The Laws Have Changed - Chapter 4
He was curled up in bed, pretending to be sick so he didn't have to go to Hogsmeade that day.
He couldn't eat anything at breakfast for what felt like the umpteenth time that school year and he was afraid of what would happen if he chanced drinking water.
Blaise and Pansy had been doing a decent job distracting the other Slytherins that morning, which allowed him to slip away quietly, aware of the brown eyes that followed his exit from the Great Hall.
The curtains pulled around his bed kept the space dark and the pillow he placed over his ear prevented him from looking down at himself for too long. His guilt was matching his insecurity whenever he caught his reflection in a mirror. His mother fussed over him during the winter hols, trying to get him to eat to gain some weight. His collarbones were starting to protrude and his ribcage was slowly becoming more visible. She had gasped when she saw him change his shirt one morning. She would sob about how her precious son was fading away, how his clothes hung off of him, how they now enveloped him instead of looking precisely tailored to his once fit frame.
When he came back from break, he tried to avoid her. He didn't dare speak her name, even in these quiet moments where he knew he was truly alone. He could tell she searched for him every time students milled the halls between classes. He knew she let her gaze flicker to him during meals, brows lightly creased whenever she did before relaxing lest she get caught.
He remembered the desperation he felt around this time during his initial life. Nothing seemed to be going right with the Vanishing Cabinet and his panic prevented him from thinking clearly. First there was the cursed necklace, then the poisoned mead. During this go around he found out that her brother was the one who accidentally drank the mead sometime after Valentine's Day and so he had to shut himself away this weekend. He knew she would try to seek him out, wanting to know how his hols were, curious if some girl got him something for the day of romance. He would've been a sorry conversation companion as he couldn't tell her how consistently miserable he was, even through Christmas. Or how no girl in her right mind would find him attractive at that moment in time.
His sleep had become increasingly fitful in the time since he last saw her, too. On the nights he went to bed weak from hunger, he would only dream of his death; which tended to be his default more often than not. But if he had been reminded of her that day, he could find it in himself to eat, and then he'd have a blissful repeat of the most wholesome moment any girl had given him. It was the only bit of pleasure he seemed allowed to have. And with June quickly approaching, he knew that pleasure would be coming in shorter supply.
Another round of guilt settled into his stomach. He had told her that he would meet with her because he thought she could help him come up with loopholes to his situation, but there was nothing to be found. No amount of tutoring or listening to her go on about her day seemed to shift things in his favor. It was frustrating not knowing anything other than her possible involvement and, even if he hadn't sent the necklace or the mead, it wouldn't've changed the overall task. He would still need to complete what he was commanded to do if he wanted to have any chance of survival.
Silent tears started falling, his body shaking with each mute sob. As he thought about the natural conclusion should he succeed in his task, he began to realize that dying a year from now might be the easier option. Should he succeed, there would be no light. Any hope would be diminished; no longer flickering like the crimson candle inside his heart. It would only elevate his family even further and then, then he would be drowning in a sea of darkness. The most fitting result for someone who had truly eaten death.
Nothing was going how she thought it would.
First, McLaggen had to replace Ron because he was somehow poisoned. Then, Dean was forced to play alongside her as their reserve Chaser because Katie was still recovering from being cursed. So she now had to deal with his nonsense while trying to hard carry their team until Harry caught that goddamn Snitch.
But no, that wasn't the pièce de résistance, the grand finale, the cherry on top of the shit sundae. No, as if all of that wasn't irritating enough for her, McLaggen inadvertently sent a Bludger Harry's way because he thought that the middle of a match was the perfect time to "coach" his fellow teammates. The bloody idiot's actions were only made worse by the fact that he caused them to lose against fucking Hufflepuff, of all teams, and her concern for Harry caused her to have yet another fight with her boyfriend before she rushed to the Hospital Wing.
And so she sat there, in front of a bandaged up, but asleep Harry, trying to make sense of everything, while also inexplicably feeling like she was wasting her time.
She knew what she was hoping for when she initially got there. She was hoping for a moment similar to the one Hermione had when Lavender visited Ron after he was poisoned. She wanted that moment where she would be at Harry's side, holding onto his hand while he called out to her in his sleep.
Instead, she sat there, still in her full Quidditch kit, wondering if this was where she wanted to be.
She crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest, letting her mind drift for the first time in what felt like ages. Everyone else had left shortly after they went to check on Harry, knowing that she would want some "alone time" with the boy she had been waiting six years for. But therein lied her issue.
Part of her already knew that her relationship with Dean was ending. He seemed to be more trouble than he was worth and he needed someone who wasn't afraid to dedicate themselves to him. Dean was nice at first, but he became too consumed by the entirely reasonable fear that she might leave him the minute Harry thought of her as more than Ron's sister. She knew it wasn't fair to him to string him along, but Dean ended up being a diversionary tactic for far longer than she had intended.
What was stranger for her, though, was that she was finding herself thinking of Malfoy, of all people, more and more. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks as her mind replayed the last time she saw him.
She had asked Fred and George for some money so she could buy a new dress for the Christmas party. She asked Luna to join her, hoping to spend quality time with someone she had come to consider a close friend. It felt like they had spent hours in every shop in Hogsmeade, trying to find something that worked for what she had in mind. But with each tried on dress, there was a feeling she couldn't shake.
Something within her kept pushing her towards things that she thought Harry would like — shades of green because he'd mentioned in passing how nice she looked in that color; shades of burgundy or crimson because she knew Harry would look at her more whenever she wore something that reminded him of Gryffindor. Normally, she would've been more than satisfied with choosing one of the multitude dresses that she had tried on in those color ranges. The consistent stream of compliments Luna provided upon seeing each new dress option told her that she needn't worry about being so picky.
So why did it feel like none of what she browsed through felt like the right fit for her?
She had been going through a rack at the back of Gladrags when she found it. It was a little bit more than she had intended to spend, but once she tried it on, it felt like the one to buy. As she twirled around in the dressing room and then later in front of Luna, she could feel a nervousness building in her stomach. It was fighting against a bizarre yet vague notion in her head that Harry might not like her in all black. The same notion was also telling her that Harry might not approve as he wouldn't like other boys seeing the back of the dress, but the nervousness replied that there was someone who would like how she looked.
There was, indeed, someone who would find her presence to be a present and, although she wasn't sure if it meant she was acknowledging something she shouldn't, her gut feelings won out in the end.
She began to recognize who she had really bought her dress for when she went to the Room of Requirement after Slughorn's Christmas party.
She knew she was taking a bet by going there. She could tell he didn't want her to see him as he was escorted out of the party, so she hoped surprising him at the one place she knew she'd find him would turn both of their nights around.
She would've been lying to herself if she said she didn't find his gaze as he absorbed the sight of her the tiniest bit exhilarating. Dean seemed indifferent to how she looked when she walked into the common room that night, and Harry was too busy entertaining Luna or helping Hermione avoid McLaggen to even spare a glance her way. But he clearly appreciated her efforts that evening.
She shifted in the uncomfortable Hospital Wing seat. When she began thinking of how she left him in the Room of Requirement, she could feel that weird notion again. This time, though, it felt as though she had hit a brick wall and the only way to move past it was to focus back in on Harry. She shook her head and closed her eyes, forcing herself to call up the tumbling nerves her belly had the moment she decided to hug her reluctant tutor.
She recalled how part of her liked knowing what he smelled like — an interesting mix of a bitter dark chocolate and petrichor. She recalled what he felt like pressed against her — his lithe frame felt remarkably strong despite his appearance. She recalled feeling relieved by that knowledge since she began to notice how thin he looked in comparison to last term. She recalled how exceptionally soft the blonde peach fuzz on his cheek was when she pressed her lips to it. She recalled how her stomach had almost leapt into her throat as she whispered her Christmas greeting in his ear. She wasn't surprised or even disappointed when he didn't returned her hug. She knew she was toying around with something that she wasn't sure she should be toying with, but she was growing curious now; even if the infamous saying about indulging in one's curiosity felt especially true for her interest in him.
What did end up disappointing her, though, was his avoidance of her when they got back from their winter hols. She thought whatever was happening between them, in whatever form it was taking, was slowly progressing, but it seemed like he had decided to put a stop to things.
She sighed, stretching her arms above her as she prepared to stand. She was well aware of what it was like for a boy to make an effort to forget about her. Michael had done it and she could tell that Dean was on his way sooner rather than later.
But she thought she'd come to an understanding with this one particularly frustrating blond boy and maybe that was why it hurt her more than the others.
"Why did Harry take Ron's Potions textbook earlier?" she asked once she stood in front of the trio in the Gryffindor Common Room. She had just gotten word that she would need to play Seeker again due to Harry getting detention from Snape. The whole detention from Snape bit wasn't unusual, per se, but the three older Gryffindors were being strangely cagey about the why.
Hermione snapped her book shut. That was never a good sign. "I don't know, Ginny. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Harry decided to use an unknown spell he saw written in his actual textbook, not Ron's, and didn't want Professor Snape to find out."
She furrowed her brows as she listened. She didn't know that Harry had developed a fixation with his Potions textbook that year; however, it did explain why he had magically become so amazing at the subject. But if Hermione was this upset, it wasn't without a good reason.
"What was the spell?"
Ron and Harry eyed her and their other friend warily. Something was very wrong here. The nervousness in her stomach was sending her signals that something had happened to someone she was still trying to understand, but she couldn't confirm it unless she heard it from the source.
"According to the book," the raven haired boy began, heaving a sigh as he scratched the back of his head, "it was a spell that was meant for enemies. It's called Sectumsempra."
Her face contorted in confusion. Her lashes began to flutter as she felt a familiar stinging in her eyes; one that always promised tears. Why would someone use an unknown spell against another student? Especially someone like Harry? And, most interestingly, Hermione seemed to be incredibly upset at the fact that it had even been used.
"What's the big deal then? I'm sure it wasn't that bad if it was in a textbook."
The two boys in front of her winced as the older girl huffed in her seat. "That's the thing, Ginny. It's a spell even I couldn't find reference to anywhere. Whoever originally owned Harry's textbook seemed to have created the spell themselves and I still don't know what possessed him to even use it in the first place!" Hermione's voice had risen in volume with each passing word. By the time she finished, almost half of the room's occupants were looking at the small group. "Sorry for disturbing you all," she announced, turning back to the conversation.
This still didn't answer any of her questions and her stomach was becoming increasingly unsettled with each passing minute.
"So who did he use it on and what did it do?"
Hermione glared at Harry, forcing him to speak up.
The bespectacled boy took a visible gulp before beginning. "Well, you see, Gin, you know that Malfoy's been acting weird all year and, when I walked past Myrtle's restroom yesterday, I could hear him talking to her about something. I think he was crying, too." He paused to push his glasses up his face, not noticing how pale she had gotten. "I tried getting close to see what he was saying when he spotted me. We started dueling and, listen; he was about to use the Cruciatus Curse on me!" Harry's voice had lowered to just above a whisper. "What else was I supposed to do? That spell was the first thing that came to my mind. How was I supposed to know that it would cause that many cuts on his body?"
She had to lock her knees to keep her legs from shaking or giving out on her. She couldn't focus on anything after Harry's words. She barely registered Hermione calling the cuts "lacerations;" implying that they were much deeper than a simple shallow cut on the skin. Her head started to spin as she felt the immense pressure of what she assumed was a headache force itself behind her eyes. The tears that she had tried holding back finally streamed down her cheeks; making her already-blurred vision even blurrier. She was having the strangest need to defend Harry in his decision to attack Malfoy, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Something was beginning to come up from deep within her subconscious. Something was telling her that regardless of what Draco was about to do to Harry, it did not mean that he deserved to be attacked the way he did. She had figured something strange was going on with Draco, but all of the time she had spent with him taught her that he wasn't the monster people thought he was. His father may be, or had eventually become one, but the son wasn't. The son was sixteen and scared and she needed to get away from everyone and she needed to see him!
She needed to see him because, somehow, just saying his name in her head seemed to relieve some of the pressure she was experiencing. She needed to know that he was okay. She needed to see for herself that he was still alive. She needed to know for sure if the nervousness she felt in her stomach was because she felt something more for him than uncertain friendship.
She quickly excused herself from the conversation, using her headache the reason. When Hermione recommended she see Madame Pomfrey, she could've hugged her friend at giving her an inadvertent bit of inspiration.
She blindly ran upstairs, trying to keep her dizziness at bay as she stumbled into her room. Only when she knew that she was safely in her bed, with the curtains pulled around her did she let her tears fall like a deluge. She was struggling to keep her eyes open from the pressure the now-migraine exerted over her. She scrambled for some thought of Draco; anything that would help relieve the frustration and pain.
Her subconscious dug deep to pull forward the memory of their first meeting. She picked out the last part of their conversation, where he had asked her about how she viewed whatever it was she didn't have with Harry. And, strangely enough, the more she thought about her answer to it, the less she could feel the pounding in her head and the ringing in her ears.
She began with the first part of his question. Had she ever thought about giving up on Harry?
She didn't want to admit it then, but of course she had; dozens of times before she began dating other boys. She was starting to dislike being known as the Weasley that was obsessed with the Boy Who Lived. It was a reputation that was starting to feel like a noose around her neck; waiting to strangle her at any given time. She had to acknowledge that she wanted to be known as her own person because she was. She was always more than her crush on Harry and, for the first time in a very long time, someone had dared to force her to face the reality of what she had become in the eyes of others.
She then thought about the second part to his question. Would being with Harry make her happy?
She found herself faltering there. She could feel the pressure building in her head again as it told her that of course she would be happy with Harry. He would have no trouble fitting in with her family as they already loved him like one of their own. He was so sweet and never really disliked anybody unless they gave him good reason to. He was also the boy so many other girls wanted to be with, so why wouldn't someone like that make her happy? In that moment, she belatedly realized that he might've actually been waiting for her this entire year as she waffled about with Dean.
But then she could feel her nervousness working together with her subconscious to ask, Then who did you buy your Christmas party dress for?
She gasped and whispered, "Draco."
At that, all of her remaining tension rushed out of her and she fell back on her bed in relief; placing a hand on her chest in an attempt to slow down the shuddering breaths she had been taking. It was impossible to ignore now. She bought her Christmas party dress for a boy who was doing everything in his power to avoid her these last few months. She got it because she wasn't sure if she wanted to pursue something with Draco and she wanted to see how he would react to her wearing it. And though she hid it well at the time, she had nearly melted at the awe-struck look he had given her when she turned around to face him. No boy had ever looked at her like that. She had heard the small gasp he made when she had her back turned and a part of her maybe recognized how she felt about him right then and there. It had taken a while to get the rest of her brain to catch up, but it was all there now.
She opened up the curtains around her bed and grabbed her bag. Thanks to her conversation in the common room, she knew that one Draco Malfoy was stuck spending the night in the Hospital Wing as his body needed additional time to heal. Little did he know that she had a way to ensure that she would be able to spend the night there, too.
He couldn't hide from her forever.
A/N - Thank you for reading! Special thanks to those who have been leaving reviews, subscribing to this story, or adding it to your favorites. I really appreciate y'all!
I made a TON of changes to how I wanted to tell this story and this chapter is the biggest example of that, so I hope y'all enjoyed it! :)