Draya Malfoy

30 - The Boy With The Scar

"It was a stupid thing to do."

"I know."

"You could have killed her."

"I know."

"Didn't I tell you-"

"Alright Hermione, I get it. You were right and I was wrong. Happy?"

"No, not really. What were you thinking of, getting into fights when your best friend is laying here in hospital? He needs us!"

Tired, Harry closed his eyes. It had been a long day, one that had ended up with him having landed a Saturday detention with Snape every week until the end of the school year.

But he didn't mind, not really - not when it meant that Snape's involvement had saved Draya's life.

He balked, remembering how he had been certain he'd killed her, that when she'd closed her eyes he had been convinced that she had died right there in his arms on the girls' bathroom floor.

But then Snape had come charging in and buffeted him out of the way, saving Draya with a spell of which Harry had never witnessed before.

All of his anger towards her had evaporated right there on the cold, wet stone floor. He had closed his eyes and prayed to a god he didn't believe in. He had made vows of his own, bargaining to himself that he would never copy homework off Hermione again if only she would just open her eyes.

He didn't care she had the Dark Mark - he had, after all, already known she had it. He had known when he'd kissed her, and he had known when he told her he wanted her.

Draya Malfoy was a Death Eater, but Harry didn't think for a second that she'd wanted to be. Not by the way he'd witnessed her cling to that sink and sob with complete despair.

And the way Snape had looked at him. Boy, if looks could kill, then Avada Kedvra would have nothing on him.

"Do you really think she did it, then?" Hermione whispered as she gazed down forlornly at Ron's snoring face. "Do you really believe she could have put poison in that mead?"

Harry's eyes widened. This was the first time Hermione was even considering listening to his theories, and yet this was the first time Harry didn't want to talk about them.

"No," he lied without hesitation. "Besides, I'm sure Slughorn has collected just as many enemies as he has celebrities throughout his life. Ron just got unlucky."

Hermione, seeming satisfied with this answer, sat back in the chair she'd hadn't moved from since Ron had occupied the bed next to it.

Harry dared steal a glance over to the far corner of the wing where long white drapes concealed a recently occupied bed.

He swallowed, wondering how his presence would be received if he went to see her.

Snape had already ordered him to stay away, that if he even caught him looking in Draya's direction he would ensure that he would never be allowed to step foot back inside the castle again.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked fretfully as Harry got to his feet. "We should be here, in case he wakes up."

"He's got you," Harry said gently as he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "And somehow I think that's all he needs right now."

He looked regretfully back towards where Draya lay out of sight, hating himself that little bit more.

And then he walked away.

******

Groggily, I opened my eyes. My first thought was where the fuck am I?

My second thought was ARGHHH WHY DOES IT HURT SO FUCKING BAD?!