Under your wing

Found

Harry Potter was no stranger to the eerie quiet of Hogwarts at night. The winding corridors, normally filled with bustling students and floating candles, seemed to breathe a different air after hours—an air thick with secrets and shadows. It was during one of these late-night patrols, his responsibility as Head Boy, that Harry first noticed something amiss in the deserted hallways of the castle.

His footsteps echoed softly against the stone floors as he made his way through the dimly lit passageways of the dungeons. The cool air clung to his skin, the only sound the distant dripping of water from some unseen source. He paused at a familiar corner where the path split—one way leading towards the Potions classroom, the other deeper into the labyrinth of the Slytherin dormitories.

Something was different tonight. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with unease. Harry's hand instinctively moved towards his wand, but he hesitated. The darkness ahead seemed thicker, almost alive, as if it were hiding something from view. His breath hitched when he caught sight of a pale figure crumpled against the wall.

He rushed forward, the figure becoming clearer with each step. Platinum blond hair, usually perfectly coiffed, was now tangled and matted against a pale, drawn face. Draco Malfoy lay motionless on the cold stone floor, his robes askew, and his wand loosely clutched in his right hand. For a moment, Harry's mind went blank, a thousand thoughts swirling in confusion. Why was Draco here, alone, in such a state?

"Malfoy?" Harry's voice cracked through the stillness. He knelt beside Draco, gently shaking his shoulder. No response. Panic began to creep into his chest. Draco's skin was cold to the touch, and his breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible.

"Malfoy!" Harry called again, louder this time, but there was no answer, only the oppressive silence of the dungeon. His training from the countless battles he'd fought kicked in, and he quickly checked for a pulse—weak, but steady. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by concern. Draco needed help, and fast.

Without another thought, Harry scooped Draco into his arms. He was lighter than Harry expected, as though the weight of the world had hollowed him out. Draco's head lolled against Harry's chest, his breath warm against the fabric of Harry's shirt, a stark contrast to the coolness of his skin. Harry hesitated only a moment before he started towards the Hospital Wing, his mind racing with questions. What had happened to Draco? Why had he been alone in such a state?

As Harry hurried through the darkened corridors, he couldn't help but notice how fragile Draco felt in his arms. The sharp edges of their past conflicts seemed to blur and fade in the face of this unexpected vulnerability. Gone was the sneering, arrogant boy who had made Harry's life hell for years. In his place was someone who seemed... broken.

He glanced down at Draco's face, seeing it up close in a way he never had before. The moonlight streaming through the windows cast soft shadows on his features, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and the deep-set lines of worry etched across his forehead. What had Draco been going through to end up like this? The Draco Malfoy he knew was proud and defiant, not someone who would be found collapsed in a deserted hallway.

Finally, the door to the Hospital Wing loomed ahead. Harry kicked it open with his foot, not caring about the noise. Madame Pomfrey was already rushing towards him, her expression one of concern as she took in the sight of the unconscious Slytherin in Harry's arms.

"Potter, what happened?" she asked sharply, leading him to an empty bed.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, carefully laying Draco down. "I found him like this in the dungeons. He wasn't responding."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, her face set in a grim line as she began examining Draco, her hands moving quickly and efficiently. Harry stepped back, feeling a strange sense of helplessness wash over him. He wanted to do something, anything, but all he could do was watch as she worked to stabilize Draco.

"What could have caused this?" Harry murmured to himself, his mind racing with possibilities. A spell gone wrong? An attack? Or was it something else entirely?

Madame Pomfrey glanced up at Harry, her expression softening slightly. "I'll do everything I can for him, Potter. But right now, I need you to stay calm. I'll send for Professor Snape—he might know more about what could have caused this."

Harry nodded, though his thoughts were a storm of confusion. As he watched Draco lying there, so still and pale, he realized with a start that this was the first time in years he had looked at him without any anger or hatred. Instead, all he felt was an overwhelming concern—a need to understand, to help.

He had no idea what had happened to Draco tonight, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to leave him alone to face whatever it was. Not this time.

AN

HEY GUYS THIS IS A NEW STORY THAT WAS REQUESTED 

I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT WRITTTING LONG CHAPTERS 

SO IT WILL BE SHORT CHAPTERS BUT LOADS OF CHAPTERS 

I HOPE YOU INJOY THIS NEW STORY 

ALSO I WILL BE CONTINUING WITH MY OTHER DRARRY INSTAGRAM STORY 

THX AGAIN BYEE