flung into the wall as his wand was ripped from his hand. Draco threw his wand at the stopwatch, and dived towards Harry. Within seconds everything had gone from fine to hell. "HELP!" He bellowed, "HE NEEDS HELP!" Harry had gone white as a sheet, his eyes wide. He gasped for breath, but never seemed to be able to breathe. He clutched at his chest, eyes bulging. No. He was going to be fine. They had done it in the hospital for this reason. He was going to be fine. If the fucking Healers ever decided to get here! "HELP!" Draco's voice broke through the scream, drowned out by the slamming of the door. Healers rushed into the room, all shouting, pointing wands, slashing spells through the air. Someone grabbed Draco and pulled him to his feet, snatching his wand from his hand. He could see Harry gasping and coughing, still not able to breathe! Why couldn't he breathe? "What happened?" Someone was yelling at him. Oh, Harris. "What did you do?" "He…" Why was it so hard to speak? "He used a spell." "Which one?" Harry still couldn't breathe. He was turning blue. "Look at me." They had pulled him into the corridor, and slammed the door shut. Draco had no choice but to reluctantly turn to the girl barely his senior. For once, she wasn't smiling. "Harry's fine. He's being treated. You can help me by telling me what spell he used." "He can't breathe." Why were his hands shaking? "He's not breathing." "Tell me which spell it was. Malfoy, focus. What was the spell?" "I think…" What had he shouted? He had been so focused on finishing the duel as quickly as possible he hadn't been paying attention. "I remember the confundus charm." He finally replied, frowning. He knew how that would sound. "Alright. Just sit over there, and I'll come get you when he's better. Okay?" She tried to remain impassive, but Draco knew the drill. She was about to call security. Draco shuffled to one of the chairs, sinking into it slowly. With every blink, all he saw was Harry gasping for air. … What had he done? . . . 21. Finish a duel before IT acts up . . ."Have there been any new incidents?"
"I'm not answering," Harry wheezed, coughing. "Until you bring Draco back."
Kelly was not impressed with his decision; her jaw had been clenched for the past twenty minutes of Harry's unhelpfulness, and her back stiff. She thought the accident was Draco's fault. They all did.
They all knew nothing.
It was a blur for Harry; he remembered the heaviness of gasping down air with nowhere for it to go, the pain in the depths of his chest. He remembered the panic, Draco's horrified expression, people yelling somewhere in the background. He remembered Draco being pulled from the room, and then he had lost consciousness. Lack of air did that to a person.
And Harry certainly had gone without air; his lungs had vanished on him this time. Well, his left lung and three quarters of his right. There was just enough left to squeeze out oxygen through a variety of disgusting potions, and to regrow his other lung.
It hurt to breathe. Talking was an effort; he didn't have enough of a breath to finish his sentences. He spoke for a few seconds, and he was panting as a result. He had tried to demand they return Draco twice already, and twice he had lost consciousness. They continued to wake him.
"We can't bring him back-" Kelly tried, fighting a frown as Harry spoke over her. She had maintained indifference until now, a clam patience. It was wearing down.
"Then I'm leaving." Harry panted, heaving the sheets off his lap and struggling to sit up. The Healers all exchanged glances. The world spun, but Harry fought it; they were regrowing his lungs, but the small section he had left wasn't enough to sustain him by a mile. His legs shook with the effort to stand; he was barely aware that two Healers had shuffled closer to catch him when he inevitably fell.
"Sit back down." Kelly tried to harden her tone. "You're here for treatment-"
"I'm here for...torture…" Harry interrupted again, fighting the dizzy swell. "Where's…Draco?"
"He's being detained."
"Because you called the aurors!" Harry snapped his mouth shut, grimacing at the yell. Oh, he needed to sit down. He could feel his legs trembling beneath him; his hands were shaking. He remained where he was.
"It was protocol-" The Healer behind him spoke up, a man in his thirties with a sigh in his voice.
"To call security, maybe. Not the aurors!"
"Protocol states that anyone suspected of foul play-"
"Foul play?"
"And given that his Dark Mark was on display-"
"That's not helping." Kell gave the Healer a rather dark glance, turning back to Harry. Everyone had noticed the shaking by now, by their stares. He was moments away from collapse. "Harry, you need to sit back down. You're going to hurt yourself even more. You're here because you want to be as healthy as possible, right?"
Harry blinked at that, fighting the snarl. He liked Kell, but she didn't understand. "I'm here…" He panted, growling that his voice was a mere whisper of breath, "because Draco forced me. If he…" He coughed, staggering a bit, and swiping his hands away from the Healer that tried to help him. He could do it by himself! "…didn't march me here…" Another coughing fit wracked through his body. He shuddered at the little air he managed to get in. His body couldn't sustain itself on this little amount, right? "Please." He didn't care that he had resorted to begging. He had no shame, not anymore. "I can't do this without-" Another coughing fit.
"Why is he not in bed?" Healer Brown entered the room, frown on her face. She tutted, pointing with a stubby finger. "Bed. Don't you realise your body needs rest? It's functioning on limited oxygen at the moment; you need to give it a chance."
"He's resisting treatment until we bring back his boy-toy." Kell didn't seem perturbed by the stare she was given in return for her blunt tone. "The one in questioning."
"Well, we're wasting time sitting here, aren't we?" Brown replied dryly, focusing on Harry. He felt like a bug under that gaze, but refused to look away. He could barely stand as it was; a glance away could topple him. "You don't press charges? And you take full responsibility, don't you?"
What?
Harry swallowed tightly, but nodded. The world spun, and suddenly he was being held upright by two Healers.
God, he hated being so weak.
"Good. Mister Potter, please return to your bed. Healer O'Brien, please inform the aurors that the patient is not pressing charges and accepts full responsibility, and apologize for wasting their time. Explain how tedious some protocols are. Then escort Mister Malfoy here, so we can begin. Healer Croft, what percentage of lung has been recovered?"
"…twenty three percent."
"Keep it going." Harry rather liked this no nonsense attitude about her. He could have kissed her for suggesting his lie. "Healer Harris, get the information from Mister Potter. Mister Potter, why have you not returned to your bed? Your lungs were just removed; you need rest."
Harry let them drag him back to his bed, sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Everything hurt. It was hard to breathe. Surely if he rested his eyes for a bit, and evened out his breathing, it would be a benefit for him? They couldn't start the diagnostic until his lungs had reached a substantial weight, anyway.
Christ, the diagnostic.
He was exhausted and the diagnostic hadn't begun yet.
God, help him.
"Do you need some water?" Kelly asked, if a bit stiffly. She waited for the small shake of his head before beginning. "Any new incidents?"
"No."
"I don't believe that for a second, so let's try again. What are your new incidents?"
Harry managed to roll over, and meet her gaze. She didn't seem too angry over their little exploit, just worried. He was getting better at deciphering Slytherin emotions behind their masks. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, ignoring her scoff. "I didn't want to…worry anyone…"
"I'm more concerned about your lack of interest in your own life." Ouch. "Now stop avoiding the question; what are your new incidents?"
Should he tell her it was getting worse? Would it stop the diagnostic, and they would just let him live out the remainder of his days in relative peace…or would they think up some new torture? Would they demand he stay in hospital, where they could keep a better watch on him? Declare Hogwarts as too dangerous?
What if she somehow told Draco?
"…My foot fell asleep…while I was walking on it. And I've been… getting bruises to… pop up at least once a day. Nothing major."
"Uh-huh." Harry couldn't meet her gaze; it was a beacon of mistrust. She knew he was lying the moment he had opened his mouth. "Any dangerous activity? On a lung vanishing scale?"
His magic was reacting to all magic.
Any spell the Healers used could potentially kill him.
"…Not this week." It was a new development; it wouldn't go nasty immediately. He had time to figure out how to say the words.
"Have you been feeling tired recently? Like, more so than usual. Is it difficult to get up in the morning? Do you feel as if you have no energy?"
Yes. "No."
"Do you find yourself moodier than usual? Flying through the emotions?"
"No." Yes.
"Do you find yourself thinking about an end to all this?"
"No." Harry shifted, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. "I'm not thinking …of offing myself. I'm not depressed... And I'm not going mad. I…just had a weak moment. A…temptation…"
Kelly glanced up from her notes, sadness in her eyes. Harry couldn't meet them, and instead stared at the woollen blanket spread across his lap. "Do you…have weak moments often?"
Harry didn't answer, which, in turn, answered her question.
Did he think of dying? Of course. Did he seek death? No.
But he still hadn't told anyone about it progressing. What did one categorise that under, besides pure terror? How was he supposed to tell anyone? Draco wasn't even in the room, and he couldn't utter the words. It's getting worse…help.
No. He stayed silent.
He was nothing more than a coward.
"You've been taking your potions?" Kell didn't linger on the uncomfortable question, instead powered onto the next. She was fighting back the disapproval with an expression of tranquillity, which helped. At least there was no pity in her eyes. Sadness, yes. Confusion, hell yeah. Pity? Not an inkling.
"Yes."
"How many are you taking now?" It was a simple question, but incredibly hard to answer. How many had the hospital told him to take? He should be taking the recommended dosages, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. He was downing potions on every break, trying to supress the magic that thirsted to kill him.
"Uh…a few a day." Harry ended up wheezing out, again avoiding eye contact. "One more than you told me." That didn't sound too bad; it was better than the truth.
"Alright, I'll add a few more in so you can stock up." She knew. Somehow, she knew. "So, anything else to declare?"
Say it.
Say it! Tell her!
"No." Coward.
Kell put her notes down, and instead gave Harry a flat stare. Here came the speech. "Would you like some ice cream?" She asked instead, "Or maybe some chocolate?"
Harry blinked in surprise, but otherwise shook his head. He would just throw it up, and he really didn't have the energy to hold himself over a toilet bowl tonight.
"Alright. Has Hogwarts organised someone for you to talk to?" She was jumping around the subjects today, wasn't she? It felt like she was flipping from topic to topic to confuse Harry; it was a trick Slytherins would use to get a confession from someone.
"Like…what?"
"Like someone for you to talk to. If you have any weak moments, or temptations. I can organise a professional, with your permission. I can have them go to Hogwarts so you won't have to keep coming here."
"No." He wasn't going to talk to some stranger about his fear of dying. There was nothing consolidating for them to say; there's a whole new world beyond this one? You've had a very fulfilling life? Just no. He didn't want a new world, he wanted to live out this one! And he hadn't had the chance to live yet; his life had been very dull in comparison to accomplishments.
"You won't have to do a thing-"
"No."
Kell huffed, clicking her tongue at him. She looked disappointed, which was never a great emotion to display. Disappointment was worse than anger. "Alright. You tell me. What can I do to ensure you don't do something as stupid as use magic again?"
Good god, she was jumping through the emotions today.
It actually made Harry smile, if only a small one, at the effort to keep up.
"I wouldn't have died…" He managed to whisper, barely holding another cough at bay. "Draco won't let me." He scarcely saw her stare of shock.
"And don't you forget it."
Harry glanced up at the drawl, sighing with relief. Draco didn't look upset at being carried off through the hospital by security; in fact, he looked as impassive as ever. But…
He didn't come hurrying over, like Harry had expected. He stayed near the door. Something was wrong.
"What happened this time?" He asked quietly, frowning at Harry's wheezed response.
"Lungs…vanished."
"You're such as spoilt brat; what was with the hysterics? That was practically mild, for you."
Why wasn't he coming closer?
"I'm an attention…whore." Draco's eyebrows shot up at the swear. "You should…know that…I love dramatics…" Why wasn't he coming closer? "Draco…" Harry coughed, grimacing to hold it at bay. This needed to be said. "I'm fine." His hand shook, but he managed to hold it out to invite Draco near. "I'm fine."
It was as if Harry had cast a spell.
Draco moved at the action, slowly. He approached the bed, and grabbed Harry's outstretched hand, surprising everyone by kissing it gently. He sat on the edge of the bed, and leant forwards to kiss Harry's forehead, too.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, curling an arm around to hold Harry's head in place. Which was apparently strategic, because Harry tried to whip his head up at the apology. Instead, it was held still. "I'm so sorry."
"What are you…talking about?" Harry mumbled back, into Draco's chest. "Malfoy's…don't apologize."
"I'm sorry." He continued, incredibly softly. Harry swallowed the bubble that rose in his throat. Draco's fingers had curled into skin so tightly it was painful. "Never again. I promise. I'm sorry."
It was too much.
Draco was terrified for Harry. He was a mess because Harry had cast a single spell.
What the hell was going to happen when he found out it was getting worse?
It was going to break him.
Harry managed to life a heavy arm, curling as tightly as he could around Draco's back. He leant his forehead on Draco's chest, breathing in the painstakingly wonderful scent of vanilla. Despite a quarter of his lungs being regrown, it was harder to breathe now than it was twenty minutes ago.
"I'm sorry, too." He mumbled. Draco didn't need to know why; he would find out soon enough.
The two broken boys sat on the hospital cot, a small bubble of comfort for the pain to come.
.
.
.
"So, what's the stopwatch for?" Harry didn't turn his head to stare at Kelly; only his eyes moved. He wouldn't move even if he could. Draco was pressed up against his side, arm hanging heavily over his chest and his head on Harry's shoulder. He couldn't feel his shoulder, it was so numb, but he didn't dare move; Draco's mouth was open slightly, his face smooth for once. He looked comfortable; a rare expression on the Slytherin's face.
Kelly looked exhausted; her eyes were dulled, and she yawned twice while waiting for a response. She had offered to take the baby-sitting shift; they had to make sure Harry and Draco didn't try to hex each other into oblivion. So far, she had ventured into their room only once, and that was just to check Harry's vitals. He could assume she had calmed down enough to want to talk to him again.
In her hand was the stopwatch Draco had conjured before their duel.
11.4 seconds.
Another item completed.
"To time." Harry whispered back, relieved when she replied with an every overdramatic eye-roll. She wasn't furious anymore.
"You're a hoot." She replied, pulling up a chair. "A real knee jerker. Seriously, what was it used for?"
…
Did it really matter if she knew?
What could she possible do, other than give him a reprimanding speech?
"…The quickest duel recorded was fifteen seconds." Harry replied quietly, watching without particular worry as her eyebrows rose into her hairline. "That was the time to beat."
"…You duelled?" Her voice strained to stay neutral. "In a hospital?"
"Help at hand." At least Harry assumed that was what Draco was intending.
"...Can I ask why you suddenly decided a duel was appropriate, given your situation?" A little bit of sarcasm noted.
"I have a list of things I want to do before I die." It was really strange how he could say it so openly. So blandly. "That was one of them. Well, two of them. Two with one stone." Harry had to glance away at her stare. He trailed back to the ceiling, to stare at the dulled white instead. "Draco didn't want to, so it's my fault. I insisted."
"He could have refused."
"No." Harry swallowed, "He likes me too much."
"You mean worship." Despite her disapproval, there was a grin in her tone. Christ, if only it were that simple.
"No, this is just an infatuation." Harry replied as evenly as he could. "Enjoying the moment. I'll be gone in a few months, Kelly. Do you really think its fair for me to..what, have a relationship?"
"Everyone deserves love."
"That's where we differ with our opinions." Harry mumbled, glancing at her again. The grin was gone, a serious expression on her usually cheerful face.
"You know what," She said, shrugging after a moment to think about it, "It's nearly two in the morning; your brain is clearly deluding you because of lack of sleep. So, go to sleep, and you'll feel better in the morning."
"Can't." Harry replied, turning back to the ceiling. He could feel the heaviness of last week creeping back over, despite Draco forbidding it. "Nightmares."
"I have dreamless sleep."
"I-" Harry broke off as Draco shifted in his sleep, murmuring something incomprehensible. His face was so open when he slept, so calm. No mask in sight; it was a nice change. "I'm fine" Harry ended up whispering, smiling sadly. "I'll just watch him."
"Like a creepy stalker." She replied with a grin, "Alright. I'm down with that. But when I come back, if you're still awake, I'm bringing you some chocolate. And you have to eat it. Healer's orders."
"Course."
Harry watched her leave before turning back to Draco. The blonde had curled around him during the diagnostic, and fallen asleep not long after. The Healer's had forced him to spend the night, and had eagerly told him relatives were not permitted to stay.
Draco stayed, because as Harry pointed out, he was not a relative. And he was Harry Potter, wizarding saviour and vanquisher of Lord Voldemort, and he wanted the blonde prat to stay.
Draco, who had been 'sleeping', had grinned.
It was a nice change from the puffy eyes.
Harry had wanted to swear to never make Draco cry again; he was too good to hurt. Too absolutely brilliant. He wanted to swear another tear would not leave the impeccable grey eyes; Draco would only experience happiness, or contentedness. If he did have a weak moment, it would not be from Harry's doing.
…
If only.
.
.
.
a Record
.
.
.