𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

Chapter 7

Draco groaned and slowly opened his eyes in the darkened room, not understanding where he was and what had happened. He turned his head to see, of all people, Harry Potter sitting in a chair beside the bed he was on with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes drifted down to the brown leather book in the bespectacled teens hand and memories of what had transpired flooded though his mind.

"Where am I?" he questioned painfully. His throat felt raw and he winced as he put his hand to his neck to feel bandages wrapped around it.

"We're in the Room of Requirement," Harry told him. "You almost killed yourself using a spell in this book."

Again, Draco looked at the book and then back to The-Boy-Who-Lived, who now had a very distrustful and angry expression on his face.

"How did you get this book, Malfoy?" Harry ground out suspiciously. "Planning on using wandless magic when you become a Death Eater?"

"What would you know about what I plan to become?" Draco sneered. "You don't know me, you know nothing about me."

"I know all I need to as far as you're concerned," Harry shot back angrily, gripping the book tight enough to cause his knuckles to begin to turn white.

"All you know is what your friends tell you," Draco hissed, his eyes snapping dangerously. "You've never once tried to get to know me on your own, to make your own decision one way or the other about me. You're a fucking sheep, Potter." Draco tried to sit up in the bed, only stopping his exertions for a moment when the room started to spin. When he finally made it he propped a few pillows behind his back and then leaned back, closing his eyes as another wave of vertigo swept over him.

Harry was still angry, but the way the blonde's skin suddenly paled took some of the heat out of his fury and the fact that Malfoy was correct in saying that he had never really tried to get to know him. This wasn't all his fault in Harry's opinion as the Slytherin was always acting like a total asshole, and who would want to get to know that?

"I should take you straight to Dumbledore and show him what you've been up to," Harry continued to argue, not willing to concede anything to his nemesis.

Draco snorted disdainfully, opening his eyes and glaring at the Gryffindor. "And what have I been up to, Potter, besides injuring myself? I haven't done anything to anyone.

Harry frowned at the blonde. "Well, I'm sure you shouldn't have a book like this. You probably stole it from the restricted section or something." Now he was just being childish, but he just couldn't help it. Malfoy always had this uncanny ability to get under his skin.

"Not that you'll believe me, but I found that book and I wanted to use it to help me when I leave Hogwarts." Panic was beginning to bloom in his breast. Harry held his life in his hands at the moment and if he took him to Dumbledore the old coot would certainly believe Potter's word over his and he'd probably be expelled. Of course then his father would find out and that would be that. He'd never get away.

"Leave Hogwarts?" Harry questioned; perplexion taking over the irritation and anger.

"I'm running away," Draco responded, holding back the tears that were prickling at the back of his eyes. "I don't want to be a Death Eater," he finished softly.

Harry stared at the boy on the bed uncertainly. He certainly sounded genuinely truthful. "If you don't want to be a Death Eater, then don't be one. You could always fight on our side," Harry offered.

"Are you totally dense, Potter?" Draco questioned scornfully. "My father will force me to become one if I stay here and I don't want to fight on either side."

"How can you say that?" Harry retaliated, his aggravation rising again. "You can't stay neutral in this, you're a wizard. Don't you care what happens in our world?"