Golden Thread Of Trust

Golden Thread Of Trust

Chapter 10: Hot Coal, Fire And Acid Jack

I’ve cracked
My temper’s spat
Hot coal, fire and acid jack
I’ve been used
I feel abused
Something you’ve done has lit my fuse
And I take my theories back
Maybe Karma ain’t all that
Coz you do whatever you please
Everybody else is left to bleed

You’re a heart attack
Your heart is black
It’s whack
Your mind is jacked
How did anybody ever get like that
You’re a heart attack
You stabbed me in the back
If you pull your punches jack
I’m taking everything back
You hit me harder than a heart attack

Darren Hayes - "Heart Attack"

The Gryffindor common room was almost empty, except for a couple that sat huddled up on a sofa. On a closer look, one could see that they had a conversation clearly not meant for the ears of others.
"Ron, did you notice that Harry and Malfoy aren't speaking anymore?"
Yeah, so what? I don't miss him."
"I think Harry does. He's been really down lately."
"You're right. We should try to cheer him up a bit."
"Yes. There's nothing more we can do, right?
Right then Harry burst into the common room with tears in his eyes.
"Harry? What's wrong?" Ron asked, shocked.
"It's Draco... Zabini pushed him down the stairs, and he almost died! And it's my fault."
"How can it be your fault, Harry?" Hermione asked sceptically.
"Zabini did it because he's my friend."
"I thought you two weren't getting along anymore?" said Ron, puzzled.
"I know. I wish it wasn't so," said Harry wistfully.
"Why don't you make up with him then?" Hermione suggested.
"It's not that easy," Harry sighed.
Ron distracted Harry by suggesting a game of wizard chess, and Harry accepted gratefully.
Hermione thought that this confirmed her theories of the nature of the split between Harry and Malfoy. It seemed quite clear. Harry is attracted to Malfoy, suddenly they aren't friends anymore and Harry's moping about it and looking perfectly miserable. Harry must have told him, or he found out anyway, and he pushed Harry away. Sodding bastard. He didn't deserve Harry.
She watched Ron and Harry play. Ron was winning, of course. Harry seemed to have his thoughts elsewhere, and she could very well imagine where.
"Checkmate," said Ron triumphantly.
Harry smiled a little.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Almost eleven," said Hermione.
Harry stood up with a determined look on his face.
"I'll go up to the Hospital Wing before Madam Pomfrey leaves," he said and ignored Ron and Hermione's disapproving looks. He fetched his Invisibility Cloak in case Filch was around.

Harry realised that he envied Ron and Hermione, because of the love they shared, and the intimacy with which they interacted. They were so close that they were almost a part of each other. They had no need to hide anything from each other or disguise their feelings. Harry longed for that kind of honest relationship. He wanted it so much that it was almost painful to watch them together. It reminded him of Draco, and he simply had to visit him.

When he entered the Hospital Wing he met Madam Pomfrey, who was preparing to leave for the night.
"Hello Harry," she said. "You should be in bed right now, if I'm not mistaken?"
Harry ignored her comment.
"How is he?" he asked anxiously.
Madam Pomfrey's expression changed from stern to concerned.
"He is in a coma. I've healed the broken bones and head injuries, but he hasn't woke up yet."
"Couldn't you just wake him up?"
"I could, but there's no use. He'll wake up when he's ready."
She saw Harry's puzzled look.
"Sometimes a physical injury isn't the reason why a person doesn't wake up. It can also be for psychological reasons."
She pursed her lips as if she'd said too much.
"He's lucky. A broken neck can result in death or paralysis. He'll have to stay here for a while, but the accident won't leave any permanent marks. Now don't stay too long."
With that she left and Harry was alone with Draco. He sat down on a chair beside the bed and watched the other boy for a while. He looked as if he simply was asleep. His eyes were closed, his lips were slightly parted, and he breathed very slowly. He was beautiful. Harry wondered how he ever considered being without Draco. He ached to touch him. On an impulse he leaned forward and put his cheek against Draco's. So smooth, so soft... He breathed in Draco's familiar scent, feeling his warm breath tickle his ear. It felt so right. Harry felt his stomach contracting, and it pained him that Draco never would have allowed that small gesture of affection, even if they still were friends. He rose and looked at the unconscious boy.
"I hope you can forgive me," he whispered and left, wondering what the hell he would write in his Divination journal.

Draco woke up a couple of days later thinking: 'This is it.'
He was seething with anger, and at first he was confused; he had no idea why. Then it all came back to him. Zabini. The staircase. Potter. He had to suppress a growl that threatened to escape from his throat. His thoughts were interrupted when Madam Pomfrey discovered that he'd waken up. She promptly started to monitor him and informed him of his injuries and that he had had an accident.
"Accident my arse," he growled, and the old witch looked shocked. Whether it was because of what he had said or his rude choice of words, Draco didn't know, and he didn't care.
"I was pushed."
Madam Pomfrey gasped.
"Who did that?"
"I don't know," Draco confessed, "they came from behind."
He thought to himself that he had a pretty good idea, but there was no way to prove it, of course.
Madam Pomfrey told him that he had to stay for the rest of the day for observation, but that he could leave in the evening. He spent the time trying to gain control over his temper, this aggression wouldn't do. He had partly succeeded when he left, at least he didn't scowl anymore. He strode quickly through the corridors, not feeling any weaker than usual, despite the fact that he'd just awoken from a coma. He'd decided now. He wouldn't play any more games with Potter. This was the second time the Gryffindor had rejected and humiliated him, and he wouldn't be stupid enough to give him another chance. If enmity was what he wanted from Draco, that was what he was going to get. He could admit to himself that he was hurt. It hurt to pour one's soul out to someone you thought you could trust and be so brutally rejected. It was ironic, he thought, that he'd had to risk his life for someone who didn't even want him as a friend. Well, he wouldn't waste his time and energy pining for that bastard. He had more important things on his mind. He swept though the Slytherin common room without even throwing a glance at the people sitting there, and got his homework for the lessons he'd missed.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw Draco enter. He stood out from the rest, moving with natural grace, aiming for the Slytherin table. Suddenly he looked straight at Harry, and Harry flinched at what his eyes communicated. So cold... Harry had seen those pale eyes narrowing with laughter, wide with fear and filled with tears... But now they were cold; just like when they were younger and still enemies, except that they were filled with a cold rage.
'Oh, you have every right to be angry with me,' Harry thought. Draco hadn't seemed to care that they weren't friends anymore, he had only looked at Harry twice in the two weeks that had passed. But of course he was angry with Harry, he had put him in mortal danger, after all. That glare was justified, but Harry wished that he would stop; it broke his heart.
'Please, I just want to be your friend again! I just want to turn back time, to make it all undone...'
Draco turned away and didn't look at him again. Not at breakfast, not that entire day, or the following week.

This made it very difficult for Harry, he never quite found the nerve to walk up to Draco and apologise to him. The longer he waited, the more difficult it became, and at the end of the week, Harry had practically given up. Watching Draco from a distance, and seeing that he was just as lonely as Harry, wasn't making it any easier. Harry's friends tried to cheer him up, but eventually it became apparent that his unhappiness wouldn't go away. Hermione watched one of her oldest friends retreat deeper and deeper into himself, and decided that it was time for some action. She knew the source of the problem could be found in the library most of the time, so she went there and saw him sitting at his usual table, in a quiet end of the library. She sat down opposite him.
"Hi," she said.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.
'All right,' she thought, 'so this is where we stand.'
"I want to talk to you," she said aloud. "What did you do to Harry?"
Draco was speechless for a while.
"What I did to Harry? What the hell do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about! "
"All I know is that Harry told me to leave him alone, and I did, didn't I?"
"Oh," was all Hermione said, as the pieces of the puzzle realigned themselves before her eyes. "I see, I think. It makes sense."
Malfoy didn't push Harry away at all; it was the other way around, and now Harry was regretting it. She realised that that might be the worst thing Harry could've done, betraying the trust of someone who seldom trusted anyone.
"What are you talking about, Granger?" said Draco irritably, but his voice betrayed the slightest note of curiosity.
"Listen, this might not be as bad as it seems."
Draco just rolled his eyes.
Hermione tried a different approach.
"Harry is very unhappy, you know."
Draco snorted.
"Serves him right."
"Do you really mean that?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Yes. No. Maybe a little," said Draco, embarrassed. Then he burst out:
"But why is he doing this to me?"
"Harry acts before he thinks. It's quite possible that he got some idea into his head, and acted before he realised the consequences. I can almost imagine his stupid reasoning... You really should talk to him."
"No way. He told me to stay away. We're not on speaking terms anymore."
"Harry said he wished it wasn't so."
"He did?"
Draco could hardly believe it. He felt as if someone had just emptied a bucket of cold water over his head.
"Yes, he did. You really ought to talk to him."
"You don't expect me to fall on my knees and beg him to be my friend, do you?" Draco asked, unbelieving.
"Ask him, Malfoy. Just ask him. Don't let your pride stand between you and Harry, you're smarter than that."
And with that she went, leaving Draco staring at her back. What if she was right? What if it wasn't as bad as it seemed; what if Harry really did regret it all? Or what if her words were just another cruel joke? There was only one way to find out, and this time Draco would make sure to be in control of the situation.