Drarry Oneshots

Harry Potter and Remember That Time Pansy Had A Headache? (here's why)

Part three to Harry Potter and the Year He Didn't Give a Fuck

QOTD: What color us your natural hair, and what color is it currently?

My answer: Brown, and it's currently blonde

Not even a second after Pansy had crashed to the floor, Draco and Blaise were both simultaneously jumping over the table, knocking over the pumpkin juice, and attempting to wake Pansy up.

After another second, Harry joined them, lifting her head carefully and begging her to wake up.

After yet another second, Hermione had managed to sprint over and was now crouched next to Pansy, shock and horror reflecting in her eyes.

Another two seconds would pass before McGonagall scooped the girl up and rushed her to the Hospital Wing, snapping at them to stay where they were, and leaving four shocked, broken teenagers in the Great Hall, staring after their best friend.

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It was another four days until they were allowed into the Hospital Wing. The second Hermione bolted over to their table and told them, Draco, Blaise, and Harry were out of their seats, the four of them rushing toward the Hospital Wing.

Draco's hand slipped into Harry's as they opened the doors to the Hospital Wing. 

They practically sprinted towards Pansy's bed, gasping slightly upon seeing her.

She was paler than Draco, eyes closed, but eyelashes tiredly fluttering upon their approach. 

"Do not touch her, Mr. Zabini."

Blaise snatched back his hand as though he'd been burned. Madam Pomfrey tutted as she waved her wand over Pansy, casting diagnostic spells. She sighed, before turning back to them.

"How is she doing?" Draco blurted out.

Madame Pomfrey frowned. "Patient confidentiality is extremely-"

"Fuck's sake, Poppy, they're my friends. Tell them."

Madame Pomfrey gave Pansy a cold look, before turning back to the four of them.

She started talking medical terms to them, telling them of Pansy's condition. 

Harry heard "epidural hematoma", "torn blood vessels", "blunt force trauma". He didn't understand it, didn't care. He just wanted one answer.

"Will she be okay?" he blurted out, cutting off Madam Pomfrey mid-sentence.

She sighed, looking down at the black-haired girl in front of her. "It is possible she will be okay, but if the hematome expands within the skull and presses on the brain, it will cause death."

Pansy's eyes suddenly widened slightly, and she bent over the side of her bed and promptly vomited into the bucket next to her.

Harry had had enough of this. 

"You're a fucking witch!" he shouted angrily. "Use a fucking spell and fucking fix her!"

Blaise and Draco were nodding. Pansy laid back in her bed, face pale.

"Don't you think she's fuckin tried that?" she laughed weakly.

"Try fucking harder, Poppy," Harry said in an angry, threatening tone that clearly started that he had killed Voldemort and Pomfrey was next if she didn't fix this.

"Don't use that attitude with me, Mr. Potter. I am doing my best to fix this situation."

Hermione was just staring at Pansy with a pained expression. Draco and Blaise wore matching expressions of devastation.