For Every Action

Chapter X

"Mr. Malfoy, you can't leave here!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey as she struggled to keep him under control, and on the hospital bed.

"Please, I have to go," he exclaimed roughly, trying to break away from her iron grip. For an old bird, she was pretty tough. "I've got to go see...someone."

"That is apparent, but you're not leaving this wing until I'm sure your ribs are finished healing. That was a nasty blow you received from Mr. Potter, and I'm sure you'll both be dealt with accordingly when your Heads of Houses get here," replied Madam Pomfrey sharply. It was as though Professors Snape and McGonagall had been twigged at that very moment, for it was less than a minute later and they both arrived in the ward, sharing similar expressions of distaste and disappointment in their prize students.

Although Draco couldn't see Harry's bed or even the sheets surrounding it, for that matter, he could picture McGonagall's face. He imagined the stern look and reproaching words she was hissing at Harry at that very moment. A small smile formed on his face, although it didn't engulf his eyes as well. It couldn't. Not after what Harry had told him.....

Draco had found Harry sulking in a hallway near the Trophy Room. It had taken him the best part of a quarter of an hour to locate him, much to the irritation of Draco and the abhorrence of the several portraits he threatened. It was like going back to his old self; the one that threatened and insulted everyone just to shelter himself. He didn't want to be close to anyone if he was going to mirror his father. But he was only himself, his real, genuine self, unbarred, doors unlocked, the key to his heart in the open when he was with Hermione. And he had only been with her for the last few days. Only a few, precious days in the open, and already he felt like a changed man, pardon the expression. He'd even bloody proposed to her last night. And Draco Malfoy didn't take drastic measures unless he had to. Or meant it....

As Draco walked up to Harry, he saw the other boy's eyes flare with a fire of hate. Or was it hate? They were green after all. What if it was jealousy?

"Malfoy," Harry acknowledged coldly.

"Potter," replied Draco, stopping several feet away, his robes billowing out in the breeze that trickled down the shadowed corridor like ice-fire, burning cold whatever skin it caught hold of.

"You want something?" asked Harry suddenly, almost defensively, jolting his chin up as though in challenge and backing up his right to sulk in the darkness.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," answered Draco, feeling somewhat weaker than he sounded. "I want you to leave Hermione alone. She's with me now, and your terrifying her isn't going to help matters."

"Suppose not," muttered Harry, a wry smile forming on his face. "'Course, seen as it's only been two days since we broke up, maybe I'm not entirely ready to up and hand her over to you."

"Well, the way you've been acting lately, I'm not surprised she left," Draco retorted sourly, the taste of anger intoxicating him.

"I never said you had to get angry, but arrogant bastards such as yourself don't have to give reasons, eh? They just knock up other bloke's girlfriends," countered Harry, leaving his post against the wall and coming to face Draco. "But like I said," he continued, his hands balling in fists at his sides, his face strained, eyes clouded with an anger of an incomprehensible power, only to be cut off. . .

Without thinking, Draco made to punch Harry, and hopefully break his glasses in the process, but to no avail. Harry caught his arm with some superhuman force and socked him in the ribs. As the impact hit him, Draco felt several of his ribs crack, and he was suddenly doubled up with pain. It was white-hot, attacking his lower chest and causing stars to parade in front of him. As Harry was about to turn and walk away, leaving Draco in a crumpled heap, Draco grabbed Harry's ankle, and with his remaining strength, hurled him into the suit of armor at attention beside them, and then dropped nearly unconscious from pain.

And there was only one reason Draco retaliated after Harry's blow.

"Don't you get it?" Harry had said. "I still love her. I'm not about to let you have her." And then Draco took him down. Harry made contact with the suit of armor just below the knee plates. It was bowled over, and before Harry could blink he was being crushed by numerous pieces of armor whilst others were flying about the hall, waiting to land. A solid, rather heavy mace, complete with gothic-looking spikes, hit Harry square in the side of the head, and everything dissolved into a murky, echoing blackness...

"Mr. Malfoy, do you care to explain this conduct?' hissed Snape through his teeth, a frown spanning the width of his forehead and dragging his features down with it. "You have been gallivanting off again with Potter. Have you nothing better to do?" he asked with a renewed fervor.

"Fighting over silly, childhood rivalries is a pointless waste of time. If you are not more careful in future, I shall have to remove you from your Quidditch Position. As of yet, you and Mr. Potter have a detention tomorrow night. I believe Professor McGonagall is arranging an appropriate punishment," he added rather gruffly, and Draco knew he wasn't at all pleased with the arrangement. "And due to the callous nature of your attack on Mr. Potter, and the fact that you were the instigator, fifty points will be taken from Slytherin," concluded Snape, giving Draco a once over and exiting the curtained bed. With a sigh of relief, Draco relaxed against his pillow only to have Professor McGonagall intrude on his thoughts several seconds later.

"Mr. Malfoy, you and Mr. Potter shall serve detentions with Mr. Filch tomorrow evening. I trust you will be well enough by then," she announced rather sharply, and Draco could not sense the remorse and sympathy in her eyes even though her tongue was cold steel. He merely nodded in response, wincing at the pain spiraling through his chest due to the 4 broken ribs he had sustained.

"You're not healed yet, are you?" Professor McGonagall asked immediately, concern escaping in her voice, almost panic stricken. "Poppy! Poppy come quickly!" she shrieked, sending up sparks with her wand, why the latter Draco had no idea.

"Really, I'm fine," he said, rather curtly, sitting up properly in bed, trying to focus on the Deputy Headmistress. Everything was swimming in and out of focus, blurred, like water-stained slides flicking through a projector in the deep reaches of his mind.

"What ever's the matter, Minerva," answered Madam Pomfrey, poking her head through the curtains. "It's just Mr. Malfoy. Yes, I know, he's a funny colour, but that's just his complexion. Now, Minerva, I really don't see any-"

"I didn't call you here because he was a funny colour!" hissed Professor McGonagall, wringing her hands. "He's still got chest pain. After you mended his ribs. Do you understand now?" Madam Pomfrey lost her jolly mood and her eyes turned a glassy, brimming over with pity.

"Oh, dear. Now, Minerva, it is serious, but don't worry, it's not deadly. I'll go fetch Albus and see-"

"He's coming," Professor McGonagall snapped, rather more sharply than intended. And indeed he was. The Headmaster's trademark long, white beard and pointy hat (today it was blue with a pattern of gold crescent moons scattered over it) revealed his entrance before his face became visible. Professor Dumbledore ducked underneath the metal bar, supporting the sterile white curtains, and clasped his hands together. Looking down his long, crooked nose, he stared at Draco with a rare intensity, as though he was peering into his mind.

Draco panicked. He's looking at my thoughts. Why the hell would he do that! What've I done wrong this time? But Dumbledore continued to gaze at him, as though with an unforeseen interest mocking Draco. As coherence wasn't one of his strong suits at the moment, Draco forced his eyes shut and blocked out the world swirling around him.

Finally, Dumbledore relaxed his attentive persona and glanced up at Professor McGonagall. "You're correct," he said without any trace of emotion in his voice. Turning to the boy on the bed, his facade dropped and he almost revealed a smile. But there was only empathy in his eyes as he gazed at the boy. Draco was holding his hands over his ears, eyes shut tight, curled up like a little child trying to shut out noise.

Unbeknownst to the outside world, voices had started to infiltrate his thoughts; not small and meek, but loud, demanding, rough voices full of frustration and anger. He'd heard them somewhere before, but he didn't know where. Multitudes of them were echoing throughout his head, hurling insults and dredging up past mistakes, making Draco's head feel as though it was going to split in two. There was a building pressure, mounting, and a searing, menacing pain was throbbing in his temples. And then there was one voice, and Draco knew who it was immediately.

Hermione. Hermione, please stop! For in his mind, her tongue was lashing with a tide of anger, her voice laced with rage. Draco could almost picture Hermione, standing inside his head, flinging her arms and screaming at him. Now she was calling him names; ruthlessly, she was picking at the weak points only she knew existed. Draco was on the brink of tears when he fainted dead away.

* * *

Dumbledore looked on in surprise at the limp body of the Slytherin. His mouth curled into a weak smile which did not reach his eyes, and he finally spoke again.

"He'll sleep it off. I'm rather surprised at this turn of events, but, nothing is ever written in stone. After all, it's not everyday that there is a triangle as powerful as this, let alone one strong enough to cause something so severe." And with that, he left the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall following after a prolonged glance at the youngest Malfoy.

Madam Pomfrey studied the prostrate figure for a moment, and with a decided air, she rearranged him and covered Draco with a blanket. Reluctantly, she was pulled from his bedside as a screaming student ran in, sneezing warthogs. With one last glance at the student so near to his internal battle, she left.