Drarry Oneshots

Eighth Year [Part One]

Posted: December 8, 2020
AO3 Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Sprawled on the floor and definitely not whimpering as he wills his injured leg to move the way he needs to reach out and grab his wand lying a few feet away... That is how Harry Potter found him. Because of-fucking-course it was Harry Potter who had to find him.

The Golden Boy approaches tentatively, hands raised.

"Er, Malfoy? Do you need any help?"

Draco shakes his head and grits his teeth. "No. I'm fine."

Harry crouches down to pick up Draco's wand, immediately passing it over, and Draco uses it to Repair his bag and Summon his belongings, directing them inside in a messy tumble so he doesn't have to gather them.

Bag in hand, he finds himself once again stuck. Draco knows he can't stand on his own, having already tried. He's pretty sure his ankle is broken, or at least badly sprained.

Harry reaches out to tilt Draco's chin up,  examining his bleeding lip and blackened eye. His pained expression makes it clear that he's already surmised what has happened.

"Come to finish the job, Potter?" Draco asks, a hint of challenge in his eyes.

Part of Harry is glad to see it, even if it is directed at the wrong person. He's missed seeing Draco's fire, he's surprised to realize.

And in turn, Draco is startled by the pure fury in Harry's eyes, the crackle of his magic in the air, and even more surprised to discover that it isn't directed at him when Harry asks, his voice low and tense, "Who did this to you?"

Draco looks away. "Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter? Because you're getting hurt, because they need to be stopped!"

"Why?" Draco's query is spoken in a soft, almost childlike tone. "I deserve it."

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Harry slams a hand down on the hard stone floor, and immediately looks guilty when Draco flinches. He carefully lowers his voice to a normal volume. "You don't deserve this."

Draco licks his bloody lip and looks up at him, a storm raging behind those clear grey eyes "Don't I, Potter?"

Harry stares at him in shock, his chest suddenly aching. "No! You—you don't. No one deserves this. Not you. Not anyone."

"I'm a Death Eater." Draco drags his left sleeve up to brandish his Dark Mark. "I may be a bit more pleasant to be around now, but I still have this. I still hurt people in the war. Some things can't be forgiven."

Harry reaches out and takes Draco's wrist in his hand, gazing at the faded Mark that remains.

"This...this isn't who you are, Malfoy. It never was. You're more..." Harry cuts himself off awkwardly. "Let me take you to Madam Pomfrey."

"Fine. But I can walk, I'm not some damsel that needs to be carried."

"Of course not," Harry grins. "Come on. There we go." He hauls Draco to his feet, letting him lean heavily against him.

"Ah!" Draco's probably-broken ankle immediately gives out the second he puts any weight on it, but Harry catches him around the waist, pulling him up against his chest.

"I've got you."

Harry wraps an arm around him, helping him hobble along on one foot, and they slowly and awkwardly make their way to the Hospital Wing.

•••••

"Five minutes, Mr. Potter. Then up to bed with you," Madam Pomfrey says sternly before disappearing into her office.