The stone shuddered as Harry hurled yet another confringo against the magical protections, bits of magic sparking around him. He heaved, his arms aching with the weight of his wand. He cast again, ripping any remaining magic from his lungs with a shout- as if he could expel every ounce of Draco from his mind if he cast loudly enough. Raw magic hung in the air, metallic and bitter against his tongue as he choked for breath.
Harry was handling the news incredibly well, all things considered.
Draco was a Death Eater.
Draco was a fucking Death Eater.
Harry slammed his fists against the rough stone, his knuckles tearing on the jagged edges. He should have known it was a possibility; All the sketchy behavior and secrets certainly weren't going to be anything good. Theo had even told him as much.
It still fucking hurt.
He inhaled sharply, running his bruised hand through unwashed hair. He'd barely slept the night before, consigned to Ron's bedside as Madam Pomphrey ran tests and poured foul-smelling potions down his friend's throat. Harry had been so worried he wouldn't make it-Ron's convulsing body replaying behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest.
Draco had done that.
Harry scrubbed his face, desperately sifting through his thoughts. It had been less than an hour since he'd left Draco, and his words were already slipping from his memory. They'd yelled at each other, but he couldn't remember what he'd said. He'd been furious-any sense he might have been able to muster lost to the sight of the dark mark etched onto the skin he had fallen so completely for.
He winced. Why had it looked like that? Draco's arm was rotted through, like the mark was eating him alive. It wasn't Harry's first time seeing a Dark Mark, but they'd always just looked like particularly ugly tattoos; nothing jarring about how they clung to their host. Surely, Lucius' mark hadn't cannibalized him.
It didn't matter; Harry pushed himself up and lowered the muffling charm he had used to make his breakdown a bit more private. Ron was in the hospital; Draco had made his choices- or rather, refused to make any- and Harry couldn't waste any more time sulking about it. He would need to figure out a plan later but for now, he would be there for his friend.
The medical wing was quiet as he pushed through the double doors, the silence only interrupted by the quiet patter of rain hitting the windows. Hermione sat with her face obscured against Ron's bedside, the tangled waves of brown hair running over his pale hand in hers. Harry didn't dare move. She'd shown up just after they'd made it here past midnight the night before, shouting and crying with a book of remedies in hand-politely declined by Pomphrey, of course. She'd only managed to fall asleep hours later after constant reassurance from the healer that Ron would, in fact, make a full recovery.
His body felt heavy as he carefully stepped around the curtain, taking his chair across from Hermione's. It was rare that he found himself on this side of hospital stays- usually, he would be unconscious on the bed, oblivious to the stress and worry his friends went through. He looked at Ron's pale face, his hair bedraggled and damp with sweat, and wondered if it would have been better for it to be him. The shock of Harry being the victim of his poison might have knocked some sense into Draco.
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, and wished away the images of Draco. The memory of his face, distorted with shame, while he thrust the Dark Mark towards Harry was stained against every lovely moment of their time together.
He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, the rain lulling him into a distorted sense of time. His dreams were vague and nightmarish, the tiredness of his body doing little to calm him against the torrent of the day before. When he blinked awake from his fitful rest, his body still ached; the only sign he had slept at all was the silence that rang out around him. The rain had stopped.
Harry stretched, his neck protesting the movement. Hermione's head was now cradled in her arms across the white sheets, where she snored softly; Ron still looked half-dead.
The sky was dark outside, the edges of the morning peaking over the forbidden forest. Standing up, careful to leave his friends undisturbed, Harry paused by the broad window, staring out at the stone path that led to Hagrid's cabin. A cluster of thestrals grazed by the edge of the field, unbothered by the chilly morning weather. Barely more than a day had passed since everything had gone to shit in Slughorn's chambers, and the world around him was the same. It didn't feel real, like a bad dream joining the rest of his miserable memories.
Harry shook his head and glanced at his sleeping friends before leaving the way he came. The kitchens would be making breakfast about now.
He returned thirty minutes later with a tray of food, pastries, and toast scavaged from the overly enthusiastic elves. It was a good bet Hermione wouldn't want to go to the Great Hall until Ron could go with them, but he doubted she had eaten amidst the chaos of the day before. Harry hadn't, after all. He set the tray on the bedside table and sat, nibbling on a piece of toasted wheat bread.
The look on Draco's face as Harry screamed at him wouldn't leave his mind alone; the shock, terror, and trembling hands told Harry everything he needed to know. And yet, Draco refused to switch sides. Did it matter how reluctant he was in his actions if he was still doing them? Draco hadn't wanted to hurt Ron, but here he was.
Harry should go to Dumbledore; It was the only thing that made sense. Dumbledore would sort it out like he always did… but he had been absent so often this year, leaving the school to its own devices except for the rare occasion he had returned to give Harry vague insight into Voldemort's life and even vaguer instructions for getting Slughorn to give up a memory.
Hadn't Harry already gone to Dumbledore? It had been months since their meeting, and Harry saw no movement toward action on his part. How could Harry expect anything different a second time around?
Except now that Draco was a confirmed Death Eater, it wouldn't be a wellness check. Going to Dumbledore could mean Azkaban or worse for Draco, especially if he was stubborn enough not to switch over. Harry shuddered; He wouldn't let that happen.
He wasn't about to let Draco kill anyone, either.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice snapped him back, her expression soft and ruffled from sleep. "Is that breakfast?"
Harry nodded, passing the tray towards her over Ron's sleeping form. She hummed, taking a croissant and biting into it, her gaze trained on the boy between them. "Where were you last night?"
"Just needed some air," Harry replied, his words empty of any feeling.
She nodded, too preoccupied to bother with interrogating him like she usually would.
Harry sighed; He needed to talk about it. "I saw Draco."
"Oh?"
"He's-" Harry couldn't say it, his throat tightening around the words. "He's in trouble."
Hermione gave him a tired look. "Harry, I can't keep doing this with you." She squeezed Ron's hand. "You've been sneaking around since Christmas-hiding things from us. You can't keep expecting me to be there to solve your problems when you won't even tell me what's going on."
Harry drew his eyebrows together, unable to meet her eyes.
"I don't mean it like that. I'm you're friend, Harry. I always will be. Just… If you don't trust us enough to actually tell us what's happening, stop asking us to solve your problems. It's exhausting." The bags under her eyes seemed more prominent than they had been moments before, the disheveled state of her robes screaming in a way he hadn't noticed. "We're not just here when it's convenient for you." Her tone had a sense of finality as she pushed a strand of ginger hair out of Ron's face.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, embarrassment crawling up his chest. "I guess I just-" He swallowed, "You and Ron… Sometimes I feel like I'm interrupting what you have," He glanced down at his friend and wished he would wake up so Harry could apologize to him as well. "I'm sorry, though. I haven't been a very good friend lately."
Hermione smiled and nodded her head. "You should say that to Ron. He's been worried about you, you know."
"I will."
"You should tell him about Draco too." She chuckled at his incredulous expression. "I don't think he'll react the way you seem to think he will. Draco makes you happy, and we want that for you."
Harry shrugged, a bit dejected. "You're right."
They sat in relative silence after that, too much on Harry's mind to make any sort of idle conversation; Hermione seemed grateful, too exhausted for it anyway, her head bobbing gently as she fought off sleep in her chair. How often had she stayed like this at his own bedside over the years?
"Go on, get some sleep. I'll stay with him." Harry said as her eyes fluttered shut once again.
"No, I should stay."
"I'll send someone for you when he wakes up." He smiled, "Promise."
"You must be exhausted, too. Are you sure?" But Harry had already won, watching her stand and smooth her pleated skirt.
He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. He doubted he could sleep anytime soon, not with the racing thoughts and worries; She might as well.
With a few more reassurances from Pomphrey and a comforting hug from Harry, Hermione returned to the Gryffindor tower for a much-needed nap- insisting that she would only be gone for a little while. Harry didn't mind. It was sweet how much they cared about each other, and he found himself quite pleased to be allowed into their group.
Alone with Ron in the deserted hospital, Harry let his mind wander lazily, picking through every memory he had of Draco. There were so many instances where Harry should have stepped in-where he should have pushed- but he hadn't. He had promised not to, and now it seemed like it was too late to change how things would end for Draco. It hurt because Harry could save him if Draco trusted him enough to try. Harry frowned bitterly at the thought.
"Malfoy, huh?"
Harry's head shot up, eyes immediately finding Ron's, open, blue, and very much awake. "What?"
"I've been up for a while. Heard you and Hermione talking." He provided in answer to Harry's shocked expression. He continued, his voice raspy and weak. "That's why you've been so weird lately, right? You're dating that git?"
Harry shrugged, hoping his embarrassment wouldn't be too obvious. "Pretty much."
"Shit reason if you ask me." Ron sighed dramatically. "I mean, he is the worst, but like, not surprising right? You two have always been fucking weird with each other."
Harry laughed despite himself. "It's a bit more complicated than that."
"Start from the beginning then." Harry couldn't tell if he was being genuine, and Ron motioned to the white curtains and clinical room around them, "Does it look like I have anything better to do?"
Harry chuckled and took a long pull of air, settling his thoughts. He cast a weary look around the empty room and charmed a private bubble over Ron's bed. And then he talked. He started with the Summer, leaving out minor details for the sake of Ron's ever-paling expression at the idea of their romantic relationship. He explained the fire, Draco's strange behavior, and the need to keep things secret after Christmas. He talked, any misgivings about hiding things from his friends gone; Draco was a Death Eater, and any rights to privacy disappeared the second he decided poison was a reasonable option.
His words slowed when it came to the events of the night before, unsure of what Draco's actions had actually meant. Ron did an impressive job keeping his face calm and stoic throughout the story. Harry doubted it would last much longer.
"So last night, I told him what happened with you." Harry paused, "And he admitted to it." Ron gave him a puzzled look. "He poisoned the wine Slughorn gave us."
Ron's ginger eyebrows drew together. "What the bloody hell?"
Harry exhaled, "He freaked out about it-Definitely didn't mean for you to drink it."
"I don't know." Ron scowled, "He never did like me much."
"He wouldn't do that." The force with which the words came out surprised even Harry, who had been questioning just about everything when it came to Draco. But his confidence in that answer came from somewhere deep inside him. Draco wasn't a bad person.
"Apparently, he would, though." Ron gestured to himself in all his bedridden and poisoned glory, and before Harry could protest-not even sure he wanted to- Ron added, "Who was it meant for then?"
"Dumbledore." And Harry continued, filling Ron in on everything he knew-which admittedly wasn't much. He described the Dark Mark on Draco's arm, his confession about his mother, and the refusal to let Harry or Dumbledore help him. By the end, Harry's rage that he had done a fine job dissipating overnight returned in full force. "I just don't know what to do. He can't make up his mind which side he's on." Harry clenched his fist. He hadn't looked at Ron in several minutes, afraid of the expression he would find. "That's so fucked."
"What's fucked is you feeling bad for the git." Ron snarled. "He's been using you, Harry."
"I doubt that."
"Really? Is it just a coincidence that he only started flirting with you once he got marked? That's not the least bit strange?"
"Yeah, but-"
"He never told you his mission because it obviously has something to do with you. Voldemort decided he needed someone to gain your trust." Ron's irritation was rising with each word.
"Why would he have taken the mark then? Would have been simpler just to send him as is."
"I don't know how bigots' minds work. They're crazy, aren't they?"
"]I've watched him having a terrible time all year. Not exactly a criminal mastermind." Ron's jaw was set, eyes narrowed. "You'd do some shit if it were Molly they had, wouldn't you?"
Ron didn't say anything to that.
"He's just trying to protect his family." Harry didn't know why he was defending him, but the words didn't feel empty. He wasn't just saying them to appease Ron. Harry knew Draco and knew things weren't as simple as he wanted them to be.
"That doesn't make it right, Harry."
"No. It doesn't."
The hospital was quiet, and Harry could barely make out quiet rustling coming from Pomphrey's office.
"I'm gonna break his pointy noise when I see him next, boyfriend or not." Ron muttered, and Harry laughed.
"That's fair, I guess."
Ron's mouth quirked in a smile, his pale skin clammy in the fluorescent lighting. "So, are you going to go to Dumbledore? Seems like the only real option."
Harry worried his bottom lip, "Maybe. I don't know."
"Maybe you can just fight him yourself."
Harry smiled, a bit of the exhaustion chipping away from his shoulders. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Would be bloody brilliant, yeah." Ron chuckled and then said, more quietly. "I don't know how you could stay with him after this."
"Yeah. I don't know either." He leaned forward into his hands, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes. "He can't even see what he's doing is wrong."
"I vote you dump his privileged ass and call Dumbledore."
"You think Hermione would agree?"
"You deserve someone better." Ron shrugged, a weak motion in his frail state.
Harry made a sound, not knowing how to respond to that. He'd never been as happy as he'd been with Draco, and now he wasn't sure. Draco was a Death Eater, and he seemed happy to continue-or at least unwilling to do anything to change it. Could Harry really forgive something like that?
"Whatever you decide, we'll be there for you, yeah?" Ron's ragged voice broke through his thoughts, and Harry smiled.
"Thanks, Ron.
Harry stayed in the hospital wing until well into the night, his mind exhausted and overwrought. Ron's family had come in and out, thankfully letting Harry sit back and listen as Molly fussed and the twins made vague threats toward the perpetrator. Ginny didn't say much, standing behind the crowd and patting Harry on the shoulder.
"He'll be okay." She said, and Harry was obliged to believe her.
It was almost midnight when he finally left, bidding Ron's sleeping form goodnight and floating down the corridor, too exhausted to register much of his surroundings.
Which is probably why Theo's elbow to his throat came as such a surprise. He sputtered, his back hitting the stone wall with a thud. Theo's arm pressed into his neck, steel grey eyes boring into Harry's. "Where the fuck is he?"
"What?" Harry grunted, too preoccupied with breathing to be particularly mad about the assault.
"Draco. Where is he?"
"How would I know?"
Theo glared and tightened his grip. "He didn't come back last night, and I can't find him anywhere. He was checking on you, so where the fuck is he?"
"Did you know?" Harry spat. He pushed Theo off, straightening his robes. "That he's a Death Eater?"
Theo's eyes widened a fraction, but the glare remained firmly in place. "I could've guessed, but no. I didn't."
"Well," Harry shoved past him. "Now you do, and I'm done, so you can take care of him yourself."
Theo turned to follow, "Tell me where he is."
"I really don't know." Harry paused, hands clenched at his sides. "And don't ask me to care." He walked, leaving Theo alone in the corridor. He couldn't do this anymore; He couldn't be the one chasing after Draco again and again when Draco never did the same. Draco couldn't even try for him.
The realization hurt because of the lies and the cruel words, but mostly, it hurt because Harry would still do anything for him-even now-even knowing it didn't go both ways. Every step reverberated through his body, shattering his resolve and breaking apart his dignity. It was all he could do not to sob as he moved up the stairs and began to search.