Bruises and Breaths Between Us
**Draco**
He didn’t expect it.
The hex came fast — a flash of green from the corner of his eye. No warning, no duel, no drama. Just pain.
He hit the stone floor hard, his spine jarring, the breath knocked out of him. He rolled onto his side, ears ringing, vision blurred.
“Malfoy!”
Draco barely registered the familiar voice — or the warmth of hands on his shoulders.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” Potter said, breathless and furious.
Draco wanted to tell him to go away. To stop acting like he cared.
But all that came out was a shaky cough and a groan.
**Harry**
He didn’t think. He just ran.
Someone had shouted Draco’s name — and then he saw it: a Slytherin third-year, wide-eyed and wand raised. The curse had already landed.
Draco was on the ground, pale and dazed. And for a terrifying second, Harry thought he wasn’t breathing.
He dropped to his knees beside him, fingers fumbling, voice tight with panic. “Hey. Hey—stay with me.”
Draco’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused. “What the hell...”
“Someone hexed you. I got it — I stunned them.”
Draco tried to sit up. Harry pressed a hand to his chest. “Don’t move. Let Madam Pomfrey—”
“Don’t touch me,” Draco muttered.
Harry didn’t let go.
“You’re bleeding,” Harry said quietly, voice low. “You always push through pain like that?”
Draco looked away. “Learned from the best, didn’t I?”
The air between them went still. Heavy. Like they were balancing on the edge of something sharp.
**Later, in the Hospital Wing**
“Your ribs are bruised,” Madam Pomfrey announced, waving her wand. “Minor internal damage. Nothing Skele-Gro can’t fix.”
Harry stood at the side, arms folded. He hadn’t moved since they arrived. Hadn’t taken his eyes off Draco.
“You can go now,” Draco told him after Pomfrey left.
“No.”
Draco frowned. “What do you mean no?”
Harry took a step closer, jaw tense. “I’m not leaving you alone after that. Not until you tell me why someone hexed you.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Because I’m me, Potter. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“No, it’s not.”
Draco looked up, startled at the force in Harry’s voice.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You act like you deserve it. Like every punch you take is just… penance.”
Draco said nothing.
“You don’t,” Harry added quietly.
Draco scoffed. “Since when do you care what I think I deserve?”
Harry moved to the edge of the bed, close enough that Draco could see the anger soften in his face. “Since I started watching you break in silence.”
Draco’s breath caught.
**That Night**
Neither of them mentioned the incident again.
But something had shifted.
When Harry returned to their shared room, Draco was already in bed, facing the wall. The room was dark, except for the soft moonlight creeping in through the curtains.
Harry hesitated. Then crossed the space between them.
He sat on the edge of Draco’s bed. Close, but not touching.
“Next time,” Harry said softly, “don’t tell me not to care.”
Draco didn’t answer.
But for the first time… he didn’t tell Harry to go away.