White Lies // Drarry

Chapter 4: Social Affairs

If Harry was looking forward to a peaceful sleep after an exhausting day, then he was sorely disappointed. When he woke up, it was still dark outside, the room was deathly cold, and his shoulder was telling him how much of an arse he was for not taking care of it sooner. Stubbornly, he burrowed back under the covers and promptly ignored the pain.

Or he tried to.

It didn't even hurt that much, just... a throbbing itch. One that he couldn't scratch because it only hurt when he touched it. Or moved it.

Disgruntled, he sat up and shoved his glasses on his face, casting a quick Tempus.

Barely six in the morning. With a grumble, he got off the bed and into the bathroom, wanting to look at least presentable when he barged into the infirmary and deprived Madame Pomfrey of her beauty sleep.

He looked pale and horribly sleepy, but that was nothing new. What was new, however, was the small bruise on his right cheek and he winced as he touched it. He must have hit it when he fell through the wall.

Sighing, he washed his face and since he hadn't changed his school robes from the night before, he quickly rushed off to the infirmary.

When Harry graduates, he's going to make a shrine dedicated to Madame Pomfrey, the woman who never tired of re-growing his bones every week for the past eight years. (Sort of.)
Somehow, even though he was already on his way towards the infirmary, he couldn't find it in himself to wake her up so he decided to just wait on one of the beds (and maybe catch a few more minutes of sleep.) but when he got there, he found that he didn't need to.

Madame Pomfrey was already up and fussing over another student lying down on one of the beds, and when she saw him, it just proved that he'd been there way too many times that she didn't even look surprised. "Mr. Potter," she acknowledged.

A groan came from the bed and resounded in the room. "Potter," the student said dryly, voice scratchy and rasping. "Couldn't wait to see me, I suppose."

"Malfoy," Harry replied, just as dryly even though he couldn't help the concerned tone from his voice as he continued. "What are you doing here?"

Madame Pomfrey moved aside so he could get a better view of the bed. Draco had his eyes closed and he looked normal enough, though Harry wasn't sure if he'd gone a tad bit paler. (He was already so very pale to begin with.)

"It happened again, I'm afraid," Madame Pomfrey provided, frowning at Draco. "I've just given Mr. Malfoy here something for his throat. I'll have to talk to Professor Snape."

Harry started at that. "Oh, err," he mumbled, feeling as if he were being an inconvenience. "It's okay, you can talk to Sn – Professor Snape now. I can wait."

At that, Draco's eyes fluttered open, now curious as to why Harry was in the infirmary.

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter!" she huffed, now turning towards him. She blinked at the bruise on his cheek. "Is that all then?"

"Oh! Err, no," Harry replied, fidgeting nervously under Malfoy's gaze. "My shoulder," he supplied.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, giving her wand a few flicks. An invisible force hit Harry's shoulder and knocked the breath out of him, almost toppling him over as he let out a grunt. It still caught him by surprise every time.

Another few flicks, and Madame Pomfrey nodded, satisified. "The swelling will go down in a while. Now, I want you to get yourself something for the pain – you know where those are, of course – and get yourself into bed. If I don't see you in bed when I return –"

"I'll get into bed," Harry replied quickly and meekly, already having suffered her wrath before during some of his lesser-brained moments. (Rule of thumb: Pomfrey is law... and he was still sleepy.)