ONE.
It's dark and it's cold and he can't move. He can't move at all.
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The door to the common room slams open, and Harry jumps. He's been working on - or rather, staring at - an essay that's due tomorrow for Potions for almost an hour, and that means that he's been doing more daydreaming than actual writing. Hermione's eyes have been burning a hole in Harry's head for about ten minutes, most probably internally berating him for not starting the damn thing earlier, but he has decided to ignore her. It's almost comforting, in a way - normal, or at least a small shade of it.
So, Harry is daydreaming, and when Pansy Parkinson slams open the door to the common room in a rage, he promptly starts, dropping his quill on the floor in the process. All eyes turn towards the door to see who pissed off the Slytherin this time, but Pansy is paying them no mind. Instead, her hair whirls around her head as she turns to frantically search the common room. When her eyes land on Harry, they narrow, and she stalks towards him, her hand clenched in a fist at her side. "You," she sneers, and Harry's eyes widen in alarm.
Apparently, he pissed off the Slytherin this time.
Within a second, she's in front of him, her hand bunched in the fabric of his collar. "This is all your fault," she spits. And Harry just blinks at her, still stunned by how close she is, while Ron and Hermione are the ones to react first, followed by almost half of the common room. Harry can hear Ron screaming at her to let him go, and Hermione is yelling, asking Pansy if she's gone insane. Harry's even almost positive he sees Seamus with his wand out at the corner of his eye, aimed directly at Parkinson.
"Calm down, you lot, I'm not going to hurt him as long as he fucking fixes it," she says, her eyes dark and angry, boring into Harry, who still hasn't quite found his voice.
"Fixes what?" Hermione asks, her hands out in front of her in frustration, stepping closer to the two.
"Draco, that's what!"
"What the hell does Harry have to do with Malfoy?" Ron asks, confused yet indignant.
"Because you got him into this mess!" She lets go of his collar roughly, and he slumps back in the chair. "Some fucking 6th years thought it would be funny to play their sick version of a joke on him in the name of their sanctimonious bastard of a savior." By the end of the sentence, the screech of her voice is so loud that Harry swears she could have broken glass if she really wanted to. Harry swallows before speaking, sitting up straight.
"What do you mean? What kind of joke?"
"They stunned him and threw him in the godsdamn lake, Potter, now get down there and tell them to get. him. OUT."
"What?!" the three friends scream in unison, and then they all share a glance before springing into action - Hermione's book falls open on the armchair she was sitting in, and Ron abandons the chess set he was setting up half-prepared.
"What are you waiting for, then, take us there!" Harry exclaims, standing up, following Pansy, who is already halfway out of the room.
No, they still didn't like Malfoy, but he was being much less of a pompous dick this year, and it's not like he deserves to die or anything. So they - like the collective mind they can, at times, be - decide in that moment to help (no matter how annoyed Ron is that he feels the need to help the git in the first place).
The four run through the castle, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridors, their shouts echoing in the busy ones. Harry's heart clenches in his chest with every footfall. And Pansy, Pansy just keeps looking behind her, hoping they're not too late.
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He feels something wrapped around his leg. It's crawling and clawing as he claws at his arms and the space around his head.
Maybe he's drowning.
Maybe he already did.
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Once they're outside of the castle, Pansy turns back to Harry.
"They said something about this being a tribute to the Triwizard Tournament or whatever, say that's where it all started. It got me thinking. Do you still have those worm things that you took to save Weasley over here?"
"The Triwizard - what the hell? Why - "
"Do you?"
"There's gillyweed in the greenhouses," Hermione interrupts, changing course while pulling on Ron's hand to come with her, "Ron and I'll go get it. It'll only take a minute."
"But will we even need it? I mean, it's not like they swam him all that way out, right? Aren't we all being a little overdramatic?" Ron asks, slowing down, but still walking backward in the direction that Hermione was pulling him.
"Listen to me, you Weasel - "
"Hey!"
"They levitated him into the middle of the fucking lake!"
Ron crosses his arms over his chest, furrowing his brow, "And am I the only one who thinks it's suspicious that you just watched all this happening and did nothing, and then you expect us to help him instead? I mean, aren't you his friend?"
Pansy takes a step forward and Harry grabs her shoulder before she moves any farther, knowing that Ron won't get off as easy as he did in the common room if Pansy gets her hands on him. Pansy's jaw visibly locks as she shrugs his hand off, and she speaks through gritted teeth.
"I did try, but there's only so much I could do when three of the brutes held me down and took my wand!"
Well, that explains the lack of hexing, thinks Harry.
"Now hurry up or so help me, if anything happens to him, I'm holding you personally responsible, Weasley, for standing around and throwing around ridiculous accusations!" Pansy then takes Harry's arm and continues to pull him the rest of the way toward the lake, while Hermione does the same to Ron.
As he watches his friends run in the opposite direction, he feels a knot of guilt in his stomach. Parkinson can't have been serious when she said they were doing this for him, right? The war was over - he'd even testified for Malfoy and his mother. They had to have known that Harry wouldn't want something like this, right?
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His hands are heavy. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he's in the space between dreams.
Is this what sinking feels like?
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Harry sees the small crowd beside the shore of the lake, laughing, some pointing towards the center. He notices that most of them are wearing red, with a few splashes of yellow among them. The Gryffindors he'd expected, but he'd thought Hufflepuffs were smarter than this. His heart sinks when he realizes that this must be some sort of tribute to Cedric, too, in their eyes. How could they have gotten everything so twisted?
"Hey!" he yells, trying to get their attention. The few heads that turned towards him meet him with a smile. One boy - a Gryffindor with brown hair and hazel eyes, just about the same height as Harry - even calls him over.
"Hey, Harry! Look at this. Thought we'd have some fun with the Death Eater," he grins, almost like he's proud of what he's done. Harry scowls, both at the misplaced familiarity and at the boy himself.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, exactly?" He asks, pulling his arm out of Pansy's hold. The boy in front of him looks at him with furrowed brows, and his smile is quickly replaced by a confused frown.
"What? What do you mean? We're just messing with Malfoy - you know, a little payback for everything that happened."
"And he deserves much more than this anyway!" a voice pipes up from the crowd, followed by a few expressions of agreement and one cheer.
Pansy turns towards them, sneering, her hands balling into fists at her sides, so tight that her knuckles turn white. "You're pathetic, all of you!" she screams to the crowd. A few of the braver ones take a few steps forward toward her, and Harry puts himself in front of Pansy to shield her. Pansy grumbles something about not needing him to protect her, but he ignores it - she doesn't have a wand and he's sick of seeing people get hurt; he's had enough of that for a lifetime. Harry addresses the crowd calmly, his voice slow but firm.
"Hey, we're not here to fight, we just want you all to get Malfoy out of the lake before he wakes up and your incredibly stupid joke gets out of hand." He turns to the boy who spoke to him, assuming he was the leader, "How long has he been in the lake?"
"Uh - seven minutes? Maybe eight?"
"What?" Pansy shrieks, so loud that Harry feels his ears start to ring. She turns to run toward the water before someone grabs her arm, keeping her back. "You idiots, he's probably dead down there! And you call him the monster!"
"Relax, Parkinson." Harry sees Pansy's eyes glass over. "Anderson here did this spell that puts a bubble around his head or some shit. He can breathe; we're not the murderers, here, are we?" he gives her a pointed look.
Harry's eyes harden, "I said, get him out. I don't care what spells you used, or why you did it, but you need to get him out. You didn't think this through, did you? Obviously none of you are Ravenclaws. Do you even know what's in that lake?"
The boy's lip curled up in disgust. He turns to the side, spitting into the lake, before turning back towards Harry. "I thought you were on our side," he accuses, "if the Death Eater is so important to you, you get him out yourself."
Both Harry and Pansy want to smack the smug smile right off his face. They almost do.
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Maybe this is Fortune's revenge. Maybe he prayed to the wrong gods.
Maybe he's ok with that.
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Ron and Hermione run down from the greenhouses not even a minute later, and Harry almost smiles when he sees Ron's face as he hands him the gillyweed. And he would have, too, if he wasn't the one that now has to eat it. Harry shrugs off his cloak, takes a deep breath, and grumbles, "Malfoy better be fucking grateful for this," before swallowing the plant down in one go. He barely has time to grow his gills before Pansy is pushing him into the lake.
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Draco blinks, and blinks again. And then he panics. His eyes are open, but he can barely see. He looks around himself frantically, but everything is covered in a thick fog.
He feels - Rope? Ribbon? Fabric? - curl around his arms and legs, tightening around his wrists. Whatever it is, it seems like it's alive, and Draco is too afraid to look down and see the thing pinching into his skin. He feels cold and heavy and - and... wet? He's wet?
His eyes blink again, and he looks down. Seaweed. He's being detained by seaweed. He's wet and there's seaweed - but then that means -
They actually did it.
He looks around again, and he can feel his heart beating hard against his chest. All he can think about is Pansy - Is she here, too? Did they throw her in? Is she ok? The more he moves, the tighter the ribbons become around him.
He doesn't see Pansy, but that doesn't mean she's not there. It just means they separated them. Draco can feel a lump form in his throat, but he quickly swallows it down, taking a deep breath.
Breath.
He took a breath.
How did he take a breath? He's underwater, he can't breathe.
Then notices that though his body feels wet, his face doesn't. Neither does his hair. He can breathe, that's good, but for how long?
He feels the seaweed slowly dragging him under, wrapping around his waist and traveling up his torso. He can feel his arms starting to go numb - both from the frigid water and how tight the pressure around them is. His best chance is to not panic - he knows this. He's already panicking, though, so he needs to stop. He needs a clear head. He needs to think. He needs to fucking get out of this mess.
He feels something smooth and almost leathery snake around the side of his neck and he wants to cry. He looks up, and through the fog, he can almost see a blur of light blue. He almost smiles. It's almost beautiful.
He looks down when he feels cold water encircle his neck, and he really does shed a tear. The tip of the fucking stupid plant is apparently sharp, though, and before he can even register the break, the air around his head dissipates and ice-cold water fills his nose and his ears. He keeps his mouth clamped shut and his eyes open wide. He feels the smoothness creep up his chin and his cheek, and despite everything, his heart steadies. He can feel his lungs protest - he could never hold his breath that long. Yet another thing he was useless at.
Maybe he'll die. The thought doesn't scare him like it might have once - he'd made peace with the idea of death sometime during sixth year. Oblivion didn't scare him anymore - he's seen and done many more terrifying things. No, nothingness isn't scary. That's not it.
He doesn't want to die alone. But maybe he doesn't get what he wants this time.
His lungs scream at him to take a breath, and his mouth opens, and water fills his mouth and slithers down his throat. He closes his eyes.
He swore he saw a figure swimming toward him in the distance before the lights go out.
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"Pansy," Draco gasps out between coughs, "She's - she's down there, too. Find - " Water dribbles out of his mouth as he heaves a breath, feeling the chill of the lake claw up his throat.
He's on the ground on his hands and knees, autumn leaves crinkling under his weight. His hair and his clothes are dripping onto the grass, and he feels water trickling down his cheek. He practically tears off his robe, unable to support the weight of the soaked fabric when his arms are already burning with exertion just trying to keep himself up. He chucks it away, still dry heaving, when he feels another robe being draped over him, only this one is warm and dry. He feels himself collapse, his forehead hitting the cool earth.
Before he can attempt speaking again, he feels a delicate hand on his shoulder, and he almost cries in relief when he hears Pansy's familiar voice.
"Hey, no. No, Draco, I'm right here. I'm safe, I promise."
Another hand tentatively rests between his shoulder blades, rubbing lightly, and Draco looks up, expecting to see Blaise. His brows furrow when he sees Harry Potter, of all people, his hair wet and his clothes clinging to his skin, just like Draco. Without his robe, Draco notices.
"What - " he coughs, " - what happened?"
"Something that will never happen again, I can assure you."
Startled, all eyes turn to the source of the voice - a very, very upset Headmistress McGonagall standing beside Hermione and Ron (who, presumably, called her while Harry was in the water). Though she's shorter than about half of the boys in the crowd surrounding her, she towers over them, nonetheless. She glares at the crowd of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, her gaze so sharp that it would have sliced through every person in front of her, if it could have.
"Every single one of you, to my office. Now. We will be contacting all of your parents to explain to them the exact reason why you'll all be suspended until the end of the winter holidays. And you four," she turns toward the small group of Gryffindors standing around the brown-haired boy who talked to Harry earlier, "You are all expelled, no exceptions. You will pack your bags, and figure out how to tell your parents that they're going to have to figure out what to do with you now that you've been thrown out of the only wizarding school in all of Britain."
Her decision is met with protests, but the ringleader speaks the loudest, "But, Headmistress, it was just an innocent joke! We didn't mean anything by it!"
McGonagall's eyes go as ice cold as the lake itself, and Draco feels a shiver run down his own spine. "Mr. Campbell, I don't think you've taken a proper look at what you've done. Mr. Malfoy could have very well died because of your 'innocent joke'. Why, look at him, he almost did. Expulsion," she says, definitively, "No exceptions. Now go." She points to the castle, and the group slowly heads to the castle with their heads hanging.
She then turns to Draco, and her eyes soften. She walks toward him, gathering her skirt in her hands before kneeling in the grass beside him. She speaks gently and calmly. "Mr. Malfoy - Draco. Are you alright? Do you think you can stand?"
Draco nods and tries to push himself up on his hands. He stumbles a little as he rises, and Harry has to catch his arm to stop him from falling.
"Harry, could you please take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?" Harry agrees, and McGonagall turns to Draco again. "And you needn't worry, I will be contacting your mother to inform her of what has happened today."
Draco's eyes widen and he shakes his head, "My mother? Do you have to? I'm fine, really, there's no reason to worry her." He attempts to stand up straight, only to stumble again. Harry catches his arm and holds him upright, not letting go this time, in spite of Draco's glare.
She looks at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry, but it's school policy. We must contact the parents when any form of bullying occurs."
"But - "
"I'm afraid this is non-negotiable. You could have been seriously hurt," she says gently. Draco nods, and she bids everyone goodbye before heading toward the castle.
Harry turns to Draco, "You sure you're alright to walk? We could always levitate you."
"Absolutely not." Draco coughs. "I still have a bit of my dignity left, thank you."
Pansy then takes his other arm and locks it with hers, "Then we're both escorting you to the Hospital Wing. And no, you may not protest. Come along, now."
Pansy then leads the five to the castle, keeping her head held high and her hold on her friend tight. Everyone looks at her with differing degrees of amusement, even Ron, before following.
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Draco is lying on one of the beds in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey fussing over him. He's dry now, and he's still wearing Harry's cloak. Pansy and Harry are on the other side of his bed, sitting side by side. Hermione and Ron had gone back up to the Eighth Year common room, and so would have Pansy and Harry if not for Draco's insistence on them staying (and, much to Harry's surprise, he was actually included in the insisting). Pansy is gripping Draco's hand so hard it almost hurts. After a few moments, Madame Pomfrey goes to the other side of the room, muttering something under her breath. Draco takes the opportunity to turn toward the two.
"Can you tell me what happened now? All I remember is arguing with the 6th years, then almost drowning in the lake, and finally coughing up my own lungs on the grass beside the lake. Nothing in between."
"They stunned you while they were holding me down, then the big one put that spell on you and they levitated you to the center of the lake. They let me go after that; I screamed so hard I made myself hoarse. Then they told me to go and get Potter here so he could see the show." There's a bitterness in her voice that Harry doesn't blame her for. He has one question, though, that he can't get out of his head.
"Why did you even come to me? You could've gone straight to McGonagall. Honestly, if Hermione were here, she'd say that's what you should've done in the first place. "
Pansy shrugs and looks down at Draco's hand. She looks almost ashamed. "Honestly? I didn't trust her to help him. To help us."
"Yet you trusted me?" Harry asks, not sure he heard her right.
"Well, you testified for him. You at least didn't think he should be dead, at any rate. Plus, you have that whole 'savior complex' thing that I could appeal to if all else failed." She smiles slightly, and Harry has to suppress the urge to check to see if he's in some weird dream. He's just saved Draco Malfoy's life again and now Pansy Parkinson is joking with him. Or about him. He can't really tell the difference. Either way, the situation is odd. Harry decides to roll with it.
"McGonagall did, though. She's expelling the bastards as we speak."
"Yeah. I was wrong. I've never been more glad to be wrong in my life," Pansy laughs lightly.
Draco groans, obviously exasperated. "Come on, continue! So, you went and asked Potter to help and he just, did? No questions asked?"
"Oh, I would've asked, if she didn't look like she was about to punch me in the face," Harry grumbles. Pansy laughs outright this time and Draco's eyebrows shoot up - he was both surprised and impressed. Though, he really shouldn't be, he thinks. Pansy is always intimidating when she's angry - he should know, she's been upset both in front of him and at him many times.
"And then we all went down to the lake, Ron and Hermione got me some of that awful gillyweed like at the Tournament - which you so owe me for eating, by the way. Tastes like rotten fruit dipped in slug juice." He cringes. "Then I had to - " He swallows. Images of what Draco looked like tangled in the seaweed - pale, limp, lifeless - flash before his eyes.
When he saw Draco, his heart almost stopped. His eyes were shut, and he was limp, strips of green tangling around his body and pulling slowly him into the depths. They were wrapped around his arms, his legs, and his torso, the tips slowly extending over his pale cheeks and into his hair. Harry shot forward and gripped onto him, his hands under the other boy's arms. But the plant only tightened its hold around Draco's body, and Harry had begun to panic. His heart was in his throat as he searched around frantically for something - anything - that could help. He saw something sharp - he couldn't remember if it was a piece of glass or a piece or metal or exactly what it was - and he started cutting. The strips fell off once they were cut, and one by one, they let go of Draco. Once he was done, he held onto Draco, being sure to keep him close, and swam faster than he thought he could have toward the shore.
The Triwizard Tournament and the Fiendfyre and Cedric's death were all flashing through his mind and he felt his insides turn and twist just like the seaweed had around Draco. Everything flashed before his eyes, and he could barely remember breaking the water and pushing Draco onto the grass.
He shakes his head, trying to get back to the present moment.
"I had to get you out, and here we are," he finishes vaguely. Draco looks at him with narrowed eyes but doesn't comment on Harry's zoning out. Instead, he asks a different question.
"I thought gillyweed lasted for an hour. How are you not sitting here with gills and webbed feet?"
Harry smiles, "Hermione did this spell thing, ended the effects early."
"Ah. That explains it."
Silence. An awkward silence. Pansy is still stroking Draco's hand, and Harry is starting to feel like he's intruding. It's not like they were friends or anything; he has no reason to be here in the first place. He just had to make sure Draco was alright, that's why he's staying. He can't handle any more death. He really can't. It would kill him, he was sure.
"Thank you," Draco says softly, breaking the silence. His eyes are on Harry, and the gray looks so sincere that Harry almost has to look away.
"Not a problem," he replies, offhandedly. But before anyone can say anything else, Madame Pomfrey flutters back into the room, scolding both Pansy and Harry, saying that her patient needs rest. She dismisses them with a look that neither even attempts to argue with, and they get up, leaving Draco alone in the large, empty room.
Harry looks back one last time as they walk out of the door and gives Draco a small smile, which Draco returns, before closing it behind him.