•I think I like him•

15. What Was But A Thought

Word count: 1582

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The warm glow of the sun descended from the sky slowly, drawing out the cool blue of night, as a late-autumn breeze rested contently upon Hogwarts grounds. The population of the wizarding school grouped in the great hall, where the house elves famous treats filled the tables, however, neglecting these inviting delights, was non other than Draco Malfoy, who, instead, occupied himself with sharing dear childhood stories with a certain Gryffindor.

"And my farther didn't half like that-" he let out another burst of laughter, fighting to tell the rest of his story. "-he had to pay for a whole wizarding construction team to rebuild half of the manor!" Draco held his aching Abdominal, leaning forward in a silent fit of giggles. Harry sat next to him, taking shallow breaths in the midst of his hysterics.

"Stop it hurts!" He wined, holding his pulsing side, trying to stop laughing. Harry's fears, it turned out, were completely off. While they hadn't uttered a word about the kiss of the day before, Draco had returned the following day as normal. Harry couldn't decide how he felt about this. Part of him felt as though he had imagined it; a hallucination conjured by his high dose of painkiller potions. Only, Draco hadn't come back last night. Hadn't stayed with him as he had promised. Harry wished he could read Draco's thoughts; see into his mind. Why did he leave? Why did he come back?

Just as Draco began to calm down (not seeming to notice that Harry had done so already), the door opened and closed, sharp, echoing footsteps following in wake. Draco darted off the bed, but before he had time to hide, the curtains were swung open as if the uneasy pair were just about to witness a grand, Shakespearian production.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in, scarcely noticing the nervous Slytherin stood by the curtains, arms limp to each side of his stiff figure, and all signs of amusement promptly drained from his face.

Without so much as a greeting, she got to work unraveling the taut bandages around the raven's waist, and flicking up a diagnostic, which to Draco, just looked like a complicated mixture of bright colours that swirled independently of one another in a small cluster above Harry's head, sending an endearing glow about the otherwise dull hospital ward. However, it seemed to make sense to Madam Pomfrey, who hummed absently, briefly using the glowing tip of her wand to magnify some of the more microscopic elements

Not a moment after it's appearance, it was cast away once more, and the designated nurse put her wand tip to Harry's gaping wound (that Draco was trying not to look at) as she muttered incantations accompanied with a series of complex wand movements. The flesh and bone separated and she closed the wound, leaving a monstrous line of bloodied surgical thread in its place that stretched diagonally across the left side of his rib cage and down to just above his belly button.

"It will fully heal, eventually, but until then I insist that you do not do anything that may interrupt the healing process-" Harry opened his mouth promptly but Madam Pomfrey immediately interrupted him, "-yes that does mean you will be forced to neglect your quidditch practices for the time being"

"For how long?!" The Gryffindor asked in a childish tone, to which was only met with a flicker of an eye roll from the nurse.

"Providing that you take all necessary precautions to withstand from further aggravating your scarred tissue, I believe it would be safe to resume physical activities in around.."

She paused thoughtfully, which didn't help the evident build of anticipation made clear on the halfblood's face.

"..a month"