Rematch

Chapter Three

Blaise Zabini walked confidently along the various corridors in Azkaban, twirling his wand through his fingers as he went. His black hair had grown shorter, if such a thing was possible. Ice blue eyes were darker, and skin was paler from lack of sunlight, but Blaise couldn't have looked healthier for the world.

Having an extra mind probably did that to a person. Blaise continued to walk, nodding his head slightly as a passing Death Eater bowed his head to him. Finally, he arrived at the cell he wanted.

"Move," he commanded the Death Eater stood outside it. Said Death Eater took one look at the ring around Blaise's thumb, and hurriedly left. Blaise felt a smirk tugging at his lips before he stepped into the cell.

Lying across on the floor, obviously thrown in and forgotten about was the body of Lucius Malfoy. As he walked nearer, Blaise remembered a conversation he had once had with the Dark Lord.

"I want Luke back; at least he didn't threaten to kill me every five minutes."

"Lucius is dead, the dead cannot be brought back."

"What about you then?"

"I'm the exception."

"...Prick."

Blaise knew it was possible of course and, fuelled by his annoyance of Voldemort, had found out exactly how it was done. Bringing someone from the dead was extremely dark magic, but Blaise didn't really mind that, for an overload of Dark Magic would make him stronger.

'Salazar?' he thought. 'You there?'

'Is it not ever thus?' Salazar Slytherin's hollow voice had the strange impression of eons of stolen time running under the surface. Blaise's ring pulsed with light as he spoke.

'Can't you speak normally for once?' Blaise asked, stepping toward the still body of Luke and peering down at it.

'I would speak in Latin, were it not for thine lack of understanding,' Salazar shrugged it off. 'Dost thou know what to do?'

'It's easy. We bring Luke back, then we get Potter to kill Voldemort, Voldemort dies and you get his immortal body. I have my own body and go back to my life,' Blaise grinned slightly, though in the dark light only his teeth were visable. 'Everyone's happy.'

'Except for Voldemort and possibly Lucius,' Salazar corrected. 'I know that I was wont to remain in mine grave.'

'Yes, but Voldemort will be too dead to be unhappy,' Blaise replied, still grinning as he bent down and turned Lucius' body over so he was lay on his back.

'I think it's more likely for Draco to be pissed, actually.'

'Draco? Thou speak'st truthfully. Now, he is the Lord of the Manor, but the return of his father will strip him of that,' Salazar conceded. He seemed to think only in power.

'I think he'd be quite relieved once that happens actually,' Blaise commented, running his hands through the air above Lucius' body, a glowing dark blue barrier seemed appear and pulsated there, much like a coffin, though in the shape of Lucius' body.

'Once Lucius has talked to Draco, Draco will tell Potter, it's inevitable. Potter will come for Voldemort and you get a body,' he thought randomly, continuing to run his hands through the air until a light blue barrier encased the dark blue one. 'What will you do once you have a body?'

'I had planned only thus far,' Salazar admitted. 'It is of no moment. This will take time, and we can use this time to our advantage. Dost thou recall the incantations?'

'Nope,' Blaise thought honestly, continuing to move his hands until the barrier was solid, and you could touch it. After a few seconds, sparks of electricity crackled along the length of it.

'Lend me thine voice,' Salazar commanded.

Blaise nodded, once, and closed his eyes. There were a few second of silence, save for the crackling of electricity then Blaise opened his mouth.

Salazar spoke a lengthy incantation in Latin, and then clapped Blaise's hands together. "Rise up, Lucius Malfoy. Thou hast been freed from thine captivity in the halls of the dead. I command thee to live."

The crackling turned into full-scale lightning. Lucius' body writhed, thrashed, rose and smacked down against the floor, hands reaching out like claws and veins standing out in his forehead and on his arms. Tendons stood taut in his neck and wrists, and veins spread across his cheeks. It was all strangely distant through the blue shield. Finally, a low, throaty roar escaped his mouth, rising into a shriek. The barrier flashed outwards, then flowed into the middle, rising up like a column to the ceiling before flashing once more and vanishing.

Lucius' chest rose as though he was a puppet, being tugged upwards by a string. He fell back, panting, eyes closed and veins fading slowly. Salazar released control of Blaise's body, watching what happened to the boy.

Blaise fell backwards suddenly, landing beside Lucius' body and lying completely still. Slowly, his right hand began to tremble, the ring on his thumb glowing brighter and brighter until its colour began to leak and spread along Blaise's arm, snaking upwards until it looked like he was wearing a black glove. It carried on moving slowly, reaching his torso and spreading out along it, covering both his arms and legs in the black coating. It continued until his legs were gone also, and then began moving up his neck and over his face, until he was completely covered. Throughout the whole thing, Blaise didn't make a sound.

Suddenly, a bolt of lighting shot down from the ceiling and struck his body. A scream ripped through the air like a knife through butter, sounding inhuman and shattering any glass within a ten metre radius. His body began to convulse, shooting its legs and arms out in every direction, including those that were considered impossible directions until finally, the black began to soak into his skin, his veins becoming visable, now black.

With a pop, the veins disappeared, and the screaming stopped. Blaise's body relaxed and grey eyes opened slowly.

Salazar raised the arms of his new body, turning his hands over and examining them. He sat up, trying to get used to coordinating a body so different to his own. He reached down and laid a hand on Lucius' forehead. The man's eyes popped open and he looked around in a panic.

"Welcome back," Salazar said to him.

"Blaise?" Lucius croaked, sitting up and clutching his head.

Salazar hesitated. "Yes. Are you alright?" He spoke stiffly, knowing that he would have to use colloquial vocabulary, but not comfortable with it yet.

"I feel like death on legs," Lucius groaned, running his hands through his hair and looking uncannily like his son.

Salazar laughed. "Ironic. Welcome back to life, Lucius. You have been dead for several months."

Lucius froze, staring at him. He too held his hands out, examining them.

"You're fucking kidding me," he said flatly.

"No joke," Salazar said truthfully.

"Wow," Lucius breathed. "That's actually rather impressive."

"You must not talk to Voldemort," Salazar warned him urgently. "He killed you, and he would not be happy that we... I brought you back. You must not talk to him."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but did not question it. "Where's Draco?" he asked.

"Your son is, as we understand it, at Hogwarts."

"Is he all right?" Lucius' voice was urgent, he gripped Salazar's hand.

"I think so," Salazar answered. "He was here, but we helped him to escape. We have not heard from him since."

"Okay," Lucius breathed. "Should I get out of here? If Voldemort wants me dead again, I should probably get running now."

"It would be wise."

"Then that's what I'll do."

***

"I don't understand quite why we're waiting behind this wall," Draco grumbled in an undertone, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. If he was seen with Ginny, inside school or outside, his reputation would be forever tarnished. He liked her, certainly, but people would suppose things that certainly were not true.

"Because I don't want to go around the corner," Ginny stated, as if it was perfectly obvious.

"Alright, we'll edit that one," Draco conceded. "Why do I have to be standing behind the wall with you? I told you that you should go, you being singular and not referring to ME."

"I don't want to go," Ginny pouted, casting a glance around the corner. "So I'm talking to you while I muster up the courage."

"I hope you still like him when he's wrinkly, grey and bearded," Draco scoffed, giving her a gentle shove. "Go on."

"But what if he doesn't want to talk to me?" Ginny asked, placing a hand on the wall so she didn't go flying out into said person's path.

"Then I'll make him bloody talk. Get out there!" Draco grinned, putting a hand on her waist absently and leaning around her to see this person.

"Draco!" Ginny said heatedly, pulling away from him, only to come into full view of this person. Somehow she managed not to blush as she realised that if she went back, she'd look even more than a fool.

She gulped, and then walked forward defiantly, to where a Ravenclaw was waiting outside the Library.

Draco snickered to himself, leaning back to watch the carnage.

"Ginny?" the Ravenclaw said, turning to see the rather determined-looking redhead coming up behind him. He caught a flash of Draco's face behind her, and frowned slightly. He shrugged mentally. Malfoy had as much right to be around here as anyone else.

Ginny smiled slightly, subconsciously brushing her robes down and checking her make up in her minds eye. "Hi, Jake,"

"Hey," he said, frowning slightly. "I didn't see you in flying this morning."

"I skipped," Ginny answered, looking away for a second then back at him from under her fringe. "I can't fly well anyway."

"You're really good!" Jake said earnestly, and then looked at his feet. "I didn't know you were the sort to skip classes." He looked vaguely impressed.

Noticing this, Ginny made a mental note to thank Draco. "Did I miss anything?" she asked, feigning an interest.

"Not really. Dan fell off his broom and broke his ankle," Jake said, grinning. "It swelled up and before they could get Madam Pomfrey out it exploded everywhere."

Ginny pulled a face. "Nice."

"It was really cool; Jamie reckoned he could see the bone when Dan stood up..." Jake made a face. "I'm sorry; you don't like that sort of thing, do you?"

"Not really," Ginny admitted, brushing stray bits of her fringe out of her eyes.

Draco smirked, watching them. Jake clearly liked her, but Ginny wasn't going about it the right way at all. Not if she wanted to get him. Draco had to clench his jaw to resist the urge to walk out there and say something, just because he hated not being a part of something. He picked up his bag and walked around the corner.

"Coming, Ginny?" he asked familiarly, putting a hand on her backside nonchalantly. That should stir it up a bit.

Ginny jumped, turning around to glare up at Draco. "Malfoy, what are you doing?" she demanded.

"Why, what does it look like I'm doing?" Draco said, lowering his head and putting his cheek to her temple.

Jake was looking horrified. "I should probably go..."

Ginny stepped back, looking completely stunned. She sent a pleading look at Jake, unable to say anything.

Draco decided he'd done enough.

"Ah fuck it, ignore me." He reached out a hand to clap Jake on the shoulder. "Fuck her," he recommended. "Before she decides she doesn't fancy your pants off any more."

Ginny's mouth actually went as far as to drop open. She turned suddenly, reaching for Jake's arm and getting his hand instead. "Come on, Jake," she said, fighting the blush and quickly walking away.

Jake cast a very confused look back at Draco, who winked slowly. Jake looked down at Ginny, and suddenly he grinned, returning Draco's wink. He put an arm around Ginny's shoulders tentatively as they walked away.

Draco smiled to himself, watching them go. That worked well enough. He felt sort of strange, though. He felt like he was no longer an only child - like Ginny was his little sister, in a sort of twisted way. He decided that, regardless of the fact that he had never meant anything by his affectionate gestures - that was just how he acted around girls - he wouldn't make them any more. Ginny was a good person, someone who accepted him, and Merlin knew he needed someone to accept him right then.

Harry Potter had been watching for the past few seconds, stood next to one of the windows at the end of the hall behind Draco. His bag was slung carelessly over his shoulder, and hands were on the stone window ledge, bracing his weight. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of the scene before him, with Draco acting like he liked Ginny, when in reality he was helping her get with that Ravenclaw guy. He looked at the floor to his left for a few seconds, before pushing himself away from the wall and walking over to Draco.

The nearer he got, the further away Draco seemed to be. In more ways than one. He reached out a hand to tap Draco on the shoulder, and then paused; what could he possibly say?

Draco heard someone walking up behind him and turned unthinkingly. He saw Harry with a flutter of recognition before his mind had even registered his presence. Draco's eyes hardened.

"What do you want?"

Harry paused, his hand still reaching out for Draco. Slowly, it dropped to rest by his side. "I want a lot of things in life, but I also want to apologise."

"Oh do you?" Draco asked, eyes fixed somewhere to the left of Harry's ear.

Harry looked to the floor. "Yes. For... for, well. Being a prick." Although his words held hope, he knew that it couldn't possibly be enough.

"Yeah, you were a bit of a prick," Draco said, eyes still fixed on the little diamond three in from the left and seven down from the top of the mullioned window at the far end of the hallway. "Should have thought about that before you acted, though, really."

"I was just out of St Mungo's; I couldn't exactly do anything after two months of being told you weren't alive. I hadn't seen you for eight months, I couldn't suddenly turn around and take it all in that easily, you know," Harry replied bitterly before adding, "I hate Dumbledore," in an undertone.

"Well, you're not the only one who thought that someone was dead," Draco said coldly. "I found out about half an hour before I saw you that you were alive too, before which I basically had to walk from Azkaban to avoid getting detected. I was just trying to get home, but I found a newspaper saying you were out of St. Mungo's. I thought you'd be glad to see me. Shows how fucking wrong I was." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were focused on Harry's face, but there was not a trace of warmth in those silver orbs. "Just piss off and leave me alone, Potter."

"Fine," Harry snapped. "Fine." He turned around, putting a thumb in one of the belt loops of his jeans as he walked. He hadn't really expected a good reaction from Draco, but still... He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Draco for a second, phrases running through his mind. 'I hate you; it wasn't all my fault, you know; I love you; goodbye, Draco.' But none seemed to fit what he wanted to say, so instead, he looked Draco in the eye, gritted his teeth together and left.

Draco smirked slightly to himself. "Now I wonder if that's the verbal equivalent of being kicked in the nuts?" he murmured to himself. "See how you like being rejected, Potter."

***

It was precisely three days, nine hours and thirteen minutes since Harry and Draco had last bumped into each other, not that Draco was keeping count. He honestly couldn't care less about Harry. The Bludger whistled at his head again and he drew the bat back, smacking it with a great deal of his strength. Practicing Beating in the dark wasn't usually a good idea, but Draco had no other time to come out on his own. Also, the fact that he wasn't a Beater did not matter. Seeking was hardly an anger-releasing position. He whacked the Bludger away again. It turned sharply this time, coming right back at him, due to the absence of any other players, he supposed.

"Take... that... you... fucking... hunk... of... shit!" He snapped, hitting the ball so hard that it fell about twenty feet downwards before regaining its composure.

This was the third time Draco had come out here late at night. It gave him thinking time. Here, he could think about Harry just as he wanted to, rather than, in the confines of the castle, convincing himself that he didn't care. And how did he really feel?

He was angry, furious, bitter. The Bludger came back at him a little tentatively. He whacked it away again, a double handed swing from over his right shoulder. As it returned, he somehow saw Harry's face before him, apologising, wanting them to be friends, more, admitting he was wrong, taking him back, sacrificing dignity, why can't you see that, what would you do to yourself just for pride, how much would you lose before you just went to him and told him you love him?

Draco tossed the bat over in his hand. "You know I won't do that," he said aloud. "I'm not going back to him. I'm not going back until he really is sorry." It was so childish, but somehow, saying it out loud made it seem like a proper pact, a proper statement. The Bludger came back.

"Why... won't... you... all... just... leave... me... FUCK!" The bat snapped with a loud crunch and the Bludger wheeled quickly, plowing towards Draco's face. Unthinking, he threw himself backwards off his broom.

Harry rested his chin against his chest, black hair rustling in the cold night air. He'd come out to fly, to get away from everything, to have things be normal and how they used to be when he was younger, even if it was only for a little while.

His Firebolt was not with him, it was on his bed in the Gryffindor Boys Dorm, where he had thrown it in anger after returning from a Quidditch practice to find his room completely trashed. He wasn't sure how it had happened, probably Peeves, who had threatened to do it the previous week. So Harry, not wanting to endure people's stares, was coming out for a midnight fly without a broom.

As he neared the Quidditch pitch, he contemplated sitting down on the benches instead, and decided it was a good idea. Well, it would have been a good idea had he not seen Draco plummeting from the sky holding a broken beaters bat.

"Are you allowed to copy questions?" Harry wondered. "Because you're different from everyone else. You're beautifully dark and dangerous. A fallen angel."

Draco dropped his head and licked the side of Harry's neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's very beautiful."

The irony of that memory hit Harry somewhere near to his heart. In the darkness of the night, Draco was falling from what seemed to be the sky, his broom not visable, and even in the non-existant light it was obvious he was beautiful.

He started to run, but knew he wouldn't reach Draco in time. As the other boy landed on the hard ground, Harry dropped to his knees next to him, rolling him over onto his back. "Oh God Draco, don't be dead, please," he pleaded, checking for vitals.

Draco's breath was gone. Spots whipped in front of his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Harry. Pain wrapped his chest, stemming from his back like curved scimitars plunged between each rib until they all met at the bottom of his breastbone. One elbow was wreathed in fire, and he had the curious sensation of someone with long, bony fingers gripping his skull, but other than that he felt fine.

After a forty foot drop, clearly something was wrong. Maybe he was dead. So why was Potter there?

"Oh fuck, not you," he mumbled, wheezing and pushing his uninjured arm against his chest.

"You need to get to Madame Pomfrey, you just fell off your broom," Harry stated, sitting back on his heels, his elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together.

"My bat broke," Draco grunted croakily. He pointed to it then gasped, clutching his elbow. He tried to rise forwards but his back seized up. He slumped back against the ground. "Ow."

"I can see that," Harry murmured, glancing over at the bat, then back at Draco. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Practicing." For a position he didn't play.

Harry blinked, but decided not to press further. "Fuck," he said simply. "I'm going to have to carry you, aren't I?"

"You could leave me here," Draco said, almost hopefully.

"I could," Harry agreed, standing up and turning his back to Draco. "Whether I leave you or take you it's not going to make any difference, is it?" he asked quietly, almost regretfully.

"No, probably not. I'll be in just as much pain in the hospital wing as I will here," Draco drawled. "Go, before someone sees you and thinks you give a shit about me."

Harry turned around, staring at the sky in the far distance. "Does it really mean that much to you?" he asked, turning his gaze to the school. "I guess so. But, a Gryffindor would carry in anyone, regardless of what - or who - they are," he finished. 'Stop making this so fucking hard, Draco.'

"So be a Gryffindor, if that's what you want." Draco grunted, heaving himself over with a wince. He rolled onto his knees, keeping his back poker straight and holding his injured arm across his chest. He seemed stuck there on all fours. Slowly, he became aware of something trickling down his forehead towards his nose, something coming across his right cheekbone and something else across his left. His eyes focused on the end of his nose, which was now shining red. Blood dripped onto the dark soil, fresh air hitting the wound on the back of his head and searing it like a white hot poker. Draco fell forwards.

"Fucking ow," he grumbled, peeling his face out of the mud again. He rose onto his knees and put a foot shakily on the ground. "My broom," he said, looking around him as he rose up into a standing position, back still totally straight.

"I'm not letting you walk in this condition," Harry growled, wrapping an arm around Draco's back, and one around his legs, careful to keep his back straight. Once this was done he staggered slowly over to where Draco's broom had descended and was now hovering in the air. "Grab hold of that and we can go," he ground out, scowling as a piece of hair fell in front of his right eye and wouldn't move.

Draco snatched the broom, reaching up to hook Harry's hair behind his ear. "Just put me down, you stupid sod. I can manage."

"You can manage," Harry agreed. "But you would take three to six times as long."

He turned, walking slowly off the Quidditch pitch, and trying to avoid looking into this deeper. He was carrying Draco because he was hurt, not because they were still together, because they weren't.

Draco folded his arm over, digging his nails into his bicep, hard. 'You'd have to be the one who turned up, wouldn't you?' he thought. 'You with all your useless nobility. Why can't you just let me go, just let me hate you.' He stopped breathing through his nose so that he wouldn't smell the scent of Harry's body.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I feel like a bloody baby, put me down. You can't carry me any further anyway," he said scornfully.

Harry sighed, putting Draco down softly. They were a set of staircases and a hall away from the Hospital Wing. "You're too stubborn, you could have internal bleeding, you know," he said irritatedly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and staring across the length of the great hall. "A concussion, even."

"So?" Draco demanded, putting one hand to the small of his back and stretching.

"The faster you get to Madame Pomfrey the better," Harry explained, resisting the urge to snap Draco's neck for being so damn irritating.

"The better for what?" Draco asked, but his voice trailed off. He was being contrary just for the sake of being contrary, and that was beneath him. He closed his eyes, screwed them shut, feeling blood run down his forehead. "Come with me," he whispered hoarsely, a pained frown creasing his brow.

"I was going to anyway," Harry replied with a faint smile, walking over to the stairs.

"Don't tell me I told you that," Draco told him, reaching his good hand for the banister and climbing with forced serenity. His back was killing him, and his vision was growing fuzzy. "I don't want..." What didn't he want?

Harry stopped, almost at the top of the stairs and turned, stepping back a few steps. "You don't want what, Draco?" he asked quietly.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," Draco said. We could go to your room. "I don't like it there." What are you thinking, you stupid idiot? "It smells of TCP." Your room smells much nicer. "Madam Pomfrey has a fat arse." I like your arse. "The beds are horrible." Your bed's nice. "I don't want to be on my own." You can't be with Harry.

Harry blinked a few times, mouthing some of the words Draco had just said, as if by saying them himself they would make more sense.

"What do you want me to do, then?" he asked finally, dropping another step to look Draco level in the eyes.

"Take me somewhere else." It slipped out before Draco could stop it. He turned his head sharply to look at the skirting board on the right wall.

"I can't, Draco," Harry apologised, half of him willing to believe that Draco was back, and half of him arguing that it was probably because of Draco's fall. "If I stayed in the Hospital Ward too, would it make any difference?"

"It would make me immensely pissed off that I hadn't done something about it," Draco predicted, though what he might do, he did not say.

"Come on, we have to go," Harry said, turning and taking the steps two at a time until he was back at the top. "It's not that far now, unless you want me to carry you again?"

Draco looked at him flatly. "Piss off," he said, climbing the stairs slowly.

Harry smirked, walking down the corridor to the Hospital Wing leisurely, looking back every now and again to check if Draco was still there. And that felt like Harry was rubbing a brillo pad over Draco's flesh. He hated it, partly because he knew he deserved it. The fact was, he actually couldn't move any faster, but he was damned if he was going to let Potter carry him. The very notion was ridiculous. He forced himself to walk properly, normally, building speed.

"Maybe I shouldn't practice Beating on my own in the dark," he conceded, looking at Harry, five feet ahead.

"That much is obvious," Harry replied, glancing over his shoulder one last time before pushing the Hospital Wing door open and looking around inside for Madame Pomfrey.

"Madame Pomfrey?" he asked tentatively, stepping further into the room and cursing as he stubbed his toes on a cabinet.

"Hello," Madam Pomfrey said, peering out from behind a cabinet.

"Oh fuck I told you I didn't want to come here," Draco hissed, cold hand gripping the back of Harry's neck.

Ignoring the tingles of electricity, Harry carefully took Draco's hand from his neck. "Dr... Malfoy was out hitting Bludgers in the dark and fell off his broom," he offered by way of explanation.

"It was a very good dodge!" Draco said heatedly, snatching his hand from Harry's.

"Let's have a look at you, dear," Madam Pomfrey sighed. Draco stepped reluctantly into the room, nose wrinkling. "What have you hurt?"

"I fell backwards forty feet, give or take a few," Draco told her in a monotone. "I landed flat on my back, which hurts, and winded myself. I also sprained this ankle." He hadn't noticed that until now. "I hurt my elbow and I hit the back of my head. It's bleeding."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the lines of blood running across his face. "I can see that, dear. Let's get you in a bed. Mr. Potter, would you help him into some pyjamas?" She bustled off to her office.

Draco looked at Potter in horror.

Harry stared at her retreating back with something close to panic in his eyes. "I think it's better if Draco changes by himself," he said slowly, trying not to look over at Draco. "I'll... stay on the other side of the curtain and if he needs help he can just call me instead."

"Oh have no fucking fear," Draco spat, stepping behind the curtains and jerking them closed. He changed with difficulty into the pair of pyjamas he found on the bed, which were way too long in the leg and missing several buttons on the shirt. There were only about two left, so Draco just left them undone. He stepped out from behind the curtain, good hand testing his back for irregularities in his spine and a small frown of concentration on his face.

"So do you want me to stay or not?" Harry asked finally, staring at the wall behind Draco determinedly.

Draco looked up. "Whatever," he grunted. "Can you tell me if my back's bruised?" He turned, lifting the back of his shirt and looking down at his feet.

Harry frowned in concentration, stepping closer and placing a hand on the shirt to lift it up better. "You have the start of a bruise here "- he brushed his fingers over the base of Draco's spine -" and there's a blue one here" -he moved his hand to Draco's left shoulder blade then stepped back, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

A shiver ran down Draco's entire body that he could not pretend had not happened. He looked over his shoulder at Harry.

"You know, I think I might have hit my arse as well," he grinned.

You're concussed. Stop this. Stop it now. You can't want to be with him after what he's done to you. Make him beg; make him feel that rejection that he's given you twice now. Where's your mind?

Harry looked stunned as Draco's words set in. "Draco..." he said tiredly. 'Stop this. Either love me or hate me, but don't play me around. I don't think I can take this much longer.'

Draco dropped his gaze, turning. He looked up sadly, uncertainly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry." He closed his eyes. "That's the last of that you'll ever hear from me. It's over. I'm... I'm sorry that it is. Get out of my life, I can't take it anymore. If I ever see you again more than in passing I don't know what I'll do. I hate not knowing what to do and that makes me hate you. I don't want you here anymore. Get out."

"Are you all changed, dear?" Madam Pomfrey said. Draco tore his eyes away from Harry's and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling much less hurt, though," he said.

"Let's see what you've done to that elbow first," the nurse said, straightening his arm despite his winces and gasps, fingers probing the joint. "Just a sprain, I think." She tapped her wand to it and Draco felt a tingling stiffness. "We'll give you some of this for that." She put a vial of medicine on the table beside his bed. "Ankle, please." Draco lifted his leg up. The ankle was slightly swollen. Madam Pomfrey tapped it with her wand again, adding another vial.

She checked his back and head, prescribing more little bottles and insisting on washing his hair in her huge sink to get the blood off him after magically healing the cut on his head. Eventually, Draco crawled into bed, filled to the eyeballs with potions and pills, concussion happily setting in. He slid down under the covers, eyes shutting themselves.

Harry slumped into a chair by Draco's bedside, folding his arms across his chest and staring thoughtfully at the boy. His dark hair fell into his eyes but he made no move to get rid of it and instead remained in the exact same position, staring at the same point with an air around him as if to challenge anyone for daring to wonder why he was even there.

He didn't particularly care where Madame Pomfrey had bustled off to now, or the fact no one knew he was here. All that mattered was that he stayed here, watching over Draco.

Harry, unlike Draco, would not give up on his feelings or try and beat them away. He knew he liked Draco, but he also knew that he couldn't do anything about it. Even as sleep washed over him, he firmly kept hold of the picture of Draco actually looking peaceful. Something Harry couldn't remember him ever looking like, even when they were together.

Draco's hand clenched as he awoke in the small hours of the morning, before he opened his eyes. He felt a hand beneath it, and sat up, eyes snapping open with an oath.

"Potter!" he snapped, pushing himself away from the sleeping boy. Draco wiped the hand that had been holding Harry's on the bedcovers, flicking his hair back. It had dried all crinkly where he had slept on it, and he ran his hand through it angrily. His elbow was stiff, as was his back. His head throbbed slightly, but all he could think of was Harry. Harry, laying there.

"Wake up, you bastard," Draco snapped, flicking Harry's cheek fairly hard with a fingernail.

Harry snapped awake almost immediately and shook his head. "Wha?" he asked sleepily.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" Draco demanded, voice cracking. "I told you to get the fuck away from me!"

"I'm here because," Harry started, then stopped, resting his head on his left hand and using his right to rub his eyes tiredly. "Because I don't know. Maybe because I care. Probably because all I can think about is you."

"Why the hell are you thinking about me? How dare you fucking think about me, after what you've done?" Draco pushed Harry's chair back, slipping off the bed and standing up. "Why are you here? Why were you there last night? What is with you?!" His voice was shrill, words coming fast as though they were boiling from his lips. His throat burned, fingers tingled.

"Look, I apologised already!" Harry yelled back, pushing himself out of his seat to stand glaring at Draco, not liking the fact Draco's well overdue growth spurt made him crane his head slightly. "I was there because I wanted to be alone; I don't know why I'm here. You don't get it do you, Draco? You can't push me away. I love you."

Draco roared, bringing his fist around into Harry's cheek so hard that the muscles in his shoulder and the recently healed ligaments in his shoulder almost screamed in protest. As Harry reeled, Draco hurled himself at the boy, straddling him as he fell, punching him, pounding him.

"Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!" he yelled, slapping, scratching, sobbing, pulling Harry's hair. He trailed to a halt, sobbing, leaning forwards until his head rested on Harry's chest. "Oh God, forgive me."

Harry's eyes, looking up at Draco, were terrified as they slipped in and out of focus before they closed completely and his head fell to the side as he passed out.

"Oh shit," Draco breathed. He scrambled back, away, curling his legs up to his chest and hugging them tightly. "Oh shit."

"What's going on out here?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, coming in. "My goodness!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Mr. Malfoy, did you do this?"

Draco nodded, shook his head, nodded again. He buried his face in his arms.

"Mr. Malfoy, go to see the headmaster immediately!" Madam Pomfrey ordered, pointing to the door.

Draco nodded, rising slowly to his bare feet and walking out, a ringing in his ears and a strange distance from everything around him. He looked at his trembling hands. The door slammed behind him just as he turned to look back. He took a deep breath and made his way to the headmaster's office.

The door was already open when Draco arrived. He folded his arms over his bare chest, feeling too underdressed to appear in front of the headmaster.

"Professor," he croaked, tapping the door at the top of the spiral stairs lightly with his knuckles.

"Come in," Dumbledore said.

As Draco entered the room, Dumbledore took one look at him and realised what must have happened.

"Madam Pomfrey sent me. I beat Potter unconscious," Draco said in a subdued voice.

"Mr. Malfoy, what could warrant such a reaction?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. He had not expected Draco to admit so readily to something like this.

Draco looked at him. "You don't want to know."

"As your headmaster, I ask that you tell me."

"You ask. Asking isn't getting." Draco leaned back against the door frame.

"Please sit down," Dumbledore invited. "Alright, I insist that you tell me."

"You win some you lose some," Draco said flatly, staying right where he was.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you have knocked one of my students unconscious then I would like to know why," Dumbledore pressed.

"He's more my student than yours," Draco said. "I taught him more than this place ever has."

"Draco, would you please cooperate with me?" Dumbledore was growing slightly vexed.

"It's Mr. Malfoy now," Draco told him haughtily.

"The death of your father does not change your status as a student here," Dumbledore said heavily.

"But my leaving does," Draco snapped. It was the first time he had mentioned it to anyone, but he had been considering it as a possibility for a long time.

"You are bound by law to attend this school," Dumbledore told him.

"Maybe I'm bound by something more important to leave," Draco snapped, voice rising.

"Draco, do not raise your voice to me."

"Mr. Malfoy. It's Mr. Malfoy now."

"No, it's Draco. I don't understand why you are acting this way."

"I hit Harry because he said he loved me and I don't want him to!" Draco bellowed. "Happy now?"

Dumbledore blinked, polishing his spectacles on his robe. "Is that really justification for such physical damage?"

"It's none of your fucking business!" Draco yelled.

"Draco, do not use that language to me," Dumbledore said, voice stern.

"I'll talk however I fucking well want, you old tosser," Draco shouted. "I'm not fucking pandering to your every old git's whim. I'm leaving. I'm getting out of here. I'm gone. Never have to hear my fucking language again."

He turned and walked out, slamming the door firmly behind him.