Part I
For the smallest window of time, Harry possesses more information than Hermione. Harry knows that Hermione is not Malfoy’s beloved, before Hermione’s rejection. And he wasn't 'as sure as he could be under the circumstances.' He knows.
He had heard Malfoy confirm it himself. Because Harry was there, in the hospital wing that night.
Harry had tailed Pansy with his cloak, sneaking in after both Harry and Pansy left their last class of the day. It felt wrong and he knew Pansy would kill him if she discovered that he spied on them. For the second time. Well, not the second time spying on Malfoy but the second time for Pansy. The point is, she would kill him.
Which is funny, because after spying on her, Harry finds that he doesn’t dislike Pansy as much as he thought he would.
Hermione’s interpretation of Pansy’s letter had been accurate. She cares deeply for Malfoy and she is mourning the potential loss of her friend. Harry can relate to that.
Harry elects to huddle in a corner of the hospital room, the one closest to Malfoy's bed. It isn’t comfortable but the floor won’t indent like a bed or a chair would so it’s necessary.
At first, he figures he’s wasted his time. He watches Pomfrey fawn over Malfoy every so often and he watches Pansy pace back and forth muttering words of affection and concern for her friend.
Eventually, she slinks into one of the chairs near Malfoy’s bed and decides to rest. It’s a good call because Malfoy does not wake-up for a long time.
Collin wakes up first. As soon as he does, Pomfrey calls for Dumbledore and McGonagall. They come quickly, escorted by Collin’s parents. Snape trails behind them quietly.
It turns out that Collin was in big trouble.
“I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Creevey, but your son will need to leave Hogwarts tonight,” McGonagall tells them and she really does sound sorry.
Collin looks just awful but he’s alert enough to protest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I just wanted to go home. For Christmas. I’ve never spent Christmas at Hogwarts. But I still want to come back-”
“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Creevey says and it doesn’t sound like Collin is going to change her mind.
“This is for your safety and the safety of the school. We’ll be in touch regarding your studies,” McGonagall reassures him, “and you will be welcomed back when it is safe for you to return.”
“O-okay,” Collin says and then after a moment, “is Malfoy going to be okay?”
“For now,” Dumbledore says. Snape flinches at the headmaster’s words. Collin’s parents take him with as they leave.
And then, it’s just Snape, Malfoy and an unconscious Pansy Parkinson. And Harry but Snape doesn’t know that. Harry’s sure because as soon as Snape thinks he’s alone, his carefully built facade falls to pieces.
“Draco,” Snape says with a tone that does not sound right coming from the man.
Malfoy stirs but doesn’t wake.
“You insolent, dramatic child,” Snape scolds and Harry’s stomach twists. Is Snape going to cry?
Fortunately, he doesn’t. However, he hasn’t finished his piece yet.
“I thought we had… I didn’t think you were still capable of such strong feelings after what we let them do to you. I thought you would avoid my mistakes…”
Harry wonders which things Snape is referring to when he says ‘what they let them do to him.’ He has a few guesses, all of which are based on Harry’s exclusive access to Voldemort’s mind, while the monster had still lived. If one could even call what Voldemort did living. Harry shudders at the memory. He does not miss it.
“Professor?” Malfoy says weakly “is that you?”
“Shhh, don’t try to speak, Draco. It is me. You are going to be okay. That mudblood messed up his rejection but you are going to be okay.”
“Severus,” Draco says in a tone that sounds like he might be scolding the professor. Harry tenses in his spot. Slytherin or not, this is presumptuous, even for Draco, as much as Harry wants somebody to call Snape out right this second. But Snape doesn’t seem offended at all. Instead he looks back up at Malfoy and waits for him to finish speaking.
“We don’t need to use that word anymore. Potter …” Harry inhales sharply at the mention of himself but fortunately neither seem to notice. Malfoy coughs before continuing, “Potter saved us, remember? So we don’t have to…”
“I know,” Snape replies, “you should get some rest.”
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Who was it? Who rejected me? You said ‘his’ rejection,” Draco says.
“You don’t remember?” Snape asks and Harry is worried about the potential for tears a second time.
“I’m not doing very well, Severus… I don’t … I can’t -”
“Collin Creevey. Why? Is he similar to your…”
“Superficially, I suppose,” Draco says and he’s prevented from elaborating by a cough.
“I apologize. It was improper of me to ask,” Snape says.
“No, it’s-” Draco wheezes, “it’s fine. Creevey doesn’t even come close.”
“Draco?” It’s Pansy, who had previously fallen asleep. Harry didn’t even see her wake-up. He finds himself a little jealous of how comfortable she looks. His own arse is starting to feel numb.
“Don’t visit for too long,” Snape tells her and he leaves.
Harry doesn’t know why he stays so long but he does. He even misses dinner. Thankfully, despite knowing exactly where he’d find Malfoy, Harry has the foresight to bring the map with him so that Ron and Hermione are unable to find him. He supposes they might figure it out anyway but they aren’t going to risk bursting in on Malfoy if they aren’t sure.
“Hi Pansy,” Malfoy says. She throws herself across him and he flails his arms in protest. “Too much, it hurts...”
Harry is immediately reminded of how Malfoy cried in pain when he’d ran into him. Suddenly, his apology letter doesn’t feel like enough.
“Oh, Draco,” she says, pulling herself back.
“I’m fine, really. Everything is going to be okay.” At this, she laughs but her laugh sounds angry.
“Draco! Look at them,” she says. Harry watches her pull up a waste basket and dumps it over Malfoy. Dozens and dozens of pristine black petals fall on the bed sheet.
“I’m thinking of becoming a florist,” he says, idly flipping one of the petals between his fingers.
Pansy straightens herself up and turns away. “I’m not going to listen to this kind of talk. I’m leaving.”
“Wait. Please don’t be mad,” Malfoy says, “I could really use a friend...”
Draco pouts at Pansy and Harry, Harry isn’t sure how he feels about that. Malfoy’s being awfully glib about all this. Harry finds that he is annoyed. Both by that and the fact that pouting works for Malfoy. Even Harry finds himself wanting Pansy to be nicer to the prat and he is on Pansy’s side, as far as this argument goes.
It works on Pansy too because she completely crumbles at his words.
“Of course we’re friends. I just need to be getting back to my homework. I can’t spend all my time trying to play match-maker for you,” she says, taking his hand and kissing it.
“Pansy … you shouldn’t be playing match-maker for me at all.”
“Yes, well, you won’t go after this witch who has infiltrated your heart so I will. I don’t care if she’s in Gryffindor.”
Harry’s jaw nearly hits the floor. What if it is Hermione?
“Pansy, I never said that my beloved was in Gryffindor.”
“Yes, well you seem to think that none of us will accept your beloved and that none of us would ever associate with her, so I just assumed. But that doesn’t matter you know? Gryffindors might be annoying and I’ll tease you about it for the rest of your life but it will be a long life, Draco.
“You can have a long life if you let me help you. And don’t give me that etiquette bullshit. We both know that I am fully capable of doing this for you without breaking any of the rules.”
“There is no point. My beloved, wonderful as they may be, could do much better than me. And I’m … sorry because I know that you don’t want to hear this but … I’m happy to die to let that happen.”
“Draco!”
“No,” Malfoy says, stopping for a moment to take a breath, “I mean it. I spent so long thinking I’d die for blood supremacy and hatred and, and Tom Riddle-”
Harry is impressed by Voldemort’s muggle name on Malfoy's lips. Malfoy speaks of him with as much hate in his voice as Harry does. And he doesn’t even call him Dark Lord or Voldemort. No, he’s chosen the name Voldemort would hate the most.
“Draco...”
“Listen. If this is how I die, then so be it. At least now I’ll be remembered for who I loved rather than who I hated...”
“Draco,” Pansy’s voice cracks and Harry knows the tears will come any moment if she stays.
“But if you really won’t give up then perhaps I should be asking you a question.”
“What is it?”
“You already know nearly everything about me, including my … eccentricities. So why are you so certain my beloved is a witch?”
“You… love a wizard?”
“I’m afraid this isn’t the proper venue for me to be answering questions about my beloved. Now, you said you had homework to get back to?”
“Yes,” Pansy whispers and bids him goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.
Harry is almost to the door when he hears Hermione approach Pansy. He stops to eavesdrop again because what’s one more conversation when he’s already helped himself to so much. And he’s curious to hear what the two of them might have to discuss.
But then, Malfoy speaks again.
“Potter? Are you there?” Malfoy doesn’t look in his direction. In fact, he doesn’t even seem very confident as he speaks but still…
Harry turns around and walks back to Malfoy's bed. Now, Malfoy is looking straight at him. He knows but Harry has no idea how he knows.
He decides to find out and drops the cloak.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Not until you proved me right.”
“But why did you suspect? We’re not friends. I have no reason to be here,” Harry says.
“And yet, here you are…” Draco says, his voice so small that it doesn’t even sound like him.
Malfoy begins choking and Harry panics, trying to help him. He starts to call for Pomfrey when Malfoy, in between coughs, reaches up and covers Harry’s mouth.
Harry wriggles away as Malfoy spits up the petal. It’s one of the white ones, covered in blood.
“This is normal,” Malfoy tells him, “and besides, if you call Pomfrey, you won’t get your chance to pump me for information.”
“I -”
“I know you want to,” Malfoy says. And something about his voice sounds oddly flirtatious but Harry reasons that he must be imaging it. Harry stalls, not sure of what to do but ultimately settles down.
“To answer your question, having been in some … less than ideal situations, I have found that it is a very valuable skill to know whether or not I’m alone,” Malfoy offers and Harry can’t be sure but it seems like Malfoy wants him to stay.
“But you didn’t just know someone was here. You knew it was me.”
“Ah, yes, well that’s...” Malfoy looks away.
“That’s what?”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he mutters.
“Just tell me.”
“It feels different… when you’re around,” Malfoy tells him.
“Different?” Harry asks, his mind reeling. Harry had developed a rather unhealthy habit of stalking Malfoy between his second and fifth years. Had Malfoy always known when he was there? Or had he caught him just enough times to develop some sort of paranoia that Harry was always watching him?
Perhaps paranoia is the wrong word. After all, that’s what he is doing tonight and he knows Malfoy isn’t up to anything this time.
“Yes, your energy is very loud,” Malfoy says coolly, still not looking back at Harry, “I don’t know how your dorm-mates get any sleep with you around.”
Harry huffs. “They sleep just fine.”
“Ah well then perhaps they’re just a bit unobservant,” Malfoy muses, deciding his nails are the most interesting thing in the world.
“How dare you insult my friends!”
“I’m sorry!” Malfoy says, snapping his full attention back to Harry. He both sounds and looks afraid. Harry is startled by the increase in his volume and unable to say anything for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Malfoy repeats more quietly, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I … learned how to sense people’s auras during the war so I’d know if someone was coming to hurt me. It’s not a skill most wix have. I … really don’t want to fight. I’m not up to fighting with you, Harry… Potter.”
Harry is pretty sure that Malfoy used his full name by mistake and he wonders if Malfoy has been calling him Harry in his mind this whole time, rather than the incensed ‘Potter’ he usually spits out.
“No, I’m sorry,” Harry says and he has never seen Malfoy look so surprised. “I wasn’t trying to fight. That’s … okay I was but I shouldn’t have been. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“For what? Spying on me? I can’t blame you for that. You may not be my only stalker but you are by far my favorite,” Malfoy grimaces after saying that last part and Harry figures he hadn’t meant to say it.
Harry laughs, “I’m your favorite stalker?”
“Yes, well friends are in short supply so I take what I can get. And you are more interesting than a gaggle of first and second years. You’re better at hiding too, loud aura aside.” Harry decides now isn’t the time to work out his feelings about that so he decides to reel the conversation back in.
“Um, but no, I was going to apologize for the flower … thing.”
“For my Hanahaki?” Draco asks.
“No, calling you a flower before you got sick.”
“I was already sick when you said it and you already apologized.”
“What?”
“I got your apology, Potter. I’m not mad. You were right, it was probably the tamest insult either of us has ever flung at the other. The ancient magic picked it up because I was already called to be the fourth champion and I already was sick with Hanahaki for a few weeks. So that’s probably why it chose that … moment and... method... to crown me, as unpleasant as that was for all involved.”
“I’m still sorry...”
“Don’t be. Everything is going to be okay,” Malfoy says for the second time that night.
“So you’re not going to die?” Harry prods.
“We all die sometime, Potter. You of all people should know that immorality is an unwise ambition.”
“No, that’s not… you’re going to get better?”
“Not unless by ‘get better’ you mean to cleverly imply that the best Draco is a dead Draco.”
“Malfoy!”
“Potter...”
“You can’t die.”
“I’m afraid I have little choice.”
“But what about you’re beloved. Can’t he-”
“Look, I don’t care that you know about my bisexuality or that my beloved is a wizard. I know you’re a good person and you wouldn’t judge me for that, especially when I give you so many other, legitimate things to judge me for. But you can’t tell anyone what you learned tonight. It's not proper for someone other than me to say anything. It could make me sicker. We can’t have me dying at the wrong time.”
“Because there is a right time for you to die?”
“Yes, at the ball at the end of the year. Have you not been reading the materials we were assigned?”
“Of course I read the materials. Hermione would have killed me if I hadn’t,” Harry says and then adds, “but the right time for you to die is at the end of your life.”
“By definition, Harry, everyone dies at the end of their life.”
Malfoy seems to either have not noticed or is pretending to have not noticed his second slip-up with Harry’s name.
“I know you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I do. Now run along and let me get my beauty rest. Thank-you for the surprisingly pleasant company, Potter. And remember, this conversation never happened. Don’t forget your cloak.”
“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry says but Malfoy only raises a brow in response.
Harry tries to do what Malfoy has requested when returns to his dorm. He tries to forget but he can't. Fortunately, Ron is already asleep. He can deal with his friends in the morning. As he drifts off to sleep, Harry finds that one thing from the evening stands out to him:
Malfoy mentioned needing friends twice tonight, once to Harry directly. Harry could be Malfoy’s friend. Well, Harry could be Draco’s friend. Hermione DID say that thinking of him as Draco might help.