(no subject)
Song: I Want to Break Free
Pairing: if you squint and tilt your head sideways, Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13 (swearing)
Summary: Harry breaks up with Ginny after realizing that someone needs him more.
I Want to Break Free
“I’m sorry, Ginny, but… we just can’t…” Harry lifted his hands in the air helplessly and let them drop to his sides.
“What? Harry, what is it?” Ginny’s eyes stared accusingly. He cringed away from her glare.
“I know you love me, and I really do think you’re a grand person… But…” She was still staring at him. He flushed violently. “I think you can get on without me. You’re strong, and confident, and self-satisfied…”
“Self-satisfied!?” Ginny nearly shrieked. “Is that all I am to you!?”
“Someone else needs me more,” Harry whispered desperately, trying to keep the scene from escalating. He already noticed Ron casting a wary look in their direction. Perhaps the common room wasn’t the best place to have this talk…
“Someone else!? There’s someone else!?” she did shriek now. Harry cringed and cast a fearful look at Ron, who stared intently at them now.
“No, Ginny, there was never anyone else. I just… I think I’ve fallen in love.” Damn the blood flooding his cheeks. “I just… I need to be free.”
“So I oppress you, now, is that it?” Ginny’s eyes flashed. “I cannot believe what you are saying, Harry Potter! Are you out of your bloody mind?”
“Ginny, I’m really sorry, but I do… I cannot get over how much you love me. I mean that. I just… You have to let me find my own way.”
A sharp crack echoed in the now silent room. Harry’s head snapped to the side with the force of her slap, and he reached up to touch the red mark on his cheek. He supposed he deserved that, really. He wasn’t making sense to even himself.
“Do not come near me ever again, Potter,” she shouted, much louder than necessary, and stormed up to the girl’s dormitory. Harry glanced at Ron and saw the redhead stand. He quickly shifted towards the door and slipped into the hall before Ron had even cleared the sitting area. Without checking to see if he was being followed, Harry bolted down the corridor.
It was only when he stopped and leaned against the wall that he realized he was shaking. He loved Ginny, but… like a sister, yes. A lover? It seemed that answer was no, because even as he thought about it, his stomach grew cold. She was Ron’s little sister, one of the closest things Harry’s ever had to a family. She was precious to him, but not romantically. Kissing her had been a mistake. A mesh of fear and anger, denial and something else that he just couldn’t control and it had let itself loose on unsuspecting girls. He hadn’t been thinking clearly.
He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the cold stone of the wall. He had messed this up. He hoped Ginny wouldn’t hate him forever. He also hoped Ron wouldn’t beat him into a pulp when he returned to the common room…
Shoving himself away from the wall, he started off in a direction away from Gryffindor tower. When he reached his destination, he stared at the closed doors in front of him. They stretched up to accommodate someone of Hagrid’s height, and while Harry had spent enough time at the Infirmary to make it a second home, the thought of entering frightened him suddenly.
He reached a hesitant hand out to touch the great wooden doors. Before his fingers brushed against them, however, they collapsed backwards to reveal the startled face of Pansy Parkinson. Properly startled, they stared at each other for a moment in wide-eyed shock before Pansy recovered her wits.
“You bastard!” she shrieked, launching herself at him. Unprepared for the attack, he tripped over his own feet and fell backwards, cracking his head against the floor. Stars darted before his eyes but he didn’t have a chance to breathe before her nails swiped across his cheek. He swore and shoved up at her, trying to get her off of him without hurting her. His hand pressed into something soft and fleshy, and Pansy shrieked and thumped his head against the ground again.
“Miss Parkinson!”
Through a fog of pain, Harry heard Madame Pomfrey’s voice cut through the hall. Pansy was lifted off him, and he sucked in a grateful breath. He sat up, and when his vision had cleared, he saw Pansy being levitated in the air by Madame Pomfrey.
“You should be utterly ashamed of yourself!” the nurse snapped, her eyes a violent shade of blue. “Fifty points from Slytherin for this atrocious display.” Pansy writhed in the air, straining to get down and retain her dignity. “Get to your dormitory this instant, young lady, or Professor Snape shall hear about this.” She set Pansy down, and the girl spat at Harry before turning and fleeing.
“Potter, are you all right?” Madame Pomfrey spared him a glare. Harry flinched. His head pounded and his cheek felt a bit sticky, but he could stand. He clambered to his feet and touched the skin Pansy had scratched. Sure enough, his fingers came away a bit red on the tips. “Come here.” Madame Pomfrey waved her wand and the scratches vanished, along with the pain in his head. “Now, you seem to be in chipper shape. What brings you here causing trouble?” She pursed her lips.
“I… er…”
“I have explicit instructions not to allow you anywhere near the Malfoy child.” She peered at him as if trying to gauge how many points she should take away if he stood there long enough.
“But can’t I just… look at him?” Harry asked, cutting off his voice as he realized how pathetic he sounded. “Please, you can have my wand… anything. I just need to see him.”
“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, I mean, I was worried, but I just…” Harry’s shoulders slumped, defeated.
“Give me your wand.” Madame Pomfrey held out her hand. Harry stumbled in his haste to get to it, slapping it into her palm before she could change her mind. “I cannot guarantee he will be awake or you will leave in one piece, as a fair warning.”
“That’s all right. I just…” He craned his neck, trying to see over her shoulder into the infirmary.
“For Merlin’s sake, Potter just go in already. I’ll keep watch for Professor Snape.” She ushered him into the room and closed the door tightly behind them. Harry didn’t know what drew his eyes to that specific bed, but the first set of curtains he drew back revealed the still form of Draco Malfoy lying behind them. Harry nested his fist into the curtains, as if trying to draw strength from them.
Malfoy’s face had always been pale, but now it looked sickeningly white, as if trying to show the pillow that he was paler, and there was nothing the pillow could do about it. Even his normally silver hair looked yellow beside the clammy pallor of his forehead and jaw. Harry stepped closer, not realizing his hand still gripped the curtain, and could see wrappings under the thin Infirmary nightshirt. Slowly, his fingers unwrapped from the cloth as he kept moving closer to the head of Malfoy’s bed. Unsure exactly why he felt he needed to, he cautiously reached out and tugged gently at the open collar of Malfoy’s button-up shirt. The fabric fell away to reveal wrappings at least an inch thick. Harry’s fingers tightened at the shirt, and in that instant Malfoy’s eyes lurched open.
Harry’s breath froze in his lungs; his eyes went wide. Malfoy made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but was so terrified he couldn’t move.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Harry murmured hesitantly.
“Bullshit,” Malfoy croaked. “Get away from me.”
“Madame Pomfrey has my wand, I can’t hurt you.”
“She let you in? She wasn’t supposed to let you in. Professor Snape said you wouldn’t be allowed in!” Malfoy jerked under his hand, trying to shy away from his touch and failing.
“Stop, you’re going to make it worse.” Harry frowned, hand still nestled stubbornly in shirt at Malfoy’s collarbone. Malfoy’s breath hitched, and he barely bit back the moan of pain.
“You’re making it worse, get away from me!” Malfoy grit his teeth. He levered himself up onto his elbows, breath heavy against the pain.
“Malfoy, no, really, you’re just - ” Harry winced at each obviously painful movement, and tried to boost Malfoy up with a supporting hand at his back. Malfoy jerked away from him violently, this time unable to prevent the cry of pain. “God, Malfoy! Stop being so stupid!” Harry finally spat.
“You almost killed me!” Malfoy yelled.
“You were going to use an Unforgivable!” Harry hissed right back. “What was I supposed to do? Lie down and roll over for you?” He straightened and gripped Malfoy’s wand from the bedside table. Ignoring Malfoy’s squeak of distress, he cast a Silencing Charm on the curtains around them. “I have something to tell you, and I want you to listen.”
Malfoy’s eyes were wide as saucers against his taut face. “You’ve come to finish the job. I’ll never see my own bed again! Slytherin will lose its finest student to the rampaging Boy Who Lived to Kill Young Boys While Incapacitated in Infimary Beds. Please, don’t kill me, I can’t die yet, I haven’t finished school, I’m not even seventeen yet, I haven’t gotten laid - ”
Harry started. “Malfoy. Shut up.” Malfoy shut up very quickly realizing what he had just said. “I’m not going to bloody kill you. I just - ”
“You’re going to kill me without shedding blood? Oh, I see, so Madame Pomfrey won’t have to clean her sheets. You’re a considerate one, aren’t you? Well - ”
“Malfoy!” Harry pointed Malfoy’s wand at him. Malfoy turned almost green and swallowed hard. “Do you always ramble like this?”
“Only when faced with imminent destruction,” Malfoy rasped, staring at the tip of his own wand with fear plainly etched in his face.
Harry’s shoulders slumped and his hands fell to his sides. “I’m not here to kill you! I just wanted to tell you something.” He closed his eyes, for a moment just listening to the harsh breaths entering and leaving Malfoy’s chest, the only sound in the area. “Look, what happened in the bathroom, I didn’t mean it, I mean - ”
“Will you stop waving that around!?” Malfoy growled, an octave higher than it was supposed to be. Harry opened his eyes to find the wand pointing somewhere towards the ceiling. He moved his arms when he talked, and it had never been a problem before now. Anger flashed in his mind.
“Can’t you just trust me?”
“Trust you!? Do you even hear yourself speak, you stupid prat!?” Malfoy’s face paled more, feeling the strain of speaking and moving. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, as Harry watched in unease. “Why exactly do you think I am here? I didn’t just up and decide that the Infirmary beds are more comfy than the Slytherin couches, you insufferable git.”
“I’m sorry!” Harry shouted. “What more do you want me to say? I’m sorry! I didn’t know what the spell would do! I wouldn’t have done it if I had known. You didn’t give me a chance, how dare you place all the blame on me -”
“Who’s the one who walked away from the bathroom, answer me that?” Malfoy shot back, though Harry could hear the taut undercurrent of pain laced underneath the anger. The Slytherin’s fists trembled on the bedspread. “But of course it’s not your fault! You’re the Boy Wonder, the amazing Savior of the Wizarding World, the one that came from Merlin himself to lead us all into the Golden Age of society! You would never hurt a defenseless student, who had been crying in the privvy!” His last outburst apparently took too much out of him. He colored a sickly shade of puce and collapsed on his side on the bed, curling gingerly around himself and breathing in unsteady, harsh inhalations.
“Malfoy! Malfoy.” Harry clambered onto the bed, unsure exactly what to do, but knowing he had to do something. Trying to be gentle, he gripped Malfoy’s shoulder and started maneuvering him onto his back so he wasn’t lying on the tears Harry had cut into his skin. Malfoy inhaled sharply, gripping the front of Harry’s shirt with desperate force, twisting the fabric and holding on as if it would save him from the pain. Harry could feel Malfoy’s nails scrape against his skin through his thin shirt, but ignored it. The choked gasps from Malfoy’s lungs drew any thought of himself from his mind.
Malfoy had yanked him down, and Harry tried to grip Malfoy’s wrist without hurting him. Malfoy’s breath rushed out hot and agonized over his neck, as Harry tried to disentangle himself. Uncomfortable heat crept up his neck. “Malfoy…”
“Potter,” Malfoy hissed between his teeth, his breath hitching suddenly with another onslaught of pain. “Just shu- shut up.”
“Let me call Madame - ”
“No. Don’t.” His fingers loosened fractionally in Harry’s shirt, but his face still pulled tight against the agony.
“She can give you something for the pain.” Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on Malfoy’s arm. “Malfoy, don’t be so stupid - ”
“No! I can - I can handle this!” Malfoy shoved Harry weakly. “Get away from me!”
The heat under Harry’s collar was growing with each passing second Malfoy jerked against him, making him more and more uncomfortable. “Stop fighting me,” he hissed, “Please!”
The urgency in his voice must have hit a mark. Malfoy froze and stared at him oddly. His arm felt hot against Harry’s palm. Suddenly, Harry felt a bit sick. His stomach clenched tightly, and his words froze in his throat.
“I thought I had killed you,” he whispered. Malfoy’s eyes went wide on his pale, pain-stricken face. “There was so much blood, and you were screaming, and if Snape hadn’t come in I don’t know what would have happened, you could have died. God, Malfoy, I mean, I hate you but I don’t hate you that much, I would never kill you, I didn’t know what that spell would do, and there was just so much blood, I just froze, I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even breathe I didn’t know what was happening - ”
“Potter.” Malfoy snapped. Harry clicked his jaw shut so tightly it hurt. “I know.”
Harry’s heart stilled in his chest at the two words. “What?” he breathed incredulously.
“I know.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet in the sudden silence. He closed his eyes. “You’re too stupid to come up with a spell like that on your own.”
“Er. Thanks?” Harry wasn’t sure if that was and insult or Malfoy’s way of accepting his apology. He decided it was both, and that he was all right with that.
“Potter.”
“Uh, what?”
“You do know you’re lying almost on top of me.”
Harry flushed brilliantly, and shifted too quickly. Malfoy cried out, just a small whimper that slipped past his lips, but Harry heard it and froze. “Er, sorry. Malfoy…” He tried to be gentler.
“Don’t - ” He inhaled sharply when Harry shifted again. Harry stopped moving, poised precariously over Malfoy. “No need to be gentle, Potter. Not like I’m injured or anything,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth, his face pale again. Harry frowned, and tried again to move away, but Malfoy winced and cried out. “Potter, just stay there, bloody hell.” Malfoy’s face dropped several shades of color. Harry stopped moving to the extent his breath froze in his chest. Once Malfoy’s breathing had evened, Harry let his own lungful of air out as slowly as he could. “Merlin, Potter. Don’t pass out. I mean, this would be a spot on place to do it, but I don’t fancy the idea of you pressed up against me for the entire night.”
Harry went redder in the face than he thought was humanly possible, but let his breath out. He accidentally ruffled a bit of Malfoy’s hair by doing so, but he just closed his eyes and seemed to relax. “Sorry.”
“Hmm?”
“Er… didn’t mean to blow in your face like that…”
“Potter.”
“What?”
“Just shut up.”
“Okay…”
An awkward silence descended upon them. Harry itched to move, do something, but he feared he would hurt Malfoy more. Harry let his eyes wander. The curtains had a small tear in them, right near the floor. It sort of looked like… well, it looked like a lightning bolt, really. Harry frowned at the tear. The curtain shifted in a slight breeze, forcing it to ripple gently. Malfoy’s chest caught suddenly, and Harry looked down to find the pale boy had fallen asleep.
Harry’s jaw fell open. Malfoy must have been bloody exhausted to fall asleep with Potter practically in his lap. Carefully, Harry shifted into a more comfortable position and just stared. Malfoy’s face still scrunched up while he slept, he didn’t look peaceful or care-free like Ron or Hermione, or even Ginny. He just looked tense, like his mind was stretched thin with the strain of sleeping.
He took a deep breath, and gingerly touched the bandages under Malfoy’s shirt. They felt crisp under his fingertips, fresh and glaring. “I’m sorry…” Harry whispered, his hand starting to tremble. “I’m so… so sorry…” He exhaled with a shudder. “You almost died… And… I don’t know what I would have done. I mean… You force me to live. I don’t have a chance to get depressed or sorry for myself when you’re around. You make me so angry, but it felt so good… And this year you just stopped. You didn’t harass me, or trip me in the halls, or insult me…”
Harry closed his eyes. “I suppose I got jealous. Even Ron and Hermione thought something was wrong. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but really… who can see the future? I doubt Trelanwy could have predicted this…” Harry’s hand came down ever so gently on Malfoy’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart thrum against his chest, the rise and fall of his body as he breathed. “I didn’t know how important you were to my… well, to me really… You’re the only one who can make me feel alive again. If you died…” His voice finally choked off, and he had to chuckle at his own idiocy. Malfoy was a Death Eater. He was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world.
This was so wrong.
He slipped his glasses off with his free hand as he leaned close, and touched his nose and lips to the soft hollow where Malfoy’s neck met his shoulder. The fair skin smelled sterile, from the Infimary. Harry’s fingers clenched Malfoy’s shirt tightly. “I wish you would just break,” Harry hissed. “Put away your damn pride and ask for help. Dammit Malfoy…”
Unwrapping his fingers from Malfoy’s shirt, Harry sat up slowly and placed his glasses back on his nose. He had said it, and that was enough for him. He would always know that he at least said it, even if Malfoy hadn’t heard him. He knew that he would be keeping a closer eye on Malfoy from now on.
Pairing: if you squint and tilt your head sideways, Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13 (swearing)
Summary: Harry breaks up with Ginny after realizing that someone needs him more.
I Want to Break Free
“I’m sorry, Ginny, but… we just can’t…” Harry lifted his hands in the air helplessly and let them drop to his sides.
“What? Harry, what is it?” Ginny’s eyes stared accusingly. He cringed away from her glare.
“I know you love me, and I really do think you’re a grand person… But…” She was still staring at him. He flushed violently. “I think you can get on without me. You’re strong, and confident, and self-satisfied…”
“Self-satisfied!?” Ginny nearly shrieked. “Is that all I am to you!?”
“Someone else needs me more,” Harry whispered desperately, trying to keep the scene from escalating. He already noticed Ron casting a wary look in their direction. Perhaps the common room wasn’t the best place to have this talk…
“Someone else!? There’s someone else!?” she did shriek now. Harry cringed and cast a fearful look at Ron, who stared intently at them now.
“No, Ginny, there was never anyone else. I just… I think I’ve fallen in love.” Damn the blood flooding his cheeks. “I just… I need to be free.”
“So I oppress you, now, is that it?” Ginny’s eyes flashed. “I cannot believe what you are saying, Harry Potter! Are you out of your bloody mind?”
“Ginny, I’m really sorry, but I do… I cannot get over how much you love me. I mean that. I just… You have to let me find my own way.”
A sharp crack echoed in the now silent room. Harry’s head snapped to the side with the force of her slap, and he reached up to touch the red mark on his cheek. He supposed he deserved that, really. He wasn’t making sense to even himself.
“Do not come near me ever again, Potter,” she shouted, much louder than necessary, and stormed up to the girl’s dormitory. Harry glanced at Ron and saw the redhead stand. He quickly shifted towards the door and slipped into the hall before Ron had even cleared the sitting area. Without checking to see if he was being followed, Harry bolted down the corridor.
It was only when he stopped and leaned against the wall that he realized he was shaking. He loved Ginny, but… like a sister, yes. A lover? It seemed that answer was no, because even as he thought about it, his stomach grew cold. She was Ron’s little sister, one of the closest things Harry’s ever had to a family. She was precious to him, but not romantically. Kissing her had been a mistake. A mesh of fear and anger, denial and something else that he just couldn’t control and it had let itself loose on unsuspecting girls. He hadn’t been thinking clearly.
He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the cold stone of the wall. He had messed this up. He hoped Ginny wouldn’t hate him forever. He also hoped Ron wouldn’t beat him into a pulp when he returned to the common room…
Shoving himself away from the wall, he started off in a direction away from Gryffindor tower. When he reached his destination, he stared at the closed doors in front of him. They stretched up to accommodate someone of Hagrid’s height, and while Harry had spent enough time at the Infirmary to make it a second home, the thought of entering frightened him suddenly.
He reached a hesitant hand out to touch the great wooden doors. Before his fingers brushed against them, however, they collapsed backwards to reveal the startled face of Pansy Parkinson. Properly startled, they stared at each other for a moment in wide-eyed shock before Pansy recovered her wits.
“You bastard!” she shrieked, launching herself at him. Unprepared for the attack, he tripped over his own feet and fell backwards, cracking his head against the floor. Stars darted before his eyes but he didn’t have a chance to breathe before her nails swiped across his cheek. He swore and shoved up at her, trying to get her off of him without hurting her. His hand pressed into something soft and fleshy, and Pansy shrieked and thumped his head against the ground again.
“Miss Parkinson!”
Through a fog of pain, Harry heard Madame Pomfrey’s voice cut through the hall. Pansy was lifted off him, and he sucked in a grateful breath. He sat up, and when his vision had cleared, he saw Pansy being levitated in the air by Madame Pomfrey.
“You should be utterly ashamed of yourself!” the nurse snapped, her eyes a violent shade of blue. “Fifty points from Slytherin for this atrocious display.” Pansy writhed in the air, straining to get down and retain her dignity. “Get to your dormitory this instant, young lady, or Professor Snape shall hear about this.” She set Pansy down, and the girl spat at Harry before turning and fleeing.
“Potter, are you all right?” Madame Pomfrey spared him a glare. Harry flinched. His head pounded and his cheek felt a bit sticky, but he could stand. He clambered to his feet and touched the skin Pansy had scratched. Sure enough, his fingers came away a bit red on the tips. “Come here.” Madame Pomfrey waved her wand and the scratches vanished, along with the pain in his head. “Now, you seem to be in chipper shape. What brings you here causing trouble?” She pursed her lips.
“I… er…”
“I have explicit instructions not to allow you anywhere near the Malfoy child.” She peered at him as if trying to gauge how many points she should take away if he stood there long enough.
“But can’t I just… look at him?” Harry asked, cutting off his voice as he realized how pathetic he sounded. “Please, you can have my wand… anything. I just need to see him.”
“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, I mean, I was worried, but I just…” Harry’s shoulders slumped, defeated.
“Give me your wand.” Madame Pomfrey held out her hand. Harry stumbled in his haste to get to it, slapping it into her palm before she could change her mind. “I cannot guarantee he will be awake or you will leave in one piece, as a fair warning.”
“That’s all right. I just…” He craned his neck, trying to see over her shoulder into the infirmary.
“For Merlin’s sake, Potter just go in already. I’ll keep watch for Professor Snape.” She ushered him into the room and closed the door tightly behind them. Harry didn’t know what drew his eyes to that specific bed, but the first set of curtains he drew back revealed the still form of Draco Malfoy lying behind them. Harry nested his fist into the curtains, as if trying to draw strength from them.
Malfoy’s face had always been pale, but now it looked sickeningly white, as if trying to show the pillow that he was paler, and there was nothing the pillow could do about it. Even his normally silver hair looked yellow beside the clammy pallor of his forehead and jaw. Harry stepped closer, not realizing his hand still gripped the curtain, and could see wrappings under the thin Infirmary nightshirt. Slowly, his fingers unwrapped from the cloth as he kept moving closer to the head of Malfoy’s bed. Unsure exactly why he felt he needed to, he cautiously reached out and tugged gently at the open collar of Malfoy’s button-up shirt. The fabric fell away to reveal wrappings at least an inch thick. Harry’s fingers tightened at the shirt, and in that instant Malfoy’s eyes lurched open.
Harry’s breath froze in his lungs; his eyes went wide. Malfoy made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but was so terrified he couldn’t move.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Harry murmured hesitantly.
“Bullshit,” Malfoy croaked. “Get away from me.”
“Madame Pomfrey has my wand, I can’t hurt you.”
“She let you in? She wasn’t supposed to let you in. Professor Snape said you wouldn’t be allowed in!” Malfoy jerked under his hand, trying to shy away from his touch and failing.
“Stop, you’re going to make it worse.” Harry frowned, hand still nestled stubbornly in shirt at Malfoy’s collarbone. Malfoy’s breath hitched, and he barely bit back the moan of pain.
“You’re making it worse, get away from me!” Malfoy grit his teeth. He levered himself up onto his elbows, breath heavy against the pain.
“Malfoy, no, really, you’re just - ” Harry winced at each obviously painful movement, and tried to boost Malfoy up with a supporting hand at his back. Malfoy jerked away from him violently, this time unable to prevent the cry of pain. “God, Malfoy! Stop being so stupid!” Harry finally spat.
“You almost killed me!” Malfoy yelled.
“You were going to use an Unforgivable!” Harry hissed right back. “What was I supposed to do? Lie down and roll over for you?” He straightened and gripped Malfoy’s wand from the bedside table. Ignoring Malfoy’s squeak of distress, he cast a Silencing Charm on the curtains around them. “I have something to tell you, and I want you to listen.”
Malfoy’s eyes were wide as saucers against his taut face. “You’ve come to finish the job. I’ll never see my own bed again! Slytherin will lose its finest student to the rampaging Boy Who Lived to Kill Young Boys While Incapacitated in Infimary Beds. Please, don’t kill me, I can’t die yet, I haven’t finished school, I’m not even seventeen yet, I haven’t gotten laid - ”
Harry started. “Malfoy. Shut up.” Malfoy shut up very quickly realizing what he had just said. “I’m not going to bloody kill you. I just - ”
“You’re going to kill me without shedding blood? Oh, I see, so Madame Pomfrey won’t have to clean her sheets. You’re a considerate one, aren’t you? Well - ”
“Malfoy!” Harry pointed Malfoy’s wand at him. Malfoy turned almost green and swallowed hard. “Do you always ramble like this?”
“Only when faced with imminent destruction,” Malfoy rasped, staring at the tip of his own wand with fear plainly etched in his face.
Harry’s shoulders slumped and his hands fell to his sides. “I’m not here to kill you! I just wanted to tell you something.” He closed his eyes, for a moment just listening to the harsh breaths entering and leaving Malfoy’s chest, the only sound in the area. “Look, what happened in the bathroom, I didn’t mean it, I mean - ”
“Will you stop waving that around!?” Malfoy growled, an octave higher than it was supposed to be. Harry opened his eyes to find the wand pointing somewhere towards the ceiling. He moved his arms when he talked, and it had never been a problem before now. Anger flashed in his mind.
“Can’t you just trust me?”
“Trust you!? Do you even hear yourself speak, you stupid prat!?” Malfoy’s face paled more, feeling the strain of speaking and moving. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, as Harry watched in unease. “Why exactly do you think I am here? I didn’t just up and decide that the Infirmary beds are more comfy than the Slytherin couches, you insufferable git.”
“I’m sorry!” Harry shouted. “What more do you want me to say? I’m sorry! I didn’t know what the spell would do! I wouldn’t have done it if I had known. You didn’t give me a chance, how dare you place all the blame on me -”
“Who’s the one who walked away from the bathroom, answer me that?” Malfoy shot back, though Harry could hear the taut undercurrent of pain laced underneath the anger. The Slytherin’s fists trembled on the bedspread. “But of course it’s not your fault! You’re the Boy Wonder, the amazing Savior of the Wizarding World, the one that came from Merlin himself to lead us all into the Golden Age of society! You would never hurt a defenseless student, who had been crying in the privvy!” His last outburst apparently took too much out of him. He colored a sickly shade of puce and collapsed on his side on the bed, curling gingerly around himself and breathing in unsteady, harsh inhalations.
“Malfoy! Malfoy.” Harry clambered onto the bed, unsure exactly what to do, but knowing he had to do something. Trying to be gentle, he gripped Malfoy’s shoulder and started maneuvering him onto his back so he wasn’t lying on the tears Harry had cut into his skin. Malfoy inhaled sharply, gripping the front of Harry’s shirt with desperate force, twisting the fabric and holding on as if it would save him from the pain. Harry could feel Malfoy’s nails scrape against his skin through his thin shirt, but ignored it. The choked gasps from Malfoy’s lungs drew any thought of himself from his mind.
Malfoy had yanked him down, and Harry tried to grip Malfoy’s wrist without hurting him. Malfoy’s breath rushed out hot and agonized over his neck, as Harry tried to disentangle himself. Uncomfortable heat crept up his neck. “Malfoy…”
“Potter,” Malfoy hissed between his teeth, his breath hitching suddenly with another onslaught of pain. “Just shu- shut up.”
“Let me call Madame - ”
“No. Don’t.” His fingers loosened fractionally in Harry’s shirt, but his face still pulled tight against the agony.
“She can give you something for the pain.” Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on Malfoy’s arm. “Malfoy, don’t be so stupid - ”
“No! I can - I can handle this!” Malfoy shoved Harry weakly. “Get away from me!”
The heat under Harry’s collar was growing with each passing second Malfoy jerked against him, making him more and more uncomfortable. “Stop fighting me,” he hissed, “Please!”
The urgency in his voice must have hit a mark. Malfoy froze and stared at him oddly. His arm felt hot against Harry’s palm. Suddenly, Harry felt a bit sick. His stomach clenched tightly, and his words froze in his throat.
“I thought I had killed you,” he whispered. Malfoy’s eyes went wide on his pale, pain-stricken face. “There was so much blood, and you were screaming, and if Snape hadn’t come in I don’t know what would have happened, you could have died. God, Malfoy, I mean, I hate you but I don’t hate you that much, I would never kill you, I didn’t know what that spell would do, and there was just so much blood, I just froze, I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even breathe I didn’t know what was happening - ”
“Potter.” Malfoy snapped. Harry clicked his jaw shut so tightly it hurt. “I know.”
Harry’s heart stilled in his chest at the two words. “What?” he breathed incredulously.
“I know.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet in the sudden silence. He closed his eyes. “You’re too stupid to come up with a spell like that on your own.”
“Er. Thanks?” Harry wasn’t sure if that was and insult or Malfoy’s way of accepting his apology. He decided it was both, and that he was all right with that.
“Potter.”
“Uh, what?”
“You do know you’re lying almost on top of me.”
Harry flushed brilliantly, and shifted too quickly. Malfoy cried out, just a small whimper that slipped past his lips, but Harry heard it and froze. “Er, sorry. Malfoy…” He tried to be gentler.
“Don’t - ” He inhaled sharply when Harry shifted again. Harry stopped moving, poised precariously over Malfoy. “No need to be gentle, Potter. Not like I’m injured or anything,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth, his face pale again. Harry frowned, and tried again to move away, but Malfoy winced and cried out. “Potter, just stay there, bloody hell.” Malfoy’s face dropped several shades of color. Harry stopped moving to the extent his breath froze in his chest. Once Malfoy’s breathing had evened, Harry let his own lungful of air out as slowly as he could. “Merlin, Potter. Don’t pass out. I mean, this would be a spot on place to do it, but I don’t fancy the idea of you pressed up against me for the entire night.”
Harry went redder in the face than he thought was humanly possible, but let his breath out. He accidentally ruffled a bit of Malfoy’s hair by doing so, but he just closed his eyes and seemed to relax. “Sorry.”
“Hmm?”
“Er… didn’t mean to blow in your face like that…”
“Potter.”
“What?”
“Just shut up.”
“Okay…”
An awkward silence descended upon them. Harry itched to move, do something, but he feared he would hurt Malfoy more. Harry let his eyes wander. The curtains had a small tear in them, right near the floor. It sort of looked like… well, it looked like a lightning bolt, really. Harry frowned at the tear. The curtain shifted in a slight breeze, forcing it to ripple gently. Malfoy’s chest caught suddenly, and Harry looked down to find the pale boy had fallen asleep.
Harry’s jaw fell open. Malfoy must have been bloody exhausted to fall asleep with Potter practically in his lap. Carefully, Harry shifted into a more comfortable position and just stared. Malfoy’s face still scrunched up while he slept, he didn’t look peaceful or care-free like Ron or Hermione, or even Ginny. He just looked tense, like his mind was stretched thin with the strain of sleeping.
He took a deep breath, and gingerly touched the bandages under Malfoy’s shirt. They felt crisp under his fingertips, fresh and glaring. “I’m sorry…” Harry whispered, his hand starting to tremble. “I’m so… so sorry…” He exhaled with a shudder. “You almost died… And… I don’t know what I would have done. I mean… You force me to live. I don’t have a chance to get depressed or sorry for myself when you’re around. You make me so angry, but it felt so good… And this year you just stopped. You didn’t harass me, or trip me in the halls, or insult me…”
Harry closed his eyes. “I suppose I got jealous. Even Ron and Hermione thought something was wrong. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but really… who can see the future? I doubt Trelanwy could have predicted this…” Harry’s hand came down ever so gently on Malfoy’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart thrum against his chest, the rise and fall of his body as he breathed. “I didn’t know how important you were to my… well, to me really… You’re the only one who can make me feel alive again. If you died…” His voice finally choked off, and he had to chuckle at his own idiocy. Malfoy was a Death Eater. He was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world.
This was so wrong.
He slipped his glasses off with his free hand as he leaned close, and touched his nose and lips to the soft hollow where Malfoy’s neck met his shoulder. The fair skin smelled sterile, from the Infimary. Harry’s fingers clenched Malfoy’s shirt tightly. “I wish you would just break,” Harry hissed. “Put away your damn pride and ask for help. Dammit Malfoy…”
Unwrapping his fingers from Malfoy’s shirt, Harry sat up slowly and placed his glasses back on his nose. He had said it, and that was enough for him. He would always know that he at least said it, even if Malfoy hadn’t heard him. He knew that he would be keeping a closer eye on Malfoy from now on.