𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: To Share

When Harry woke up the next morning, it was bright and sunny and he knew straight away that Malfoy would be unconscious. So he slipped out of bed, quickly noted that Ron was missing, and went up the hall to Malfoy's room.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Malfoy was missing. He wasn't in his bed, tossing and turning the way he'd been the day before. Harry could feel the colour drain from his face and his heart speed up at the thought. His first reaction was to turn around and find Ginny, but he heard something that changed his mind. From the other side of the bed, he heard a pained moan. Quickly, Harry ran around the bed and found Malfoy in his pyjamas on the ground beside the bed. It was as if he'd gotten himself ready for bed but didn't make it before the sun came up.

With a relieved sigh, Harry crouched by Malfoy and picked him up in his arms. The blonde fought against him, squirming in the way Harry had expected of him, but Harry got him into the bed and under the blankets safely. From there, Malfoy instinctually curled up to the only pillow (Harry was certain he saw two there when Malfoy first moved in) and continued on with his obviously horrible nightmare.

The room the house-elves had put him in was one of the very few rooms with a window facing the east. The brightness of the room was something Harry was certain Malfoy wasn't used to, so out of habit, he closed the thick curtains. They were much thicker than Harry's curtains and blocked out the sun so effectively that Harry thought it appeared to be night again.

Harry was tempted to heal Malfoy's knee but knew he wouldn't appreciate him going behind his back like that. The last thing he needed was for someone else to abuse his trust. He instead sat on the side of the bed and combed his fingers through Malfoy's hair. It felt better this time around, courtesy of Harry's shampoo, Harry thought wryly. Yesterday it felt greasy and disgusting. Now it was light and fluffy. He looked over at the desk and saw a half-eaten bowl of risotto. It made him smile a little to know that he was at least eating something.

"Dobby," Harry called, remembering what he wanted to do for Malfoy.

The house-elf appeared in an instant, looking as awed as he normally did at the thought of being asked upon by the great Harry Potter. He was wearing several layers of knitted goods, as if he was wearing everything Hermione had made for the other house-elves.

"Harry Potter, sir," Dobby beamed, bowing down low. "It is an honour, sir. What can Dobby do for Harry Potter?"

Harry truly hated calling upon Dobby for any task, especially when he treated him like royalty, but he felt it would be better for Malfoy if this was done. "Hello, Dobby." The elf squeaked at the greeting, as if he wasn't worthy of a mere greeting. "I need you to go down to the Slytherin dungeons and get the bed Draco Malfoy used to sleep in."

Just hearing his former master's name had Dobby's eyes widening. "Young Master Malfoy?"

Harry hummed his confirmation, now looking over his shoulder at Malfoy, who was settling under his touch again. Dobby approached to get a better view and was finally able to see that it was Malfoy in the bed. Another squeak came from the elf, but this time it was more about fear.

"He's not going to hurt you," Harry told him. "I'd really appreciate it if you could get me his bed, his blankets, his pillows, a chair from the Slytherin common room-I want this room to be his; not so Gryffindor. Understand?"

Dobby's lower lip wobbled for a moment and Harry feared the house-elf would cry. He instead knelt at Harry's feet, bowing his head as low as it would go.

"Harry Potter is a great wizard! Harry Potter would give the evil Death Eater comfortable things, even though the evil Death Eater doesn't deserve it. A great wizard, indeed, sir!"