Stand By

    “Potter! Damnit, wake up!” Harry was being roughly shaken out of the darkness. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to find Malfoy glaring down at him. “Dumb git, damn near gave me a heart attack,” Malfoy growled, releasing his tight grip on the boy.

    “Wha…?” Harry was surprised to find his voice weak.

    “Get up already. Dumbledore wants us downstairs,” Malfoy ordered, tossing Harry his earlier discarded clothes.

    Harry took a shaky breath, his head pounding. He had been so close… Dropping his head into his hands, Harry felt a rush of tears threaten to overtake him.

    “Headache?” Malfoy asked, almost kindly. Harry nodded softly. “It’s from the blood loss. Not much I can do. Do you want a numbing potion?”

    “I’m fine,” Harry answered, forcing himself to sit up.

    “Are you going to be able to make it through dinner?”

    “Dinner?” Harry looked up questioningly.

    “With Dumbledore. That’s what he sent me up here for. To get you,” Malfoy sighed in annoyance. “It won’t do you much good to go passing out into the pudding.”

    “I’m fine,” Harry repeated.

    Malfoy’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Of course you are Potter. You are the epitome of fine.”

    “Shut up,” Harry growled as he pulled on his shirt.

    Malfoy was silent as Harry finished dressing, angrily pulling on his shoes. He dimly noticed that Malfoy had cleaned up the blood. As if he wasn’t odd enough already, he has to save my life and clean up after me, Harry sighed inwardly.

    Trying very hard not to ponder the mystery that was Malfoy, Harry started to shove himself to his feet. Suddenly, the room tilted dangerously. Harry felt his knees go weak beneath him. With a small cry, Harry pitched forward.

    “Potter!” Malfoy instantly moved to catch him, his strong arms easily lifting Harry’s slight weight. Gently, he lay Harry on the couch. Harry was silent for a moment, trying to still the whirling world.

    “Thanks,” Harry finally said.

    Malfoy chose to ignore the reluctant gratitude. “I’m going to give you a numbing potion. It’ll keep you from feeling the effects of blood loss.” His pale hand slid into one of his robes deep pockets. “Take it all,” He commanded, handing Harry a large vial of a deep purple potion.

    With some help from Malfoy, Harry managed to sit up. He quickly unstopped the vial and, with a deep breath, downed the potion in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet, like a sugared apple.

    “Again, thanks,” Harry said. This time, Malfoy gave a small shrug in response.

    “Want to try standing again?” Malfoy asked. Harry nodded, a little distracted by the cold feeling spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body. It wasn’t painful, or even annoying, just slightly distracting.

    Carefully, Harry got to his feet. When the world stayed still, he took a small, tentative step. “I think I’m okay,” He declared after a few more steps.

    “Fine then. We best be heading down.” Malfoy turned towards the exit.

    “Wait.”

    “What is it Potter?”

    “Why did you have a numbing potion with you?” Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he glanced at the boy. A number of reactions flashed across Malfoy’s face, a resigned sort of anger finally winning out.

    “Just leave off Potter. I don’t question why you are up here slitting your bloody wrists, do I?” Malfoy sneered softly.

    “Don’t know why I even bothered asking, bloody git,” Harry growled, shoving past Malfoy and starting for the exit. “Not like I care.”

    “Then we’re in agreement. It’s none of your business,” Malfoy said, following Harry out into the hall.

    They walked silently down to the Great Hall, trying the best they could to ignore the other ones presence. As they approached the doorway, Malfoy suddenly pulled Harry to a stop. Silver gray eyes looked straight into Harry’s emerald.

    “You might want to think over your decision to off yourself. Not that I care, but it‘d be a shame to lose you to your own hand before Voldermort gets a chance.” Without giving Harry a chance to process, let alone respond, Malfoy threw open the heavy doors and strode purposefully into the hall, leaving Harry to dumbly trail behind him.

    “Draco! Harry! We were beginning to worry!” Dumbledore cried happily. “Please, sit, we are about to eat!” He gestured at the two open seats directly beside each other.

    Both boys refused to look at the other as they settled into their respective seats. Harry cast a quick glance around the table. Few teachers had stayed for break. Aside from Dumbledore, only seven teachers remained. Including, to Harry’s displeasure, Professor Snape.

    Snape had been particularly hard on Harry that school year, even more so then the years before. It didn’t seem to matter to him that both he and Harry were fighting on the same side against Voldermort. No, Severus Snape still held a grudge. And it wasn’t even against Harry himself, rather his father, James Potter. Harry had to fight the groan as he thought of all the rude and cruel things Snape had said or did to him.

    Dumbledore’s cheery voice pulled him from his thoughts. “I want to start,” Dumbledore began, standing up, “by thanking those of you that stayed. We are the few.” Harry followed his gaze. Indeed, besides the seven teachers and Dumbledore himself, Malfoy and Harry were the only people left. “I know in dark times like these, it is easy to become lost in the fear. May Hogwarts always provide protection for you and all students who have or will grace these halls.” He lifted a goblet as he continued, “And may we band together in these times to remain strong.”

    “Here, here,” McGonagall said, also lifting her goblet. The others followed suit, all murmuring in agreement.

    Dumbledore smiled widely. “And that said, let’s eat!”

    Instantly, food appeared before them. Plates piled high with turkey, all cuts, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and everything else a good Christmas dinner should be. Harry took it in wide eyed.

    He started for a plate of mashed potatoes, but a deep pain in his stomach stopped him. Wincing, he instead turned towards the turkey. Another pain bloomed beside the first. Breathing heavily, Harry leaned back.

    “I forgot to mention something, Potter,” Malfoy whispered, his mouth inches from Harry’s ear. “Can’t eat on a numbing potion. Won’t allow it. Can‘t even touch food.”

    “Bastard. Couldn’t have mentioned that before?” Harry hissed.

    Malfoy just flashed him a smirk before turning his attention to his plate, which was piled high with food. Harry sighed softly, accepting the denial of his last meal. It fit that he should lead a tortured life right till the end.

    “Not hungry Harry?” Dumbledore asked gently.

    Smiling softly, Harry turned towards the old man. “Bit of a stomach twinge. Too much candy, I reckon. I hate to ask, but mind if I excuse myself?” The lie slid effortlessly from Harry’s lips.

    “Of course not, dear boy. Go rest up. I’ll have Dobby put aside a plate for when you’re better,” Dumbledore smiled reassuringly.

    “Thank you sir.” Heavy emotion went into those three words. If Dumbledore noticed the gravity in the boys voice, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes twinkled as he leaned closer.

    “Since you’re not eating, perhaps you’d like to go visit a certain black dog down at Hagrid’s?” He suggested.

    Seeing his godfather was the last thing Harry wanted to do right then, but of course, he didn’t tell Dumbledore that. “I’d love that sir,” He smiled brightly, praying it was convincing.

    “Very well then. Go on. Wish the old dog a happy Christmas for me.”

    Harry nodded before pushing back his chair. Malfoy gave him a curious look, but didn’t question him. With a polite nod towards the teachers, Harry hurried out of the hall and into the cool night air.