FIC: Shadows in the Fog (Harry/Draco)
Title: Shadows in the Fog
Author/Artist: indyonblue
Prompt: It's a dark, foggy night, and a serial killer is on the loose. Draco is walking home alone and hears something he cannot see because of all the fog. Who will save him if he's in trouble?
Prompt submitted by: amorette
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Word Count/Art Medium: 2784
Rating: G
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many many thanks go to O for her super beta skills. To the prompter: as soon as I saw your prompt I knew I had to write it. It was a challenge but one I enjoyed. I hope you like it!
Summary: Walking home in the fog, Draco’s life is threatened.
London hadn’t seen a fog like this in years. A heavy, damp fog covered the city and its inhabitants, reminiscent of Victorian times. Buildings were hidden. Bridges seemed as though they were floating in a cloud, unconnected to the earth. A sewery smell of the river, vaguely fishy and unpleasant, filled the air.
For the wizarding world, the fog lent a weight to a suffocating fear. A killer, striking only witches and wizards as they reached their homes. Ten murders in total over a two year period. Three in the first four months of 2012, two in the November, then nothing for six months. People had hoped it was over, but then the killer struck again: there had been five murders in the last seven months. The rapid increased led to a barely-concealed panic amongst witches and wizards.
But Draco Malfoy still walked home.
He stepped out of the Ministry, his coat buttoned up and a black, cashmere scarf wound around his neck. He pulled on his soft, leather gloves but buried his hands deep in his pockets. Draco ignored the posters that were plastered over the atrium of the Ministry, bleak warnings to ‘Be Watchful’ and ‘Don’t Go Alone’. There was never any picture or photograph of the suspect, simply because the Aurors did not know who they were looking for. Whoever the killer was, they left no clues and no trace of magic behind. The Daily Prophet was screaming for answers daily, for the Ministry to act, for the Aurors to arrest somebody. Indeed, it seemed anyone would do.
Hermione had made it very clear that she didn’t approve of Draco walking home alone.
“You know the victims were killed at or near their home,” she had said just that evening. “We don’t know how the killer picks the…who it’s going to be. But if they know your routine, your walk home…”
“Honestly, Granger, I’ve got a better chance of dying from a Flobberworm bite than I do at the hands of the killer.”
Her creased forehead and the way she had bitten her bottom lip told him she wasn’t convinced. But Draco didn’t care. Besides, there was something about walking home in the dense fog that Draco liked. He liked the dimness as the streetlights battled to drive back the whiteness, the shapes coming forward only to resolve into something recognisable when he was close to them.
Draco set off walking towards the river. He lived in a newly built, stylish block of flats, close to Tower Bridge. He liked the walk home, seeing the sights along the river: Tate Modern and the Oxo Tower, Somerset House, the river cruisers carrying the sightseers up and down the river, the difference in the architecture and structures of the bridges he passed. Of course, given the fog blanket he wouldn’t be able to see much today, and there wouldn’t be the boatloads of tourists.
As he walked, he lost himself in thoughts of his work, thinking about what he had accomplished that day and working out his to-do list for the next day. He and Hermione were partners in Magical Law Enforcement, and he had found himself surprised that they worked together rather well. They weren’t quite friends but they were more than just colleagues. Draco had also being unwillingly impressed by Weasley, who had excelled as an Auror. The rumour was that Weasley would be the next department head when Dawlish finally retired. If it was true, then Weasley would be the youngest Head Auror in about two centuries.
His thoughts turned to Pansy and Blaise, who had invited him around for a meal the following Saturday. Draco hadn’t accepted yet. Knowing of his crush on Harry Potter - could it still be a crush after 10 years or was that more an obsession? - they took great pleasure in teasing Draco. They read stories from the Prophet and speculated on Harry’s life. Draco would pretend boredom (”Potter gets a new owl? That’s really considered news?”) but his mind always returned to Harry and his mysterious life. And in the depths of the night, alone in his bed, Draco would imagine it was Harry’s hands on him.
Draco reached the underpass that led under Southwark Bridge and paused. He pulled his hands out of his pocket and rested them on the wall. He couldn’t see the river but he could hear its gentle lapping, the smell of it in the fog all around him. Footsteps echoed and Draco glanced back the way he had come. He couldn’t see anyone. He took a step away from the wall and the footsteps faded away.
Draco stood for a moment, eyes narrowed, trying to see through the whiteness. He shrugged. Whoever it was must have gone a different way.
He carried along the path, his footsteps now echoing. He came out the other side and found his thoughts turning back to Harry.
It was strange, just how much Potter kept to himself. Draco had never seen Harry in the Leaky on a Friday night, even though most of his friends were there. He’d taken a sabbatical from the Aurors for six months to go travelling. After that, Harry had turned down every promotion offered to him, apparently preferring to be a rank and file Auror with no responsibility.
Draco passed by a Muggle pub, the lights and chatter from inside dimmed by the fog. He sometimes came here with Pansy and Blaise, and he thought he might stop in and have a drink. Just one to see him home. On glancing in, he saw every table and seat was taken. One of the barmen was handing round sheets of paper and pens. Of course: it was quiz night. Not wanting to get roped into joining one of the teams, Draco turned away.
Once again, footsteps came towards him, only this time they were moving fast, running. Hermione’s warnings sounded inside his head and Draco reached inside his coat for his wand, cursing himself for not having it easier to hand. A woman, dressed in trainers, tracksuit bottoms and a long-sleeved running top flashed by, not giving him a second glance.
Draco’s legs gave way and he sank onto the low wall that separated the pub from the path. He put his head down, closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.
Having calmed down, Draco’s heart leaped up again when a hand landed on his shoulder. He yelled and jumped away, pointing his wand, not caring if it was a Muggle.
“Merlin, Malfoy, calm down.”
Draco swallowed and looked closely at the figure standing before him. “Potter? Is that you?”
Harry nodded.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, creeping up on me like that?”
“Sorry, Malfoy. I saw you fall and thought you might be hurt. You’re not, are you?”
“I’m fine, no thanks to you.”
Harry frowned and stared off to the side. “Okay then, I’ll leave you…”
“Wait a minute. How come you’re here? Were you following me?”
Harry barked out a laugh. “No. Why would I be following you? This is my way home. I head off that way now.” Harry pointed to a small road that ran alongside the pub. “Just coincidence we met, that’s all. See you later, Malfoy.”
Before Draco could reply, Harry had walked off. Draco stared after him, seeing his Auror robes swaying from side to side with a faint swish as he walked. He was sure Harry lived at Grimmauld Place, which was nowhere near to where they were now. The red of Harry’s robes faded into the mist, the last thing to disappear. The mist swirled around Draco, and he shivered. He set off towards home, walking a little quicker.
Harry had looked a mess. His hair was more untidy than usual - something Draco hadn’t considered possible. His face was sallow and sunken, with dark circles under his eyes. He reminded Draco of someone, but he couldn’t think who. A few steps later, Draco passed a Ministry poster, charmed for Muggles to look like a lost pet poster, and it came to him.
“Sirius Black” Draco said out loud. Harry looked exactly like Sirius had after his Azkaban imprisonment. Draco frowned, wondering what had happened to Harry. He wondered whether to bring it up with Hermione. Harry was still close to her and Weasley - she might be able to tell Draco something.
“And then what?” Draco asked himself. “There’s nothing you can do to make him better.”
He reached his building without any more frights. He looked up at the wide expanse of orange blocks and glass. Draco had popped round to see Andromeda and Teddy the weekend before. Teddy had been playing with a Muggle toy - Lego, Andromeda had called it. Draco had helped Teddy build a tower that looked exactly like his block.
Draco walked around the corner to the entrance. It was darker here, the small lights unable to penetrate the fog, and Draco thought he heard a whisper. He looked around, holding out his wand. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye and Draco whipped his head round. Nothing.
His heart was beating fast and his palms were clammy, his wand sliding in his grasp. He hurried to the door. He had almost reached it when someone stepped out from behind one of the sculptured bushes, standing between Draco and the door.
“Excuse me,” Draco said politely, his voice cracking slightly. He waited a moment, then moved to step around the person. “I’m sorry, I just need to…ow.”
A wand prodded him, forcing him to take a step back. The person moved and, in the light, Draco could see it was a woman. His eyes drifted over her clothes - tracksuit bottoms, long sleeved running top.
“You ran past me earlier,” Draco said.
The woman didn’t say anything, just pointed her wand steadily at Draco.
Draco took another step backwards, wondering if he could Apparate before she did anything.
“What do you want?” he asked. “If there’s something you need, I might be able to help.”
The woman smiled gently. “You’re all I need,” she said softly.
Draco raised his wand. “Expelliarmus”.
The woman blocked it with a small movement of her own. Her stillness, her certainty and the small smile on her face unnerved Draco. His hand shook and he almost dropped his wand. He’d never been that good at duelling; His brain would swamp with adrenaline, leaving him unable to react fast enough.
He took another step away from her and glanced sideways to see if there was anything he could duck behind. He caught the flicking of her wand, heard a whispered cursed and realised that this was the moment of his death.
As a red light flashed around, Draco hit the ground, the sharp edge of a stone digging into his ribs. A body fell next to him, unmoving. Apparition cracks echoed around and a deep voice was calling for a mediwizard.
Draco rolled over onto his back, patting himself all over. He couldn’t feel any injuries and he sat up, wondering what had happened.
“You okay, Malfoy?”
Draco looked up to see Ron Weasley, his face unsmiling and grim. He nodded.
“I’m okay, I think. But what happened?”
Ron put out his hand. Draco hesitated, then grabbed hold of it and let Ron help him stand up. He brushed off his coat, frowning at the bits of dirt that clung stubbornly to it.
“Harry was convinced you were going to be attacked. Everyone knew you were still walking home, despite all the warnings, and your route is well known.”
Draco thought back. “Sectumsempra,” he said, remembering the woman’s whisper. He glanced around to see two Aurors holding onto her, just before they Disapparated. She still had the small, gentle smile on her face.
“Yes, the Cutting Curse. We knew that was the curse; we kept it quiet from the public, but we didn’t know the identity of the killer so we had no way of tracking them. Harry’s been following you every night, and we put a tracking charm on the curse itself around your home. Of course, the bloody idiot couldn’t just cast a shield. No, he has to bloody leap out in front of it.”
Draco looked down at the man on the floor. “Lumos.” His wand lit up to reveal Harry lying still on the floor. A mediwizard was healing the slashes across Harry’s chest and face, the blood starkly red against his pale skin. “Harry! Is he going to be okay?”
The mediwizard didn’t look up from what he is was doing. “He’ll be fine. I’ll get him to St Mungo’s. If we get essence of dittany on quickly enough, there shouldn’t even be any scarring.”
Draco’s hand ran across his chest, where his own scars were. “I’m coming with him.”
Ron sighed. “There’s no need, Malfoy. Hermione and I will be with him.”
The mediwizard took hold of Harry’s arm. “Whatever you decide, gentlemen. Mr Potter will be on the fourth floor.” Another crack sounded, and the mediwizard and Harry disappeared.
***
It had been a long night, waiting for Harry to wake up. The mediwizards had tried to get Draco, Hermione and Ron to leave but none of them would go. Draco stood at the window, though all he could see were misty outlines of the buildings across the street.
“And the woman?” he asked.
Ron shrugged. “We don’t know. I don’t know who she is, or why she was doing it. We’ll find out though.”
Draco still had more questions. “Why would Harry do that? Why would he throw himself in front of a curse?”
“Well, he does kind of have a saving-people thing…” Hermione said.
“Yeah, especially for people he…ouch!”
Draco turned around. Ron was rubbing his ankle and Hermione was glaring at him.
“Especially for people he… what?”
“Nothing, never mind. It’s just how he is, how he sees the job. Look, I’d better check in with the team, make sure everything’s okay.”
Hermione stood up too. “I could do with some coffee,” she said, yawning. “Draco?”
Draco nodded. Ron and Hermione left the room and Draco stared out of the window again. He had no idea how long he’d been looking into the blankness, when there was a cough and the sound of bedsheets rustling. Draco turned, and saw Harry sitting up in bed, looking a bit healthier than he had the night before.
“Malfoy? What are you doing here?”
Before Draco could answer, there was a knock on the door and a nurse entered the room. “Oh good, you’re awake. We just need to do some tests, and the Healer will want to see you, but I imagine you’ll be able to go home in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll…I’ll go then,” Draco muttered.
“Malfoy, wait…”
Draco didn’t wait. He left the room, his chest feeling too tight, feeling like he couldn’t get enough air. Especially for people he cares for. Is that what Weasley had been about to say? But why would Harry care for him? He made his way out of St Mungo’s, to a small garden to the side of the hospital. He sat down, the chill from the bench working its way through his layers. He wrapped his arms around himself.
He didn’t know how long he sat there for. It was long enough that his toes and ears felt numb from cold. He saw Harry enter the garden, making his way over to him. Although his robes were dirty and stained, he still had the authority of an Auror. Harry sat down next to him on the bench, wrapping his robes around him.
“It’s cold,” he said. “Colder than I thought.”
Draco couldn’t think of how to respond. They sat in silence for a while, the mist drifting around them. Eventually, Draco looked over at Harry and held out his hand. “Thank you, Potter,” he said.
Harry smiled and shook his hand. “Anytime, Malfoy.”
Draco took a deep breath. “You know, I think I ought to thank you properly. Can I take you to dinner, tonight?”
“Dinner? Dinner sounds good. But, well, the thing is, Malfoy…” Harry said.
Draco’s hopes deflated. “Oh, never mind then.” He stood up.
“What?” Harry asked.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”
“If you let me finish…I was going to say, I’m bloody starving, so what about breakfast?”
Draco blinked, and then smiled. ”Breakfast sounds even better.”
Harry put out his hand, and Draco pulled him up from the bench. They walked out of the garden, and soon were hidden in the fog together.
Author/Artist: indyonblue
Prompt: It's a dark, foggy night, and a serial killer is on the loose. Draco is walking home alone and hears something he cannot see because of all the fog. Who will save him if he's in trouble?
Prompt submitted by: amorette
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Word Count/Art Medium: 2784
Rating: G
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many many thanks go to O for her super beta skills. To the prompter: as soon as I saw your prompt I knew I had to write it. It was a challenge but one I enjoyed. I hope you like it!
Summary: Walking home in the fog, Draco’s life is threatened.
London hadn’t seen a fog like this in years. A heavy, damp fog covered the city and its inhabitants, reminiscent of Victorian times. Buildings were hidden. Bridges seemed as though they were floating in a cloud, unconnected to the earth. A sewery smell of the river, vaguely fishy and unpleasant, filled the air.
For the wizarding world, the fog lent a weight to a suffocating fear. A killer, striking only witches and wizards as they reached their homes. Ten murders in total over a two year period. Three in the first four months of 2012, two in the November, then nothing for six months. People had hoped it was over, but then the killer struck again: there had been five murders in the last seven months. The rapid increased led to a barely-concealed panic amongst witches and wizards.
But Draco Malfoy still walked home.
He stepped out of the Ministry, his coat buttoned up and a black, cashmere scarf wound around his neck. He pulled on his soft, leather gloves but buried his hands deep in his pockets. Draco ignored the posters that were plastered over the atrium of the Ministry, bleak warnings to ‘Be Watchful’ and ‘Don’t Go Alone’. There was never any picture or photograph of the suspect, simply because the Aurors did not know who they were looking for. Whoever the killer was, they left no clues and no trace of magic behind. The Daily Prophet was screaming for answers daily, for the Ministry to act, for the Aurors to arrest somebody. Indeed, it seemed anyone would do.
Hermione had made it very clear that she didn’t approve of Draco walking home alone.
“You know the victims were killed at or near their home,” she had said just that evening. “We don’t know how the killer picks the…who it’s going to be. But if they know your routine, your walk home…”
“Honestly, Granger, I’ve got a better chance of dying from a Flobberworm bite than I do at the hands of the killer.”
Her creased forehead and the way she had bitten her bottom lip told him she wasn’t convinced. But Draco didn’t care. Besides, there was something about walking home in the dense fog that Draco liked. He liked the dimness as the streetlights battled to drive back the whiteness, the shapes coming forward only to resolve into something recognisable when he was close to them.
Draco set off walking towards the river. He lived in a newly built, stylish block of flats, close to Tower Bridge. He liked the walk home, seeing the sights along the river: Tate Modern and the Oxo Tower, Somerset House, the river cruisers carrying the sightseers up and down the river, the difference in the architecture and structures of the bridges he passed. Of course, given the fog blanket he wouldn’t be able to see much today, and there wouldn’t be the boatloads of tourists.
As he walked, he lost himself in thoughts of his work, thinking about what he had accomplished that day and working out his to-do list for the next day. He and Hermione were partners in Magical Law Enforcement, and he had found himself surprised that they worked together rather well. They weren’t quite friends but they were more than just colleagues. Draco had also being unwillingly impressed by Weasley, who had excelled as an Auror. The rumour was that Weasley would be the next department head when Dawlish finally retired. If it was true, then Weasley would be the youngest Head Auror in about two centuries.
His thoughts turned to Pansy and Blaise, who had invited him around for a meal the following Saturday. Draco hadn’t accepted yet. Knowing of his crush on Harry Potter - could it still be a crush after 10 years or was that more an obsession? - they took great pleasure in teasing Draco. They read stories from the Prophet and speculated on Harry’s life. Draco would pretend boredom (”Potter gets a new owl? That’s really considered news?”) but his mind always returned to Harry and his mysterious life. And in the depths of the night, alone in his bed, Draco would imagine it was Harry’s hands on him.
Draco reached the underpass that led under Southwark Bridge and paused. He pulled his hands out of his pocket and rested them on the wall. He couldn’t see the river but he could hear its gentle lapping, the smell of it in the fog all around him. Footsteps echoed and Draco glanced back the way he had come. He couldn’t see anyone. He took a step away from the wall and the footsteps faded away.
Draco stood for a moment, eyes narrowed, trying to see through the whiteness. He shrugged. Whoever it was must have gone a different way.
He carried along the path, his footsteps now echoing. He came out the other side and found his thoughts turning back to Harry.
It was strange, just how much Potter kept to himself. Draco had never seen Harry in the Leaky on a Friday night, even though most of his friends were there. He’d taken a sabbatical from the Aurors for six months to go travelling. After that, Harry had turned down every promotion offered to him, apparently preferring to be a rank and file Auror with no responsibility.
Draco passed by a Muggle pub, the lights and chatter from inside dimmed by the fog. He sometimes came here with Pansy and Blaise, and he thought he might stop in and have a drink. Just one to see him home. On glancing in, he saw every table and seat was taken. One of the barmen was handing round sheets of paper and pens. Of course: it was quiz night. Not wanting to get roped into joining one of the teams, Draco turned away.
Once again, footsteps came towards him, only this time they were moving fast, running. Hermione’s warnings sounded inside his head and Draco reached inside his coat for his wand, cursing himself for not having it easier to hand. A woman, dressed in trainers, tracksuit bottoms and a long-sleeved running top flashed by, not giving him a second glance.
Draco’s legs gave way and he sank onto the low wall that separated the pub from the path. He put his head down, closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.
Having calmed down, Draco’s heart leaped up again when a hand landed on his shoulder. He yelled and jumped away, pointing his wand, not caring if it was a Muggle.
“Merlin, Malfoy, calm down.”
Draco swallowed and looked closely at the figure standing before him. “Potter? Is that you?”
Harry nodded.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, creeping up on me like that?”
“Sorry, Malfoy. I saw you fall and thought you might be hurt. You’re not, are you?”
“I’m fine, no thanks to you.”
Harry frowned and stared off to the side. “Okay then, I’ll leave you…”
“Wait a minute. How come you’re here? Were you following me?”
Harry barked out a laugh. “No. Why would I be following you? This is my way home. I head off that way now.” Harry pointed to a small road that ran alongside the pub. “Just coincidence we met, that’s all. See you later, Malfoy.”
Before Draco could reply, Harry had walked off. Draco stared after him, seeing his Auror robes swaying from side to side with a faint swish as he walked. He was sure Harry lived at Grimmauld Place, which was nowhere near to where they were now. The red of Harry’s robes faded into the mist, the last thing to disappear. The mist swirled around Draco, and he shivered. He set off towards home, walking a little quicker.
Harry had looked a mess. His hair was more untidy than usual - something Draco hadn’t considered possible. His face was sallow and sunken, with dark circles under his eyes. He reminded Draco of someone, but he couldn’t think who. A few steps later, Draco passed a Ministry poster, charmed for Muggles to look like a lost pet poster, and it came to him.
“Sirius Black” Draco said out loud. Harry looked exactly like Sirius had after his Azkaban imprisonment. Draco frowned, wondering what had happened to Harry. He wondered whether to bring it up with Hermione. Harry was still close to her and Weasley - she might be able to tell Draco something.
“And then what?” Draco asked himself. “There’s nothing you can do to make him better.”
He reached his building without any more frights. He looked up at the wide expanse of orange blocks and glass. Draco had popped round to see Andromeda and Teddy the weekend before. Teddy had been playing with a Muggle toy - Lego, Andromeda had called it. Draco had helped Teddy build a tower that looked exactly like his block.
Draco walked around the corner to the entrance. It was darker here, the small lights unable to penetrate the fog, and Draco thought he heard a whisper. He looked around, holding out his wand. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye and Draco whipped his head round. Nothing.
His heart was beating fast and his palms were clammy, his wand sliding in his grasp. He hurried to the door. He had almost reached it when someone stepped out from behind one of the sculptured bushes, standing between Draco and the door.
“Excuse me,” Draco said politely, his voice cracking slightly. He waited a moment, then moved to step around the person. “I’m sorry, I just need to…ow.”
A wand prodded him, forcing him to take a step back. The person moved and, in the light, Draco could see it was a woman. His eyes drifted over her clothes - tracksuit bottoms, long sleeved running top.
“You ran past me earlier,” Draco said.
The woman didn’t say anything, just pointed her wand steadily at Draco.
Draco took another step backwards, wondering if he could Apparate before she did anything.
“What do you want?” he asked. “If there’s something you need, I might be able to help.”
The woman smiled gently. “You’re all I need,” she said softly.
Draco raised his wand. “Expelliarmus”.
The woman blocked it with a small movement of her own. Her stillness, her certainty and the small smile on her face unnerved Draco. His hand shook and he almost dropped his wand. He’d never been that good at duelling; His brain would swamp with adrenaline, leaving him unable to react fast enough.
He took another step away from her and glanced sideways to see if there was anything he could duck behind. He caught the flicking of her wand, heard a whispered cursed and realised that this was the moment of his death.
As a red light flashed around, Draco hit the ground, the sharp edge of a stone digging into his ribs. A body fell next to him, unmoving. Apparition cracks echoed around and a deep voice was calling for a mediwizard.
Draco rolled over onto his back, patting himself all over. He couldn’t feel any injuries and he sat up, wondering what had happened.
“You okay, Malfoy?”
Draco looked up to see Ron Weasley, his face unsmiling and grim. He nodded.
“I’m okay, I think. But what happened?”
Ron put out his hand. Draco hesitated, then grabbed hold of it and let Ron help him stand up. He brushed off his coat, frowning at the bits of dirt that clung stubbornly to it.
“Harry was convinced you were going to be attacked. Everyone knew you were still walking home, despite all the warnings, and your route is well known.”
Draco thought back. “Sectumsempra,” he said, remembering the woman’s whisper. He glanced around to see two Aurors holding onto her, just before they Disapparated. She still had the small, gentle smile on her face.
“Yes, the Cutting Curse. We knew that was the curse; we kept it quiet from the public, but we didn’t know the identity of the killer so we had no way of tracking them. Harry’s been following you every night, and we put a tracking charm on the curse itself around your home. Of course, the bloody idiot couldn’t just cast a shield. No, he has to bloody leap out in front of it.”
Draco looked down at the man on the floor. “Lumos.” His wand lit up to reveal Harry lying still on the floor. A mediwizard was healing the slashes across Harry’s chest and face, the blood starkly red against his pale skin. “Harry! Is he going to be okay?”
The mediwizard didn’t look up from what he is was doing. “He’ll be fine. I’ll get him to St Mungo’s. If we get essence of dittany on quickly enough, there shouldn’t even be any scarring.”
Draco’s hand ran across his chest, where his own scars were. “I’m coming with him.”
Ron sighed. “There’s no need, Malfoy. Hermione and I will be with him.”
The mediwizard took hold of Harry’s arm. “Whatever you decide, gentlemen. Mr Potter will be on the fourth floor.” Another crack sounded, and the mediwizard and Harry disappeared.
***
It had been a long night, waiting for Harry to wake up. The mediwizards had tried to get Draco, Hermione and Ron to leave but none of them would go. Draco stood at the window, though all he could see were misty outlines of the buildings across the street.
“And the woman?” he asked.
Ron shrugged. “We don’t know. I don’t know who she is, or why she was doing it. We’ll find out though.”
Draco still had more questions. “Why would Harry do that? Why would he throw himself in front of a curse?”
“Well, he does kind of have a saving-people thing…” Hermione said.
“Yeah, especially for people he…ouch!”
Draco turned around. Ron was rubbing his ankle and Hermione was glaring at him.
“Especially for people he… what?”
“Nothing, never mind. It’s just how he is, how he sees the job. Look, I’d better check in with the team, make sure everything’s okay.”
Hermione stood up too. “I could do with some coffee,” she said, yawning. “Draco?”
Draco nodded. Ron and Hermione left the room and Draco stared out of the window again. He had no idea how long he’d been looking into the blankness, when there was a cough and the sound of bedsheets rustling. Draco turned, and saw Harry sitting up in bed, looking a bit healthier than he had the night before.
“Malfoy? What are you doing here?”
Before Draco could answer, there was a knock on the door and a nurse entered the room. “Oh good, you’re awake. We just need to do some tests, and the Healer will want to see you, but I imagine you’ll be able to go home in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll…I’ll go then,” Draco muttered.
“Malfoy, wait…”
Draco didn’t wait. He left the room, his chest feeling too tight, feeling like he couldn’t get enough air. Especially for people he cares for. Is that what Weasley had been about to say? But why would Harry care for him? He made his way out of St Mungo’s, to a small garden to the side of the hospital. He sat down, the chill from the bench working its way through his layers. He wrapped his arms around himself.
He didn’t know how long he sat there for. It was long enough that his toes and ears felt numb from cold. He saw Harry enter the garden, making his way over to him. Although his robes were dirty and stained, he still had the authority of an Auror. Harry sat down next to him on the bench, wrapping his robes around him.
“It’s cold,” he said. “Colder than I thought.”
Draco couldn’t think of how to respond. They sat in silence for a while, the mist drifting around them. Eventually, Draco looked over at Harry and held out his hand. “Thank you, Potter,” he said.
Harry smiled and shook his hand. “Anytime, Malfoy.”
Draco took a deep breath. “You know, I think I ought to thank you properly. Can I take you to dinner, tonight?”
“Dinner? Dinner sounds good. But, well, the thing is, Malfoy…” Harry said.
Draco’s hopes deflated. “Oh, never mind then.” He stood up.
“What?” Harry asked.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”
“If you let me finish…I was going to say, I’m bloody starving, so what about breakfast?”
Draco blinked, and then smiled. ”Breakfast sounds even better.”
Harry put out his hand, and Draco pulled him up from the bench. They walked out of the garden, and soon were hidden in the fog together.