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Unknown Trials	By : SilverDragonWings Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4611 -:- 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
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Title: Unknown
Trials

Rating: R

Fan Fiction Rating:
M

Warning:
Swearing, talk of sexual abuse to a minor, abuse and male/male relationships.

Story Interaction: This
story is an Interlude with �Unknown�.

Pairings: Harry x
Draco, Ron x Hermione

Authors Notes: I�m
really sorry guys. I forgot all about updating the story at this site. I always
forget this place. I�m really sorry and so to make it up here are two chapters.
I hope you enjoy them. Thank you heaps for the reviews.

Disclaimer: The
characters used in this story belong to J.K Rowling. I only own the plot line.

Chapter Four � Blind
Worry

It wasn�t a dream� like I had hoped.

I have no idea what time it is, all I know is that I was
unconscious for a little over an hour and when I awoke I was told that since I
was over my initial shock I�m allowed to leave� confirming my fears that it
wasn�t a dream, that and the fact that I woke up in a hospital.

I�m in some muggle hospital actually. Even though I�ve been
told to go home and rest, I�m sitting in the waiting room, my hands in my lap,
my fingers sore from all the nervous gripping I�ve been doing on the arm
chairs.

I�ve been sitting here for a little over half an hour, and
it almost feels like I�m going to faint again, but I can�t allow myself to
faint, I can�t even allow my body to travel back into shock of fear of getting
news on Harry�s condition.

The nurse that had been there when I had awoken had told me
that she didn�t know what state of condition Harry was in, only that he was in
intensive care, she also wasn�t able to help me find out anything else, she
said it was best for me to go home and rest and that they�ll contact me with
news on Harry soon enough.

I can�t go home,
not until I hear that Harry�s fine and will be out of hospital within days in
full health� but it�s been so long that every passing minute is starting to put
fear into my mind and doubt in my heart.

I don�t want to lose Harry, that�s the last thing I want. He
had been shot in the chest, and even though I know close to nothing about
muggle weapons or even healing, I know that being shot in the chest can be a
life threatening event� As the nurse helped explain � not at all helping me
relax.

So I�m not going to move until I�ve heard news of a full
recovery� Harry can�t die. He can�t die at the hands of some plea-brain muggle
invention. I won�t let him, I�ll make him regret it if he does� but he wont!

I feel exhausted, my limbs are heavy and my mind is almost
numb and dead. The only thing I can even manage to think about is Harry, and
even that is difficult.

I have a headache the size of the Pacific
Ocean and that�s accompanied with a sour taste in the back of my
throat from throwing up.

I don�t know what to think, or even what to do. I want
beyond anything to run through the hospital and search Harry out and ask him if
he�s going to be okay, but I doubt I�ll even get through the doors before being
stopped.

I have no choice but to wait for the doctor to approach me
and tell me what�s happened and if Harry will be okay. I�m too scared to think
what I�d do if Harry doesn�t make it through this, I don�t even want to imagine
the doctor coming up to me with a solemn look on his face and a sentence
starting with �I�m sorry, we did all we could do��

Harry won�t die! I won�t let him!

�Mr. Malfoy.�

Looking up I see a nurse standing in front of me, her arms
cradling a clipboard as her dusty blue eyes scan me in what could only be
called distaste.

�Yes?� I manage to get to my feet, with a small sway as I
did. �Is Harry alright?� I ask, looking back at her hopefully.

The lady in front of me is probably in her late fifties, she
has black hair that�s pulled up into a French bun, and her face looks rather
harsh as she frowns, it actually reminded me of my old boss, scary.

There seemed to be a too long of a pause before she
answered, and it made my heart leap in fear. �Mr. Potter is in recovery, the
bullet didn�t hit anything life threatening� she stated in a voice that hid the
words of �This is all your fault�, it was so plain
that I would be taken-back with it if not for being too caught up in the good
news.

So Harry is going to be okay?

But now that I�m slowly recovering from my over energetic
imagination, I realise the ladies cold eyes on me, her nose tilted up at me in distaste.

It wouldn�t surprise me if this lady were a witch, one of
those who had been apart of the protests when Harry had publicly announced his
relationship with me. She has that look about her, the one that shouts, �Draco
Malfoy hater.�

It hadn�t been pretty when Harry and I had come out, many
people hadn�t accepted us, and most of everything was blamed on me. I�ve
stopped reading the daily prophet because of half their accusations they made.

They accused me of taking their boy-wonder from the light side
and corrupting him. There was even a few that seemed positive that I had cast
some dark and evil spell over him to embarrass him. It was stupid, and had made
Harry rather� pissed off I guess would be the right term.

However it did stop when he sued �Witches Weekly� for their
accusations, and threatened to do the same to anyone else that made up any more
rubbish - though every now and again you�ll find a small column downing me. But
I live.

The way this lady is looking at me and speaking to me, I
have no doubt when I say she�s a witch and a Harry/Draco hater. It�s obvious by
just looking at her that she blames me for Harry�s injury.

�Can I see him?�

As soon as I ask the question a small sneer begins to form
on her face, though she does seem to try and fight it. It doesn�t surprise me
to see her shake her head either. �No visitors can be admitted at the moment,
he�s in intensive recovery, he�s going to be transferred a more� appropriate hospital tonight� she
stated.

So Harry was going to be transferred to a wizarding
hospital? Well that�d be best� they can do much better for him and probably
have him healed within a couple of days.

I nod my head, feeling even more tired but very much
relieved to hear the news. �What hospital?� I enquire, ignoring her obvious
hints to end the conversation.

�Merlin�s Hospital� she stated looking like it killed her to
share the information. Well, at least I know they weren�t afraid to spend a lot
on their hero. Merlin�s hospital is a very expensive private hospital, with the
best healers too. At least he�s in good hands.

�Mr. Potter is sleeping at the moment. I�ve called a taxi
for you. You should go home and have some rest as well. You can visit Mr.
Potter at Merlin�s Hospital tomorrow� the lady once again said, her eyes scanning
over me and taking in my obvious exhaustion. It also looked like she wanted to
get rid of me.

�Thank you� I say, my eyes flickering to the doors that
Harry was somewhere behind. All I really want is to go and see Harry, but I
have my doubts about getting that, especially out of this nurse, so with her
directions on where the taxi will be waiting for me I slowly make my way down
the narrow and white halls.

There�s this one thing that�s been bugging me, or actually
plaguing me since I woke up and gave a small statement to the cops. Who did
this? Who shot Harry and nearly killed him? Who would do that? I know he has
many enemies, and I know he isn�t the favourite person in some people�s hearts,
but who would stoop to this new level and shoot him? I don�t get it.

I�m going to have to go and contact the Weasley�s though,
they should know what happened to their friend� and though I don�t want to be
the one to have to face them and tell them this I�m the only one that knows the
story. It wouldn�t be fare to let them hear it over the paper; the reporters
will have the story by tomorrow with no doubt.

I might as well go to Harry�s place. I don�t really want to
go to mine; it�s too quite and lonely there. Harry�s pent house always has a
warm and lively atmosphere to it, even if I�m the only one there.

As I step out of the hospital I find myself jumping when I
bright flash blinds me.

�Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, can you tell us Mr. Potters
condition?�

�Mr. Malfoy, has the attacker been found?�

�Is it true that Mr. Potter was shot four times?�

�What were your first thoughts when you saw Mr. Potter
dying?�

�Mr. Malfoy, what will you do now?�

�Can you identify the attacker?�

�What was your last moment with Mr. Potter before he was
brutally shot down?�

�Did you know of the attack?�

Wow! I should have seen this coming.

In front of me are at least a dozen reporters, cameras are
going off on all angels of me and unfortunately the first thing that runs
through my mind as another flash goes off is if my hair is okay� how vain.

I can only look at the people as their mouths open and
questions are called over other questions, and I can�t manage to gather any
sense of control, all I can manage is to look utterly shocked and bewildered.

I don�t even think I�d be able to answer these questions if
I wanted to, every time one question manages to reach me, it�s interrupted
halfway through by another one from another angle.

Sure, I�ve had people taking my picture, and reporters
interviewing me, I�m a Malfoy and Harry Potter�s boyfriend. It�s something I�ve
expected, but I think this is the first time I�ve been attacked like this.

How the hell did they all find out so quickly anyway?

�Mr. Malfoy, do you believe the shooter was aiming for you
or Mr. Potter?� Well that�s a stupid question, there was a large distance
between us when he was shot, and either the person was a horrible aimer or he
was most definitely aiming for Harry.

�Did you and Mr. Potter have a fight before the incident?� I
don�t really see what that has to do with Harry being shot or his current state
of health.

�What were your first thoughts when you saw Mr. Potter lying
unconscious and bleeding?� Um� shit?

�Do you have any regrets about your last words with him?� Last words? What are they talking about, it�s not like he�s
dead! I�m going to have plenty more words with him.

�Can you tell us, in detail, what happened?� No, I hardly
know what happened either.

I feel like I�m being suffocated and all I want is to
escape, but as I look around I can�t see any quick exits, it�s almost like
these reporters planned this all out, even going so far as to make sure there
was no escape route for me� these people can be really� creepy.

I haven�t even said a word yet and I can already see quills
scratching on parchments, it�s all going to be against me, I just know it.

�Mr. Malfoy, do you think it was an ex-death eater?� How am
I supposed to know?

For the first time I go to answer �I-�

�Can you describe your last sexual touch with Mr. Potter?�
Oh, that�s it! These questions are now just tuning perverted.

�That�s none of your bloody business!� I shout, making sure
I glare my, oh so famous death glare,
at the young women that�s most probably from �Play Mage� or some porn magazine
like that.

�So you admit you�ve had no sexual interaction with Mr.
Potter in some while?� This is sick!

�I�m not saying anything!� I shout, now turning my glare
onto the short podgy redhead beside me.

This is really wrong. I�m quite sure I don�t go around
asking these questions! These people must truly be deprived. And why the hell
has all the questions turned to my sexual life with Harry? Aren�t they more
interested in learning if Harry�s going to live or not?

�Mr. Malfoy, do you believe that this attack was made from
the Harry/Draco oppositionists?� I don�t know, but if it were, why would they
attack Harry? It�s me they hate, not him.

I go to snap at a lady in front of me that decided to test
her graveyard by asking me my favourite position, the same one that had asked
me if I�ve had any sexual actions with him before, the same one that won�t live
to see the next hour, and as I go to pull my wand out from my pocket, I�m
forced to pause when I feel a heavy hand rest on my shoulder.

Before I can even look to see who�s touching me, I feel a
sudden jolt, one that I identify immediately as apparating. It�s a feeling
where my feet feel like they have slipped off the pavement, and yet I�m still
standing. The next thing I know, my feet are firmly planted on the ground and
instead of being surrounded by reporters outside the hospital, I�m standing in
a musty room.

As soon as I land on the thin carpet, I spin around, my eyes
resting on the person that helped me, it was only when I found myself looking
into eyes I recognised without a problem, I felt my face drain of all colour.

To Be Continued�
- 3
- 4
- 5
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