A/N This is going to be a sensitive chapter. The warning is there at the top for good reason, there is some upsetting bits to this chapter. Sorry for the feels
Harry wasn't ready to return to work. The holidays had been so peaceful with just the four of them and the war miles away. It came as an unpleasant surprise therefore to read the bad news accompanying Hermione.
She turned up before breakfast bearing the Daily Prophet which was yet to be delivered. Stoney faced she handed it to them.
Mass Attack
Deatheaters swarmed the muggle village of Little Hangleton late last night. This is the largest Muggle attack to date with the estimated dead at 1357 residents. They left no survivors. The Minstry Of Magic is currently at the scene working to unsure this atrocity does not lead to mass panic among the muggles.
The attack killed four times as many Muggles as the Brockdale Bridge which was attacked last-
Harry put down the paper. He had read enough. Feeling queasy, he handed the paper to Ron who turned pale as he scanned the paper.
"They are gaining force, the ministry can't do anything but clean up after them!" Ron burst out.
"Keep your voice down Ron! I don't think many people know, and I worried that some people might see it as a cause to celebrate." She nodded her head towards the Slytherin table where Draco sat alone.
"I'm not so sure he wants the Ministry and Hogwarts to fall Hermione." She looked stunned.
"Harry, are we talking about the same person? This is Draco Malfoy, who you spent the first month of term maintaining that he was a deatheater. You think he wouldn't have been there if he could?" Harry hung his head. Purposefully, he had kept all idea of Draco being a deatheater out of his mind of the last few days. His friends had after all been able to come up with lots of reasons why he wouldn't be when he had been arguing the case, and he clung to those flimsy ideas.
Behind them Draco stood up and stalked out, leaving a half nibble piece of toast. Harry realised he hadn't replied, and the other had probably been able to hear them. A couple of heartbeats later Harry too stood.
"I just need to go to the bathroom."
"Harry wait! I have something else to tell you. Harry!" But Harry was gone. He made it to the Entrance Hall in time to see the sleek head of hair disappearing towards the dungeons.
"Draco! Wait up!" The other, who had been moving at a considerable pace down the corridor whirled round.
"Why? So you can accuse me of being a deatheater?" He had defiantly heard them then.
"I…" Harry tried to come up with some excuse that didn't sound lame. Malfoy just stood there, fixing him with a cold stare. "I.. I did think that was possible. I don't think it anymore! I mean, you saved me."
"I bloody put you in that situation!"
"Yes but you didn't leave me to die, which would of helped Voldemort win this war much quicker."
"Maybe the Dark Lord doesn't want you dead yet."
"Yes- Wait what? Why wouldn't he want me dead?" Malfoy rolled his eyes and moved to leave. In a panic, Harry lunged and grabbed Draco's sleeve, trapping him in place.
"What do you want Potter?" His eyes were fixed, a cold steel grey. He also loomed over Harry by a couple of inches, a realisation that made him a little more intimidating.
"To say thank you! For my Christmas gift. How did you know it was my favourite?"
"I believe you have already made your gratitude clear. And it was easy to find your favourite, ask any non-Slytherin girl and she'll tell you what colour socks you wore two months ago." He wrenched his arm away and strode down the corridor. He was almost at the end when he turned back. Potter was still watching him. "And you were right."
"About what?"
"I am a deatheater." And with that Draco was gone. Harry felt his stomach drop. No amount of flimsy excuses would explain away that one. He really was a deatheater, the enemy. He had made the decision to be evil and yet Harry still felt himself drawn in deeper. The question was, who was in too deep to escape?
.
.
Why the hell did I open my fucking mouth? Yeh well done Draco, it's not like he already knows enough to get you killed, you had to go and drop that one too. He'll never speak to me again!
"God Dammit!" Draco swore and bought his fist round, hitting the wall hard. "Shit!" Draco cradled his hand to his chest. It was throbbing painfully but it almost felt good. He swallowed then swung again. And again. And again.
Blood was streaming from both knuckles and a couple of them jutted out in funny angles. He swore again under his breath and tried to get his wand out to heal them but dropped in in the process. His hands were shaking too much to keep hold of his wand. With a bit more swearing he managed to get it into his pocket and snuck into his dorm room.
He threw himself onto his bed and sobbed, as he hadn't sobbed since he had cut himself with the mirror.
.
.
"Harry? What happened?" Hermione's voice echoed past his subconscious. He had returned the Gryffindor common room and then stared off into the distance in a pensive silence. Ron had waved his hand before his face and then fetched Hermione with a worried grimace.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine."
"Just leave me be." Hermione didn't leave however. She sat down next to him, toying with her necklace. She made as if to speak a couple of times but stopped, unsure of what to say.
I have never hated being right about something so much in my life. No wonder he always tries to avoid me, he really does see me as the enemy.
"Harry-" Hermione began again.
"Fucks sake Hermione! I said I'm fine." Harry stood, shaking and fists clenched. He struggled to contain the pent up frustration within him and stormed away, every eye in the common room on him.
.
.
The blood was everywhere now. He hadn't wanted the pain to stop, the pain was something he was in control of, and so he had caused a little more. He was a mess, the small voice in the back of his mind goaded him further.
You've snapped. You can't do anything, you incompetent child! You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name, to the mark upon your arm. Cutting won't remove that, just make you more pitiful. Worthless. Nobody could ever love you now. Broken that's all you are. And to think, you fancied yourself as Potter's new friend. Like he would be interested in filth like you. You're a shattered mirror, pointless and offensive.
It was eerie how much that voice sounded like his fathers. He tried hitting his head off the stone wall just to shut it up.
.
.
Harry stared at the map in horror. It must be broken, something was clearly wrong with it. Draco's name was flickering and fading from the Slytherin dorm. It was something Harry had never seen before, and he had no idea what it meant.
"The map doesn't lie Harry." Lupin's words echoed back to him. If his father's map wasn't broken or lying, what was happening?
It flickered and faded some more. Harry could hear his heart pounding in his ears, he felt dizzy. His gut feeling was telling him just one thing, Draco was in serious trouble.
Seizing his invisibility cloak, he fled the room taking the steps two at a time into the common room. He ignored the sounds of concern and shoved the portrait out of the way.
The sounds of the fat lady's protests faded behind him under the sound of his feet on cobbles. Without pausing for a moment, he fastened the cape around his shoulders and cast a muffloto spell. Now the sound of his feet and heart echoed in his head alone.
He leapt Mrs Norris and made his way into the depths of the dungeons. He wasn't even sure which way he was going, just running until he saw the wall hiding the entrance.
"Salazar!" He panted at the wall before practically falling through it. The common room beyond was quite. Most of the Slytherins were still to return from Christmas. He spotted Crabbe and Goyle by one of the fires as he crept by.
The stairs made him dizzy, taking them two at a time again. He reached Draco's landing and pulled on the door. It was locked.
"Alohaoma." Nothing happened. Harry kicked the door. "God dammit! Let me in Draco!" No response. Harry took a few steps back and gritted his teeth. He threw himself against the door, one, twice, three times. On the third attempt the door splintered and Harry managed to push his way in.
He felt his heart drop and die on the floor. There was blood everywhere, on the silver drapes, the wooden floor. How could so much blood come from one person?
He could see the tips of pale fingers sticking out from the side of the bed. He rushed to them, finding Draco out cold on the floor. There was half dried blood in his beautiful hair and what little colour he normally had had left him.
His eyes were closed but he looked far from peaceful. The bags from days of sleeplessness and weeks of stress were evident. Harry noticed how pronounced his cheekbones were with the shallowness of his cheeks. It was as he reached out a shaking hand to touch them that he realised he was crying.
Angrily, he pawed the tears away. Now was not the time. Harry took a deep breath to calm himself then lent low over the other's mouth. The movement of air was subtle on his cheek but there. Draco was still breathing.
Harry started by repairing the splinted door in case someone else came down the corridor. He then used magic to carefully levitate the other into the messy bed so that he could get a better look at the wounds. Methodical, that was what he needed to be.
None of the wounds seemed too deep, but they were numerous. He had cut his dark mark to shreds on his arm. The flesh beneath it seemed as blackened and cursed as the surface mark. His knuckles were also in a terrible state, most of them on his left hand were visibly broken. With a churning in his stomach, Harry realised he could see bone through the tattered flesh. An impressive bruise also bloomed over his right eye. To Harry's relief the blood in Draco's hair only seemed to be from his hands.
He healed the cuts first as they were easier and losing the most blood. Each one left a white line, a ghost of what had happened. The ones which cut the skull and snake where harder to heal, here the skin look cauterised in places and the blood had thickened into a dark mess. It looked almost as if venom was leaking from the tattooed snake. Harry tried wiping it away with his shirt sleeve and Draco stirred, obviously in pain.
"Draco? Can you hear me?" Harry's voice was quiet and tentative, not wanting to scare the fragile boy before him. He received a grunt back which he took to mean yes. Draco's eyes were still firmly shut.
"I have healed what I can but I'm not really-"
"Don't take me to Pomfrey. They'll lock me up in 'mongos this time." The voice Draco interrupted in was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but it was a start.
"I won't, don't worry. I just need to sort your knuckles out then, okay?" There was a weak nod. Harry took a deep breath, sorting out knuckles was easier said than done.
Carefully he took hold of Draco's ice cold hand. He pulled the knuckle straight and muttered a healing charm, while Draco's screams punctured his very soul. The pain caused him to pass out by the second one, which was probably for the best. Six more knuckles later and he was done. There was nothing he could do for the bruise without a bruise remover potion, and it didn't seem like he done too much damage from their brief conversation. He still felt cold though. Harry sparked a fire in the hearth and fed it a few logs before collapsing down on the bed next to Draco. The drain on his magic and all the running beforehand had worn him out. There was no way he'd be leaving to his own bed though. This would have to do.
A/N Sorry! Please review, I really want to know how people feel about this chapter, I was a bit apprehensive about going into so much detail. Fe x