𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

Part 25

1.

Harry knows something isn’t right as soon as he steps in the door. He can smell blood, everywhere, filling the house as he hangs his cloak in the closet. The metallic tinge in the air suffocates him; he can taste it on his tongue.

Pyrrha had left the Ministry a few minutes before him. She wandered up to the Auror Department and tapped him on the shoulder. “Ready to go, Dad?” she asked between nodding to a few of the other Aurors who smiled at her.

“Give me a few minutes,” Harry said. “I want to finish this report.”

Now he wishes he’d Flooed home when she did, because if something has happened to her or James or Malfoy-

Harry runs up the stairs, seeing the light shining from his bedroom. “What happened?” he shouts, pushing the door wider as he steps through.

And stops.

Pyrrha rises from where she was bent over Malfoy. James sits on the bed next to him, holding Malfoy’s hand.

“Oh God, what now?” Harry whispers.

“I came home and- James said that Daddy had been sleeping all day on the floor and I saw him and he was on the floor and-” Pyrrha shakes her head, crying. “What’s wrong with him, Dad?” Her chest heaves and she continues to shake her head. She grabs Malfoy’s hand and clenches it tight in her own.

Harry pulls back the sheet covering Malfoy, his own heart pounding. He should have known Malfoy would do something stupid, he should have known. Malfoy was being too quiet, too nice these past few days. Malfoy knew damn well what he was doing.

His voice catches in his throat. “Is it- was…he- was it a miscarriage?” he asks.

“No,” Pyrrha mutters. She holds up a small bottle of green glass and places it in Harry’s hand. The bottle is unlabelled. Harry sniffs it, but the potion has been emptied, leaving only a faint scent of oil through the bloody air.

“What did you do to yourself, Draco?” Harry chokes. “What the bloody fuck did you do?” His eyes rake over the sheets, covered in blood around his middle, his robes, too, the dark fabric matted to his skin with dried blood. Harry pulls at them, as gently as he can, but he wants to rip them from Malfoy’s body, too. His hands tremble and Malfoy gasps.

But he’s not awake.

“Go- go help your sister make some supper,” he tells James. Pyrrha shakes her head and mouths, “No” but Harry insists. “Go make something for all of us, all right?”

“Dad, please-” Pyrrha begs. “Let me help. I can call a Healer. I- I know a girl from Hogwarts. She could come, she wouldn’t say a word to anyone, I swear, I-”

Harry shakes his head wordlessly. Pyrrha bites her lip, the tears still falling as she leads James out of the room.

Malfoy isn’t conscious and his face is on fire. Harry’s hand burns against his sweating skin when he presses a palm to Malfoy’s forehead. There is no sound in the room except harsh breathing, his own, he realizes as he rips the robes from Malfoy’s body. The fabric tears, the sharp noise making Malfoy jolt and shiver, but still he doesn’t wake.