Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

19 sectumsempra: entry three

Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra.

Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra.

Sectum...

"Malfoy?"

Draco felt his chest tighten as soon as he heard the familiar voice. The footsteps are coming closer and so does her scent. That unmistakable whiff of berries and honey left out in the summer sun with tones of old books and parchments.

He immediately marked the page and put his journal on the bedside table beside the quill and the bottle of ink that almost spilled. He smoothed the blanket covering his naked torso to cover as much around his chest without looking like he consciously arranged it. Good thing he managed to hide his mark with a bandage before going out today. He didn't like the gown that Madam Pomfrey gave him- the material was too coarse for his liking. So, he decided to sleep without a top on, with the bandages covering the bleeding gash that Harry fucking Potter gave him. Snape did what he could but the wound was still there and it felt like all the power in his body seeped out in a single blow as well as his dignity.

Potter saw him. Potter saw the tears.

"Are you awake?"

Hermione was whispering, just two steps away from him. He can feel her warmth, she's literally within his reach.

"Harry really did him in," a female voice said from the foot of his bed. This one didn't bother whispering. "Got to hand it to my boy."

Hermione shushed her, "Ginny, you might wake him."

"All the better. He's no fun when he's half dead," She-Weasel snorted.

When I get up from this bed your whole clan is gone.

He felt Hermione sigh and walk away. Surely she's not going to go away that easily.

Something that smelled warm and sweet and fruity cam his way. Probably freshly baked. "Thank you, Dobby."

There was some gasping and rustling around. That blasted house elf is here. Just see if I don't beat it to death with my wand later.

"Malfoy, Dobby told me that you like fruit tarts. So, I asked the house elves if they can make you some and I don't really know what you prefer but my mum always makes me mushroom soup when I'm sick so..." There was more rustling at his bedside.

"I'm sure he likes his tarts alright," She-Weasel said, her mouth full.

"Stop it, Ginny," Hermione hissed under her breath.

"What? Don't defend him. You don't know him. You don't even want to know half of what the girls say about him," she fumed. "And for the record, I am not here due to the goodness of my heart. I want to protect you if he wakes up and goes aggro on you. You can't be friends with everybody, Hermione. And he's Malfoy- Harry put his parents in jail and of course, he wants to take it out on someone. Don't be that someone," She- Weasel said.

She-Weasel is right. Maybe it would be better for them to just leave. Maybe he should stir a bit. Maybe that would scare them off. But they are not ordinary girls, if anything it will lead to a confrontation which will end in more hexes thrown his way.

"You're a good friend, Ginny," Hermione said softly, "But we must not be too quick to judge. Harry did have that thing with him which I of course told him to get rid off and now someone has been struck with Dark Magic. We don't even know what Malfoy is doing in that bathroom. We can't always just assume the worst. If we start thinking of everyone as an enemy then it's like V-Voldemort had already won."