Desperate Times

Brothers in Blood

A/N (notations):

  *speaking in French*
And I don't think it is proper to write in actual French, as the speakers percieve it as they would their own mothertongue, hence the words are English, but formatted to indicate that they are not.
It's lousy explanation, I know, but you'll get what I mean when you'll read the exact part which this explanation concerns :p

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

They have almost reached the Hospital Wing, when Harry stopped in his tracks, cursing softly and looking ahead. Malfoy, who was leaning heavily on him, raised his head from Harry's shoulder, where it was resting a moment ago, and tensed, looking in the same direction.

Harry unfroze and approached the entrance to the infirmary slowly, warily eyeing the man, standing almost in the door frame, blocking their path. The man, sporting auburn short beard and hair of the same color and dressed in purple robes sprinkled with yellow stars and green crescent moons, was talking with someone inside the doors, so he still didn't notice the approaching pair.

"Dumbledore," muttered Malfoy lowly. "I forgot..." he winced.

"I hoped we won't see him until later," Harry responded in the same low tone. Squaring his shoulders, he made last couple of steps towards the doors.

"Mind, if we pass through, sir?" Harry asked politely, after clearing his throat.

Dumbledore flinched and turned around with a surprised look, which turned into a frown at seeing the two of them.

"And who might you be, young gentlemen?" he inquired with a raised brow. "I don't think I have seen you before," he added pensively.

Instead of answering Draco swayed on his feet and Harry steadied him, gritting his teeth.

"Pardon us, sir, but could you allow us to be treated firstly?" Harry pleaded.

Dumbledore squinted his eyes in suspicion, but nevertheless stepped to the side, giving them the space to walk through.

"Effie," he called out, "You have patients!"

A plump woman in her mid-thirties with short sand-colored hair, dressed as a nurse, hurriedly came out from the door at the other end of the room upon his call.

"We will answer the questions you probably have as soon as we can, sir," said Harry over his shoulder, going further into the ward, when the nurse gestured towards the beds.

"Very well," pursing his lips in contemplation, Dumbledore followed them inside.

"What happened?" the nurse asked in a professional, but still caring voice.

"We sparred and got carried away a bit," Harry mumbled, his eyes downcast in fake embarrassment.

"Help your friend to this bed, young man. Are you injured as well?"

"A little," admitted Harry, seemingly even more embarrassed.

"Well, what are you waiting for?! Lay down yourself, will you, I'll get to you in a minute," the nurse ordered him sternly, taking out her wand. "I'm afraid, I need to remove those, gentlemen," she swished her wand in a brisk gesture, before either Harry or Draco could complain, leaving them both only in their trousers, their robes, shirts and sweaters flying off to the side, landing on the floor in untidy heap.

The nurse turned her attention to Malfoy's injuries, leaving Harry to shudder from the drought, before he remembered, that he was sitting on top of the blanket, and put it around himself.