Chapter Text
Gryffindor's are best known for one thing. Unexplainable, stupidly unshakable, heroic bravery. These passing week's I've come to doubt whether or not I was sorted into the right house. I, the ‘Boy Who Lived’, the one who defeated Voldemort, have become spineless. Why? Because a certain gorgeous blond git just won't stop being beautiful, and I just can't seem to get over that fact. Or admit it aloud, let alone tell anyone that I might sort of be... interested in other boys, on a level. I'm too pathetic to even tell my own girlfriend, let alone break it off with her.
Instead, I've been avoiding. Avoiding certain beautiful gits, Ginny, and anyone who might clue on. Of course, Hermione put a stop to my attempts at avoiding her shortly after they began, so no matter what I’m still not going through this entirely alone. I can’t tell her though. Not about how upset it made me to watch the Malfoy trial, to watch him standing up there so empty and resisting the urge to wrap my arms around him. Not how I felt when I saw him on the Hogwarts Express, the beginning of this, our eighth year, or how it made me smile to know I would be seeing him every day again. How It makes my stomach flutter when his hair catches the light, or his eyes twinkle as his lips turn up into a wicked smirk. No one can know about all these feelings I've held back since sixth year- which I'd only begun to admit after walking into potions late one day and thinking everyone had bought Malfoy's cologne only to find everyone had been brewing Amortentia.
I'd become obsessed after that, and I still am, quietly. Fixated and possessed by the thoughts that haunt my dreams. Thoughts of kissing and touching, biting and holding. Fantasies that distract and fog up my mind to no end like Wrackspurts. Fantasies I can only dream to fulfil whilst I sit and stare longingly at what I can never have.
He's different now, since the war ended, more timid and reserved. He no longer throws insults at me as I walk past. He keeps his head down, he sits alone. All I want to do is hold him and be the one to make him laugh again, even if it’s just that snide mocking giggle. It’s almost fae like, the sort of sound I imagine Tinkerbell would make.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had taken his hand back in first year, or if I had been sorted into Slytherin. Would I have joined Voldemort to be by his side? Would we be friends? Would we be more? I'll never know, but I can dream. Dream of those quick-silver eyes shining in the early morning light as he lays besides me and whispers good morning in some alternate present, while I just sit here and stare.
s
The dining hall was abuzz with life, students chattering away whilst shovelling down mountains of food. It was a wonder so little were fat. Breakfast was a rather quiet affair, compared to dinner or lunch, many still half asleep or unwilling to make any human contact as of yet.
The famous trio, Harry, Hermione and Ron, sat at their table, the first as distant as he always was in the mornings, staring off at the Slytherin table. By now most were used to the obsessive behaviour and thought little of it. Hermione had been the only one to notice a change, when suspicious glances turned to longing. She would give Harry questioning looks whenever she caught his eye, but he only smiled and turned to his food for a matter of moments, before losing himself again.
He was the only one to take note of the fact Draco hardly touched his food- a mouthful if anything, before he began pushing it around with his fork. He left earlier than everyone else, only a few other students leaving moments after he disappeared out the hall doors. Then the Seeker's full attention would return to his friends and his meal.
"What do you think Harry?"
"Hm?" The teen’s attention turned from his bacon to his girlfriend, who sat in front of him.
"Luna and Neville invited me to go plant shopping in Hogsmead this weekend." The redhead explained whilst serving herself more toast. "I have nothing better to do, unless someone else asked me to go out." She looked up at him through her lashes, a long expectant look. Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
"Sounds good, have fun." Ginny's face fell in an exasperated manner, movements now that little bit more violent as she poured herself juice, the backsplash hitting the tablecloth, and slammed the jug back down. Ron's eyes widened and he leaned over to Harry, whispering quietly.
"Must be on her rag or something- ow!" Ginny's glare was only half as painful as Hermione's kick under the table.
The three left not long after, the witch of the group wanting to return to the tower and read through a chapter of her ‘History of Magic’ textbook before class began. The other two had begrudgingly agreed they needed the head-start too. The stone halls were still rather quiet as they walked towards the staircases, Hermione traveling ahead that little bit faster than the lumbering boys. When she suddenly stopped it wasn't till the two caught up that they took notice of her curious expression.
"Did you hear that?" She asked, looking down into the darkened hall to their left. The three listened a second before a distant laugh sounded, the noise cruel and twisted. Other's followed, jeering and boisterous yells becoming apparent. The three looked at each other surprised before hurrying down the hall, towards the noise. A fight by the sounds, hooting and stamping becoming apparent.
There was a group of five gathered at the end of the hall, two Slytherin and three Ravenclaw. No victim seemed to be present, till one lifted their arm high. A small white ferret was struggling in his grasp, held so tightly it looked its neck would snap. A puddle of black and green Slytherin robes lay beneath it on the floor.
Hermione gasped as the bullies eyes widened, all grabbing out their wands. The five turned to them, the ferret suddenly thrown at the wall with a horrible sound, before they scattered away like terrified mice. A few stinging hexes were sent their way, howls ensuing as they met their mark. Harry's hand shook, Unforgivables flying around barely restrained in his mind before he forced himself to put the wand away and ran to the limp rodent's size. It spasmed uncontrollably, as if trying to breath.
"Reparifarge!" Hermione cast, also coming to kneel beside him. Where the ferret had been there was a swirl of white light, before a bare Malfoy lay curled up on the floor. His eyes were clenched shut, pale body littered with the beginning signs of bruises as his chest moved uncontrollably, mouth wide as if to gulp for air, but nothing would go in.
"He's winded." The girl said, placing her robe over his pastel skin as Ron looked away in an embarrassed fashion. "We need to get him to Pomfrey." The spasms stopped but the teen still didn't breathe, fallen unconscious. "Ron help me carry him!" The girl stood at Draco's head, gesturing for the other to take his legs. Ron faltered, unsure what to do as his girlfriend looked at him expectantly. She was about to yell at him but Harry had already scooped Malfoy up, walking as fast as he could towards the hospital ward. Ron and Hermione hurried after, the redhead grabbing Malfoy's robes and sprinting after.
The girl of the trio fussed about Harry, telling him to walk slower and be gentle, as they didn't know the extent of his injuries. He ignored her, speeding up his pace. Did she not realize he wasn't fucking breathing?!
They arrived at the infirmary in no time, Ron running ahead and pushing the doors open. Harry barrelled in, placing Draco down gently on the closest bed. He was about to yell for the nurse but the woman was already rushing over, wand in hand as her bosom heaved.
"He's not breathing," Hermione explained before the witch could ask.
"There was a crunch sound!" Ron added.
"We found him being strangled." She continued.
"They threw him at a bloody wall!" The redhead interrupted. Madam Pomfrey nodded, looking closely and readying her wand. Just as Harry was considering giving the other mouth to mouth the blond gasped, a white light hitting him from the nurse’s wand. He coughed violently, head against the pillows as his hands clutched the sheets. Blood began to splutter from his mouth, the teen’s eyes fluttering before they fell shut again- unconscious, but breathing.
"Out you go you three!" She cried, sounding slightly panicked.
"But Madame-!" Harry went to argue.
"Out!" She shoved them towards the doors, grabbing the robes in Ron's arms and spelling the entrance shut tight the second they were through.
Harry slammed a fist down on the wooden doors, making the two jump, the metal handles shaking at the impact. His jaw was set and eyes clenched, the male of the couple behind him looking at his girlfriend in a lost fashion. She appeared sad, looking at the Seeker concerned. Ron gave a minute before setting his hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
"Come on mate, nothing we can do here."
"Let's go to McGonagall and report this." Hermione suggested, putting her own hand on his other arm supportively. Harry nodded, unclenching his fist and letting it fall from the door. He waited another moment before turning and leading the two away, black robes bellowing behind him. Hermione gave his back a piteous look whilst Ron looked to her and shrugged. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his shoulder, dragging the Keeper along.
s
"Harry mate, you okay?" Ron was looking closely at him, head ducked as he whispered. They were in the library studying, and so far he hadn't turned a page in the last hour. Hermione sat beside her boyfriend, pretending to be absorbed in her book to give the illusion of privacy.
"Yeah." The black-haired teen replied, rubbing his forehead and the scar there, as he often did. He couldn't focus. The only thing in his mind seemed to be the image of Malfoy, laying naked and helpless, curled up on the cold floor. Now whenever he envisioned the other's porcelain skin it was covered in red marks, swellings everywhere that would develop into great purple blotches- and not the nice kind.
Ron nodded, his friends reply having been enough to sate his curiosity. Hermione restrained rolling her eyes.
"We should go check on Malfoy later." She suggested. Merlin knew nobody else would. All his friends had either left or died. Parkinson and Zambini had transferred schools to finish their last years, Crabbe was dead, and Goyle had disappeared after the war. Anyone else had abandoned him, his father in prison and mother under house arrest under the guise of ‘ministry protection’.
"I'll go now." Harry suddenly said, the librarian hushing him as his chair screeched. Ron went to give a rebuttal, that they could go together later, but a swift kick from Hermione turned it to a pained exclamation, earning them another hush. Harry was already out into the hall by the time he recovered. The teen had even forgotten his book bag.
Potter hurried through the stone castle halls towards the hospital wing, as he had with Malfoy in his arms the day before. The blond had been so frail and thin. He had see nhis ribs were beginning to show, Champaign skin stretched tight around his lithe, tall frame. His first port of call once the other was out would definitely be to find a way to make him eat more, without him knowing, perhaps through the house elves.
The hospital bay doors had never looked so dark and foreboding as when he stood before them now. Finding his courage, he gently pushed them open and looked in. Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, nor was Malfoy. Only a pile of blankets that looked like a gently breathing hill. Harry smiled and quietly walked over to the bedside. At the sound of his footsteps the mound shifted, and a blond head peaked out of the blankets. Draco looked pale and exhausted, as he had during the war, a great purple and black bruise around his throat, which at first the lion had mistaken for the collar of a turtle-neck sweater.
He looked at Harry confused at first, still appearing half asleep. It was absolutely adorable.
'Potter?' He mouthed the word but no sound came out.
"Hey." Harry greeted, coming to sit on the end of the bed. Draco sat up from his curled-up position, which the other teen still found unbelievably endearing. Malfoy was so prim and proper, he'd always taken him as the type to sleep long and straight. It made fantasies of spooning and the other curling up on his chest to sleep torturously graspable.
The sheets fell from his shoulders, exposing that the other was now re-dressed in his uniform, white button-up half undone.
"I just came to check on you." Potter explained, the blond nodding. "Are you doing okay?" Draco stopped a moment, not expecting the other to question his condition, before bobbing his head slowly. "Is your neck okay?" This time he seemed to think about the question, before shrugging his shoulders. He was playing with the sheets corner and avoiding looking at the other.
'Can't talk.' He mouthed.
"Do you need anything?" Draco almost smiled, the expression tight and unsure as he glanced up at the other and shook his head. The behaviour was odd, not self-assured and snobby as he was accustomed. It was almost shy.
Malfoy slowly turned his head and gestured with it to the bedside table. Hermione's robe was folded atop.
"Thanks." Harry said, getting up and taking the clothing. "Ur, these are Hermione's." He added, sounding awkward even to his own ears. His confidence and courage had flown out the stain glass windows on a Hippogriff's back, probably off on an adventure somewhere. On top of that Malfoy looked sickly and exhausted.
"Do you want me to go?" He shrugged, still playing with the sheets. Madame Pomfrey choice that moment to enter from the nurse’s office. She tutted and hurried over.
"You are supposed to be resting.” The woman scolded Draco. “You can come back to check on him tomorrow afternoon Mr Potter." Pomfrey hurried him along out the doors as he looked back to see Draco yawn and snuggle back under the blankets. Now out the doors she rested a hand on the boy's arm.
"He'll be all healed up in no time." The witch promised, piercing blue eyes filled with assurance. Harry nodded and she pet his arm twice before walking off, doors creaking to slowly draw together behind her. Through the opening he could see Draco, looking over at him from just above the blankets hem. Their gazes held till the door groaned shut, and Harry was left staring longingly at the oak.
s
It was five days since he last saw Draco. He, Ron, and Hermione had dropped in to give the teen an enchanted parchment, which he'd managed to charm himself. Whatever was written disappeared moments later, so the teen could reuse it to communicate, as he still couldn’t speak. When he'd first given it to him the blond had looked shocked, debating a moment before letting his quill brush over the page with perfect precision. Beautiful calligraphic letters created a large 'Thank you' that even Ron had smiled at, touched by the uncharacteristic appreciation. The redhead had even confided to the two that Malfoy was an ‘alright bloke’ as they left, which swelled Harry’s spirits.
It had been a good day. Really, he was all too happy that he was able to help at all, feeling rather like he owed the other. Considering he had almost killed the blond, and Draco had betrayed Voldemort to thrown him his wand, plus he was pretty much using thoughts of him nightly as masturbation fodder. So yeah, a piece of enchanted paper was nothing.
Harry walked with his friends by his sides towards the castle library, intent on studying. He'd get nothing done, he knew it, now that he'd thought of the final battle. It was one of his favourite memories, funnily enough. Not the death or the battle or anything, just that one particular part- when Draco had left everything he knew behind, and run to him. He'd run to him and given Harry his wand, a part of who he was. A wizard didn't use someone else's wand, not unless they shared a bond, or in some cases killed the owner. You had to be compatible with the wand, you had to be compatible with the owner. As farfetched as it was, it gave Harry just that drop of hope that those beautiful silver eyes might look at him the same way he looked at them.
The trio entered the library, and the first thing to catch Harry's eyes was that perfect platinum head of hair, pale face focused down in a large book. Draco sat at a library table in his uniform studying. His neck had healed, and he now had some colour in his cheeks. It was a welcomed sight and Harry smiled, walking straight over without thought.
"Hey." The blond looked up and smiled gently, seeming to appreciate that they were on amicable terms.
"Hi." His voice was quiet like a breath of wind, and it seemed to pain him to speak. He quickly got out the folded enchanted parchment from his pocket.
"You weren't at breakfast or lunch." Or any of his classes that day as it was, not that he found that important.
'I cannot eat at the moment.' Draco wrote, just as Hermione and Ron approached.
"Bummer mate." Ron commented, after reading the now fading note.
"Has Madame Pomfrey given you anything that might help?" Hermione asked. The blond went to speak, forgetting he couldn't, and broke into a series of coughs. Harry hurried to his side as the librarian hushed them, Ron poking his tongue back at her once she turned.
The Seeker rubbed the hunched blonde's back soothingly, crouching besides him, but he could hardly stop to breath before falling back into hacks. He spluttered and struggled, finally managing to stop. The hand covering his mouth and lips now dripped blood, and the pale teen groaned when he saw, the sound sending him back into whooping coughs.
Ron swore and the three rushed to assist, Harry aiding Draco to stand.
"Shhhhhh!" The elderly librarian practically yelled at them, eyes widening as Hermione glared and Ron made a face.
Potter wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and tried to help him walk towards the door, but he kept keeling over and coughing up more blood. Out of options the teen picked the other right up, holding him close to his chest and carrying him back off to Pomfrey. Hermione grabbed the blonde's book-bag before following, her redheaded partner not noticing they had left due to the glaring contest he had begun with the librarian. He quickly ran after them once he realized he was alone.
Draco struggled to sate his outbursts as he curled up against the other’s chest, probably dripping the blood from his lips onto Potter's robes. They were red and black anyway, it wouldn't show up. The vague thought passed through the Slytherin's mind that perhaps that had been the thinking behind the Gryffindor colouring, as they were to most likely to get into bloody fights. His musings were fleeting as he broke into hacking coughs again.
Harry was running now, panting from the weight in his arms as his feet slammed against stone. Thankfully the fit had stopped, the teen now cringing from the pain in his throat as he pressed his face into Harry's chest.
Pomfrey was standing by another student, a Hufflepuff who appeared to have a potion burn, when they entered. She quickly left the bandaged student, coming to the bed which Harry laid him in, the same as last time. Draco was groaning and clutching his throat, eyes shut tight.
"Stupefy." The teen was quickly unconscious, the woman also casting a clean-up spell and checking his neck. The trio watched, as well as the curious second-year. There were no longer any visible bruises, thanks to certain healing spells, yet Pomfrey looked troubled by the fact she couldn't find the problem. Harry's intense anxious gaze wasn't helping.
"It's difficult to heal as he wasn't in the same form when he acquired the injuries." She explained. "I'll do my best. Now, you know the drill Mr Potter. Off you pop." Harry sighed and allowed Hermione to drag him out.
"Anyone else getting a serious taste of Deja Vu from this?" Ron asked, the dark-haired wizard looking back behind them at the sleeping blonde’s perfect neutral features. The redhead gently pet his shoulder, a supportive smile on his lips. The Seeker turned to him and returned it weakly.
"You said it mate." And he hoped dearly that it never repeated itself again.