Hey guys, new chapter! Yay! Well, this took longer than I thought it would to write – I didn't know how to end it, and I didn't want to submit something incomplete. Sorry for the wait guys – I just want to say that if it wasn't for the messages and support, I probably wouldn't have completed this chapter. So thank you to all my readers :)
Don't worry – I will complete it. I won't leave a story on hiatus!
I do not own Harry Potter, I am not making a profit – this is purely for fun, and to pass the time
Chapter 41 - Fallout
Kelly Harris stormed towards the elevator, watching with disinterest as her colleagues threw themselves from her path. It was one ability that Slytherin house taught, and she valued it. Nothing was worse than being in a temper, and having people try to prattle on about their mundane lives, or, worse, try to cheer her up. She only had to still her emotions, and everyone dove the other way. She would be lying if she denied it didn't cheer her up somewhat.
She had kept her promise to the Malfoy brat; she had ventured into the horrible depths of the Research Department, and spoken to a few of the assistants. As soon as they understood what she was asking, which wasn't substantially hard considering she had point blank demanded an answer, they had turned into prattling, less than helpful children.
They dove their heads in the sand, refused to meet her gaze, babbled on about how sick she was for suggesting it. Sick. They had seemed positively disgusted. And, worse, when a supervisor overheard their conversation…he had laughed. Absolute fools, the lot of them. Braindead imbeciles. Fucking-!
She took a deep breath, calming herself as the occupants of the elevator fled and the doors finally isolated her. She took this time to punch the wall once. She hadn't been this pissed off in a long time; her job didn't allow it. How could you console a terrified mother if you were angry, and tense? It didn't work.
She took another deep breath, straightening up and tying her hair into a messy bun. It was time to put the demeaning morning behind her, and focus on her job. She would write a letter to the Malfoy brat later.
"Trainee Harris." Kelly couldn't help the sigh, or the eye roll, or the excessive pulling of her hair. She should have known. It was too easy to just walk out of the elevator and get on with her life. Much too easy. "In here."
Kelly sighed again, lumbering to the room. Patricia Brown only called her 'Trainee' when she was furious at her; this conversation wasn't about to be pleasant.
Kelly shut the door behind her, leaning against it instead of sitting at the gestured chair. If Patricia was going to stand, so was she. There would be no leaning over and reprimanding a child; not today.
"Did Mister Malfoy visit last night?" There was no beating around the bush with Patricia.
"Yup."
"I am correct in guessing that you are the one he spoke to?"
"Yup."
"Good. I guess you can explain this." There was no question, just a guess.
Kelly sighed yet again, staring at the paper that was thrown between them. She knew what it was, having already read it. The Daily Prophet had released an article this morning; the paper would have had to rush to get it in the paper hours after the incident had transpired; that meant that someone in the ward had owled them the story within minutes of it happening. Sneaky little shits.
The heading was atrocious, living up to Prophet standards.
Malfoy heir frequenting St Mungo's; karma, or warranted justice?
"It appears to me that someone has been blabbing about the going ons of this department." Kelly replied easily, watching as Patricia Brown's eyebrow twitched. Oh, she was livid. "It mentions nothing about Potter in it, though, so the privacy waiver is still intact."
"Tell me it's just the usual rubbish the Prophet cooks up."
Kelly clicked her tongue, trying to come up with a way to say this without getting blasted. "Most of it is utter rubbish. Yes, a very distraught Malfoy visited last night, and he and I had a conversation. Most of it goes on about Death-Eaters and how he deserves this shit. Someone had better write him a letter to apologise about this confidentiality breach."
Her mentor was not happy; her eyes had narrowed down to slits. "Most?"
"The article seems to follow our conversation quite accurately. Again, pointing towards the confidentiality breach. I'd have the wards on your office double checked; one of the healers, or patients, clearly doesn't give a damn about the privacy oaths."
Brown gave her a distrusting stare, before sighing and sinking into her chair. She pulled out the roster for the previous night, staring at the names of those on call. Now that she had stopped the intimidation technique, Kelly plonked herself on the seat opposite, crossing her legs as if calm. Inwardly, she was seething. There was no justification for this attack.
"Everyone will have to re-take their oaths." Brown muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead as if easing a headache. "And I've already sent Mister Malfoy and Mister Potter letters. We'll just have to assure them that this won't happen again."
"I don't think they'll care much about the article." Kelly shrugged at the glance, unconcerned. "Harry Potter's been in the papers at least once a week since the war ended; he's used to it. Anyway, it doesn't mention his name; it's focused on Malfoy. And Malfoy won't kick up a fuss, because he's trying to stay in our good books."
"Why would Draco Malfoy give the slightest inkling of want in regards to our good opinions?" Her voice had narrowed again, suspicious. Honestly, it was as if they weren't friends.
"Because we covered his arse for duelling with the Chosen One the other day; he would be in Azkaban if we hadn't." Kelly placated the beast, watching as she turned back to her paperwork. But Kelly had been in Slytherin, and the suspicion directed towards her had royally pissed her off. "Also he asked me a favour, and knows he'll get nowhere by being irritating."
She successfully regained Brown's attention.
"Did you promise-?"
"That can't be." Kelly threw on a mask of innocence, shrugging. It irritated her mentor whenever she shrugged, and this time was no exception. "I'm just a trainee; I can't promise anything without authorization." They stared at each other, neither dropping their gaze. One cynical, the other irate. "But while we're on the subject; how, hypothetically, of course, would one remove their magic, if they wanted to? Any ideas?"
If the tension was palpable seconds earlier, now it could materialize into form and smash the office apart. Kelly had never seen Patricia's nose flare before, and now she realised she was quite fortunate not to. It felt as if she was sitting before a livid Professor McGonagall again, being scolded for cursing tails on the Hufflepuffs.
There was no yelling, however. No firing. Instead, Patricia Brown slid the paperwork before her to the side, and crossed her arms against her breasts. Only then did she speak, quietly, and calmly. Kelly didn't think the calm demeanour would last ten minutes.
"Kelly, what is our first rule of thumb when working with terminally ill patients?" Oh, great. She was going to do this the 'teaching' way. "What is the most crucial rule? What did I warn you about on your very first shift? The one rule?" Since she had repeated the question four times in different ways, Kelly had to assume she wasn't as calm as she was pretending.
"The patient's happiness comes first."
"Try again."
"That's the rule; the patient's happiness comes first. Our patients are likely to die in our care, so their happiness is always prioritized. After, and only after that, comes the medicine; we will do everything in our power to keep them here for as long as we possibly can, if they wish it. We have to keep them comfortable, and-"
"You don't make promises you can't keep!" Kelly blinked, but didn't snap out the jibe on the tip of her tongue. "And you don't promise miracles! You don't tell the families that everything will be okay, when nothing is going to be alright! Their loved ones are dying; they deserve more than ridicule and false hope!"
"I wasn't ridiculing him."
"You are ridiculing this entire department. Our job is to care for the poor souls that end up in this ward. We are not a research division."
"That's why I visited the research department."
"Do you think you're the first Healer to demand treatments they don't have? This is why you shouldn't get attached-"
"Don't get attached? Are you serious? How can you not? We hold their hands as they die; how can you not get attached to that."
"And it was your job to hold Harry Potter's hand; your only job!"
"He doesn't want to die!"
"None of these people want to die! And we don't want them to! It's not something we can change with a snap of our fingers and a single visit to the research department. Use your head, girl. None of these patients are going to get better; there is no treatment. There is no remedy."
"Only because no one is brave enough to study the fucking disease!" Kelly bellowed, shoving her chair away. Patricia blinked at the outburst; her eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. But she didn't interrupt. "It's like its fucking taboo! All I had to do was mention its name, and the researches shoved their heads in the sand. No one mentions is, no books detail it. Even our records are useless; Dates contracted, and dates of death. I mean, what the hell is that useless shit? For all we know, there could be an easy way to cure this vile fucker, but we don't know about it because everyone is too afraid of uncontrollable magic!"
"It's a disease of his magic." Brown replied easily, seeming unperturbed at her shout. "You can't interfere with magic, because it's part of his soul. As you very well know. Now, I know you like this patient. We all have favourites; we shouldn't, but we do. It's understandable if you've connected with him, and you're upset. I understand your frustration. But you will apologize to Mister Malfoy, and you will cease this endeavour. Am I making myself clear?"
Kelly let out a deep breath, trying to calm herself. There was no reason to fight Patricia on this, not when the elder witch had already made up her mind. Kelly had already completed her promise, anyway; she had ventured down to the research department, and she had asked her mentor. She didn't get the answer Malfoy wanted, but then they had both expected that.
Yes, Kelly was frustrated at the lack of interest on developing a cure, but she had a doubt at the front of her mind shaking its head at her; it was mission impossible. It was his magic that was sick; how could you treat magic?
Potter was going to die, and it was about time Malfoy accepted that.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
"You understand that we cannot treat Mister Potter's illness. If there was a possible treatment, it would have been discovered by now."
"Yes."
"This task is just going to leave you disappointed, and miserable. It's for the best to avoid that."
"Most probably."
"You're not going to drop it, are you?"
"Not a chance."
.
.
.
Harry shuffled into the hall with a sigh of relief at the emptiness. Only a few Hufflepuffs and the eighth year Slytherins were irrational enough to venture to breakfast this early, which was exactly how Harry wanted it. A bit of silence before the headache the day would eventually bring. He had mostly studies today, and potions, so there was no way he was going to be able to avoid Draco. He was thankful enough that he had woken first, so the blonde couldn't demand the answers to the twenty questions he now had. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he slipped veritaserum into his pumpkin juice at the moment.
"Well, look who it is." Blaise was the first to notice him, and didn't seem impressed. Harry didn't blame him. "Mister I-don't-need-nobody's-help."
Harry went to open his mouth, but Pansy got in first. "Shut up, you idiot. You're the imbecile for jumping in between their fight; did it look like they wanted help?"
"He can't use magic!" Blaise gestured wildly at Harry, groaning as their only response was to exchange bewildered glances. "It was an unfair advantage!"
"He was doing fine on his own." Pansy flicked Blaise's ear, ignoring his yelp. "They were going to wrestle, and then the tension was going to build, and then they were going to kiss, and fuc-"
"No, we really weren't." Harry interrupted, fully aware that he was turning red, sliding into place besides Theo. They didn't ask him why he had used his magic, they didn't ask him about the fight, or if Draco had confronted him. They just accepted that it was over, and everything was normal. God, why couldn't Gryffindor ever be like this? "Sorry, by the way, for snapping at you."
By Zabini's grin, he looked as if he had been handed the bloody moon. "And the bond strengthens." He dodged a hit from Pansy, and ignored Nott's glare. Honestly, why couldn't everyone be as happily entertained as Blaise? "So, where's Draco?" In an instant he went from easily pleased to conniving Slytherin.
"Asleep." Harry tried to seem dismissive, but it didn't seem to work, given they all wore canary eating smirks.
"Scared, are we?" Nott asked, the picture of innocence. It would have been convincing if he hadn't sniggered.
"No."
"Me thinks you be lying." What the hell was up with that sentence? Blaise ignored his stare, continuing. "Why else would you scurry down here? For the pleasure of our company?"
"To bond." Harry replied, lips twitching as they snorted. Slytherins and their humour. "And, honestly, I wanted to make sure no one was too angry at me." Even at the reminder there was no flash of resentment in any gaze. For a second, Harry thought it was because they simply didn't care, but he vanished the thought before it had time to manifest. They simply weren't judging his rash decisions from the previous night.
"People fight all the time in Slytherin," Pansy cocked her head to the side, genuinely puzzled. "Surely you've noticed it's a common occurrence by now."
"Of course, no one fights Draco." Blaise added, smirking. "Theo came close once, but his better judgement returned when he remembered Draco would fucking obliterate him in a duel. Which brings us back to our previous conversation; are you hiding from our terrifying overlord?"
"No." He tried again, but they didn't believe him. They wouldn't; everyone was afraid of Draco. Harry wasn't afraid of him, considering when he had had a chance to rip into him last night, he had instead made the fucking declaration of a century. No, Harry was afraid of the conversation to come. Of the questions, and the answers he would feel obligated to give. "I am not hiding. I woke first, and thought he needed sleep."
"Uh-huh." He pretended it wasn't annoying as the three Slytherins answered synchronously.
"Whatever," Harry responded to their grins with a reprimand of his own. "You guys didn't even return to the dormitory last night; you didn't even sleep in your own beds in case Draco turned his eye on you. It doesn't matter if I'm avoiding or not; I can still face him."
"Low, Potter…low." They all ignored Blaise's contribution to the conversation and his pout.
"We didn't sleep elsewhere because of fear." Nott sat up, holding up a hand to stop Harry from making another comment. "But self-preservation. Have you seen Blaise try to hold a poker face? One look and Draco would know he had information; look at him!" They all turned to stare at the tanned Slytherin, who grinned at being the centre of attention. "He's an idiot! Draco would wonder how he knew, and would turn to me." Blaise's appalled face made this conversation quite worthwhile. "He would then query how I know so much, and, frankly, I would tell him everything if he looked at me twice. We were already trying to figure out a way to inadvertently tell him."
"Sad, but true." Blaise piped up, shrugging. His distress at the insult was already forgotten.
"And Draco would finally turn his death-glare on you. We were avoiding him… to help you."
"What a load of bullshit." Harry laughed, "You're afraid of him. Admit it!"
"Not even if I was on my deathbed." He blinked as the words left his mouth, realising how inappropriate they were given Harry's current situation. It was fine. In fact, it was something Harry could use against him.
"So, let me get all this straight." Pansy easily brushed over the awkwardness hovering over the small but rather animated group. More students were joining the hall, but their four seats were the loudest. "You all knew…and you didn't tell me? Again? Why am I the only one left out of the secrets, you pack of traitorous bastards?"
Harry snorted as both boys shifted uneasily; if they were scared of Draco, they were equally afraid of Pansy. She had a reputation for castrating, if Harry remembered correctly.
"None of this matters." Blaise ignored the accusation altogether, turning his dark gaze back towards Harry. "Until Potter admits he's avoiding Draco!"
"I'm not!" Harry tried again, but they were already shaking their heads at him.
"These cowards would run and hide, too." Pansy coaxed, throwing a filthy glare at the other two boys. She may have allowed the conversation to be redirected back towards Harry, but she wasn't going to let go of what she deemed a betrayal. Harry almost felt sorry for the other two, until he remembered they had been planning to tell Draco everything. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Join us, Potter." Blaise smirked, "Be a true Slytherin."
"Just so I know I'm getting it right…the prerequisites for Slytherin are self-preservation, slyness…and a fear of Draco Malfoy?"
"Pretty much." A fourth year Slytherin walking by answered for the others. Tch, bloody Slytherins and their excessive comradery.
"I'm not afraid of Draco."
"But you are avoiding him?"
"Does it matter?"
Blaise shrugged, insensitively. "We're bored. This passes the time."
Harry stared at them all, not for the first time feeling nonplussed about Slytherin humour and emotions. They stared back, equally confused at his hesitation. It didn't help that none of them were blinking; it was as if they were trying to hold his gaze like a predator going in for the kill; all too similar to a snake, actually.
Harry finally sighed, ripping his gaze free. They smirked immediately, knowing they had won. Bloody jerks. "He's going to ask awkward questions." He moaned, holding his head in his hands.
"You don't have to answer." Nott pointed out unhelpfully.
"And you don't think he'll hold the I-tried-to-blow-myself-up factor over my head?"
"Lie." Harry didn't even dignify Blaise's contribution with a response; Pansy did for him, whacking his arm and muttering about idiots. Harry had as good a poker face as Blaise when it came to Draco.
"Didn't you talk last night?"
"Uh…kind of. He changed the topic rather quickly."
"There. He doesn't want to talk." Harry turned with raised eyebrows at Pansy, watching as she nodded in admission. She acknowledged Draco's control issues.
"I think we're all forgetting something very important." Nott grabbed the attention, frowning to himself. He stared at the table, nodding at the thoughts processing inside his head. "An overlooked opportunity."
An opportunity? Harry blinked at that, trying to decipher what could possibly be advantageous about spilling his guts about his biggest fears and shames to the one person he respected the most. What opportunity was he disregarding?
"What do you think Draco is going to do first when he walks through that door?" Nott continued, pointing to the back of the hall. "What is the very first thing that he's going to do?"
Harry turned towards the door, thinking about it. The blonde prat would turn his eyes on Harry, as if his very genes were coded with a tracking Harry device. He would come over, eyes blazing with emotion though his face would be clam. He would…
The other two were nodding, eyes widening. What was Harry missing? Something obvious? Something so apparent that he, who was closest to Draco, couldn't see it? What missed opportunity?
"Do you understand?" Nott continued, voice serious. He shared a nod with his friends, finally turning to face Harry. "I have a galleon that his first word will be 'Potty'."
…
What?
"A galleon that he's going to chastise Potter." Pansy added, flicking her gold coin onto the table.
"Too ambiguous."
"Fine. He's going to flick his ear." And it could possibly happen.
Harry blinked, turning to Blaise. The traitor shrugged, slamming his own gold coin onto the table besides Pansy's. "A galleon Draco's not going to say a word, but is going to sit so close to Potter that their hips will be touching."
A missed opportunity indeed.
"You bastards." Harry sighed, blinking as the plates began to appear along the table. He grabbed himself some toast, despite his lack of appetite.
"What's your bet, Potter?" Nott asked, smirk crossing his face. "What do you think Draco'll do when he steps through those doors?"
"I'm not betting."
"Live a little." He blinked again, grimacing at his lack of taste of words. "I'm not doing so well today." He muttered, turning with raised eyebrows as a second year that was passing their spot hesitated, biting her lip.
The girl glanced at Harry, before reaching into her robe and pulling out a galleon. "A galleon that Malfoy'll ignore Potter altogether. No eye contact, and no speaking at all for the first few minutes."
Fucking Slytherins.
The betting refused to dwindle into breakfast, despite the appearance of the teachers and the attention they were getting from the entire hall as the pile of gold grew between the eighth year students. They couldn't really call them up for breaking rules, because Theo didn't write a word down. He listened to the bets, nodded or blinked, depending on the student, and turned to the next Slytherin. Harry didn't know how he was remembering the specifics of the bets and matching it with the individual students, but according to Blaise, it was one of his many talents.
The bets gained different reactions depending on their specificity. And most of them surrounded Harry.
"A galleon he'll steal Potter's toast, without saying a word."
"A galleon he'll whack the back of his head."
"A galleon he'll force whoever is sitting next to Potter to move over, without saying a word."
"That one's taken."
"…Fine. He'll squeeze in between you, Theo, and Potter." That one got quite a few nods.
It was ridiculous.
And every Slytherin wanted in on it. Pricks, the lot of them.
"This looks like fun. Can I join in, Harry?" Harry snapped his head up at the dreamy voice, watching as Luna of all people stood before Theo, staring at the rather large pile of coins. She turned her large eyes on Harry, smiling widely. "Are you donating money?"
"They're gambling." Harry replied, smirking at the silence at the table. Pansy had a snarl on her face, Theo looked as though he wanted to snap at the Ravenclaw, and Blaise's eyebrows had risen into his hairline. But they didn't anything. The Slytherins around their group were, similarly, growing quiet at the strange company. "They're betting on what Draco will do when he enters the hall."
"That's a rather odd thing to do." She replied, cocking her head to the side. "Slytherin's can be rather strange, can't they?" She turned to head to stare at Pansy as she coughed into her juice. "Draco will obviously try to get rid of the wrackspurts floating around in his head, and then he'll pinch your bottom."
"Luna," Harry spluttered, pretending his face wasn't turning red, or the Slytherins around him were fighting incredulous laughter. "Don't give them ideas!"
But his friend wasn't listening; he watched partly bemused partly horrified as she reached into her robe to withdraw corkscrew earrings, which she place besides the pile of gold. She nodded happily, and plonked herself down between Pansy and Blaise, unconcerned when they both slid away from her.
"How have you been, Harry?" She asked, still reaching into her robes. She began to pull a weird assortment from her pockets, including a doorknob, some scrunched up roses, and three spoons, of all things. "You seem thinner. The corn didn't work as well as I hoped." She finally pulled out what she was searching for, a string of mint leaves tied together. She reached over to grab Harry's hand, frowning at the cuts, before tying the mint around his wrist. "There. That should help some."
Harry couldn't help the smile; between the bewildered, angry glances of the Slytherins, and the distant, dreamy gaze of Luna, Harry didn't know whether to be worried or happy.
"Where is Draco?" Luna asked, turning her large gaze of Pansy as the other witch mouthed something to Theo. "Are you avoiding him?"
That brought a snort from the Slytherins, but they still didn't say anything. Harry glanced at them, taking in the irritation, slight humour, and intolerance of his friend. But they weren't mean. They didn't sneer, or snap at her. They would permit her, if she made Harry happy.
"I'm not avoiding him."
"Oh, good. I thought he was moping because of the article, but he should know better than to trust the Prophet. They write absolute rubbish in that paper."
…
Harry blinked, his stomach sinking. A quick glance around the table summoned up the same expression; confusion. He turned to the rest of the table, taking in the excessive interest in the paper. In fact, the entire student body seemed to be absorbed with the paper.
What had happened now?
Pansy was quick to grab a second year by the collar; all it took was for her to tut once, and the prophet miraculously appeared before her. She had a real talent.
Harry watched with unease as she scanned the paper, taking notice of how her lips thinned and her nose scrunched up with disgust. Not a particularly pleasant article, then. She passed it to Theo, who read it in silence.
Great. He had been enjoying his morning.
Harry sighed, and pulled over another piece of toast, turning back to Luna. "How have you been? Ready for the exams?"
"I'm doing better, thank you." She smiled, utterly unaware of the anger that seemed to spread amongst the other eighth years around them. "Ginny has calmed down quite a lot; she's a lot nicer to talk to, now. In fact, a lot of people are being nicer since Ronald and Neville started snapping at them for being mean. It's a lovely change in atmosphere; it was all fun and games until someone can't find their shoe."
Luna didn't seem perturbed that Pansy was staring at her as if she had two heads. She turned back and met her eye for eye, smiling. "They're being nicer, aren't they?"
"They're not cursing us at every corner, if that's what you mean." She muttered back, staring at Harry instead as if asking for help. "But they're still being a pack of arseholes."
"Potter." Nott handed him the paper, blinking as Harry handed it straight to Blaise. "Don't you want to read it?"
"Am I in it?" Harry replied dryly, shrugging at the shake of his head. "Then not particularly."
"But it-"
"The prophet makes up half its nonsense. I don't care what rubbish story they've made up that involves Draco. Probably some Death Eater garbage that I don't care about."
"You say that now," Nott muttered, "But then you don't know what is in the article."
Harry frowned, glancing around the hall. Students were laughing, turning in their seats to watch Draco's reaction. Harry was glad his blonde prat wasn't in the hall to be subjected to such scrutiny. Then, he turned to the other Slytherins. None of his new friends looked impressed; in fact, they seemed grim, and extremely pissed off.
"There's no truth in it, is there?" Harry found himself asking, sighing as they shrugged.
"It's about how someone close to Draco is stuck in hospital, and he visits them often." Blaise spoke up, throwing the paper at the table. "It says that he's distraught, and that he deserves it."
"I thought they couldn't hand out information about…" Harry stopped as an owl landed in front of him, leg held out to display the St Mungo's seal on two envelopes. He didn't want to take it. He hadn't read the article, and didn't want to.
Pansy reached over and snatched up both envelopes, ripping into them without a second glance. She skimmed it, throwing them both towards the paper. "Rubbish about confidentiality and hoping you aren't going to sue them."
Harry wasn't even particularly cross; he was irritated the prophet had released an article which wouldn't make Draco's stress moderate, but what was the point in worrying? He was sick and tired of this drama; he had had a break down the night previously, risked his life, inadvertently revealed information he would rather forget…and now the prophet thought they could complicate his life a little bit more? They hadn't mentioned him outright, but it still implicated him.
It would hover around the halls in whispers and stares. Rumours would spread, and the pressure on his shoulders would escalate.
Even now, Slytherin table was growing quiet as each individual finished the paper. One by one the students turned to stare at Harry, frowns marring their expressions. They thought it was his fault their 'leader' was being criticized in this manner. After last night, Harry hadn't expected the affability to continue, but this was something else entirely. Their stares were calculated, antagonistic.
A fifth year girl with bright blue eyes which were narrowed into slits shoved herself from her seat, grimace on her face as she stormed towards their little group. The attention of the hall focused on her quick pace and strained appearance. She reached them quickly, folding her arms across her chest and leaning forwards angrily.
You could hear dust settle; the silence was deafening. The tension was unbearable.
The girl glanced at her friends, grimacing again, before she settled her eyes on Theo.
"I want to change my bet! This new information changes everything!"
It started an uproar.
Suddenly, most of the Slytherins were on their feet, hurrying over to get their two pieces in.
"Surely there should be an amendment of the rules?"
"We should all be able to change the wager at least once."
"I need to change my decision!"
"Me too!"
Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. They didn't care about the article at all, not when they had a wager going. Bloody Slytherins.
Luna watched the yelling with interest, occasionally flicking the air, no doubt catching the rouge wrackspurts. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying sitting at the new table. Pansy was keeping an eye on her with an expression close to unease on her face. She didn't know how to take Luna, especially when she could meet her gaze eye to eye without blinking.
"All bets are final!" Nott stood up, his snarl silencing the crowd. He waited until they had all quieted down, ensuring he had every Slytherin eye. "However, I will take new bets. Double your chances at winning, more than one bet allowed!" And there was a stampede of students rushing at their table, flinging coins at their plates.
Harry had to remove two coins from his toast before he could take a bite. Surely the professors wouldn't allow his activity for much longer; Flitwick was certainly watching their table with interest.
"How is this going to work, anyway?" Harry had to yell to speak over the horde of Slytherins, and had to clap before he grabbed Blaise's attention. "What if Draco does two of the bets?"
"It goes to the first action!" Blaise yelled back. He pulled out his wand, probably to charm a silencing bubble around them, but hesitated with it half-drawn. He glanced at Harry, before returning it. The small action felt like a kick in the stomach.
"But what if he does more than one? What if he comes sauntering over, and says 'Potty, you twat, how are your hands?' and flicks my forehead whilst stealing my toast? That's five bets already!"
"Well, Theo wins, obviously. He picked the 'Potty' nickname."
Obviously.
"Come on, Potter. Join the fun; place a bet."
"I'm not interested." All of the bets, sans Luna's, were plausible. It was going to be interesting to see the lucky student claim their prize; how many galleons could fit in one cloak's pockets?
Harry gaze wandered to the door. Breakfast was going to be a disappointment if Draco didn't turn up. They would have mutinous Slytherins on their hands, demanding blood or compensation. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the majority of Slytherin were going to attempt to follow Harry into potions to witness Draco's first actions of the day. They were a determined little bunch.
He was aware to some degree that Blaise was trying to speak to him again, but his eyes drifted over the other tables on his way back to focus on his tanned friend.
He made eye contact with several Ravenclaws, who seemed sympathetic. Why would a bunch of Ravenclaws, who he had never met, be pitying him?
His gaze moved further, to the Hufflepuff table. And, sure enough, there were students glancing at him. At him. Not at the large pile of gold in front of his plate; they made eye contact before they glanced away. And again, at Gryffindor. Ron looked wretched, whilst Ginny was grinning. And the others kept sparing him curious glances; it was as if they wanted to see his reaction.
What possible reaction would he have to the article? He wasn't in it, right?
"Are you sure I'm not mentioned in the article?" Harry had to ask, continuing his search along the tables. They were staring at him and the coins at equal rates. Surely a mountain of gold would be more fascinating?
"Oh, don't worry about them, Harry." Luna turned around to give the hall a dazed stare, shrugging. "They're just interested in how you're going to take it."
"Why would I react differently than everyone else?" He was still Draco's friend; he would be, and was, irate on behalf of his classmate. Surely they didn't expect him to beat his fists and start cursing them left, right, and centre. Yes, he had done it before. But that was when the rest of the students had been in the wrong, and needed to be taught that the bullying had gone far enough. They had nothing to do with the article.
"Because of the rumours." Pansy answered for Luna, shifting under the owl stare she received for it. She really didn't know how to treat the Ravenclaw oddity. "Half the school think you and Draco are fucking, the other half think you're being forced to spend time with us. Seriously, do you live under a rock?"
"I know about the rumours." Harry sighed, "I don't care about them; I'll do what I want."
"Yes, except the article didn't state who it is that Draco visits in hospital." Pansy shifted further from Luna as she spoke. "It speculated on relative or lover, focusing on lover. If he's off cavoodaling with you here…who is he so distraught for in the hospital? These arrogant little shits think he's been exposed as a cheater and a fraud. It didn't exactly paint him in the best light."
Harry stared around the room again, this time with a frown. The glances he received were curious, expectant…smug. Why would they be smug? Smug because they thought they had proof Harry and Draco were not frolicking about the castle, or smug because they assumed Harry would be pissed off at Draco? Why would they be smug about a particularly mean piece written about a classmate?
"It has been a hot topic." Luna thought to add, unhelpfully. "Since you do fight a lot in public, and you do sort of follow him around like a lost puppy. And Ginny has been complaining a lot about what Draco said to her a few weeks ago."
"What did Draco say to Ginny?" Draco wouldn't even go near Ginny with a ten foot pole and armed with his wand. He detested Ginny.
"I can't repeat that." Luna sighed, reaching over to steal a piece of Harry's leftover toast. "He was quite rude. Maybe you should pinch his bottom when he comes over?"
Harry didn't know how all this made him feel.
His stomach twisted with an unfamiliar emotion; it kind of hurt, actually. It sounded like no one thought Draco was worth any of Harry's time. When, in fact, Draco had given Harry more time just by being in his life. It was utterly unfair.
Why did they all hate Draco?
Sure, he could be a bit of a prick. He sneered, and frightened the first years, and a good deal of the student population. He was snarky, and rude, and spoilt, and had been on the wrong side of the war.
He held Harry tight during the diagnostics; he was his only support.
He helped him complete number after number on his stupid list.
He had learnt how to declare his love in fifty different languages.
Why didn't anyone else see how utterly human Draco was?
"So…it's been like a conspiracy theory?" Harry asked quietly, "Everyone's been arguing over Draco's and my… relationship?"
"Well, is it a relationship?" Pansy asked, raising her eyebrows at Harry's offended stare. "What? You don't tell us jack shit, and you deny everything when you can. You're not affectionate; I'd consider you friends with benefits at most."
…
Harry blinked at that. Friends with benefits?
…
Not affectionate?
It was as if everyone…didn't approve. Christ, he didn't need their consent, or agreement, or support. But he was indignant for their relationship to not be recognized. Hell, everyone was smug at the article because they thought they had exposed the 'truth'? Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter couldn't possibly have a relationship! Look, he has a lover in the hospital! We were worried all this time for nothing! The Wizarding saviour couldn't possibly like a guy.
Harry felt…
He didn't like this feeling.
Before he had a chance to justify himself, or tell Pansy that his relationship with Draco was no one's business and she could shove her 'friends with benefits' term up her arse, the hall fell silent.
Harry faced the door like everyone else, taking in the blonde prat who hesitated slightly at the rapt attention on him. He shrugged it off, though, disinterested as he began to saunter over the Slytherin table.
Harry couldn't help it when his gaze flicked back to the other tables. Smug. They were smirking to one another; they couldn't wait for Draco to read the paper and get hurt. They couldn't wait for Harry's reaction.
Arrogant bastards.
So, they thought their little 'conspiracy theory' was settled, did they?
He glanced at Pansy. Tch. Not affectionate.
Before he really knew what he was doing, Harry had shoved himself from the table, and jerked his hand into his robe. He ignored the gaping mouths of his friends, instead tossed a gold coin onto the pile.
"A galleon that he'll fucking kiss me." He growled, walking along the table. He was all too aware that his face was already a brilliant red, and that he could hear the bench scraping as people scrambled to their feet behind him. He knew this was taking a bit of jealousy way too far, and that Draco would not appreciate what he was about to do. He knew he had captured every eye of every student.
Half were waiting to see if he had the guts to do what he had just declared, the other half waiting to see if a fight was going to break out. He hated the latter.
So he paced down the hall, striding towards the blonde prat that he had been avoiding all morning. Draco saw him coming immediately; he cocked an eyebrow, glancing once at the rapt attention the school was given them, before dismissing it. He was too omnipotent to concern himself with the attentions of other students.
He walked with something akin to a strut, eyebrows raised, and smirk flittering across his face. A few more metres. Three more metres. He wasn't the least bit suspicious; in fact, his eyes shone with amusement at Harry's scarlet yet determined face. Harry briefly wondered just how quickly that amusement would flee.
"Pot-?" He shoved a hand to cover his mouth, ignoring the twisting of his stomach at the cocky smirk he could feel stretching beneath his palm. He had had to do it. Nott was about to win the bet. Draco's eyebrows almost disappeared, but he didn't shove Harry's hand away.
Harry didn't care that everyone was watching.
He moved his hand to the back of Draco's head instead, as a precaution if he tried to jerk away. And before those grey eyes could draw an answer from Harry's, he stepped closer and brought their lips together.
Draco immediately stiffened; public affection was not in his repertoire. Harry kissed unmoving lips for a moment, noticing the smirk had vanished instantaneously. He couldn't help the sigh of discontent. Honestly, what had he been thinking? Another impressive disappointment.
Harry took a step back.
And Draco took a step forwards.
Hands snapped to his thin sides, keeping him from moving further away. The blonde hummed slightly, probably wondering what this unusual display of public affection was all about. But then, unexpectedly…he leant forwards and returned the kiss.
With a breath of relief, Harry let the usual scent of vanilla overwhelm his senses, and block out the stares of the hall. They kissed in silence, but it was what Harry needed. Soft, gentle, and warm.
Draco curled his arms around Harry's back, forcing him closer. He deepened the kiss, removing the innocence as he slid his tongue over Harry's lips and into his mouth. The smirk was inching its way back across the blonde's face.
Harry tried to pull back, but Draco's lips followed him, never breaking contact.
He huffed indignantly, but was met with a chuckle.
Alright. If this was how he was going to play.
Harry bit Draco's lip, smirking himself as the blonde jumped in shock, raising his eyebrows. Harry was dimly aware of the Slytherins catcalling across the room.
"Draco," Harry started, narrowing his eyes as the git just smirked and cocked his head to the side. "They're-"
"You wanted this." Draco whispered back, haughtiness radiating through his simple words. "Are you regretting your decision?"
Oh, the bastard was going to challenge Harry, was he?
Harry squared himself for the rumours to come, and met Draco's challenge with a clash of lips and teeth.
.
.
a conspiracy theory
.
.
.
Draco watched as Harry spoke in whispers to Pansy of all people, as the two of them tried to figure out the potion equation. They didn't ask for help, despite the fact Draco was sitting at the same table, in spite of Draco being the top student in Potions at the moment, and even though he had told them not ten minutes ago that if they required any aid, he would assist them.
Harry was avoiding him.
It was a bit apparent at breakfast, after their snogging battle. It had to be described as a battle, since neither was going to concede and stop first. In fact, they had only separated after a mortified Slughorn had approached and pleaded for them to. Harry's lips had been swollen, his face red, his chest heaving as he tried to force some air to his lungs. It had been brilliant.
Draco knew now, somewhat, why Harry had demanded the kiss. He had glimpsed at the prophet article, rubbish that it was. But surely that alone wouldn't compel Harry to show off their relationship. Someone had obviously said something that planted a little seed of doubt, or anger, into Harry's head. And Draco wasn't complaining about the outcome; forcing Harry to sit whilst kissing him, and then climbing onto his lap during breakfast had been quite amusing. The first years would be scarred.
But Harry had been rash, as he always was. Thinking about consequences after the action. And these consequences would be exceptionally unkind. All it took was one vindictive student, and another article would be released about them tomorrow morning.
After Slughorn had shuffled back to his table, Harry and Draco decided to re-join their friends. Gaping faces from the rest of the student population, and embarrassment from the Slytherins. A shit eating grin from Pansy, and…oh god, why was Loony Lovegood at the table?
Draco had squeezed in between Theo and Harry, stolen his toast, and narrowed his eyes at the sheer amount of head thumping the rest of the Slytherins were participating in. It surely had something to do with the large portion of gold on the table, which Harry slowly started pocketing without a word. No one spoke during breakfast, which could be attributed to Harry's embarrassment and the others' mortification, or in Pansy's view, ecstasy.
And then the avoiding begun.
It had been subtle at first. Harry walking to class positioned between Theo and Blaise, listening with interest at their Hufflepuff jokes without batting an eye. Pansy linked arms with him when she had to use the bathroom, dragging him off behind her. In fact, the three Slytherins followed them everywhere. When they went to study before potions, they pulled up chairs to their table. They followed them for morning tea. At lunch. Harry and Draco weren't given a single moment alone.
That, coupled with the fact Harry seemed more than happy to go along with whatever convoluted plan this was. Christ, he followed Pansy to the girl's bathroom. He listened at lunch rather intently as she explained with excessive detail how every other girl was inferior when compared to herself. He put up with Blaise's jokes, which had quickly moved from Hufflepuff to Gryffindor.
He paid rapt attention during Potions. Potions. Slughorn hadn't been able to glance at their desk without turning a bright shade of burgundy, but even he had nodded with satisfaction at Harry's participation in his worst class.
And here he was…working on his potions homework with Pansy of all people.
Draco could understand his hesitance. He was human, after all. He knew Harry was embarrassed about his outburst last night. He knew he was vulnerable; it would be unpleasant to have ones secrets discovered. Draco certainly had skeletons in his closet he didn't want Harry to unveil.
But that didn't change the fact Draco was irritated. In fact, he would go as far to say he was bubbling on the cusp of livid.
He could have throttled Harry last night. His hands itched to.
Instead, he pulled fragments of his wand from his palms, made weak jokes about his own non-existent list, and held the prat until he fell asleep.
He wanted to yell until his throat was coarse and bleeding, but instead he had reassured the git.
What more did he have to do?
Draco watched silently as Harry frowned at the equation, a hand running through his hair. He slumped against the table, muttering to himself.
"This is impossible. Why're there letters in a math equation?"
"Because most equations have letters." Pansy smirked back, but she too wore a frown. "I just don't understand what 'j' stands for. 'J' times 'N'. What the hell? 'N' means time, so 'J' stands for…what is it?"
"Judgement of Time." Draco drawled from across the table, watching as Pansy glanced at Harry before turning to him. Harry didn't lift his head from the table at all; he showed no outward interest. "You have to use your previous assumption of time and use it against the actual amount of simmering time. It tests your profound knowledge of potion brewing, as there can only be a single solution. If your predictions are off, your answer will be, too."
"How could you possibly know that?" Harry sighed, still staring at the book before him.
"That's just cruel." Pansy spoke over Harry, frowning at the equation. "Half the class won't know this stuff." By speaking, she deflected the attention.
Draco blinked. This alliance had to stop.
"You should stop trying to elude me, Harry." He ended up drawling, leaning back in his chair as they exchanged another glance. "It's accomplishing nothing, other than pissing me off. If you're worried about what I'm going to ask you when we're alone, you shouldn't be. I'm more than capable of asking it in public."
Now the green eyes met his, flashing with anger. The ire didn't replace the embarrassment, as Draco had wanted.
"Much like your kiss; you placed a wager on me. Not very sporting, considering what I told you last night."
"You want to do this here?" Harry asked warily, glancing around the library. "Now?"
"You've been dodging me the entire day; how else am I supposed to speak to you?"
Pansy looked absolutely horrified, even in the face of some marvellous gossip. She stared quite openly at the library entrance, finger twitching on her books as if deciding to risk taking them, or if a sacrifice was needed for her escape.
"You can leave, if you want." Harry had also noticed her distress. "Thanks for helping me study." Tch, he was sticking to the lie. Obtuse Gryffindor. "And I haven't been dodging you; I've been in all of your classes, I've eaten lunch with you-"
"This is the first time you've looked me in the eye." Draco replied evenly, shoving his irritation down further. At least Harry seemed guilty; he tore his eyes away before the short sentence could finish. Instead, he watched sullenly as Pansy snatched up her belongings and hurried to leave the room.
Draco waited until she was out of earshot before continuing quietly. "You have nothing to be ashamed about-"
"Let's not creep into pitying territory, shall we?" Harry was quick to cut him off, grimacing. "You want to do this here? Fine. I'll give you one question, and only one, because I'm really fucking terrified of this conversation."
Well, that was certainly honest.
Draco's gaze didn't waver from Harry, despite the brunette seeming infuriatingly absorbed in the potions equation again. They both knew what question was burning a way from Draco's lips.
The cupboard.
Up until the age of eleven, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs.
Oh, he really wanted to know the circumstances that surrounded the fucking cupboard.
But Harry couldn't maintain eye contact. His fists were clenched so that his knuckles had turned white. He would answer, too. Draco knew he would.
So, he asked. "Are you alright?"
.
.
.
Harry gaped.
That was his question? He had free range over anything Harry had been keeping from him, and his question was about his wellbeing? What sort of game was…?
Oh. Of course. He was trying to guilt him.
"You've wasted a good opportunity." Harry replied, instead of kicking him like he wanted. His foot was itching to swing out and connect with the blonde's shins; he was trying to be the 'better man' in this situation? Draco Malfoy was going to be the responsible party? "Even Blaise would have leapt at that opening."
"Isn't it lucky for you that I am not Blaise?" Draco drawled back, eyebrows raised. "You've ignored my question. Aren't you going to dignify me with an answer?"
He wasn't serious. But, at a glance at the cocked head and the very apparent lack of a smirk, he was. There was an undertone of anger in his eyes, quite justifiably. The fight Harry had been avoiding simmered under the surface of their conversation.
So Harry sighed inwardly, and answered the ridiculous question. "I'm fine."
"Liar." Draco's tone was aloof to anyone eavesdropping on their conversation, but Harry heard the hard edges in each syllable. "Try again."
"What do you want from me, Draco?" Harry didn't have the energy to deal with this. He was exhausted to the point his arms hurt when he tried to lift them. Everything was heavy. His head thumped just inside his skull, an insistent knocking. And he felt miserable; the breakfast this morning had been fun, but painful all the same. He couldn't keep happy charade up; his emotions changed as often as flipping a page. One moment he was enjoying himself, the next he was overcome with anger, or sadness. And, worse, Draco was staring at him with disappointment. Disappointment was worse than anger any day.
"I want my question answered properly." He replied, face still and eyes hard. "Are. You. Alright?"
"I told you I'm-"
"Are. You-"
"No!"
"Good. Do you want to know why you're not alright?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me." Harry huffed, glancing at the several students who had started whispering at his outburst. Was he seriously that entertaining? God, why couldn't everyone just leave him to his own devices?
"Because you're a selfish, stubborn fool." Draco replied as if he was discussing the weather. "You're ignorant, senseless, and don't regret a single thing. You're a twatty bastard."
...
Harry sighed, shutting his book and meeting Draco's gaze eye to eye. He couldn't be done already, and, sure enough, he wasn't.
"You're a delusional moronic prick with the self-esteem of a slug."
"Are you done?"
"You're a bad fiancé." Draco stated, stretching his arms and getting to his feet. He eyed Harry for a moment, gesturing his head for them to leave the library.
Harry sighed again, and packed up his stuff. Draco had every right to be angry, considering his time with Harry had been cut short yet again. But none of those slurs had been particularly bad. Draco had an incredibly vulgar vocabulary at his disposal, and the best he could come up with was a 'slug'?
"You're behaving better than I thought you would." Harry found himself admitting as they left the library, heading back towards the common room. Neither had spoken, and despite Harry trying to avoid Draco all day…the moment they were together, and they had nothing to say to one another? Well, that hurt. The silence was deafening; it was worse than being yelled at.
Draco didn't even glance at him, and his tone was casual disinterest. "Oh, how so?"
It was hard to pretend a new wave of unhappiness didn't wash over him at the reply. Harry swallowed, and shrugged, staring at the floor instead. He knew this was going to happen; no point getting worked up over it. And yet, his throat constricted and it took a few moments to reply. "You're not as angry as I thought. I thought you were going to pin me to the floor or something and force your answers out of me."
"That's where you're wrong. I'm fucking livid; but between my anger and your stubbornness, we would start a new wizarding war. Best to avoid that."
"…you may be onto something there."
They continued in agonizing silence.
Harry's stomach twisted painfully, as if he was going to be violently ill. He hated this feeling of inadequacy, of shame. Yes, he had withheld information about his wellbeing to Draco. But it wasn't as if it was a prerequisite of their…what? Relationship?...to inform Draco about every going ons in his life.
…
Yes, Harry knew he was just making up excuses. He was in the wrong. He had hurt Draco's feelings, and he was feeling miserable for it. But what could be possibly do? There was no avoiding his magic.
"I'm sorr-"
"So, no more spells." Draco cut him off, tone still aloof. "It's feasible, I suppose. But what about potions? Any adverse effects for them?"
Harry stared at him blankly; to be completely honest, he hadn't even thought about that yet. He had been forcing down his dosages without even suspecting any consequences. God, what if his potions weren't right, either? How was he supposed to supress his magic then?
"Well? If I take you to the hospital will your lungs collapse, or something equally horrendous? How about the daily potions? Are they safe?"
"I…don't know."
"Well, what did the Healers say? Any hints in how its going to progress now?"
Harry sighed, and forced his feet to follow Draco. He wanted nothing more than to stop walking and see if Draco would wait for him or continue down the corridor. He knew what the reaction would be, too. Harry would be alone in the hallway within seconds. "Can we talk about something else? Please? I mean, a very public corridor-"
"The current conversation not stimulating enough for you?" Draco's drawl held nothing of humour. "No interest in your health?"
How could he possibly force Draco to understand the feelings Harry didn't want to acknowledge? How could he showcase his fears? "Draco, I'm sor-"
"How are you supposed to attend class?" Draco interrupted again, lips twitching to restrain the grimace that struggled to break free. "What if a stray spell hits you?"
"I don't know."
"Are you going to continue joining class? Is there a stronger potion you can take?"
"I don't know."
"There's an awful lot you claim not to know!" Draco snapped, spinning around to glare at Harry. The only reason he stopped was because the moving staircase forced him to. "What did the healers say?"
Draco was truthful about being livid; his eyes flashed with anger, and his fingers twitched against his side. And with Harry's answer, the slipping mask was going to be hurtled away.
Christ, he didn't want to do it.
Harry stared at Draco as long as he could. The raised eyebrows, the slight scrunch of his forehead that indicated his imploding temper. This was considered calm in comparison of his next reaction.
"…I haven't told them."
Draco wasted no time in snatching up the front of Harry's robes, and throwing him towards the staircase railing. And, to be honest, Harry didn't blame him.
.
.
.
"Fucking Potter." Blaise glanced up at his roommate at the swear, raising his eyebrows. Theo had been uncharacteristically coupling Potter's name with choice curses for several minutes now. Blaise was impressed that he was somehow working the profanities in with his charms homework; it was a challenge the Slytherins often braved. Pansy had the record with three swears incorporated in her Potions essay, but it sounded as if Theo was about the take the prize. "Bloody git."
"I would angle away from pronouns, like his name." He was only trying to help; the glare was a bit much. "Why not try 'Scarhead', or 'Chosen One'? Less recognizable."
"I'm not adding curses to the essay."
"You should. We can't let Pansy have this victory."
"He lost me money."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you take ten percent of all bets anyway. You gained money from your little exploitation."
Theo still didn't seem reassured; if anything, the mention of his lucrative business irritated him further. "It was a dick move! Placing a bet, and then ensuring it! It was-!"
"Slytherin?" That shut up Theo, who rolled his eyes instead. How odd. It was as noticeable as a sledgehammer between the eyes, but Theo had changed recently. It was only little occurrences, such as the eye roll. Theo thought eye rolling was too immature for the likes of him; Blaise remembered being lectured on the childish nature of it in third year. And yet here he was, acting, Salazar forbid, like the teenager he was. This year had changed everyone. Subtly, but brilliantly.
"He's supposed to be the naïve one." Theo got to the point of his frustration.
"I think he's plenty naïve." And why did he get another glare in return for his statement? Was he just supposed to nod and listen to the complaints?
"He's as good as acting as the rest of us." Ah.
"It's his choice."
"And we don't interfere, even if it's the wrong choice?"
"Wow, this is bordering on ethics. You know, that weird word that implies we give a shit?"
Theo finally managed to crack a smile, even if it was slightly strained. He rolled his eyes again, shrugging as if Potter's lack of a wellbeing didn't concern him at all. "You could have let me curse in peace; you're the one that started the heart to heart."
"Well, I-" He didn't get to finish that sentence, as the common room entrance slammed open; the force shattered some of the bricks and flinging them across the room.
There was only one wizard angry enough to force the castle to destroy itself at his arrivals. And, sure enough, it was Draco who barged into the room.
Blaise glanced at Theo, sighing in relief at his nod. Pact quickly made and in immediate effect, neither moved as Draco stormed past them. Neither made eye contact, or made any expression at all. It wouldn't do them any good by being in Draco's attention field.
That, and he already had a victim. They weren't suicidal.
Draco stormed past them, Potter's robes clenched in his fists.
Potter seemed resigned to the situation, shoulders slumped and unhappy. But he made no move to jerk himself free when he had every capability to. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged through the room to the dormitories, sigh on his lips.
Honestly, those two. This morning they were snogging, but by afternoon they were at each other's throats. Blaise didn't understand it.
The door slammed shut, and everyone could breathe again.
Blaise couldn't help but smirk. "…That was your chance to embrace your newfound ethics. Go on; save Potter."
"Shut the hell up."
.
.
.
Harry fell against the bed, sighing inwardly as Draco crossed to his trunk. Neither had said a word since the staircase, strategically in Harry's case. Draco's hands had been shaking with the effort to, in all probability, restrain himself from throwing Harry over the railing. He was too furious to speak.
Harry was too tired. What could he possibly say? There was no correct phrase here, no magic words. There was nothing to placate the situation.
So Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching with a blank expression as Draco rummaged through his trunk. He knew his lack of contrition was infuriating Draco, but he couldn't help it. He didn't regret his decision.
Draco had found what he had been searching for; parchment and a quill. He stormed to the bedside table, slamming both against the surface. Harry just blinked blankly at it; did he want a confession?
"Write to Healer Brown. Now." His demand was snarled out; there wasn't a glimmer of calm in Draco's entire body at the moment. Not one cell possessed any composure. "Tell her it's escalated. Book a session."
"No." The quill exploded, sending shard of wood across the room. A new one was summoned immediately, despite the ferocity of Draco's magic.
"Write to Brown."
"No." Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat as a strangled noise tore its way from Draco. It was a horrifying combination of a sob and a howl. Neither sound should ever be associated with Draco. Harry watched miserably as he shoved himself away from the bedside table to pace along the room. "They won't let me stay at school."
"They can't just kick you out of school! You're not a danger to anyone!"
"Aren't I?" Harry spoke quietly, and to the floor. The carpet wouldn't lash out at him. "Explain that to the first year that'll witness my limbs ripping themselves from my body, or me drowning on my own blood. They'll try to help, cast a spell on me, and make it worse."
Draco growled to himself, running a hand through his hair. He was struggling to find words. Draco Malfoy, known for having a magnitude of retorts for any statement, didn't know what to say. God, Harry hated himself for causing this. "I don't…I just…!" He growled again, finally turning to face Harry.
His eyes were watery.
"If the Healers haven't picked up on it-!"
"I've been lying with my questions." Harry replied quietly. He couldn't lie now. Not when Draco was breaking.
"For how long?" Draco asked, voice breaking when he had to repeat himself. "For how long?"
"Weeks. Maybe a bit longer than a month."
Draco's breath escaped in waves. He kept shaking his head, running his hands through his hair. Finally he stopped his pacing and turned to stare at Harry. He stared until Harry mustered the courage to lift his eyes to meet grey. "Why didn't you tell me?" It came out in a gasp, and the tears he had been forcing back with sheer will pushed their way free.
Oh, god.
Harry leapt across the room in a heartbeat, hurling his thin arms around Draco. "I couldn't." Damn his own voice for breaking. "I just couldn't say it."
Draco's fingers curled into his back, nails digging into the skin. He pressed his face into Harry's neck to hide his tears. Harry was grateful for that, because he didn't think he could meet his gaze just yet. God, he was pathetic. He was selfish, and stupid, and pitiful. He was the lowest scum on earth.
"I don't want it to get worse." Draco's voice was muffled by the cloak, but it still punched a hole right through Harry's chest with each word. "I want more time!"
"I'll come back as a ghost," Harry found himself talking before he could think. "And I'll haunt you for eternity if I have to."
Draco's arms tightened, but he didn't reply. He didn't have to. Coming back as a ghost would be excruciating; being able to see Draco, but never touch him again? Never inhale that intoxicating vanilla? Never kiss those soft lips? No, there would be no ghost Harry.
That would be worse than death.
Harry pressed his nose into Draco's hair, breathing in as if it were his last chance. Draco didn't protest, as Harry didn't protest the bony fingers digging into his shoulders.
They stood like that for hours.
Draco failing at shoving his emotions behind the Malfoy façade.
And Harry loathing himself. Because he was the cause for this; Draco was sobbing because of him.
He truly considered using his magic. Before he hurt anyone else.
Because if he could do this to the person he loved…he didn't want to imagine how he would obliterate everyone else.
.
.
.