Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin

Chapter Twenty: Correcting Assumptions

"Three hundred points!"

The moment they had emerged from Dumbledore's office, Draco exploded. His voice echoed in the empty corridor. "Three hundred points!"

"I got three hundred points taken off, too," Harry said. It did not mollify Draco.

"Three hundred points!" Draco repeated furiously. His headache pounded in reciprocal anger. "We save the wizarding world from Voldemort and get three hundred points taken off our Houses!"

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade without permission."

Draco glared murderously at Harry. "Potter--"

"I know," said Harry, "'sod off.'"

Draco nodded succinctly. "Yes. Do that."

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione came rushing up the hallway behind Harry. "Where have you been?" Hermione scolded. "We were just going to tell Dumbledore that you were missing." She noticed Draco, standing on the other side of Harry. "Oh, hello, Malfoy. What happened to your face?"

Draco ignored the two newcomers and held out his hand to Harry. "My purchases."

Harry dipped a hand in his pocket and passed the spell-shrunk purchases to Draco. "Don't forget to visit Pomfrey. Your cheek doesn't look too pretty."

"You're lucky I don't send you for a visit with Pomfrey," Draco snapped. "Three hundred points!" He spun on his heel and stalked down the hallway.

"What crawled up Malfoy's robes?" Draco heard Ron ask Harry. "And why are you wearing a Slytherin scarf?"

The rest of the conversation faded from hearing as Draco rounded a corner, heading towards the Slytherin dungeons. "Bloody Gryffindor," Draco muttered, still peeved by the number of points subtracted from his House. "'I thought Dumbledore wasn't allowing anyone to go to Hogsmeade.' 'That doesn't mean we can't go anyway.'"

The Slytherin common room was crowded with students, catching up from the winter holidays and gossiping about what happened on the train platform. A tense silence descended within moments of Draco's entry. Several sets of eyes narrowed in disgust and a smattering of wands emerged.

Draco paused in the doorway, his expression cold. "I'm only going to say this once," he began in a low, hard tone. "Seven Slytherins and one Ravenclaw have been expelled for attacking me at the train station. If anyone else attacks me, they will also be expelled, not to mention what I will do whilest defending myself."

Draco looked directly at those that he knew were Death Eater children. "Voldemort is dead. Potter and I killed him," he stated. "If anyone dares to even look at Potter crossly because of this, you will be sorry." Draco smiled icily. "I hope we have an understanding."

Chin up imperiously, he walked across the common room towards the dormitories. The students parted before him, leaving a clear path. The Slytherins who'd had their wands out did nothing.

In the fifth year dorm, Crabbe's and Goyle's belongings were already gone. Draco cast a disgusted eye at their former beds. "Prats," he grumbled, moving to his own sleeping area.

The door to the dormitory opened and Martin poked his head inside. "May I come in, Your Highness?"

"Cute," Draco said flatly. He gestured for Martin to enter, before turning his attention to his shrunken purchases, which he'd placed on the bed. "Enlargio." The three books and a small bag of sweets he'd bought returned to normal size.

Martin shut the door behind him and took a seat in Draco's desk chair, beside the bed. "Pretty speech you gave out there," Martin said. "I'm sorry I missed what happened at the station. From what I've heard, it was a brilliant show. Nice face, by the way."

Draco grunted noncommittally as he removed his boots. Bending over caused his head to throb harder than it had been. Perhaps he should have gone to the Hospital Wing first.

"So, you and the googly-eyed Gryffindor killed You-Know-Who," Martin said. "Care to explain how you pulled that off?"

"Luck," Draco answered. He straightened and gripped the bedpost as dizziness struck. The adrenaline rush from what had happened with Voldemort, at the train station, and recounting the events to the Ministry officials had suddenly worn off, leaving Draco feeling every ache and pain as well as the fear he'd repressed.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the hardwood bedpost, breathing shallowly as he fought down nausea. Harry had been killed right in front of him. Alone, he had faced one of the most powerful wizards in the world and survived. He had avenged his father. Harry had been dead.

Harry had been dead.

"Blimey, Malfoy, you are a mess." Martin stood and headed for the door. "I have a healing potion in my room. I'll be right back."

The door closed behind Martin and Draco opened his eyes. He forced himself to stand, not giving in to his injuries or post-traumatic tears. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys were never weak. Malfoys did not cry.

Draco's winter robes puddled on the floor, followed by his underrobes. Dressed in only his underwear with the medallion hanging around his neck, he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. He was paler than normal, his neck mottled with bruises from Goyle trying to choke him. Draco's cheek was colorful and swollen, too. He touched the back of his head and winced in pain when his fingers brushed over an egg-shaped lump. He was surprised none of the adults had sent him to the Hospital Wing in spite of his protests that he was fine.

The door opened and closed, but Draco did not look away from the mirror. "You were right, Martin, I am a mess. Potter's worth it, though, I'm dreadfully sorry to admit. I don't quite know what I'd do without the mincing ponce in my life."

Curiously, Martin didn't reply. Draco turned and found the room was empty. "Martin?" he queried. He could have sworn he'd heard the door.

The air seemed to shimmer in front of Draco and a crimson-faced Harry Potter appeared. He was wearing a crookedly fastened robe, as if he'd hurriedly threw it on, and was holding Draco's green and silver scarf in his hand. His hair, naturally, was sticking up every which way.

"How'd you get in here?" Draco asked, embarrassed by what Harry had undoubtedly heard.

"Invisibility cloak," Harry replied, slightly lifting the barely visible material in his other hand. His eyes swept over Draco and he colored even darker red. He dropped his chin and stammered, "I-I wanted to-to returned your, um, scarf, before I forgot."

"You could have given it to me at dinner," Draco said, crossing to his trunk to retrieve fresh robes. He bent to open the lid and immediately regretted it. Black spots jumped in front of his eyes and he was walloped by dizziness. Apparently, bending over wasn't something he should do.

Draco's head-dive into the trunk was prevented by strong arms that wrapped around his middle. His knees seemed to have disappeared, however, and he ended up on the floor with his legs in a pretzel under him, leaning heavily against a solid chest.

Harry cursed in Draco's ear. "Draco, why didn't you go to the Hospital Wing?"

"'M'fine." Draco struggled weakly against Harry's hold, with little success. "Besides, Martin's fetching a healing potion."

"Your common sense must have leaked out your ear," said Harry. "Mine, too, since I let you talk with the Ministry officials instead of forcing you to the infirmary."

"I'm not a child, Potter."

"I can definitely see that," Harry mumbled.

Draco was loathed to feel his cheeks heat and see the telltale pink of a blush sweep down his winter-pale bare chest.

Naturally, Martin chose that moment to return. He also wasn't alone.

"Gentlemen," Snape intoned.

Draco learned that day that he could blush all the way down to his toes.

"Do you want us to come back later?" Marin asked cheekily.

"Shut it, Martin," Draco said, struggling more against Harry's hold. Harry didn't release him.

"Hold still," Harry ordered softly. He addressed Martin. "Martin, do you have that healing potion?"

"Yeah." Martin passed the corked vial into Harry's outstretched hand.

Harry flicked the cork free with his thumb and held the vial in front of Draco. "Drink this."

"I'm going to kill you when I feel better, Potter," Draco muttered, before taking the vial and drinking down its contents.

"Think you can make it to the bed?" asked Harry.

Draco didn't bother to answer, because Harry was already rising, his arms firmly around Draco's torso. Draco got his feet under him, checked his balance, and pried himself from Harry's grip. "I'm fine now, Potter. Go away."

Harry looked at Draco like he wanted to protest, then glanced at Martin and Snape and changed his mind. "Right. Okay. See you later."

"Before you leave, Mr. Potter," said Snape, as Harry scooped his cloak off of the floor. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being in the Slytherin dorm."

Harry looked pained and Draco snickered. "How many points can be lost before even the Great Harry Potter is spurned by his fellow Gryffindors?"

"I think I'm already past that point," Harry said with a defeated sigh. He went out the open door and disappeared from sight under the cloak.

"Mr. Umphrey, if you could excuse us," Snape said.

Martin nodded. "See you at dinner, Malfoy," he said before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Draco walked slowly around to the side of his bed and sat down. He could feel the effects of the healing potion doing its job, thankfully.

"Here." Snape was suddenly in front of him, holding a robe.

"Thanks." Draco took the robe and pulled it on.

Snape moved the desk chair Martin had abandoned earlier closer to the bed and sat. The Potions Master didn't mince words. "Is there something you wish to tell me about you and Potter?"

"What? No!" Draco exclaimed, protesting what Snape was implying. "He showed up to return my scarf and prevented me from taking a header, that's all."

There was no way to tell if Snape believed Draco or not. Draco became defensive. "Potter's a prat. I hate him," Draco said quickly. "He's my wizarding partner and nothing more."

"Very well," said Snape.

"It's Potter's fault," Draco went on. "He's the ruddy pouf. I think he got it in his head that I like him because of my patronus. The git's been acting odd since he saw it yesterday, talking to me like I'm the Weasel, being overly protective, kissing me." Snape's brows rose. Draco hurriedly added, "On the head! Potter kissed me like he does to Granger and Weasley, on the head. Stupid Gryffindor."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you can handle Potter with little trouble," Snape said. He leaned forward, reached out, and tilted Draco's chin. Sharp eyes roved over Draco's healing cheek and neck before releasing him. "It appears that you will live. Have some chocolate, and if you don't feel well after dinner, come see me."

"Yes, Professor," Draco said.

Snape stood and straightened his robes. "Do not be surprised if there's a celebratory feast instead of a normal dinner tonight," he warned. He headed for the door, adding over his shoulder, "Try not to let fame go to your head. One Harry Potter at this school is quite enough."

The door closed firmly behind Snape, leaving Draco alone in the fifth year dormitory. His gaze caught on the scarf lying on the floor where Harry had dropped it. The scarf that had last been draped around Harry's neck, put there by Draco's own hands.

Snape's insinuation jumped to the forefront of Draco's thoughts.

The notoriously neat Slytherin left the scarf on the floor.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for Draco outside the Great Hall before dinner. Harry stood with her. "Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore requests that you and Mr. Potter say a few words to the students in regard to You-Know-Who. Follow me."

She led Draco and Harry to the open side door of the Great Hall and told them to wait until Dumbledore called for them. She went inside the rapidly filling Hall and took her seat at the head table, leaving the two boys alone.

"You're looking better," Harry commented. He suddenly colored faintly and smiled shyly.

Draco's responding glare was sharp and fierce, causing Harry to rear back as if hit. "Listen, Potter," he spat. "We are not friends. We will never be friends. You are my wizarding partner, but that does not mean I like you in any way, shape, or form. So get whatever fanciful thoughts out of your head that my patronus means anything other than trust, or twist today's events into some sort of declaration of affection. I hate you, Potter. Do you understand? I hate you."

Harry looked shell-shocked. Draco turned his back to him, focusing on Dumbledore at the head table. His fingernails bit into the palms of his clenched hands.

It was done. Snape's earlier insinuation was now moot. Any impression Harry had that Draco remotely liked him was squashed. Draco didn't feel bad about it, either. He didn't. Not at all. Really.

Ah, hell.

Draco turned to Harry, not really to apologize, but to say... something. Explain, perhaps. Or lie about having a headache and taking it out on Harry. His mouth closed with a clack when he saw Harry's face.

The blank mask had returned.

Draco went still, staring right into Harry's flat eyes. He hadn't remembered how frightening the total lack of emotion was and how cold Harry looked. Harry's mask had gradually disappeared over the past few months, with it being completely gone as of this morning, but now... Draco had stuffed up amazingly.

"Potter--"

"Dumbledore beckons," Harry said without inflection, brushing past Draco to enter the Great Hall.

Draco cursed himself for hurting Harry. After a brief moment, he cursed Harry, too, for being so sensitive. He then cursed Harry for making him feel guilty. He cursed Harry again just for the hell of it.

Bloody Gryffindor.

Draco entered the Great Hall, chin high and emotions firmly under control. He and Harry addressed the attentive students as requested, saying little more than, "Voldemort is dead, we killed him."

Then, they went their separate ways.