Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 15

•Draco•

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Lupin's voice was weaker than usual, perhaps a lingering symptom of his illness. Draco couldn't bring himself to speak for the moment, having sunk deep into the back of his own skull. "Why are you lying on the floor?"

He could feel the wooden panels beneath him shake slightly as the professor walked closer and closer, but made no effort to hide his less-than-ideal state. After all, it was partially because of Lupin that he was currently lying limp on his back, and Draco wanted the man to see the aftermath of his actions.

"Just stargazing, professor." he heard himself grumble, vocal cords feeling as brittle as dried out rubber bands. "Wonderful weather for it, after all, and a great view from where I’m situated."

"I'm being serious Draco, what has happened to you?" Draco couldn't tell if Lupin was irritated or worried, or both, but knew that it was probably his fault.

"Meeting. Dumbledore, my parents, and of course some bloke from the ministry." He replied dully, eyes still fixed on the ceiling, in particular the very chandelier Neville Longbottom had been hung from by pixies in their second year. “I knew there was no point to it as soon as I saw him. Father knows everyone somehow.”

The shabby professor finally came to a stop, now standing a few feet or so away from Draco. Close enough for  him to hear the older wizard inhale sharply. He had evidently managed to piece the whole thing together from Draco's jumbled babbling.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear boy. I really am." the floor creaked as Lupin lowered himself down onto it, now sitting next to the deflated tube man that was Draco. "I wanted nothing more than to help you. Though in hindsight it was foolish of me not to think that the ministry would be involved."

"It's alright, I don't blame you." Draco wished he was telling the truth, but couldn't help feeling grains of resentment towards Lupin. Draco hated to admit that he had gotten his hopes up, that he had started to believe that the meeting might've actually led to some sort of positive outcome. Of course the world made sure that this delusion was short lived.

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey shall we? I'm quite sure your eye will bruise, it's already swollen." He turned his head to look at Lupin now, who's eyes seemed to shine a smidge more than usual.

"Can't you heal me?" Draco was well aware that he sounded like a whining toddler, but really wasn’t in the mood to be paraded around hallways with his face all messed up.

"I regretfully don't know any healing spells, and don't think it's a good idea for me to attempt any." the professor reached out his hand, which Draco hesitantly grabbed.

It was quite a struggle to get off the floor, and when he was finally standing he stumbled like a new-born fawn. Lupin put an arm underneath his for support, which was greatly appreciated.

"Thanks," Draco mumbled sheepishly, feeling like the dumbest person in the world. Shame seemed to gnaw at his stomach lining an awful lot lately.

"No worries, dear boy, no worries." Lupin replied, voice still somewhat feeble.

Draco tried to put more weight on his own body, as to not further tire the professor. His legs wobbled slightly; nervous system still agitated as a result the Cruciatus curse. He hoped they would hold up until they reached the hospital wing.

"If you ever need to talk about something, do come by my office." Lupin spoke again. "I promise to keep it between just the two of us this time."

Draco merely nodded in response, which sent a piercing shock of pain down his spine. It was going to be a longer walk than first expected.