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"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't... Tell me what's wrong... I can help you..."
"No one can help me," Malfoy's voice was so uncharacteristically fragile.
Her whole body was shaking, her glossy, pale hair disheveled from scrubbing her hands through it.
"I can't do it... I can't...! Unless I do it soon... He says he'll kill me..!"
And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Dracaena Malfoy was crying.
Eyeliner streamed down her elegant, pretty face to make lines down her neck and into her collar, or to drop into the grimy basin.
She gasped and hiccuped, trying to suppress the whimpers as they came, but they tore from her throat regardless.
Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, when she looked up into the flu-cracked mirror, when she saw Harry staring at her over her shoulder.
Her eyes went wider still, and she wheeled around in sudden fury, her wand drawn from her robes.
Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own.
Her hex, cast with a desperate scream, missed him by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy swatted away the jinx and raised her wand for another-
"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"
There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy's ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped to fall as Malfoy, her face contorted, cried, "Cruci--!"
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.
Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though she had been slashed with an invisible sword.
She staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, her wand falling from her limp right hand.
"No-!" gasped Harry.
Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged toward Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, her white, delicate hands scrabbling at her blood-soaked shirt.
Her tears were running down the sides of her face now.
"No... No... I- I didn't-!"
Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of her own blood.
She was sighing out in a barely-audible squeak, and her eyes had a look of shocked amazement in them as they met his.
Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream: "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"
The door banged open behind Harry and he looked up, terrified: Snape had burst into the room, his face livid.
Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over the girl, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep wounds Harry's curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like song.
The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy's face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.
Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his countercurse for the third time, he lifted Malfoy into his arms.
"You need the hospital wing," his voice was shockingly tender as he spoke the words. "There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that..."
He took Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury,
"And you, Potter. You wait here for me."
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His career in Quiddich was well and truly dead, he had a dozen extra attentions to attend, and Harry would be lucky if he didn’t end up in Azkaban to go with it, but that wasn't at the forefront of his mind.
Twice he'd been sick in the toilet waiting on Snape to return, he was too cold and his stomach was too twisted up in knots thinking about Dracaena Malfoy's expression as she lay there in the water.
He didn’t know what he was thinking. He probably wasn't thinking, when he climbed to Gryffindor Tower, soaked in water and blood, ignoring Ron's questions while he grabbed up his Invisibility Cloak.
He had to see her. To know she wasn’t... With that terrified look in her eyes... There had just been so much blood.
He was relieved to hear her speaking frustratedly with Madam Pomfrey when he arrived at the door to the Hospital Wing.
"Now Professor, I'll tell you once more kindly not to hover! Dear, I insist you let me have a look at that arm. It's obviously paining you."
"I've told you it isn't, woman! Let me be! Don't touch me!"
There was some shuffling, and Harry heard the voice of Professor Snape say something indistinct before he entered.
Malfoy had a bedsheet up to her chest, one hand latched onto the other arm's wrist, warding off Madam Pomfrey with her foot and scowling darkly.
Snape stood by in his black robes, watching impassively, though with some noticeable tension in the way he stood while Pomfrey fussed over her patient.
"The girl's condition shouldn't decline further, though you won't be surprised to hear she may be in shock. Perhaps a moment to allow her to regain her bearings." He offered snidely.
"Well, I very much appreciate your input, Professor Snape," Pomfrey lied scathingly.
"Very well. Miss Malfoy, I'll fix you something to calm your nerves," she straightened to brush herself off and faced the taller man with with her hands on her hips.
"Meanwhile, the girl is well in hand. You may return to your House at your leisure. I'll venture half the school is in an uproar over this business."
With a sniff, she bustled out.
After her leaving, something unspoken seemed to pass between Malfoy and Snape.
He made no move to come closer to her, but he stood a moment, watching her with a subtle question in his eyes. Dracaena's lips tightened, but she nodded to whatever it was Snape's eyes conveyed, and without another moment he turned with a sweep of black robes and left, passing not an arm's length from where Harry stood and leaving Malfoy alone in the quiet of the Hospital Wing.
Now he was here, it occurred to Harry he still didn't know what he was going to do, or say.
It wasn't as though she were waiting on an apology from him, and he wasn't sure he was inclined to give one, considering it was... Well, Malfoy.
She'd hexed him well and stomped on his face for good measure not long ago, not to mention what would've happened had her last curse found its mark.
As Malfoy sighed and pulled her sheet closer to roll onto her side, Harry decided it was enough to know he hadn't inflicted anything irreversible.
It only occurred to him as he was turning to leave that she was naked from the waist up.
Unfortunately, this fact caused him to stumble straight into one of Madam Pomfrey's rolling trolleys with a clatter, and his foot stepped on the hem of the Cloak.
Malfoy's eyes immediately became alert again, her hand snatching her wrist once more, kicking her way further up her bed and shrinking away from the intruder.
Her eyes sought her wand at her bedside, but it must have been with her torn and bloodied robes, because it wasn't to be found.
"Who's there?" She demanded.
She came up with her own answer a moment later, and the sneer that crossed her face said 'of course.'
"...Potter."
She let the accusation hang there in the dead air, until Harry emerged from under his cloak. Malfoy's sneer deepened, becoming close to feral.
"Come to finish the job, have you?" She hissed softly.
That took Harry off guard, and despite himself his chest filled with shame.
"No," was all he could say.
Dracaena's lips curled as her mouth fell open in a disbelieving scoff, like she was floored by the nerve of him.
"What, then you're here to get a peek?"
Seemingly casting aside the impulse that made her initially shrink from him, she kicked off her bedsheet and rose sharply, discarding all shame and apprehension. Harry took a step back as she advanced, shocked by her forcefulness.
She stood before him, drawn to her full height, her grey eyes glittering in a shaft of moonlight, to match the silver studs in her ears.
Her chin lifted to look up her nose at him, as they were long past the age where he'd outpaced her in height.
Her jaw set, but she made no move to cover herself, visibly forcing herself into the very picture of composure.
Her lithe left arm was held loosely behind her back, her fingers curling and uncurling behind the fabric of her skirt.
She was smaller than she seemed in her robes. She had an elegant outline, with slender shoulders. Her collarbones were fine and prominent, casting soft shadows in the hollow of her throat.
She couldn't be called skinny, but she seemed... Delicate.
Her skin was somewhat paler below her neck, soft and creamy. Her breasts were small, high-set and perky, the pale pink of her nipples standing out against the milk-white of her skin.
Her belly was flat, tensed with a held breath. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh.
The scars explained why she was so intent on making him look at her, like this.
Pink, jagged lines the width of his middle finger interrupted her perfect skin.
The spell's point of contact must have been just beneath her ribcage on her left side, because the flesh there was knotted with scar tissue, and every line converged at that point.
One sliced down to her left hip, another ran up, crossing beneath her breast to cut into her bicep, and a third cut straight up to glance off her sternum and nick her under her jaw.
Harry noticed, numbly, that one of the slashes had barely missed a small mole on her chest. Another had cut through some of her hair under her ear, leaving it uneven.
A memory came to him of a moment five years ago, when he and Malfoy had stumbled on a dead, ravaged unicorn. Such a beautiful, pure creature, torn and marred and motionless. It had been one of the saddest things he'd ever seen.
His scar twitched and burned, and his eyes burned with it. He couldn't tear his eyes from the damage he'd inflicted for a moment.
It was obvious she was trying to pretend this hadn't affected her. How could any girl not be? She'd always preened at attention from others.
"There," She murmured, and the venom in her voice could've melted a stone. "You've got your peek. Now piss off."
Harry blinked rapidly, gritting his teeth. What was he supposed to do, when she'd been the one to throw the first spell?
How could he be blamed, when it was the Prince's spell he used?
He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice when he responded.
"Who's going to kill you?"
Malfoy scowled, a little crease appearing between her manicured eyebrows. Her arrogant pose faltered a little, though, and she took half a step away.
"What are you babbling about..?"
"It's him, isn't it?"
An unmistakable flash of panic crossed her features, immediately replaced by a strained, contemptuous smile.
"What's him? Who's him?"
Harry took a long step forward and she shrank back immediately, holding up her right hand to keep him at a distance while her left stayed securely folded behind her.
"Touch me and I'll scream. Pomfrey will come running."
"Good," Harry said, his heart thundering in his chest. "We can show her what's on your arm together."
The next step he took was more of a leap, snatching her arm from behind her and holding it up.
Sure enough, right there on her wrist, was the inky-black shape of a skull with a winding serpent's tongue.
Malfoy didn't scream. Her eyes just darted from his hand closed around her forearm, into his face, and she wrenched away from him, forcing a dark chuckle.
"Surprised?"
"Yes," He replied, and that wiped the grin from her face. His blood was boiling now. It took every ounce of his willpower not to draw his wand. "You're a spiteful, arrogant priss, but I never thought this of you. Daddy wouldn't give you your allowance if you didn't join up?"
"I was chosen!" She spat back at him. "He was in my home, Potter. He spoke to me." Her voice cracked, a little.
"What, am I supposed to defy the Dark Lord?"
"I've been defying him my whole life." Harry said, and turned to walk away, unfurling the silvery material of his Cloak.
"Where are you going?" Her voice followed him, apprehensive.
"I'm going to Dumbledore, what else?"
Her feet rapidly struck the floor behind him, and she snatched the sleeve of his robes.
"Harry!"
He turned to look at her, to see her grey eyes wide, darting between both of his at this tiny distance as though she couldn't decide which to focus on.
"Harry, you're killing me." She whispered. "If you go to Dumbledore, you've killed me. He'll make my mother watch while he does it. You haven't seen how he looks at me."
He ground his teeth, trying to find it in him to shove this Death Eater away.
Instead, he shoved his father's Invisibility Cloak into her arms.
"Leave Hogwarts. By morning." he told her quickly, before he could change his mind and snatch it back from her. "I'll know if you're creeping around."
His eyes were stinging, so he turned and strode to the door, pulling it open and stepping out. As he turned to close it, he saw one last glimpse of her, wrapping herself in his cloak, hiding the scars he'd inflicted.
Her disembodied head stared back at him, her hair appearing shorn short at her neck.
"Thank you," She said, seeming just as amazed as when she'd been laying in that pool of bloody water.
"I promise, you'll never see me again."
With that, Dracaena Malfoy pulled the hood over her head, and was gone.