Second year, chapter 9
I, I wish you could swim,
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
POV: Harry
Harry hadn’t wanted to hate Sam, he hadn’t wanted to bully her, or treat her like shit just because of who her father was, yet here he was, hating her and treating her like shit. Harry guessed Ron had a big hand in it, he had been the one to tell him just how awful she was, and what her father had done. He supposed it wasn’t fair, and that he may be hurting Sam more then she deserved. He also knew it wasn’t her fault he had run into her and had a panic attack. He also felt awful for storming off in the way he had, even after she had helped him calm down.
Harry had found a quiet corridor after the ordeal, sitting on the ground and trying to shake the memories from his head. It had been difficult this year to hide the bruising from Ron and his other dorm mates. Just a few hours before Ron had showed up with Fred and George at Private Drive, Uncle Vernon had beat Harry again, making Harry lean against his bed with his shirt off as he brought the belt down so many times. All because Hedwig had woken him again.
Most of the welts had begun to heal, the bruising gone down, but there were some where the skin had been broken, and now were scabbed over, most likely going to be left on his back as scars. Harry supposed Ron already knew some parts of Harry’s home life, he had seen the bars on his window, and locks on his door. Ron also knew that Harry had been neglected, barely given enough food, and starved most of the time. Harry knew those secrets were safe with Ron, he would never go around telling others about that, but he didn’t feel the need to tell him about the physical abuse yet, or ever. Ron was Harry’s best friend, but he still kept things private.
Harry had eventually picked himself off the ground and made his way to the great hall to meet Ron and Hermione for lunch. When he sat down, he pushed everything from his mind, and just focused on his friends, wanting to feel normal for one short moment.
POV: Sam
Sam had been sitting out by the quidditch pitch, a book in hand as she waited to see Draco. The Slytherins were supposed to be practicing, and Draco had just gone to get changed. Strangely enough, Sam was seated near Ron and Hermione, who would every now and then glance up at her. Sam rolled her eyes, wondering why they were there. Why would they want to come see the Slytherins practice. But then, Sam saw what was going on.
It looked like both the Slytherin team, and the Gryffindor team were arguing, and Sam quickly stood, going to see what was going on, Ron and Hermione on her heels.
“We booked the field today,” Wood tried telling Flint, but Flint grinned.
“Actually, we did. The professor said we needed to train our newest member.” He explained, gesturing to Draco. Harry gaped.
“Malfoy?!”
Draco chuckled. “Thats right, and thats not all that new this year,” He said then gestured to the new brooms that all the Slytherins had. The Gryffindor team scowled, as did Hermione.
“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way on the team.” She hissed. Sam cringed at her words, knowing it had hit a nerve in Draco.
“No one asked you, mudblood!”
Sam stared at Draco, her jaw slack. She couldn’t believe he had just said that. Hermione’s face fell and she looked nearly close to tears. Ron pulled out his wand and tried cursing Draco, but the spell backfired, and the Golden trio ran off to help Ron. The Slytherin team laughed, including Draco. Sam turned to him sharply, scowling at him. Draco saw her face and his face fell. It was like he had only then realized what he had said.
“Sam..” He tried, but Sam was already storming off, not wanting to look at Draco for another moment.
POV: Draco
Draco had fucked up. He had fucked up big time. Calling Granger a mudblood had been a mistake, he hadn’t even meant to, it had just slipped out. He knew how damaging that word could be, he had seen how Granger had looked so crushed. But the worst was the betrayal on Sam’s face. Draco knew that Sam’s father, Sirius was a pureblood, but he wasn’t sure about her other father. He wondered if Sam’s other father was a muggle born and that was why she was so upset, or if she just really hated the word.
Draco found Sam in the common room after practice. She had her headphones on as she scribbled down her homework. Draco sat down on the sofa next to her, startling her. She gave him one look and huffed, pulling her headphones off and giving him a hard look. Draco played with the ring on his finger, not really knowing how he could fix this.
“Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” He told her. Sam shook her head and scoffed.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” She told him. Draco sighed. He had guessed she would say that. He nodded.
“I was planning on doing it tomorrow.” He mumbled. Sam looked him over, making him feel nervous. Her eyes soften slightly and she looked him in the eyes.
“What happened over the summer?” She asked, her voice low and quiet. Draco felt his body freeze. Images came into his mind, Mulciber ontop of him, whispering in his ear, grabbing his neck, forcing his way into his body.
Draco had to remind himself to breath. He shook his head, turning away from her. “Nothing.” He mumbled. She wasn’t convinced.
“You have bruises,” She told him, making him look back at her. “And you keep having nightmares,” She bit her lip, and Draco knew she was about to say it. He prepared himself for those words. “Draco, is someone hurting you.”
It was like he could no longer hold it back and he immediately began sobbing. Sam was quick to pull him close, letting him cry into her neck. Thankfully the common room was empty, seeing as everyone was at dinner.
Draco cried for all the times he couldn’t while Mulciber was with him, for all the times his father would hit him when Draco would beg for Mulciber not to come back. He cried for the times Mulciber would take him down to the cellar and beat him bloody for disobeying in bed. Draco couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand the fact that his father and mother were forcing him to grow up so fast, forcing him to do things no twelve year old should have to do. He was twelve. Fucking twelve years old, and he was being raped nearly everyday of the summer.
Draco eventually calmed enough to pull away and look at Sam. She was studying him again, waiting for him to explain. But he didn’t know how to. How was he supposed to tell his best friend that he was scared to go back home because he didn’t want his body sold again? So Draco took the easy way out.
“My father beats me,” It wasn’t a lie, Draco’s father would regularly take him down to he cellar also and punish him. “Hesthe reason I have the bruises.”