A/N: I hope this A/N can clear up some confusion for myself and for my lovely readers. The ending battle happened differently in this story—hence its status as an AU fanfiction. However, Snape still killed Dumbledore when Draco failed at his task. Draco's mum was used in a punishment of his failure—Voldemort handed her over to the wolf, Greyback, and made Draco watch as she was torn to pieces. Hopefully you've all gathered that much already. Lucius is in Azkaban for high crimes against the Ministry and known involvement with Voldemort and the Dark Arts. I'm leaving what happened in the final battle vague for a reason—any guesses as to what that reason is, yet?—but know that it will eventually be explained.
I'm sorry this chapter is so short. My muse seems to have gone on hiatus without me—that little fucker—but if we can bump this story up to fifty reviews (that's only four more!), I should be able to work up enough inspiration to update again maybe Monday night/Tuesday morning.
I really am sorry this chapter is so horrid, and there's the very distinct chance that (provided my muse returns!) I'll edit it later because I hate it so. ):
But, as always, thank you for reading and please, please review!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I clearly worship her work, and no copy-right infringement is intended. No song this time, because my inspiration hates.
Saved
by MagickBeing
&.Chapter 11
X
When Harry awoke the following morning, it felt as if someone had dipped his hair into something flammable and had then promptly proceeded to set his head ablaze.
His entire head hurt—forehead, temples, eyes, mouth, everything. There was a slow ache, a dull throbbing that was intent on working its way into the furthest recesses of his mind. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes, grimacing at the bit of sunlight streaming in from the window. He squeezed them back shut and flipped over, burying his face under a pillow. He had only just fallen asleep maybe an hour or so ago, if he was judging the sunlight correctly, and he had felt fine then. So why did it suddenly feel as if someone was drilling into his brain?
He groaned, his stomach doing a funny sort of lurch at the thought, and he could barely hear Draco snickering from across his head.
"Giants dancing on your head, Potter?" Draco called, his voice light. "Maybe they'll flatten it."
Harry shifted so that he could make a rude hand gesture and he could practically hear Draco's smirk as he bit back, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Oh—right."
Harry pulled a face, although the expression was missed by Draco, and remained silent, in too much pain to even entertain proper anger. He pressed his arm harder against the pillow, pushing it closer to his head in attempts to silence what ever remarks were to come next. Draco was not so easily deterred, however, and he moved closer so that his voice was even louder than before.
"Calm yourself, scarhead," he drawled, coming to a stop just before Harry's bed. "This should help."
Hesitantly, Harry pried the pillow away from his face to find Draco practically hovering over him, glass in hand. He blinked away some of the sunlight, staring blearily up at the other and mumbling against his bed, "Wh'isit?"
Draco raised both eyebrows and have Harry a pinched, bored look.
Huffing, Harry shifted so that he could properly as, "What is it?"
Expressionless, Draco replied simply, "Poison."
Harry rolled his eyes, which proved to be a fairly considerable mistake as pain shot through his sinuses and he visibly flinched. His pillow fell to the side and he pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eyes, groaning again.
"Stop being such a pansy," Draco sneered.
"I'm the pansy?" scoffed Harry, remembering the few incidents he had seen Draco in pain. He had always made things seem incrementally worse than they were, and Harry said in a mock-whine, "My father will hear about this!"
Something cold and wet sloshed over the edge of Draco's glass and onto Harry's face. He startled, quickly sitting up and frantically wiping at his skin with his duvet. Clearly amused, Draco smirked with feigned innocence and said, "Relax, Potter; it's harmless."
Harry finished wiping at his face, his skin flush from the pressure of his hands, and he glared up at Draco, scowling.
"Easy for you to say," he replied stiffly, his own voice making his head throb.
Draco smirked and practically tossed the glass at Harry. More liquid sloshed over its edge and Harry floundered to keep it upright as it almost slipped from his hands and onto his bed. His glare intensified as he steadied it and peered down into the glass.
Exasperated, Draco loudly said, "It's just water."
Harry's glare softened and he took a careful sip. He nearly spewed it out, back into the glass, but managed to force it down, its contents making his tongue and throat tingle. He pulled a face, disgusted, and thrust the glass back at Draco.
"Just water?" he repeated, glaring again. "From what—the toilet?"
Both of Draco's eyebrows shot up for a moment and he smirked, his forehead smoothing as he said, "There's an idea."
Harry could already feel his headache subsiding, however, and the decrease of hot, searing pain made it hard to continue being disgusted. What ever was in the glass, it certainly wasn't water, but it was working and he couldn't really complain about that. Hesitantly, he took another sip, cringing at its taste but swallowing anyway.
"There's a good boy," Draco said, clearly patronizing. He moved across the room to sit by the window, folding his legs underneath him in a single, languid movement, and Harry watched his grace with slight irritation and envy. "It has a bit of cinnamon extract, and crushed beetle shell to help with your headache—if you must know."
Harry made another face and quickly set the glass on his bedside table, grabbing his glasses.
"Thanks for that."
Draco smirked again but said nothing, his eyes on Harry as he shuffled from his bed and stood to stretch. As disgusting as water with crushed beetle shell sounded, it had certainly done the trick, and Harry tried desperately not to think about its contents as the throbbing in his head nearly vanished. Instead, he thought about the excessive essays he needed to do before Monday; since he was unable to practice most magic, all of his Professors had given him an obscene amount of writing instead. He sighed. So much for his Saturday. With that thought came another, and he brightened a bit, although it quickly passed as he announced, "Quidditch try-outs are today."
Draco nodded.
"Very good, Potter."
He peered over at Draco, stretching a bit more before finally leaning against one of his bedposts.
"Are.. are you going to try out?" he asked quietly, with a bit of hesitance.
Draco deliberately looked away, turning to the window.
"No," he replied. There was a slight edge to his voice and both of Harry's eyebrows raised.
He didn't press it, however, and instead said, "Me either. Ron wants me to, but—I'unno. I just—"
Draco turned back to Harry, his eyes flashing as he interrupted, "I didn't ask why, Potter. Try to practice some restraint and be quiet for once. I know it's difficult, but at least try before I'm forced to spell your mouth shut."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed.
"I was just trying to make conversation, Malfoy."
"Is that what that was?" Draco scoffed, sneering, "Well, don't."
Harry jutted his chin out, defensive. The night before had been misleading, then; Draco had stayed up with Harry for most of the night, ensuring that he didn't fall asleep despite his taunting to do otherwise. There had been little conversation and Draco had managed to get quite a bit of his homework done while Harry struggled to read through half-lidded eyes, but the silence had been more comfortable than ever before.
"Fine!" he said loudly, pushing off of his bed post.
"Fine," Draco echoed back, turning to the window again.
"So glad we could agree," Harry bit out, refusing to give Draco the last word as he headed toward the bathroom. His anger was starting to surface; what right did Draco have to be such a constant prick—to constantly mind-fuck Harry? One moment he was saving his life and the next he was taunting him about his parents or threatening to curse him.
Draco went to say something else but the sound of his voice was cut off as Harry slammed the bathroom door shut behind himself.