H/D fic: Tabula Rasa (Part 2/2)
Title: Tabula Rasa
Author: icicle33
Word count: ~2600
Warnings: none except you might want to kill Harry at the end
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I just borrow them from time to time for my own personal amusement.
A/N: The first part of this story could almost stand alone as a one-shot. This part is taking a little bit of a different turn than you would expect, but I have my reasons. Just bear with me right now because Harry is going through a roller coaster of emotions right now: confused, violent, livid, now guilty, and possibly concerned. Enjoy.
Go back to Part 1
* * *
Harry doesn’t see Malfoy for the next three days. Malfoy is missing from the Great Hall at all meal times, and he doesn't show up to any of his classes on Monday. Not that Harry notices. Why would he notice Malfoy? They aren’t friends anymore. They never had been.
He hates Malfoy.
Still, it's strange that he's missing. Besides, Harry has a strange impression from all the glowering Slytherins that something's wrong. Secretly, he hopes that Malfoy's okay.
Fucking Malfoy. What a git.
On Monday evening, about halfway through dinnertime, Malfoy appears. Harry feels his blood boiling again, fury flowing through his body and warming his cheeks. He's getting ready to confront the arrogant Slytherin, so he holds his breath, waiting for the foul git to come over and antagonise Harry and the other Gryffindors--as he does every mealtime. This time will be different, Harry thinks. He's prepared. He's ready to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. But then, Malfoy does the inexplicable and saunters right by the Gryffindor table never once glancing at any of them. He strolls right by the Ravenclaw table without flashing his usual devastating smile at the girls, he doesn't glare furiously at the Hufflepuffs, and then takes his place at the head of the Slytherin table between Parkinson and Zabini.
No, this isn’t right.Who does Malfoy think he's fooling? He always comes over during dinner and insults Harry. He's a creature of habit. It's his ritual.
Always. What’s the git playing at now? Probably some new scheme. Stupid Malfoy.
Harry watches Malfoy through narrowed eyes as he casually converses with Parkinson and Zabini. He appears unfazed, completely calm and collected. Harry feels his knuckles clenching at his sides. Why the hell is the prat ignoring him? Malfoy won’t even lock eyes with him, and he has his stupid poncey hair in his face again. More so than usual. His stupid hair covers his ugly, stupid face.
That's so Malfoy.
God, he hates Malfoy. Ignoring Harry and the entire Great Hall like he owns the place--as if he were too good to speak with anyone that isn’t one of his precious pure-bloods. What’s so good about purebloods anyway? They’re probably all inbred. That’s why they’re all so ugly. Yeah, stupid Pansy and Zabini fawning over Malfoy. He's probably just skiving off class again. But before Harry can continue contemplating Malfoy, his jaw drops.
Pansy reaches up and brushes Malfoy’s fringe out of his eyes. Malfoy winces, grabbing her wrist and throwing it back at her.
“Don’t,” he threatens and Pansy looks away, her cheeks flushing.
Clearly, Malfoy wanted to keep his face hidden underneath his pale fringe, but it's too late. Under his fringe, Malfoy’s left eye is half-closed and swollen up to the size of a miniature snitch; he has a dark bruise that stretches from his eyelid to the middle of his cheek. It's a horrid, violet colour and his cheekbones appear to be almost protruding from underneath his pale skin. His skin is a ghastly shade of grey, definitely not the usual pale white that Harry has noticed so often, and small cuts seem to take over the entire left side of his face.
Harry’s gut wrenches and starts contorting in a manner he never knew possible. He feels like he has been punched in the gut.
Did he really do that to Malfoy? Did he really punch him so hard and shove him that violently against the windowsill that he's practically destroyed the left side of his face? There’s no way. It can’t be.
Malfoy's obnoxious; everyone hates Malfoy, not just him. He probably made another one of his horrid remarks and someone finally gave him what's coming to him. Yes, that's probably it. Someone else destroyed Malfoy’s face. He probably deserved it. The stupid git.
Harry can breathe again; he knows he's not responsible. But for some reason, his stomach doesn't get the memo. He feels the need to empty it. Immediately.
* * *
On his way out of the dining hall, he runs into Blaise Zabini. He grabs Harry by the back of his robes and throws him against the wall.
Oh no, not this again! Desperately, he hopes that Zabini isn’t going to kiss him. If he is, at least Harry can empty the contents of his sloshing stomach on him. That will be a plus. Harry flinches and closes his eyes in anticipation. Once he opens them again, Zabini's pressed up against him: his ebony wand knifed against his throat.
“Potter,” he spits, in the same hateful tone Malfoy uses.
What is it with these Slytherins and treating my name as if it were an insult?
“I don’t know what type of game you think you’re playing at,” Zabini continues, his voice like venom, “but it stops. Now."
Harry narrows his eyes at Zabini but doesn't comment. Zabini's known for being a bit of a firecracker and the last thing Harry wants is to get on the wrong end of his wand.
"I know that you and Draco have always loved carving each other up, but I thought that was over. Draco thought it was over...that you two had reached some sort of strange understanding." Zabini pauses and softens his voice. "He thought you were no longer enemies."
Zabini pushes his wand further into Harry's throat and licks his lips. "I told him he was mad...that you, the famous Boy Wonder, would never care for him." He steps closer to Harry and shoves him deeper into the wall, his dark face only inches away. "But I never thought this whole farce was some ploy to kill him!”
“What? I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was just--”
“You were just...what?” roared Blaise. “Trying to ruin him? Humiliate him? Blind him for life?" Finally, he releases the wand from Harry's throat but doesn't step away. "He trusted you." He sneers. "He's a fool."
Harry sighs in relief that his throat is no longer Zabini's target. He tries to put a friendly or at least casual expression on his face.
“Malfoy’s a foul git. You know that, Zabini." He sighs again when Zabini's eyes darken further at Harry's attempt of humour. "He started it, he always does." Harry ignores Zabini's glare. "I didn’t push him that hard. He’s just milking this. Why doesn’t he let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?”
“Why doesn’t he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?” Zabini deadpans in a tone way too screechy to be Harry’s voice.
“Because," he says, now using his usual deep tone, "you can’t use Healing Potion so close to an eye, you idiot! Don’t you ever read? And...he’s allergic to Healing Potions, you know that." His dark eyes brighten as if he's just realised something important. "That’s probably why you did it. I can't believe you...you malicious little--"
“Malfoy’s allergic to Healing Potion? I never knew that." Harry bites his bottom lip and averts his eyes to the floor. "He never told me."
“How could you not know? You’ve put him in the hospital countless times. Why did you think it always takes him so long to recover...from your brawls? "
"Erm-"
"What...did you think he likes to sit in the hospital instead of being instantly healed? That he likes wearing splints, braces, patches and whatever else you do to him?” Zabini sends Harry a glare so cold that it easily could have rivalled one of Snape's best glares. "Don't be pathetic, Potter."
“No, I just..." Harry pushes away from Zabini and runs a hand through his messy hair. "I just always thought he was milking it. I swear."
Zabini continues scowling at him but doesn't respond.
"That’s so Malfoy...pretending like he’s dying. He’s injured me too, countless times. I know it's never that bad," Harry replies, attempting to defend himself. "He broke my nose and jaw once--”
“You idiot, you’re even denser than I thought. Malfoy’s always been allergic to Healing Potions. Your broken nose, jaw, whatever--they were always healed." He sighs again. Apparently, Slytherins sigh a lot. Why are they always so moody?
"Obviously, you always feel some discomfort afterwards," Zabini continues in a tone that reminds him of Hermione's lecture voice, " which is actually a side effect of the Healing Potions themselves. And--Potter, are you even listening?"
Harry looks at Zabini, his green eyes darkening as he blinks, desperately hoping that this is all some prank. It just has to be; there's no way he's really that clueless. That pathetic.
“My god, you really don’t know anything." Zabini scowls further and furrows his forehead. "It must be true then...what they say...that those Muggles dropped you on your head as a child." Zabini sneers at Harry again, his large lower lip curling disdainfully.
Harry returns Zabini's glare and considers lunging at him.
“Anyway," Zabini continues completely ignoring Harry's glare. Slytherins are so self important. How rude. "Draco is allergic to almost all Healing Potions. He has to heal the other way, the you know, the other way.”
“What...the Muggle way?”
“No, not the Muggle way! He’s a bloody pure-blood wizard. I suppose...that you don’t know that Muggle medicine is toxic to pure-bloods.”
Harry’s eyes widen again.
“Of course, you don’t." He shakes his head. "You don’t know anything. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you, but I guess it’s necessary, so you don’t keep killing Draco." Zabini puts more space between Harry and himself, and then starts pacing as he explains Malfoy's situation.
"No, Draco doesn’t heal the Muggle way. He just has to bear it." He motions with his hands and grimaces, probably from the thought of the word Muggle. "I guess you could say, he heals the natural way. Holistic or something like that. He can’t take Pain Potions or Healing Potions." Zabini averts his eyes from Harry's, and for a second, he looks wistful--as if his mind were far away and lost in a distant memory. "He just has to deal with all of it. That’s why his recoveries take so long. He’s not milking it, you prat!"
“I-I don’t believe you,” Harry stammers, his hands shaking at his sides “I-I didn’t know... And, if that’s really the case, then why isn’t he scarred all over? We’ve had quite a few encounters where...well you know...he was accidently cut.”
Zabini scoffs, the wistful look gone from his face and replaced by his usual cold, guarded look. “Right, accidentally cut, Potter. You really are daft, aren’t you? I never said he was allergic to Anti-Scarring Potion or Dittany, did I?" Zabini smirks. "Luckily, he’s not, the vain git that he is. But he still has to deal with the pain the entire time. Always."
"No, I-"
"I can’t believe you didn’t know, Potter? I always thought you just liked seeing him in pain and mocking him while you were fine after you’re little fights.”
“No, please--”
“Look, it doesn’t matter now, Potter." Zabini waves his hand dismissively. "It’s just that, as you know, Draco is ill. And--after this last little incident between you two, he’s gotten worse."
Harry opens his eyes even wider. Draco's ill? That's the first time he hears of it.
"I’ve already spoken with him, and he promised me that he’ll stay away from you. So just do the same, okay?" He was still scowling. "He promises...and the rest of the Slytherins do too, that we’ll leave you and all your little Gryffindor friends alone. We’ll pretend that you don’t exist. Just leave Draco alone!"
His dark eyes are blazing now, and Harry can't help but gulp and feel concerned.
"I know he’s a prat, but I’ll do my best to keep him in line. Just, Potter, leave him alone.” Zabini turns away from Harry, and he thinks he hears a hitch in his voice. Is Malfoy really that ill? Is Zabini really that worried about his friend? It's just Malfoy for Merlin's sake.
“Uh..uh.. is he okay?” Harry asks, surprised by how timid his voice sounds.
“Haven’t you been listening? Of course, he’s not okay. He’s spent the last three days in the hospital wing. Just leave it, Potter. You’ve done enough.”
Harry’s mind is clouding over-he feels numb. He's about to respond. Desperatetly, he wants to respond, to defend himself. But he can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he does the only thing that comes to mind and takes off. He sprints down the corridor, straight through the east wing of the castle, way past what he thinks are the Hufflepuff dorms, and all the way out of the castle, knocking down anyone who's foolish enough to get in his way. Once he's outside, he runs straight to the Quidditch Pitch, thankful that that it's deserted. Finally, he stops and greedily gasps for air. It's been a long time since he'd last run. He supposes that he's out of shape.
It doesn’t really matter now. Nothing matters now. This can’t be true. It can’t be. All those fights with Malfoy...their truce...why didn't Malfoy ever mention it?
Why didn't anyone ever mention it?
Does everyone really think that Harry's that much of a sadistic bastard? That he and Malfoy brawl and each of them wind up in the hospital wing twice a month--with Harry knowing that Malfoy can’t heal properly--that he's supposedly ill as Blaise told him. Is that why after their brawls Malfoy usually leaves him alone for a while because he needs time to heal properly before their next brawl?
It can’t be. I'm a monster.
His stomach twists into knots again; sour bile rams its way up his oesophagus. Harry tries to push it back down like before, but this time, he does lose his dinner.
Oh God. This isn’t happening. Perhaps it isn't true. You can't trust Slytherins, perhaps Zabini is lying. Yes, that must be it. It has to be.
He's a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors are good. And Slytherins are bad. It's as simple as that.
Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Yes, there's never a wizard that hasn’t gone bad that wasn’t in Slytherin. That’s what Hagrid told him. What Ron had told him. What everyone believes.
Yes, Slytherins are bad. And--Gryffindors are good. Blaise has to be lying.
~Fin
(or end of chapter if people like this and want me to continue)
Author’s Note: So, what did everyone think? Don’t kill me. I know that Harry’s upset and you feel bad for him, but at least now Harry is no longer pissed at Draco, right? I’ve never written a slash scene before, so I tried my best to write a believable one, especially while in Harry’s head. Let me know what you think and how I can make it better? At this point, I don’t have a beta, and if anyone is interested, I would love for you to help me.
Thanks for reading.
~Icicle
Author: icicle33
Word count: ~2600
Warnings: none except you might want to kill Harry at the end
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I just borrow them from time to time for my own personal amusement.
A/N: The first part of this story could almost stand alone as a one-shot. This part is taking a little bit of a different turn than you would expect, but I have my reasons. Just bear with me right now because Harry is going through a roller coaster of emotions right now: confused, violent, livid, now guilty, and possibly concerned. Enjoy.
Go back to Part 1
* * *
Harry doesn’t see Malfoy for the next three days. Malfoy is missing from the Great Hall at all meal times, and he doesn't show up to any of his classes on Monday. Not that Harry notices. Why would he notice Malfoy? They aren’t friends anymore. They never had been.
He hates Malfoy.
Still, it's strange that he's missing. Besides, Harry has a strange impression from all the glowering Slytherins that something's wrong. Secretly, he hopes that Malfoy's okay.
Fucking Malfoy. What a git.
On Monday evening, about halfway through dinnertime, Malfoy appears. Harry feels his blood boiling again, fury flowing through his body and warming his cheeks. He's getting ready to confront the arrogant Slytherin, so he holds his breath, waiting for the foul git to come over and antagonise Harry and the other Gryffindors--as he does every mealtime. This time will be different, Harry thinks. He's prepared. He's ready to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. But then, Malfoy does the inexplicable and saunters right by the Gryffindor table never once glancing at any of them. He strolls right by the Ravenclaw table without flashing his usual devastating smile at the girls, he doesn't glare furiously at the Hufflepuffs, and then takes his place at the head of the Slytherin table between Parkinson and Zabini.
No, this isn’t right.Who does Malfoy think he's fooling? He always comes over during dinner and insults Harry. He's a creature of habit. It's his ritual.
Always. What’s the git playing at now? Probably some new scheme. Stupid Malfoy.
Harry watches Malfoy through narrowed eyes as he casually converses with Parkinson and Zabini. He appears unfazed, completely calm and collected. Harry feels his knuckles clenching at his sides. Why the hell is the prat ignoring him? Malfoy won’t even lock eyes with him, and he has his stupid poncey hair in his face again. More so than usual. His stupid hair covers his ugly, stupid face.
That's so Malfoy.
God, he hates Malfoy. Ignoring Harry and the entire Great Hall like he owns the place--as if he were too good to speak with anyone that isn’t one of his precious pure-bloods. What’s so good about purebloods anyway? They’re probably all inbred. That’s why they’re all so ugly. Yeah, stupid Pansy and Zabini fawning over Malfoy. He's probably just skiving off class again. But before Harry can continue contemplating Malfoy, his jaw drops.
Pansy reaches up and brushes Malfoy’s fringe out of his eyes. Malfoy winces, grabbing her wrist and throwing it back at her.
“Don’t,” he threatens and Pansy looks away, her cheeks flushing.
Clearly, Malfoy wanted to keep his face hidden underneath his pale fringe, but it's too late. Under his fringe, Malfoy’s left eye is half-closed and swollen up to the size of a miniature snitch; he has a dark bruise that stretches from his eyelid to the middle of his cheek. It's a horrid, violet colour and his cheekbones appear to be almost protruding from underneath his pale skin. His skin is a ghastly shade of grey, definitely not the usual pale white that Harry has noticed so often, and small cuts seem to take over the entire left side of his face.
Harry’s gut wrenches and starts contorting in a manner he never knew possible. He feels like he has been punched in the gut.
Did he really do that to Malfoy? Did he really punch him so hard and shove him that violently against the windowsill that he's practically destroyed the left side of his face? There’s no way. It can’t be.
Malfoy's obnoxious; everyone hates Malfoy, not just him. He probably made another one of his horrid remarks and someone finally gave him what's coming to him. Yes, that's probably it. Someone else destroyed Malfoy’s face. He probably deserved it. The stupid git.
Harry can breathe again; he knows he's not responsible. But for some reason, his stomach doesn't get the memo. He feels the need to empty it. Immediately.
* * *
On his way out of the dining hall, he runs into Blaise Zabini. He grabs Harry by the back of his robes and throws him against the wall.
Oh no, not this again! Desperately, he hopes that Zabini isn’t going to kiss him. If he is, at least Harry can empty the contents of his sloshing stomach on him. That will be a plus. Harry flinches and closes his eyes in anticipation. Once he opens them again, Zabini's pressed up against him: his ebony wand knifed against his throat.
“Potter,” he spits, in the same hateful tone Malfoy uses.
What is it with these Slytherins and treating my name as if it were an insult?
“I don’t know what type of game you think you’re playing at,” Zabini continues, his voice like venom, “but it stops. Now."
Harry narrows his eyes at Zabini but doesn't comment. Zabini's known for being a bit of a firecracker and the last thing Harry wants is to get on the wrong end of his wand.
"I know that you and Draco have always loved carving each other up, but I thought that was over. Draco thought it was over...that you two had reached some sort of strange understanding." Zabini pauses and softens his voice. "He thought you were no longer enemies."
Zabini pushes his wand further into Harry's throat and licks his lips. "I told him he was mad...that you, the famous Boy Wonder, would never care for him." He steps closer to Harry and shoves him deeper into the wall, his dark face only inches away. "But I never thought this whole farce was some ploy to kill him!”
“What? I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was just--”
“You were just...what?” roared Blaise. “Trying to ruin him? Humiliate him? Blind him for life?" Finally, he releases the wand from Harry's throat but doesn't step away. "He trusted you." He sneers. "He's a fool."
Harry sighs in relief that his throat is no longer Zabini's target. He tries to put a friendly or at least casual expression on his face.
“Malfoy’s a foul git. You know that, Zabini." He sighs again when Zabini's eyes darken further at Harry's attempt of humour. "He started it, he always does." Harry ignores Zabini's glare. "I didn’t push him that hard. He’s just milking this. Why doesn’t he let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?”
“Why doesn’t he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?” Zabini deadpans in a tone way too screechy to be Harry’s voice.
“Because," he says, now using his usual deep tone, "you can’t use Healing Potion so close to an eye, you idiot! Don’t you ever read? And...he’s allergic to Healing Potions, you know that." His dark eyes brighten as if he's just realised something important. "That’s probably why you did it. I can't believe you...you malicious little--"
“Malfoy’s allergic to Healing Potion? I never knew that." Harry bites his bottom lip and averts his eyes to the floor. "He never told me."
“How could you not know? You’ve put him in the hospital countless times. Why did you think it always takes him so long to recover...from your brawls? "
"Erm-"
"What...did you think he likes to sit in the hospital instead of being instantly healed? That he likes wearing splints, braces, patches and whatever else you do to him?” Zabini sends Harry a glare so cold that it easily could have rivalled one of Snape's best glares. "Don't be pathetic, Potter."
“No, I just..." Harry pushes away from Zabini and runs a hand through his messy hair. "I just always thought he was milking it. I swear."
Zabini continues scowling at him but doesn't respond.
"That’s so Malfoy...pretending like he’s dying. He’s injured me too, countless times. I know it's never that bad," Harry replies, attempting to defend himself. "He broke my nose and jaw once--”
“You idiot, you’re even denser than I thought. Malfoy’s always been allergic to Healing Potions. Your broken nose, jaw, whatever--they were always healed." He sighs again. Apparently, Slytherins sigh a lot. Why are they always so moody?
"Obviously, you always feel some discomfort afterwards," Zabini continues in a tone that reminds him of Hermione's lecture voice, " which is actually a side effect of the Healing Potions themselves. And--Potter, are you even listening?"
Harry looks at Zabini, his green eyes darkening as he blinks, desperately hoping that this is all some prank. It just has to be; there's no way he's really that clueless. That pathetic.
“My god, you really don’t know anything." Zabini scowls further and furrows his forehead. "It must be true then...what they say...that those Muggles dropped you on your head as a child." Zabini sneers at Harry again, his large lower lip curling disdainfully.
Harry returns Zabini's glare and considers lunging at him.
“Anyway," Zabini continues completely ignoring Harry's glare. Slytherins are so self important. How rude. "Draco is allergic to almost all Healing Potions. He has to heal the other way, the you know, the other way.”
“What...the Muggle way?”
“No, not the Muggle way! He’s a bloody pure-blood wizard. I suppose...that you don’t know that Muggle medicine is toxic to pure-bloods.”
Harry’s eyes widen again.
“Of course, you don’t." He shakes his head. "You don’t know anything. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you, but I guess it’s necessary, so you don’t keep killing Draco." Zabini puts more space between Harry and himself, and then starts pacing as he explains Malfoy's situation.
"No, Draco doesn’t heal the Muggle way. He just has to bear it." He motions with his hands and grimaces, probably from the thought of the word Muggle. "I guess you could say, he heals the natural way. Holistic or something like that. He can’t take Pain Potions or Healing Potions." Zabini averts his eyes from Harry's, and for a second, he looks wistful--as if his mind were far away and lost in a distant memory. "He just has to deal with all of it. That’s why his recoveries take so long. He’s not milking it, you prat!"
“I-I don’t believe you,” Harry stammers, his hands shaking at his sides “I-I didn’t know... And, if that’s really the case, then why isn’t he scarred all over? We’ve had quite a few encounters where...well you know...he was accidently cut.”
Zabini scoffs, the wistful look gone from his face and replaced by his usual cold, guarded look. “Right, accidentally cut, Potter. You really are daft, aren’t you? I never said he was allergic to Anti-Scarring Potion or Dittany, did I?" Zabini smirks. "Luckily, he’s not, the vain git that he is. But he still has to deal with the pain the entire time. Always."
"No, I-"
"I can’t believe you didn’t know, Potter? I always thought you just liked seeing him in pain and mocking him while you were fine after you’re little fights.”
“No, please--”
“Look, it doesn’t matter now, Potter." Zabini waves his hand dismissively. "It’s just that, as you know, Draco is ill. And--after this last little incident between you two, he’s gotten worse."
Harry opens his eyes even wider. Draco's ill? That's the first time he hears of it.
"I’ve already spoken with him, and he promised me that he’ll stay away from you. So just do the same, okay?" He was still scowling. "He promises...and the rest of the Slytherins do too, that we’ll leave you and all your little Gryffindor friends alone. We’ll pretend that you don’t exist. Just leave Draco alone!"
His dark eyes are blazing now, and Harry can't help but gulp and feel concerned.
"I know he’s a prat, but I’ll do my best to keep him in line. Just, Potter, leave him alone.” Zabini turns away from Harry, and he thinks he hears a hitch in his voice. Is Malfoy really that ill? Is Zabini really that worried about his friend? It's just Malfoy for Merlin's sake.
“Uh..uh.. is he okay?” Harry asks, surprised by how timid his voice sounds.
“Haven’t you been listening? Of course, he’s not okay. He’s spent the last three days in the hospital wing. Just leave it, Potter. You’ve done enough.”
Harry’s mind is clouding over-he feels numb. He's about to respond. Desperatetly, he wants to respond, to defend himself. But he can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he does the only thing that comes to mind and takes off. He sprints down the corridor, straight through the east wing of the castle, way past what he thinks are the Hufflepuff dorms, and all the way out of the castle, knocking down anyone who's foolish enough to get in his way. Once he's outside, he runs straight to the Quidditch Pitch, thankful that that it's deserted. Finally, he stops and greedily gasps for air. It's been a long time since he'd last run. He supposes that he's out of shape.
It doesn’t really matter now. Nothing matters now. This can’t be true. It can’t be. All those fights with Malfoy...their truce...why didn't Malfoy ever mention it?
Why didn't anyone ever mention it?
Does everyone really think that Harry's that much of a sadistic bastard? That he and Malfoy brawl and each of them wind up in the hospital wing twice a month--with Harry knowing that Malfoy can’t heal properly--that he's supposedly ill as Blaise told him. Is that why after their brawls Malfoy usually leaves him alone for a while because he needs time to heal properly before their next brawl?
It can’t be. I'm a monster.
His stomach twists into knots again; sour bile rams its way up his oesophagus. Harry tries to push it back down like before, but this time, he does lose his dinner.
Oh God. This isn’t happening. Perhaps it isn't true. You can't trust Slytherins, perhaps Zabini is lying. Yes, that must be it. It has to be.
He's a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors are good. And Slytherins are bad. It's as simple as that.
Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Yes, there's never a wizard that hasn’t gone bad that wasn’t in Slytherin. That’s what Hagrid told him. What Ron had told him. What everyone believes.
Yes, Slytherins are bad. And--Gryffindors are good. Blaise has to be lying.
~Fin
(or end of chapter if people like this and want me to continue)
Author’s Note: So, what did everyone think? Don’t kill me. I know that Harry’s upset and you feel bad for him, but at least now Harry is no longer pissed at Draco, right? I’ve never written a slash scene before, so I tried my best to write a believable one, especially while in Harry’s head. Let me know what you think and how I can make it better? At this point, I don’t have a beta, and if anyone is interested, I would love for you to help me.
Thanks for reading.
~Icicle