Chapter Text
The Hogwarts Express was running fast and the outside blurred into unrecognizable shapes. Harry tried his best to ignore his friends in the compartment. Ron and Hermione were bickering about something Ron said. Ginny and Neville were chatting about some Herbology thing, while Seamus and Dean were discussing something they saw on the Muggle side on the train station. Ever since Harry’s 18th birthday he didn’t feel quite well. It was as if he had a low-level headache that never ended. It actually got a little worse when they got on the train. Harry wondered if it was the nerves. All of his year-mates were returning for the so-called Eight Year at Hogwarts. Could he do it? Going back to classes, homework and detentions seemed ridiculous after the previous year. He was hoping the Aurors would simply accept him, even without the NEWTS. After all, he did kill Voldemort. Obviously he was ready to fight the bad wizards. But no, Harry was unceremoniously informed that finishing Hogwarts and earning his NEWTS was something he couldn’t skip over if he wanted to be an Auror. The elderly wizard who informed Harry about it in his wispy voice at the Ministry, suggested that he could Apprenticeship at the Ministry if he wished, but even then, the best apprenticeships were only available for Hogwarts graduates. Harry wasn’t proud of how he reacted to this. Although, he did receive an owl from O’Donnell’s Wizarding Quill Supplier two days later, thanking him for being responsible for the very large order of quills from the Ministry. The letter was accompanied by a truly exquisite quill. Not that Harry appreciated such things. It was currently squashed between all other chewed up quills in Harry’s trunk.
Harry finally realized someone was saying his name when he felt a touch on his shoulder. The touch made him feel nauseous, and he turned around. Hermione was giving him a questioning look, while Ginny’s hand was still on his shoulder.
‘Is everything ok, Harry?’ asked Hermione worriedly. Harry shrugged off Ginny’s hand, and nodded.
‘Yeah, just a bit of headache.’ He murmured back, moving a bit away from Ginny who gave him a funny look and joined Dean and Seamus in their discussion of motorcycles.
‘Oh, you should go to Madam Pomfrey as soon as we get to the castle! You looked a little pale at the station today. Did you eat breakfast?’ inquired Hermione. She looked quite worried, and Harry guessed he lost some weight.
‘Um, no, wasn’t hungry. I will eat at the feast, Hermione’ Harry promised and Hermione nodded. Harry’s shoulder itched in the spot that Ginny touched, and his headache became just a little worse.
The Great Hall looked very festive, and the tables were overfilled with all sorts of foods. Even though Harry didn’t feel particularly hungry, he couldn’t help his stomach growling at the rich smells. The Main Table was already filled with the Professors, old and new. Harry searched the faces and tried to guess who the new faces were. McGonagall sat in the middle, her robes were dark purple, and she looked rather royal. To her left sat Snape, his face as dour as ever. Flitwick, Vector, Sprout and Hooch were all smiling, but he didn’t recognize anyone else. After a few more minutes the doors to the Great Hall opened and Hagrid walked through, First-Years huddled behind him. Harry tried smiling at them, but the headache just got even worse, and he was afraid the grimace on his face wasn’t too friendly.
‘Are there some First Years missing?’ he heard Hermione whisper, and Ron shrugged. The group did seem a little smaller than usual. There were no more than twenty kids altogether.
‘Nah, there's gossip going around the Ministry that a lot of wizards and witches moved to the continent because of the war, and just hasn’t gotten back yet. People with young kids probably run first.’ Whispered Ron back to Hermione who nodded thoughtfully.
The Sorting was surprisingly quick. Gryffindor had seven new students, Hufflepuff and Slytherin five each, and Ravenclaw three. McGonagall welcomed everyone, and then started to introduce all the Professors. However, Harry's attention suddenly snapped to some small commotion at the Slytherin table. His eyes quickly found the white-blond head. Malfoy looked sick. His face was even paler than usual, and he had red eye bags that were visible even on the other side of the Great Hall. Zabini was shaking Malfoy’s arm, and Malfoy was looking quite green at that point. As if summoned by Harry’s thoughts, Malfoy looked up, and Harry felt his headache slowly subside. Malfoy’s pinched face also seemed to relax a little, before Zabini finally succeeded in Malfoy looking at him, and saying something.
Halfway through the meal, Harry realized that while he did feel better, the headache didn’t quite subside, and his stomach started to feel quite queasy. He looked up, unconsciously searching for Malfoy, but his spot was empty, and Zabini looked rather angry. Suddenly, Harry’s headache was back with all the vengeance, and Harry found himself getting up and nearly running out of the Great Hall, ignoring his friends shouting his name. The corridor outside of the Great Hall was empty, and Harry started to walk towards the dungeon. Without a conscious thought, his walk turned into a sprint. Soon enough Harry found himself in front of the Slytherin Common Room entry.
‘Err…’ Harry said, not knowing why he ended up here, and not knowing the password. The long, green snake on the portrait hissed at him, and Harry regretted losing his Parseltongue. ‘Can you let me in, please? I…I need to see…’ started mumbling Harry, the headache becoming quite bad. Just as soon, the portrait opened, and Malfoy stood on the other side. He took a surprised step back seeing Harry right opposite to the portrait, and blinked. The green color was gone from his face, but the paleness remained.
‘Potter? What are you doing here?’ Malfoy’s voice hurt Harry’s brain as if filled with knives. The headache was worse than anything Harry ever felt before. He wanted to scream, but instead he reached for Malfoy, and roughly pulled him. Malfoy, not expecting physical contact, tripped, and ended up smacking face first on Harry's knees. Before he could say anything, Harry felt his hands move without permission. He caressed the pale neck, and cool cheeks, before grabbing handfuls of the blond hair and pulling Malfoy by them.
‘Potter!’ hissed Malfoy in obvious pain, trying to dislodge himself, but Harry was stronger. Just as suddenly, and without a thought, Harry bit Malfoy’s neck. The bite made Malfoy trash a little, and Harry tasted the rusty blood on his tongue. His teeth kept on squeezing though, and Malfoy started to make small mewling sounds. Then Harry felt a chunk of what must have been Malfoy’s flesh in his mouth. The piece of flesh though started to fizz in Harry’s mouth. He tried to spit it out but it stuck to the roof of his mouth. Few seconds later it was gone, just as Harry’s headache and nausea. Harry looked down in fear, and saw Malfoy holding on to Harry’s legs, whimpering, the front of his uniform and face covered in blood.
‘Mal…’ Harry tried to say something, the weird taste still in his mouth. It didn’t taste bad, but rather unfamiliar and complex.’ Malfoy…’Harry tried again. Malfoy’s whimpering quietened, and instead Harry heard just soft snuffling sounds.‘Malfoy, we have to get you to the Infirmary. Malfoy…’Harry tried to step back, but Malfoy was holding on to his legs quite strongly, and he lost balance, ending up right next to Malfoy.
‘Malfoy, we really need to get you the Infirmary. You can’t bleed out in here’ But the wound on Malfoy’s neck no longer looked fresh. Instead there was a white scar there. The nosebleed also didn’t seem too dangerous. The front of Malfoy’s uniform was still bloody though, proving that what just happened really happened. Then Harry heard the excited talking around himself, and realized he was surrounded by the Slytherin students. They looked at them with wide eyes, some with clear excitement, shouting at each other. Harry saw Parkinson’s shocked pug face. Right beside her stood Zabini looking sad and disgusted. The students started to quiet down, and soon Snape and McGonagall stood in front of them. McGonagall gasped, and Snape went still as a rod. Pomfrey, who must have been right behind them, quickly ran up to Harry and Draco.
‘Don’t touch them!’ yelled out Snape, and immobilized the Mediwitch before she could touch them. Harry realized he was growling at the witch, while holding Malfoy behind himself.
‘Everyone, please go back to the Great Hall. Somebody will join you momentarily to explain what you’ve just witnessed. Prefects!’ shouted McGonagall, and the students started to walk away. Harry started to feel a little less tense, but his eyes were still trained on Snape and McGonagall, who patted Snape’s back, and then slowly left. Snape walked over to Harry and Malfoy, who, Harry realized, was whimpering softly, curled up to Harry’s back.
‘Potter. Relax and take a deep breath. You are not among enemies. Take a breath.’ Snape used exactly the same tone as when telling Harry off in Potions class. By reflex, Harry took the breath, and felt his muscles relaxing.
‘Good. You need to take care of your mate. He stinks of blood.’ As soon as Snape said the words, Harry could smell the blood, and felt the need to clean Malfoy, before something terrible would come and attack them.
‘That’s right, you have to listen to your instincts now, Potter. Draco must be cleaned. He needs more of your scent. He needs to be fed, and to sleep. He’s not well. He needs to get better.’ With every word that Snape uttered, Harry felt them all. Yes, Malfoy needed to be cleaned, covered in his scent, fed and then rest. He was too weak, too sick.
‘Come, Potter. You can use my bathroom to wash your mate.’ Harry got up, and pulled Malfoy up. At first it seemed like Malfoy wouldn’t be able to walk by himself, but then he leaned on Harry heavily, and seemed stable enough to walk. Harry followed Snape wordlessly.
Snape’s bathroom was small, cramped and damp. It was exactly as Harry would have imagined it to look like, if he ever spared a thought as to how Snape’s bathroom might look like. He entered the bathroom with Malfoy and noticed that Snape stayed outside. It was just as well as there was barely enough space for Harry and Malfoy. And he really didn’t look forward to standing too close to Snape. Thankfully, Snape seemed to understand, and kept a few feet of distance from Harry and Malfoy.
‘Put him in the bath, Potter’ Snape finally broke the silence, and sneered at him. Harry started pulling Malfoy into the tub, and Snape’s voice once again rang in the small bathroom.
‘Take his clothes off first! You are going to ruin them.’ Harry was quite sure Snape meant to add “you dolt”, but seemed to have stopped himself. Not that Harry particularly cared if he ruined Malfoy’s clothes. But Malfoy would probably care. And it was Harry’s fault they were in this situation to begin with. After some struggle, Harry left Malfoy in the blue trunks that wizards wore as underwear, and put him in the bath. If Malfoy was going to be mad about a pair of stupid trunks, then so be it. The water started to fill the tub nearly the second Malfoy sat in it. It was a little warmer than Harry would have liked it, but Malfoy looked rather chilled, so it would do.
‘You have to wash him, Potter.’ Snape’s voice came from behind Harry, and Harry stopped himself from turning around to look at him.
Malfoy seemed to enjoy the bath. He helpfully extended his arms, and exposed his throat that was covered in blood for Harry to wash. Once he was clean, Harry was unsure what to do. He should dry Malfoy, but with what? And he needed to get him dressed, but the bloody clothes that Malfoy was wearing disappeared. Harry turned around, and saw a towel and a robe on the floor. Nervously he sniffed at it, and was relieved that it didn’t smell like Snape. The robe smelled of Malfoy, and the towels must have been from the Gryffindor bathroom.
Once Malfoy was dry and clothed, Harry led him out, his eyes searching for Snape.
‘Merlin, Potter! Have him take off these wet trunks or he’ll get sick!’ Snape sounded outraged. Harry tried to answer Snape and tell him to piss off, but found he couldn’t. Silently he stared at Malfoy, and Malfoy stared right back at him, mutely. For a moment, Harry wondered if Malfoy wasn’t talking because he couldn’t, just like Harry didn’t seem to be able to mutter out even a single word to Snape. Feeling his face getting red, he pushed his hands under the robe, and quickly pulled the wet trunks down. Malfoy obediently stepped out of them, and Harry sighed in relief. It wasn’t too bad. The trunks disappeared as soon as Harry let go off them.
Slowly he walked over to Snape who was sitting at a small and round table. There was food there. Food that Malfoy needed. Harry stood unsure of himself. Could he let Malfoy eat it? It was Snape’s food.
‘Sit down. Feed your mate, Potter.’ Once again Snape broke the silence, and Harry carefully sat down. Malfoy sat down by his feet, his body pressed against Harry’s left leg. It was wrong, but at the same time, Malfoy needed Harry’s scent. It would have to do for now.