Your chest ached. Burnt. The pain was a fire, spreading fast, consuming your breath. You gasped for air, slamming the book shut and looking around at the common room. The rest of the Gryffindors were simply chilling around, all fun and laughter, some — like Hermione seated beside you — seriously studying. You dropped your quill. There was no way you could do homework when you were running out of air—
“Y/n? Are you alright?” Dean called from across the carpet where your books and notes were strewn. Your arm knocked over an ink bottle as you scrambled to the nearest window, shoving it open and sticking half your body out, wheezing, gasping.
“Y/n! What is it?” Hermione jumped to her feet, a steady hand stroking your back.
“Oi, you good? Is the fire too much?” Seamus, seated cross-legged near the fireplace, asked, already picking up her wand.
You flailed your hands, waving the question off. “No, not that.” You knew that much. This wasn’t… just an asthma attack or whatever your muggle mother called it. Seriously, it couldn’t be a heart attack? What the hell was going on?
SLAM!
“Merlin’s beard, Harry!”
“That’s a door you nincompoop, not a Slytherin tie,” one of the older Gryffindors scoffed at Harry Potter as he stomped into the common room. Hair disheveled, eyes wild with panic, clothes crumpled but there was nothing new in that… blood splattered here and there…
“Harry?” Hermione called, hand still stroking your back. “What on earth?”
“You look like you got back from a murder, mate,” Ron Weasley laughed nervously. “…Did you?”
“Almost,” Harry mumbled, flopping down on the carpet and snatching Ron’s chocolate frog.
“Hey!”
“Water.”
Parvati passed a bottle.
“Thanks. What’s up with y/n?”
“Nothing,” you shook your head.
“… You gonna tell us or are we gonna have to hear from the papers?”
“I don’t know.” Was all he said before rushing away from the whispers and the eyes, into his dorm. Something about the fear in his eyes made you realise… The bastard did something. Again.
You wondered if it was whatever he did that made you this… tormented. Because sometime after he walked in, the pain stopped.
“Good,” you whispered to yourself, nodding your thanks to Hermione and Parvati (who offered water) before going back to work. No heart attack was worth getting scolded by McGonagall.
Only the next morning did you find out about the Sectumsempra.
The breakfast tables’ chatter was interrupted with an odd hush. And of course, where there was gossip — there was no Harry Potter in sight.
“He’s not even here.”
“Of course he isn’t, he’s probably guilty.”
“OR being cursed to oblivion by Snape—“
“Oh no no, I heard the Gryffindors saying he’s still asleep. Probably another You-Know-Who nightmare.”
“Will you guys cut it out already, I want to read this!”
You shook your head at the yellow and blue tables before moving over to your own. Before sitting down, you made sure to peek over at the green one as you do every morning. You already waved and winked out of habit before noticing the seat you were smiling at was… empty.
And the others nearby were not happy about it.
“Oh good morning y/n,” Dean greeted. “Y/n? Where are you going?”
You ditched your house, running over to the two Slytherins shooting daggers at her. “Nott. Parkinson. What is it?”
“Why don’t you go ask your noble house-hero?” Theodore Nott snapped.
“Yeah, go ask the rascal how he casually murdered a student,” Parkinson scoffed.
“…” What? Murdered? Who? Surely not—
“Now that’s dramatic, Pansy,” Daphne Greengrass shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re this concerned, y/n, but I guess you’re his friend now,” she sighed.
“I am,” you nodded, ignoring Pansy’s glare. “Where is he? And where’s Zabini?”
“Draco’s in the hospital wing. Blaise is with him, trying to force potion down that stubborn idiot’s throat.”
Astoria Greengrass walked over to the table lazily, having just woken up. “Down who’s throa— Woah! Watch it!” She jumped back when a gust of red robes dashed past her and over to the Gryffindor table.
You slammed a hand on the table, sending Ron’s plate of chicken flying. Lavender Brown caught it and gave it back to him but you didn’t have time to watch it all. “What in Godric’s name did Harry do this time?” you grumbled, picking up your cloak and bag.
Hermione gripped your shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“To the hospital wing, of course.” One word kept whirring through your head as you recalled the weird pain from yesterday. Soulmates.
“…Y/n…”
“Don’t you start, Granger.”
“Why would you care? He calls us mudbloods!”
“Maybe you should stop to think about a person before judging them on one damn word,” you snapped back, running out the door and down the hallways.
Never had Madam Promfey’s glare been madder than when you literally crashed through the giant doors. “I’m so sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I—”
“Where are you wounded?”
“…erm. No, I came to see Draco Malfoy.”
“…” Madam Pomfrey’s jaw nearly dropped, looking you up and down to check if your Gryffindor robes were a hoax. One eyebrow raised, she asked, “If you’re here to make him feel worse then by all means, get out, Miss y/l/n.”
“Madam Pomfrey, please. He’s my friend. I need to see him.”
The Slytherin matron blinked twice, thrice, before nodding slowly. “I see,” she mumbled, as though she understood something you didn’t.
And maybe she did.
“There’s nobody else around today, Mr Zabini and Mr Malfoy are over on the left side. I only allow one to remain by his side for more than ten minutes so…”
“I know.”
She nodded and walked away into her own part of the wing, letting you stumble over towards where you could see Zabini’s frame in the distance. “Zabini! Is he asleep?”
“Well if you shout like that of course he won’t be,” Blaise laughed, waving. “Look at you.”
“An absolute mess,” a hoarse voice croaked from behind him.
You dropped your bag and cloak on the next bed, made a mental note to Scourgify the bed before leaving, and walked to the other side of Draco’s bed. “Malfoy.”
“Y/l/n. What happened to you?”
“I think that’s my question.”
“No seriously, look at you!” Blaise snorted. “You look like a Niffler that got its gold snatched.”
You patted your uniform down, tucked your braid away before reaching over to the bag. “I got you this. Dunno if you can drink any but…” you held out a mug of Butterbeer.
Draco shook his head in silence, despite the sparkle in his eyes.
“If you drink that Butterbeer now, I’m gonna strangle the potion into you as well,” Blaise glared.
“I didn’t say I’ll drink it.” Draco pointed to the bedside table so you kept the mug there, muttering a charm to seal it shut for now. “Thank you.”
“What on earth happened?” You asked, your eyes finally catching onto the gashes on the sides of his neck, face and shoulders: the rest of him covered in hospital pyjamas and blankets. “I mean I heard much of it from the chatter in the breakfast hall but…”
“Stupid Potter,” Draco mumbled, turning his head away, too tired to explain.
Blaise took over. “Potter found him in the bathrooms, and attacked. For no reason. Sectumsempra. It’s a lacerating curse, according to Snape’s explanation to Poppy.”
“A lacerating cu—” you bit your tongue, plopping down on the bedside, one leg crossed under you. “He’s a bloody murderer!”
“Literally. Draco would have bled to death if Snape hadn’t found him by some odd stroke of luck,” Blaise shook his head, sitting down on the chair.
“I’ll kill him.”
“If anybody beats the Dark Lord to it, it’ll be you feisty little one for sure,” Blaise burst into laughter.
“I’m not joking! I heard the Hufflepuffs screeching he used a spell supposedly aimed for enemies. If Harry doesn’t know to distinguish between the level of enmity of a rival Slytherin STUDENT and goddamned YouKnowWho… I’ll teach him a bit,” you grinned. “Not a curse… I’m not that good. But there’s trickier hexes that last long enough.”
“Weasley twins’ wisdom?”
“Mhm,” you nodded, laughing with him. It was when your hands resting on the sheets moved and hit Draco’s wounded arm that you noticed. He hissed and you apologised automatically, before even seeing the wound showing through the lifted sleeve. “…What the—” you grabbed his arm and laid it on your lap, pulling back the sleeve.
A long, deep gash glowed dark red on his forearm, cutting right through a horrid black Dark Mark.
Draco tugged his arm away at your gasp. “What? I thought you’d have seen it at Potions.”
“Not the Mark you idiot, I don’t care about that.”
“…”
“This isn’t a mere Sectumsempra cut… is it? Why didn’t you tell Madam Pom—”
“…It’s not a cut Potter made.”
You gulped hard, breath stilling for a moment. “Draco… You didn’t have to do that.”
When he opened his mouth to say some insane complaint about being a Death Eater, you wagged your wand threateningly to silence him. “Some stupid dark sorcerer who can’t even kill a teenager that barely knows crap about offensive spells? He’s not worth fighting for or supporting, sure, but he’s definitely not worth torturing yourSELF out of guilt! Now you’re being dumber than Snake-Man!”
“Snake-Man?” Blaise snorted.
“Oh it’s a term Dean and I came up with. Adds a bit of fun to the lousy old You-Know-Who,” you mocked, delighted to see Draco actually grinning from it all. “You, mister, better quit sulking around and hurting yourself. Snake-Man and everything he does is… wrong. But you’re a teenager, we all are! It’s not like any of us have a choice here. It’s stupid, all of this but… it’s not worth this,” you ended, patting his wrist lightly.
Blaise watched the bare hint of a thank you in Draco’s eyes and so, slowly slipped out. “Be right back,” he left with a wink. You sat there on the bed, recounting silly incidents in Potions class from yesterday, when he hadn’t been around. Seamus blowing up the cauldron, Ron nearly squirting blueberry juice in Slughorn’s face… you were glad to see him this relaxed.
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat from behind you. “I’m afraid Mr Zabini… had something to attend to. Miss y/l/n, you don’t mind staying here for a while?”
“Oh,” you bit your cheek guessing what Blaise did. Yet again, being the loyal wingman-bestie. “I think I can stay here for the rest of the day, Hermione would let the teachers know on my behalf.”
“Mr Zabini need not return?” Pomfrey smiled. “Understood,” she nodded, pulling the curtains close. “Oh, no funny business, the two of you.”
“M-Madam Pomfrey!” Draco nearly shrieked when she walked away laughing.
“…”
“…”
“…So.”
“You sure it’s alright to skip classes?”
“Meh, it’s just for a day. I’ll get the notes so we could go somewhere quiet and maybe write together. Only maybe! O-Only if you’d want to—”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
You beamed at him, and he weakly smiled back. “Hey, that potion…”
Draco opened his mouth without a word. You blinked for a few seconds before laughing “What are you, a baby?”
“Oh come on, just do it.”
And you did. One spoon of potion, before quickly feeding a spoon of Butterbeer too. “How’s that?”
“I think I could drink that entire bottle and mug now,” he grinned. “As long as it’s you feeding.”
“Merlin, aren’t you a fli—“ Peck, he cut you off with one chaste kiss. “Wha- What was that for!”
“The potion, love.” His face was aglow with a sharp smirk, smugly reaching up pat your cheek. “You see, I flirt to divert my mind from the sourness. I’m sure you hardly hated that, pretty gi— Mmph!”
“And that’s called sweet revenge,” you shoved his face with potion. When he had swallowed it all and wiped his mouth, you held up the Butterbeer mug. “Drink up.”
Having downed the drink, he sat up and watched in silence while you made him comfortable, stuffing a pillow to his back and pulling up the sheets. When you looked up, you saw him smiling softly, a stark contrast from the stiff and icy Slytherin Prince he often was. “What?”
“You’re cute.”
“What- Where did that come from?”
“Just thought of it. Blaise once said: When I say cute girls, I mean caring and pretty. Now I know.”
“When will you stop…?” you grumbled feeling your cheeks and ears were on fire. He laughed, pulling you close enough for you to rest your head against him. “Draco?”
“Hold me.” It was a quiet whisper, almost fragile.
You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him loosely, aware of the countless wounds. “I vow to hex Harry’s brains out. But you… Promise you won’t do something like that again?”
He nodded into your hair, breathing softly until the potion worked and he fell asleep right in your arms.