Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 8

•Draco•

⚠️

His visit to the infirmary was incredibly awkward. Once Madam Pomfrey had gotten over her initial shock from his torn arm, and finished fussing over him, she asked very many questions.

"Where did this mark come from? Did someone bite you?" She had removed his robes to tend to his wounds, leaving his top half bare.

He created an imaginary younger cousin, who had bitten him after being denied pudding. He chuckled, as if he was remembering something very funny. She laughed slightly too, looking at him with her naturally sad eyes.

"You've got a lot of bruises. They've faded a whole bit, but still look quite nasty. Where'd you get them?" was her next query.

He replaced the memory of his father's cane colliding with his body over and over again, with one of falling off his broom. Many, many times, as he told her he had flown much that summer.

In reality, he had barely left his room, let alone his house.

"Oh that's very admirable of you, putting so much practice in!" Her eyebrows, which had been knitted together in worry, relaxed. A proud, gentle expression replacing it. One that he did not deserve.

"I'll have to wish you luck in the upcoming quidditch cup! Oh and by the way deary, your blood sugar is very low. Have you been eating properly?" He gulped nervously, unable to stop himself. Hoped she hadn't noticed his trepidation.

Weirdly hoped she did.

"I'm not quite accustomed to the food here at Hogwarts yet, I'll make sure to eat more tomorrow." He felt hollow, as if the rest of him was as empty as his stomach.

"Oh, I understand dear, you must still feel homesick." He nodded. "Now I think your arm will be okay enough for me to send you off Malfoy." She said, putting his bandaged arm in a sling.

"I hope not to see you again soon love, but if it doesn't mend in a week or so come by me and I'll put more potion on it." Was the final thing she said to him, as he put his partially destroyed robes back on. Got off the metal-framed bed, and made his way out of the infirmary.

His eyes, which had become accustomed to the blinding whiteness of the sickroom, barely saw anything the semi-dark hallway when. He blinked, trying to get rid of the specks of colour floating in his vision.

Then he walked, each step echoing in the heavy silence. The hallway was empty, all the other students at dinner, he presumed.

As Draco neared the great hall, he was proven right. Light and sound spilled out through slight crack in the giant pair of doors. He stopped, getting a glimpse of the inside.

He didn't belong there, amongst happy, laughing people. So he kept walking.

He made his way to the dungeons, into his empty, cold common room. Down the stone steps basked in a sickly green light, and into the bathroom.

Pulling down his  sleeve, with much help from his teeth, he stared at his unbandaged arm.

Draco bit down once more. Filling the cavity in his chest with warm agony.

⚠️ over

•Harry•

Malfoy wasn't seen until the morning after, halfway through potions. His arm was bandaged, rather overkill in Harry's opinion, and in a sling. Yet despite the overtreatment, the git wouldn't stop complaining about the "terrible pain".

Harry was still fuming over what had happened in care of magical creatures. Especially after going to see Hagrid late that night, who had been crying and drinking when the trio arrived. A lot. He couldn't believe how selfish the blond bastard could be, almost inhumanly so.