Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

One That Stood Alone	By : tsubasagahoushi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1867 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Title: One That Stood Alone
Author: tsubasagahoushi
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, and maybe some more later on
Disclaimer: I am a poor, poor college student who does not own anything... much less the rights to these characters. Those are all the great genius of J.K. Rowling and the respective publishers...
A/N: Thanks Ireth and SilverMoonSiren for the reviews. If this seems familiar well... I guess it's not entirely original at least to begin with, perhaps? I also have it posted on FictionAlley and Fanfiction soo... maybe you've seen it before? But I digress... here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy this one just as much. Again, comments and criticisms are welcomed; lemme know if I fucked something up real bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's an eternal bloodflow curse? Honestly, Harry, whatever do you want to know that for?" Harry's hand froze around the fork which had previously been launching a relentless attack on the morning's scrambled eggs.

"No particular reason, Hermione. I just... I heard that was what we were going to be covering today in Advanced Defense, is all." Hermione's face lit up and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Thank whatever gods existed that such a thing had been mentioned in one of the five books they had been assigned for the class. He glanced back at his nearly untouched plate so as not to appear too eager. Afterall, if he was leaning out of his seat in earnest Hermione wasn't going to believe it was just a passing question about something happening in class.

"Fascinating, really. It's an illegal curse which hasn't been used since the Middle Ages." Hermione had taken a sip of her pumpkin juice, turning in her place next to Harry to face him in her excitement. Harry forced down another forkful of smashed eggs just to prove that he was eating something, then dropped his fork and turned to face Hermione as well. "It causes any cut or wound to bleed twice as fast and continually. What's worse- and what made it illegal, I think- is that magic cannot be used on it to stop the curse. There is no real end to it, except a particular potion which is nigh impossible to make. I have my doubts that even Professor Snape could make one correctly." The eggs felt like lead forging their way down Harry's esophagus. Grabbing his glass of pumpkin juice, he took a large gulp using it as an excuse to glance over at the Slytherin table. A certain blond head was missing again. It was the last day of classes for the first week and Malfoy hadn't been seen once. Harry met Blaise's stare from over his swiftly emptying glass. There was worry there. Not obvious- but Harry was an expert on seeing others' pain and hope since it usually was directed towards him. Feeling a drop of pumpkin juice spill down the side of his mouth, Harry placed his cup down and broke the stare with Blaise.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" His eyes widened slightly and he noticed Hermione- along with the rest of the Gryffindor table- staring at him with that same worried pain etched on their faces. It made him want to retch. Instead, he wiped at the pumpkin juice sliding down his chin with his sleeve and faced Hermione directly.

"Sorry, Hermione. Was just... thirsty, is all. We really should be going if we want to make it to class on time."

"Harry..." But he was standing, his books bundled under one arm and gone before she- or anyone else for that matter- could pin him down and disect him for further examination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Cruciatus and an eternal bloodflow curse. The image of Malfoy vomiting blood came back to Harry's mind. Still, the Slytherin boy had maintained his composure to the last minute. Even before he had passed out, he had managed to verbally upset Harry.

'You're marked, Potter. In my blood. Now you're mine.'

Harry glanced down at his hands, closing them tightly with the memory. What exactly had Malfoy meant by that? And why was it that he couldn't get the prat out of his head?

"Harry, mate, are you-"

"Alright?" Harry finished wearily. He sighed inwardly, pushing thoughts of Malfoy dying in a hospital bed to the back of his mind. Ron had sat next to him at the table as they waited for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to arrive. There was still a few minutes before class was supposed to begin.

"It's just that... well, we never really talked about what happened at Diagon Alley last week and... well, I mean..." Harry had thought he was inarticulate but Ronald Weasley took the cake. Ron was right; they hadn't. Harry had merely dodged the subject and acted as though it had never happened. He couldn't bring himself to apologize for his actions because he didn't feel he should; they were his friends and he thought he could trust them to tell him what was going on despite what they were told to do. However, they couldn't continue in their safe worlds if they didn't know that Harry Potter was all right in the head. Afterall, if the savior of the wizarding world wasn't alright, how could any of them possibly hope to be?

"It's okay, Ron. I'm..." Not alright. I hate myself. I feel as though I'm dead already. I sicken myself with every self-pitying thought that runs through my head, but can't help but have them. I miss Sirius. Gods, I miss Sirius. I should have died. I should have died last year and the damned prophecy could have been fulfilled one way or the other. "... fine. Really."

Ron gave a puzzled yet hopeful look. Harry wanted to run from the room right then. Never had he seen such hope etched on his best friend's face. Harry pulled from some place deep inside him which had died two years ago, remnants of a smile. That was all it took for Ron. The confused look gave way to a broad grin and nod from the redhead. And something inside Harry cracked, never to be fixed again.

"Terribly sorry! So terribly sorry! On the first day, too. What an example I'm setting, eh?" A dark-haired man ushered his way to the front of the class, stacks of papers obscuring his face. He plunked the heap down on the table, causing them to fall every which way. "Well, bloody hell if that's not helpful..." The man took his wand and muttered a spell causing all the papers to fly into orderly stacks atop the table. "Hello, class. I'm Luminos Black and your new professor for Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would like to state right off that I have no affiliation to the Dark Lord, am truly who I claim to be, and intend on teaching none other than this particular subject."

Harry didn't hear anything after the man's name. The rushing in his ears seemed overwhelming and he felt as though he was sinking deep underwater. The shape of his eyes... his dark hair... it couldn't be... there was even the familiar faint dimple when he smiled. Harry's eyes clouded over and his back was rimrod straight against the chair. The chair he didn't even feel anymore. Luminos... Black. Sirius...

"Harry?"

"Harry?! Professor, I think he may have gone into shock..." It was only then that Harry registered the crowded faces of those about him. He blinked once, his eyes focusing ever so slightly.

"No. I'm fine, Hermione." The words were choked from his throat. Licking his lips in an attempt to be able to swallow past the large lump of rock which seemed to have taken residence at the back of his mouth, Harry continued. "I'm fine." Fine. A smile. That won them over. Hermione gave one last calculating worried glance before taking her place back with another Gryffindor girl at their table.

"Right then, we should be starting the lesson..." Harry's hands numbly reached for his parchment and quill as the professor began to magic words onto the blackboard. Uncapping his ink, he dipped his quill into the small glass container only to notice drops of liquid staining his parchment. His brow creased in distant confusion, causing several more drops to soak into the graying sheet. Licking his dry lips, he tasted salt. It was only then that it donned on him; he was crying. Crying tears that hadn't been shed since the end of fifth year.

Rubbing roughly at his face with the edge of his robes, Harry put quill to parchment.

' Ten Most Important Defense Spells...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Harry!" He let his eyes close, his hand on the book he had been about to gather into his arms. When he opened them, he saw Ron's pitying expression. Would it ever end?

"It's okay, Ron. Go to lunch; I'll meet up with you and Hermione later." The boy merely nodded, ducking away and slinking an arm around Hermione's shoulders to lead her out of the emptying classroom. "Yes, Professor?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry. Really, I am. I forget that I look like him-" Luminos Black had cut off in the middle of his apology when he noticed the boy's eyes glazing over. No doubt he was still listening, but Harry Potter wasn't registering any of the information. More than likely, he was travelling back in time to a far less pleasant memory. The professor pulled at his dark hair with one hand and gave a shrug of the shoulders. Wrinkling his nose, the color changed to a light blond.

Harry blinked when he saw what had happened before his very eyes. A Metamorphmagus...just like Tonks... Harry pushed down the fact that she was dead too, and instead managed to formulate words.

"You don't have to-"

"Oh, bugger that. It gets boring after awhile. Or do I not make a good blond?" He wrinkled his nose once more and it was replaced with flaming red, spikey hair. Harry couldn't help but let out a choked laugh.

"Well, now you look like a Weasley, Professor." The older man looked upwards, attempting to catch a glimpse of his new hair. "I do believe it would make Bill proud."

"Wouldn't want that now. Not that there's anything wrong with the Weasley's, but I'm sure Hogwarts has seen enough of them in the past few years to last a century." Luminos Black wrinkled his nose again, closing one eye as his hair shifted into a messy wave of mahogany which brushed at his collar. "There. That's better."

Harry took in the new professor for the first time. He had to admit, it was easier to look at him now and not instantly be reminded of Sirius. Yet there were still striking similarities. Just like Sirius, Luminos Black didn't appear a day over twenty although Harry knew the man had to be at least in his late twenties with his experience as an Auror. Thinking back to a particular scroll claiming 'Toujours Pur', Harry shifted his books in his arms as he wondered whether or not he should ask. Or if he could handle the answer.

"Who am I really? Where in all the seven hells did I come from?" Harry nodded grimly, casting his gaze to the ground. "Well, my name wouldn't have been on the good ol' Black family history since my father was outed after helping- well, helping some others in the family that were being downright ignored."

"I really shouldn't be keeping you from lunch; seems you could need it." Luminos patted Harry's shoulder but pulled away when he noticed the boy stiffen at the touch. "I just wanted to see when our extra training would be good for you. Friday evenings sound alright? We can say that you've volunteered to help me with course schedules so that we cover what has been missed in the past six years."

"That's fine, Professor."

"Luminos, please. Professor makes me feel so old and snobbish."

"Luminos."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy Parkinson was leaning against Blaise, whispering something to him. Blaise narrowed his eyes and said something back, not even bothering to whisper it. Pansy merely backed away calmly, lifting her glass to her mouth as though it was wine she was drinking and not mere water. She seemed to reply which caused Blaise's shoulders to sag ever so slightly.

"...and why do they have to keep Potions for our last class on the last day of the week? There was some sick and twisted plotting behind that, I tell you. Don't you agree, Harry?" Harry looked back to his housemates and realized Ron was waiting expectantly for some sort of response, along with Dean and Seamus.

"Um... right. It's not fair." Ron nodded, continuing his rant about the cruelty of it all between mouthfuls of turkey sandwich. Harry regarded his plate with disgust. At least Ron was predictable; it saved him the problems of having to explain why he was staring at the Slytherin table with such interest. Harry tore off another small piece of sandwich, chewing on it as he gazed back towards said table. Unfortunately, whatever had been discussed between the two was long dead. Blaise was talking with several other Slytherin boys and Pansy was searching through her bag for something or another.

"Fancy a Slytherin, do you Harry?" He choked on the sandwich in his mouth, reaching for a glass of water. Ginny smiled devilishly as she pulled back from him, nibbling at her sandwich as she regarded Harry with one eyebrow cocked in curiousity.

"'Arry, mate? Ye alrigh' 'ere? Ye don' look so good." Seamus patted Harry hard on the back, lowering his face near Harry's paling one. Managing to swallow the small morsel, Harry gave a glare at Ginny before waving Seamus off with one hand.

"I'm fine, Seamus. Thanks." Would he ever be able to say it enough?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape rushed into the classroom, characteristic black robes billowing behind him. He tapped the blackboard in front of the class with his wand, perfectly written white words and formulas appearing upon its surface. Turning dramatically to face the class of typical seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors, the usual pale Potions professor almost looked sickly.

"You are to partner with one other and work on brewing this potion for the remainder of class. Follow the instructions precisely for I will not be of any help to those who cause their skin to melt from their bones by adding the wrong ingredient." He looked pointedly at Harry. "You will label your potion at the end of class and place them in the cabinet for further inspection next week. That is all." Gone as soon as he had arrived, the room to his office slammed shut in the still dungeon air.

"If that wasn't bloody confusing, I don't know what is." Harry nodded in agreement with Ron, pulling out parchment and books from his satchel to prepare for the potion which would most likely go horribly wrong with their luck.

"Potter." Harry looked up to find Pansy Parkinson standing expectantly at the edge of their table. Her long blond hair was pulled back elegantly and she had her nose pointed into the air in an attempt at sophistication. Narrowing his eyes, Harry noted that it looked more like she was trying to hold back long unshed tears.

"Parkinson." Ron seemed to be stunned into immobility, hovering somewhere between standing and sitting with his hands on the parchment listing the ingredients they needed for the potion. Pansy lifted her head to regard the other Gryffindor, her lips pursed together in what seemed to be distaste.

"Be about your way, Weasel; I get Potter for today." That said, she pulled Harry up by one arm and led him over to the Slytherin side of the room. Seeing as how both houses despised one another, there had been an unsaid separation between them since first year- especially in Potions. Everyone in the class looked up at this act, some already starting to whisper amongst themselves. Harry caught Blaise's stare and was shocked to see the anger directed towards Pansy, not himself.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? Get the ingredients for the potion; it's going to take all of class to prepare it." Harry set his things down before stumbling over to the storage cabinet, pulling his fallen robes back over his shoulder. Still not quite sure on what had just happened, he reached across from Ron to get lilac root.

"I take it back." Harry raised an eyebrow and faced his friend. "This makes Snape's actions completely reasonable." Ron gave Harry one last painfully confused glance before making his way to Hermione's table. Harry sighed, taking down the rest of the ingredients from the shelves. He just hoped she hadn't caught him watching them in the Great Hall the past week at meals. Harry had no explanation for that- either for Pansy or for himself.

"Honestly, Potter, one would think you had to travel cross-country. Now will you please begin slicing the lilac root into centimeter thick portions, then place them into the cauldron after it has turned a deep crimson." An exasperated sigh escaped Harry's lips. Pansy merely began to calculate and pour various other things into the cauldron at will. Turning his attention on his task at hand, Harry began to slice the root methodically.

Crimson. It had to be crimson, didn't it? Did Pansy know about him helping Blaise with Malfoy? Worse yet, what if she knew that and caught him staring at the Slytherin table several times each day of the week? Even when he said it to himself, Harry couldn't help but realize the situation didn't sound so innocent. Was it innocent? Wait, what was he thinking? Of course it was! The only reason Harry had been concerned about the blasted blonde prat was because he thought he was in danger of dying. Despite the fact that Malfoy wasn't the best person in the world, he didn't deserve to die. Gods, had he? Professor Snape looked absolutely wretched, and Malfoy had been his favorite student. Malfoy had even referred to him as 'Sev.' Not to mention that, but Blaise hadn't seemed his usual self (not that Harry particularly KNEW what Blaise's usual self actually WAS). Draco had looked horrible the last he had seen him. Deathly pale skin tainted with crimson...

"Potter! It's been crimson for practically five minutes; what are you waiting for- an invitation?" Harry jerked up from his reverie, knife continuing its methodical course downwards.

"Right. Sorry. I just-"

"Potter..." Pansy's voice was low, her gaze focused only on Harry. "Your hand." It was only then Harry registered the fact that he felt his nerves singing with the old familiarity of life. Pulling the knife out of the back of his left hand, he discarded it with nonchalance. Gathering the slices of lilac root with his clean right one, he deposited them in the cauldron causing it to bubble and hiss.

"Is the potion fine?" Pansy's gaze was still on Harry, and she wrinkled her forehead in confusion before realizing she had done so. Smoothing her features into a mask of feigned distinguish, she regarded the cauldron.

"It'll do." Harry walked casually to the supplies cabinet, bleeding hand clutched tightly to his chest and wrapped in the long sleeve of his cloak. He didn't need anyone seeing lest he be asked about its condition for the next few weeks along with his psychological well-being because of the small cut. Finding what he needed, he quickly wrapped his hand in worn bandages before returning to the table and Pansy.

The remainder of class had passed without event. They labeled their potion and placed it in the cabinet with the others. Just as Harry was about to leave, he felt a tug on his robes. Pansy stood behind him, head held high as usual, with her hand on his robes. Realizing she must look like a child tugging desperately at her father's cloak, she quickly let go of Harry.

"I would like to have a word with you." Harry merely nodded, and Pansy held eye contact with him for several seconds before turning and striding from the Potions classroom. Harry shook his head slightly. Leave it to Pansy Parkinson to expect him to follow behind her like some servant boy. Ron and Hermione looked over, the Head Girl's hands on their potion in the middle of labeling it.

"I'll see you guys in the common room. Or Hermione's room." That said, Harry ducked out of the classroom after Pansy.

He found the blond girl leaning against a break in the wall near the dungeons. Standing in front of her, Harry leaned in close enough so that they wouldn't be heard by anyone passing by. "So what was it you'd like to ask me, Pansy?" The Slytherin girl seemed taken aback at the use of her name, but merely smoothed over the front of her robes with one hand.

"What do you know about Draco?" Her voice was strong, but Harry noticed her hands clutched together in front of her.

"That he's a sodding git who has some serious issues with anyone he doesn't deem to be on his level. He used to have a father complex, but must have gotten over that pretty quickly seeing as how Lucius Malfoy marred his perfect record with a stint in Azkaban. Not that it really matters; he got himself freed on a technicality." Harry heard the slap echo throughout the corridor rather than felt it. Oh, Pansy had hit him plenty hard enough but he'd long gone registering any feeling on that level.

"You. Know. Nothing." The words were hissed through the girl's teeth. Harry turned his head to face her only to find her wand aimed directly in front of his face. There was no shock in his eyes, no anger, no emotion whatsoever.

"Go ahead. I'm sure you'd be rewarded greatly by Voldemort." Pansy winced at the use of the name. Not that Harry wasn't expecting it; even though Voldemort had returned it seemed everyone still danced around using the Dark Lord's name whenever possible. Harry placed his bandaged hand over hers on the wand. Moving the weapon to point at the jagged scar on his forehead, Harry's voice deadpanned. "If you do, strike here. I'd at least like to hope the fucker feels a fraction of the pain."

The corridor was absolutely silent. Harry's eyes held Pansy's, a vast forest of dead green causing the girl to look away. Harry withdrew his hand when he heard footsteps approaching. Her arm fell to her side, the wand no longer grazing his ebony bangs.

"You're right. I don't know anything about Draco. Not one damned thing." Harry turned abruptly, striding down the hall and away from the shadowed corner holding one stunned Pansy Parkinson. He didn't even realize he hadn't referred to the Slytherin boy as Malfoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry lay in wait for it. The room was dark, the only light shining in through the open window in the corner. He had been lying in bed for an hour, unable to even keep his eyes closed for longer than two minutes without the image of porcelain skin broken open, angry wounds screaming blood. It wasn't unusual for sleep to evade him for fear of nightmares. No, Harry was used to the constant series of terrors night after night his subconscious so eagerly conjured for him. What bothered him now was the person behind the blood. The blond hair and mercury eyes which threatened to never open again.

And there it was. Like clockwork. The snoring of Seamus Finnigan erupted throughout the room as the Irish boy rolled over angrily in his deep slumber. Always one hour to the minute after Seamus' head hit his pillow, he would begin to snore like a beast. It had always woken Neville with a start...

Harry pushed down the memories and eased from his bed quietly. He slipped into his shoes without the slightest of sounds. Not that it really mattered; Dean had learned to sleep through Seamus' snoring. He had been the only one out of them who could. And now that Ron was in a separate room for prefects, he had no one to worry about catching him. Harry lifted the invisibility cloak over himself, silently making his way down the stairs and out the portrait.

Just as he'd thought, Draco Malfoy was still in the infirmary when Harry checked the Marauders' Map. The unusual thing was that he was in a separate room connected to the infirmary. Upon reaching said mystery room, Harry noticed that all the beds were empty in the infirmary. Glancing back down at the map, he looked at the door in front of him at the end of the hall near the last empty bed. Apparently, Malfoy was getting special treatment. Harry couldn't help the sick feeling at the thought. Why did Malfoy need his own room?

Pushing against the door lightly, he was surprised to find it swing open easily. It wasn't even locked. Curious, Harry stepped into the dark room, closing the door quietly behind him. In the middle of the room was a bed, several chairs surrounding it, and a pitcher of water rested on a table. Moonlight shone through a window illuminating the blond strands to an almost ethereal silver. Harry's breath hitched and he wasn't quite sure why. He just wanted to make sure Malfoy was alive, that was all. At least that was all he had told himself. Taking one step forward, he studied the pale form molded into the bed before him. Malfoy was still just as pale as the day he had brought him to the infirmary, but the convulsions seemed to have stopped. Harry took another step forward.

"You might want to stop where you are, Potter. Oh, and you can be rid of your invisibility cloak; I know you're there." Harry's heart stopped. One mercury eye opened, then the other. Draco Malfoy pushed himself up in the hospital bed, moving back strands of his hair with one hand which was wrapped in bloodied bandages. "Come now. It's not polite to visit the dying without showing your face." Harry tore the cloak off of himself, moving to step forward in protest.

"You're not-"

"Don't move!" Harry's seeker reflexes kicked in and he held his foot above the tile where he was about to step. One eyebrow raised in inquiry, Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically. "There are wards placed around my bed so should anyone enter without permission it will notify Pomfrey and Professor Snape. Most likely the Headmaster as well. You don't think they were going to leave me out in the open with this, do you?" The pale boy gestured to his bandaged torso and arms. "One good strike to me now and it'd be the end. Finale. The curtain falls and so ends the tragic play that is Draco Malfoy's life."

Harry stepped backwards, crossing his arms over his chest. Apparently, Malfoy was coping with the situation perfectly fine. One elegant eyebrow cocked in question, Draco raked his eyes over Harry. A shiver ran down Harry's spine and he blamed it on the fact that there was a draft.

"Certainly you're not with the half-blood madman, but I'm still not certain as to why you're even here in the first place." Harry licked his lips, pausing to chew on his lower lip in thought. Draco's eyes followed the motion and he stifled a groan. Lifting his head higher, he attempted some appearance of authority. "Well, Potter?"

"I wanted to see how you were. You haven't been to class and I haven't seen you in the Great Hall for meals. I was..." Worried. "... curious as to what happened to you, is all." Draco felt his chest heave, but pushed it down further. He wouldn't let Potter see him weak; what had already happened had been bad enough as it were. He stared into the raven-haired youth's eyes. When it became too much for him, he pulled his gaze down to the sheet covering his lower torso and beyond.

"Permittere Capacitas." There was a shimmer in the air surrounding Draco's bed. Harry regarded it tentatively, then took one hesitant step forward. When no alarms sounded and he wasn't thrown backwards into the wall, he took another step closer. Sitting in the chair near the bed, Harry set his invisibility cloak on the nearby table.

"Handy thing- invisibility cloak."

"Yeah." Draco doubled over then, unable to stifle it back any longer. His entire body shook with the force of the cough. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes but would not fall. No, tears would never fall from the eyes of a Malfoy no matter what pain they were experiencing. When Draco felt the hand on the small of his back rubbing soothing circles, he pried open his eyes only to find shining emerald near his.

"Are you alright?" Harry would have laughed at his choice of words had he not been so worried. Draco pulled his hands away from his mouth, blood staining them and his chin. Solemnly, Harry reached out one hand to wipe at the blood smeared across Draco's face. The Slytherin's eyes widened at the light touch, looking at Harry from the corner of his eye.

"Potter..."

"Malfoy..."

"Your hand... what happened to it?" The question brought Harry back to reality and he pulled away from Draco, sitting back down on the chair. Lifting his bandaged hand to his face, he shrugged.

"Nothing much. I cut it during Potions." Draco had wiped the remaining blood from his face with a towel on the table near him. A smirk spread out on Draco's face with the news.

"How very smooth of you, Potter. One would think you'd know how to cut mere ingredients by seventh year, but alas it seems the simplest of things are lost on some." Harry was about to grab his cloak and leave, not quite sure why he had even bothered to come in the first place when Draco motioned for Harry to come closer.

"W-what?" His voice stammered despite himself and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wasn't supposed to be here, that's why. If Snape caught him, he was a dead man. That was why his heart was racing and palms were sweaty.

"Your hand. It needs to be re-bandaged. You've got my blood all over it. Really, I didn't think you were into such things, Potter." Draco's eyebrow arched smugly, and he reached out one hand for Harry's while the other held a roll of gauze. Harry hesitated, but Draco was right. The bandages were now tinted red and if he were to go back now, someone may see and worry.

Submitting to the offer, Harry allowed his hand to be taken. He swallowed past the lump in his throat when the soft fingers danced over his hand. There was a whistle from Draco once the bandages were off, and Harry forced his eyes on his own hand and not on the blond's face. It was now bleeding again, the edges of the cut sealed over with dried blood. He hadn't exactly bandaged it properly in Potions, just wanting to cover it up quickly.

"Never become a Mediwizard, Potter." Harry gave a short laugh.

"Don't plan on it." Draco took the edge of the same towel he had used earlier to wipe the blood from his mouth and dipped it in the pitcher of water. Meeting Harry's confused gaze, Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Really, Potter. It has to be cleaned before it can be properly bandaged again. I would think with all the 'accidents' you get yourself into that basic first-aid would be second nature to you." Harry merely gave a shrug of his shoulders in response. It was always someone else picking up the pieces. He never had given much thought to actually taking care of himself outside of survival.

Draco began cleaning the wound carefully, using the edge of the towel and his fingernail to scrape away the dried blood. Harry let out a small hiss when the blond scratched too deep. To Harry's surprise, Draco lifted the cut hand to his mouth. Harry's breathing deepened and he couldn't take his eyes off the pale-pink lips. When Draco lifted his head, blood marred the Slytherin's mouth. Harry opened his own to say something but Draco merely smirked slyly. His tongue darted out, licking at the copper liquid staining his lips. The blond boy moaned in approval of the taste.

"Mine." Harry had moved before he could think further on the subject. Their lips met, Harry's wounded hand tracing down Draco's bandaged torso. Draco responded, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Harry's tongue danced with Draco's as the raven-haired boy pushed his blond counterpart into the hospital bed. One of Draco's hands snaked into Harry's hair at the base of his neck, tugging the boy further down, while the other found its way under the obtrusive shirt. Harry gasped as he felt the hand on his abdomen, making its way upwards. Harry's entire body froze when he felt the soft hand touching the upraised flesh of the scar stretching across his chest. Pulling away from Draco, Harry stumbled backwards.

"Harry...?"

"I-I have to go." He reached for his invisibility cloak, throwing it over himself as he ran from the room. Draco fell back into the bed, letting one hand rest against his forehead. Shit. Fucking shit. Things had been going bloody well and he had to fuck it up. But what had he felt on Harry's chest? It seemed like a scar...

It was only then that Draco realized his body no longer ached with pain as it constantly had the past week. Puzzled, he pulled the hand away from his forehead and began to unwrap his arm. A gasp echoed throughout the still room as the first sounds of morning filtered through the window.

"Bloody Saint Potter has performed a miracle."

His arm was perfectly fine. The wounds had closed and healed over as though never there at all.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

One That Stood Alone