Draco's Draught

Harry

I woke up later in the hospital wing, entirely alone, for which I was quite grateful. Despite what were probably many newly-healed broken bones, I felt better than I had all week. I looked around, but the room seemed empty, so I rolled over onto my side and curled up. Maybe I could just stay here until I returned to normal. They couldn't force me to go back to the Slytherin rooms, could they?

Just as I was beginning to relax a bit, I heard the hospital door open behind me. I closed my eyes. Whoever it was, I really didn't want to see them right this second. Unfortunately for me, whoever it was came over to my bed, and sat down in the chair next to it. Obviously they weren't going to go away until I woke up so that they could talk to me. Maybe I'd get lucky and it'd only be Snape, or my teammates waiting to pummel me some more...or my father. I opened my eyes. It was Potter. Damn.

I turned onto my back to look at the ceiling, so I could avoid looking at him. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked like hell when they brought you in here."

"And you felt so bad for me that you had to miss your little Gryffindor celebration to come see how I was doing?"

"No, damn it! I came here because I know what it's like to wake up in here, miserable and alone."

"That's assuming a lot, Potter. How do you know that my teammates and friends just popped out to nick me some goodies from the kitchen?"

He laughed harshly. "Because I was conscious on the pitch, Malfoy. They were looking at you like they were about to use the Cruciatus Curse on you. Too bad you were already unconscious, hm? Cause you wouldn't have felt it if they had."

It's a good thing that I'm pale, or Potter would have known just how right he probably was. I'm sure my teammates wouldn't have restrained themselves if it hadn't been for the fact that all the teachers were there to see anything they did. I couldn't repress the shiver. I couldn't go back now. They might not kill me, but they could certainly make me wish I were dead.

"Dra...Malfoy? Are you okay?"

"No, I bloody well am not okay!" I turned to look at him. "I'm a girl, my...you keep following me around, and my house..." I stopped before I let the truth slip. "Just go away, Potter. Leave me alone." I turned back onto my back and looked up at the ceiling once more.

Potter was silent for a moment, then I heard him rise, and let myself relax, thinking that he was leaving. But, as I always am with him, I was wrong. He leaned over me, catching my eyes with his. "I'm not leaving, Draco. You're in pain. No one deserves to be deserted when they're alone and unhappy." He reached out and took my hand. "I promise not to do anything you don't want me to, but I can't leave you here by yourself."

Those green eyes have always been very emotive. I knew that from before. Every time I goaded him, I could see the anger growing in them, see his frustration when a teacher appeared around the corner, or when Snape took points from his house when I'd egged him into responding. But there was no anger or frustration in them now. There was no pity either, and that scared me, because pity was something I could handle.

To make things worse, I knew he was right. For the first time in my life, I was truly alone. No one would care what happened to me. My father would say that whatever happened, I only deserved it if I let it happen. My housemates would be on the warpath, and I knew just how bad that could get. There have been a few students over the years who have been turned from Slytherin, but not before being taught exactly what it is to be on the wrong side of our house. None in my time, but my father had told me once, in a very cheery voice about how he had led a group of his housemates to humiliate one of the students in a year below my father. He had gone into great detail about what exactly they had done to the boy, and even then, a rabid Slytherin at heart, I had blanched listening to his excited recitation. I wasn't sure that Snape would even help me at this point.

Now I sighed and turned away from Harry, though I didn't move my hand from his grasp. "Fine," I whispered.

"What?" I turned to look at him again. There was confusion in those eyes.

"I said fine, Potter. Can we stop talking now?"

He looked startled, but nodded. He tried to pull away, but his hand was the only thing keeping me together at that point, so I clutched it tighter. At first he looked uncertain, but eventually he settled next to me on the bed. We were silent for several minutes before he couldn't take it and spoke again. "Draco..."

"Yes?" I said, not looking at him.

"Why do you hate me?"

I laughed. That's a rich one. Why do I hate The Boy Who Lived? The Boy Who Can Do Anything Better Than Draco Malfoy? I sneaked a look at him from beneath my bangs. He was bloody serious! I swallowed my laughter and sat up, looking at this boy who had been the bane of my existence from even before I ever met him.

Those green eyes, though..."I don't hate you Potter, I just..." I frowned. "Why are you asking, anyway? You're the one who turned down my offer of friendship. It seems to me that you're the one who hates me."

He flushed. "I didn't hate you, Draco, I just...well, you insulted Ron. And acted like I was beneath you, but you were willing to...train me or something. Would you want a friend who treated you that way?"

"But even before that, before I even knew who you were, in Madame Malkins, you were standoffish. That had nothing to do with Ron. I thought I was pretty civil then..."

"You were, I suppose. For you anyway. But you kept talking about all this stuff that I knew nothing about. And then you started saying how people who didn't know about the Wizarding world shouldn't be allowed to come to Hogwarts. How was I supposed to respond?"

I'd never really thought about my views quite in this way before. I remembered that day, being so excited about getting all my school supplies, and wondering about the other students I would meet. Children who weren't connected to my father's friends. And then he had come into the shop, scruffy and quiet, and there was just something about him. I had had to try to draw him out. But he'd responded only in simple two or three word sentences at most, so I'd dealt with it the only way I knew how: I put on a mask. I'd put on my father's façade. It had helped me deal with things before, and so I did it again, without thought. Now I wondered if Lucius would follow me my entire life. Did I really want to be like him?

Now I looked that that scruffy boy sitting next to me. Was it too late? Could it be that we could still be friends? "Look, for what it's worth, Potter, I'm sorry."

His surprised look lasted only for a moment. Then a slow smile spread across his face. "Harry."

"What?"

"My name. It's Harry."

For some reason, that moment, more than when he had sat next to me, or even when we had kissed, I felt--vulnerable. I looked down at where we still held hands. "...Harry," I whispered.

I could practically feel his grin. "What was that, Draco?" he asked, barely keeping the laugher from his voice.

I threw my head back and looked into his eyes once more. "Harry." I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Happy?"

He leaned towards me, and before I realized what was happening, our lips were touching once more. Did I want this? Did I want...him? My whole body answered me. Yes.