Chapter Text
Draco wakes up confused for a number of reasons.
The first is that he's cold.
He hasn't woken cold in weeks because Harry throws heat like a furnace and, on the odd occasion when Harry leaves the bed before Draco, he's always careful to tuck another blanket around him.
The second point of confusion is the smell.
It's too clean. Sterile. It doesn't smell like Draco-and-Harry.
And the sheets—the third issue—don't feel right, and the light coming in the window—the fourth issue— is coming from the wrong direction and—
The fifth point of confusion:
He can feel his magic.
It's feeble and apprehensive, but he can feel it, welling in his chest and tingling in his fingers and ready to assist him against whatever it is that's upsetting him except he doesn't know what's upsetting him only that everything is wrong.
He opens his eyes and remembers.
"Fuck," he says.
"Mm," Blaise agrees sleepily from the chair in the corner. "My thoughts exactly."
"Harry?" Draco says.
"No," Blaise says. "I'm Blaise. And frankly I'm insulted."
"Blaise," Draco says darkly.
"Yes," Blaise agrees, "well done."
"Blaise," Draco repeats.
He sighs. "Potter was arrested."
"I know that. I was there for that. Has he been released?"
"Not yet. Hermione is at the Ministry, though, and her last Patronus sounded positive. We're just waiting, at this point. That lawyer seemed to know what he was talking about, hm?"
"Lavon," Draco says, blinking around the room. "Yes. Where is everyone else?"
"At work. Or in a lecture—Luna. Or training—Ginny. Everyone is planning to come back this evening. Also, your mother should be here shortly."
Draco sighs. "I suppose that means I won't be released any time soon. I do actually feel alright."
"Healer Nott says he needs to monitor you for at least a few days. Since you nearly died and a bunch of teenagers—none of whom are certified potion masters or curse breakers— illegally removed a core binding spell using ancient runes and a potion containing a level-3 controlled plant."
Draco sighs again. "I suppose that makes sense." His eyes feel heavy and he blinks several times, feeling like the world is moving too fast.
He glances at his wrist, where Lyra is curled, watching him attentively.
"Hello, beautiful. Sorry if I gave you a scare."
She bumps her nose against his wrist bone and he takes that to mean he's forgiven.
"I think I'm going back to sleep for a while," Draco decides.
"I'll be here," Blaise agrees.
Draco sleeps.
When he next opens his eyes, the shadows in the room are long and dark and there are an assortment of people in various chairs talking in low voices.
His mother, sitting nearest the bed, bends to kiss his forehead.
"Hello, darling. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he says. He glances around the room—Blaise, Hermione, Pansy, Ron, Luna, Ginny—no Harry.
YOU ARE READING
Way Down We Go
FanfictionTHIS WORK BELONGS TO xiaq ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN. The war was over. Or at least that's what the papers said. They'd been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did. *** In which Harry and Draco both run away from their past...
