Hospital Wing
Chapter 17: Hospital Wing
Draco lay in his infirmary bed, staying quite still to avoid the attention of Professor Snape. Unfortunately, Pansy and Professor Sprout appeared only seconds later with wooden crates filled with prepared Mandrake cuttings. Madam Pomfrey prepared a long table on the opposite side of the infirmary, and Draco had a perfect view of what they were doing, which meant Pansy spotted him instantly.
She slung the crates she had been carrying up onto the table and ran to his bedside. “Draco!” She shrieked, and the boy winged, wishing he had use of both arms to cover his ears from the piercing sound.
“Hey, Pans,” he said, trying to play it cool. The look on her face, however, told him she was both concerned and furious at him.
“Don’t you dare ‘hey, Pans’ me! You’re covered in bruises and wrappings! What did you do, Draco?!” She angrily shouted at him, and he winced at her assault.
“Look, Pans, I’ll fill you in later. It has to do with the secret stuff, okay? Why don’t you tell me about the Mandrakes. Is the solution ready?” He asked, very obviously changing the subject.
Pansy Parkinson eyed him warily, but obliged his request. “Yes, it’s ready. Snape is going to finish the solutions and Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and me are going to administer them. Supposedly we have to administer one phial every thirty minutes for the next six hours. They should be fully restored by morning,” she said, sheepishly glancing at Granger’s curtains which had opened slightly at the head of her bed.
Draco gave her a genuine smile. He was proud of her for helping with something so important. Besides, she was really great with Herbology and clearly loved being a favorite for Professor Sprout, who was by far their most laid back and non-judgemental professor. He made a mental note that that was probably the reason Pansy had latched onto the Hufflepuff Head of House so quickly.
“That’s great, Pans, I’m really proud of you. You’re doing great stuff, ya know? It matters,” he reached out and took her hand with his good one and gave it a quick squeeze. Her cheeks tinged pink and she gave a little snort of modest embarrassment.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I gotta go help, but I’ll check in on you later,” she smiled at her friend before turning back to Professor Sprout and the Mandrakes.
A House Elf popped in to bring Draco his lunch, which he picked at mildly. The inner turmoil of excitement mixed with anxiety and nerves had his stomach doing flips. He watched Pansy administer the solution to Granger, her lip curled slightly in disgust. She did, however, soften once she spotted Draco watching her carefully.
After the second administration, an announcement echoed through the school, Professor McGonagall’s voice, magically magnified
“All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”
The infirmary emptied temporarily while the professors rushed to the staff room, and Madam Pomfrey escorted Pansy back to the Slytherin dorms. Draco slipped out of his bed, cursing under his breath when his elbow slipped forward in his sling.
Creeping forward, he gently tugged open the soft blue curtains of the bed next to him. She was still frozen, but her features seemed to be relaxing slightly. He took her small hand, and it being much more malleable this time, curled her fingers around his.
Draco leaned in next to her ear, brushing a wayward curl out of her face. “Don’t worry, Granger, they’ll have you fixed up in no time. Potter and Weasley will no doubt save the day yet again, and the world will be set right,” he whispered jokingly. He could’ve sworn he felt her hand tighten slightly in his palm, but he brushed it off not wanting to get over-excited. Looking back at her face, he saw her eyes had grown shiny, a single tear tracked down her porcelain cheek before disappearing under her chin. His breath caught in his throat.
Footsteps echoed in from the hall outside, and Draco scrambled to slide back into his own hospital bed, forgetting to shut her curtains behind him. He cracked open a Transfiguration book Pansy had left him just as the door to the infirmary swung open and Madam Pomfrey swept back into her domain, followed closed by the two professors, Pansy, and now Neville Longbottom. Pansy and Longbottom must’ve been given special permission to be out of their dormitories, as Draco was sure the announcement was about Ginny Weasley.
With four of them working, they each manned a single student who had been petrified. Not only were they administering the solution, but they were slowly testing each joint and muscle group for malleability with every dose.
Draco watched intently as Professor Sprout tended to the boy from her own House, and Pansy tended to the Clearwater girl. Madam Pomfrey was giving the next dose of the light blue liquid to the small Gryffindor boy, leaving Professor Snape to care for Granger. Draco nearly snorted at the look of contempt the man had for having to be near, let alone touch the swotty bane of his professional career—even if she was still somewhat petrified.
The sky was darkening outside, and Madam Pomfrey took a short break to give Draco another round of potions and check over his healing injuries. He swallowed down each phial he was given as she informed him he was still to keep his shoulder immobilized for another twelve hours, but she seemed satisfied with his progress and left him to rest. Except he couldn’t rest—not with her only a few feet away.
Snape had administered the last dose only a few minutes ago, and she was slowly becoming alert. The Potions Master had gone to take his now-empty cauldrons back to the dungeons, then would return to check on her once she was awake. In the meantime, Draco chanced a look over at her and saw her chest rising and falling in a quick staccato. She was rapidly trying to blink away tears, and a sob was caught in her throat. Her head tilted ever so slightly toward him, and she whispered, “Draco?”
His heart stopped. She had squeezed his hand. She had heard him. She’s awake…it worked!
“Granger?” He replied hesitantly. “Granger, can you hear me?”
“Y-y—yessss” she choked and hissed out, her jaw and vocal chords clearly not used to the vibration of her voice after being frozen for so long.
“Oh, thank Merlin, Granger I thought you were—I thought you were never going to get better!” He spewed the thoughts at her as they popped into his head, only pausing to filter out dead. I thought she was dead.
“Are you o-okay?” She asked softly.
“Me?” He said incredulously. “I’m fine, why would you ask that? You’re the one who's been petrified for nearly two months,” he said cautiously.
“TWO MONTHS?!” She near bellowed with no difficulty. “But what about exams?! I haven’t had proper time to prepare!” She was almost sitting now, stretching the remaining parts of her limbs that were still somewhat stiff.
“Granger, calm down. It’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll do just great on the exams, or they’ll excuse you from them. It wasn’t your fault you were petrified the whole time, take it easy,” he tried to soothe her, but she only fixated back on him now that she had full movement of her head and neck. Her eyes scanned his form, taking in just how many places he had wrapped up, and her eyes narrowed on his sling hanging from his shoulder.
“What happened to you?” She growled, but the moment she heard her own voice, she withdrew her angry tone. “I mean, how did you get all of that?” She asked more gently, gesturing to his right side.
“I tried to break down a door,” he shrugged as if it was something he did every day.
“And you’ve never heard of Alohomora?” She asked snarkily.
“Ha. Yes, very cheeky. It didn’t work. The Dark Lord knows a few more spells than Colloportus, Granger,” he rolled his eyes at the snooty witch.
“He’s here?” She whispered in a panic, throwing off her bed sheet as though she was going to jump into action, but Draco held up his good hand.
“Hold on there, you can’t go after him, Potter’s taking care of it by now, and I’d be willing to wager you’re still a bit wobbly,” he said firmly, and she lowered herself back onto the pillows begrudgingly. She knew he was probably right, especially if it had been two months. “Ginny Weasley has been possessed by the Dark Lord since the beginning of the school year—the diary was his.”
Her eyes grew wide in terror for her best friend and his sister. “T-Tom Riddle is Lord Voldemort?”
Draco had never heard the name Tom Riddle, but nodded assuming she had come to the correct conclusion as usual. “He had her go into the Chamber of Secrets through Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I was trying to stop her, but,” he gestured to his right side and hung his head shamefully.
“You couldn't've done anything, Draco. He’s too strong. We’re just kids,” her eyes were tearing up again, and Draco felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
“Don’t be.”
He stared at her a moment longer, seeing the veracity in her eyes. “I—“
Severus Snape stormed back into the infirmary, heading towards Granger. Draco plopped back against his pillows, hissing at the ache in his ribs again. The professor looked back and forth between the two students before deciding he really didn’t care what they were talking about, and that he just wanted to be done playing nursemaid.
“Miss Granger, I see you’re awake now. Can you move all of your limbs?” He asked curtly.
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly back.
“Good. Madam Pomfrey will be in to check on you soon, do not overexert yourself prematurely, or you will only prolong your stay, understood?” He said, sneering at the girl.
“Yes, sir,” she responded in a defiant tone, but the greasy-haired man was already gone in a flurry of black robes.
“Yes, sir,” Draco teased in a high pitched imitation of her.
She tried to huff in annoyance but ended up giggling instead. “I do not sound like that!”
“Sure Granger, whatever you say,” he laughed with a genuine smile.
…
The two students had fallen into a comfortable silence, and eventually a restful sleep. Draco’s did not last very long. Pansy was able to sneak Theo and Blaise in once Madam Pomfrey had taken a break from checking on all of the recently revived victims.
His two friends shook him awake, and Draco gasped as he flashed from dream to reality. “Wha-s goin’ on?” He said sleepily, reaching for his wand.
“Dumbledore’s back! We went and alerted Snape who called him back, and then sent us to get a phoenix out of Dumbledore’s office! It was wicked!” Theo summarized excitedly.
“A phoenix? For what?” Draco asked, unable to comprehend what they were saying.
“Its name is Fawkes, supposedly been a part of the Dumbledore family for ages,” Blaise shrugged.
“Yeah! And it let me pet it and take it to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom!” Theo shouted again, still buzzing from his recent adrenaline rush.
Blaise, however, chuckled and attempted to reign him in with a hand gently placed on the taller boy’s shoulder. “The phoenix was meant to help Potter in the Chamber of Secrets, and be used as a means of escape.”
“He had us send the Sorting Hat too, which I thought was weird, but maybe it has an extra magical power too?” Theo said with a far-away look in his eyes—clearly not over the encounter with a new magical creature.
“The Sorting Hat? Why would he want to send an old dingy hat?” Draco mused out loud, and the trio sat in silence contemplating that very question.
“Is there anything about it in Hogwarts: A History?” Blaise asked, knowing Draco had read the whole thing inside and out nearly a hundred times.
“Maybe…” Draco continued to think, but nothing jumped out at him.
The boys sat, waiting for something—anything to happen. Surely someone would end up in the Hospital Wing after a skirmish with the Dark Lord in Salazar Slytherin’s death chamber. Most likely Potter, and I’ll have to move beds because he’ll think I’m planning on cursing Granger into oblivion in her sleep. How wrong you are, Potter.
Madam Pomfrey came in not long after, demanding the two unauthorized visitors leave immediately, and giving Draco his final dose of potions. He didn’t mind being left alone, however, and used it as an opportunity to wrack his brain a little more about the Sorting Hat.
The boy closed his eyes, focusing on his library, and carefully walked down the aisle, skimming for a large, ivory, linen-covered book. He hadn’t looked into it in a while, but found it quickly. Draco dragged the heavy tome from the shelf, dropping to the floor beneath to flip through the pages. He wasn’t sure where it would be, but started with the Founders, focusing on Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It had to be one of theirs.
He started with Rowena Ravenclaw as the hat seemed like a smart bit of magic—clever even, but he knew it was not Slytherin’s. When he found nothing new, and definitively nothing to do with the Sorting Hat, Draco skipped the part on Helga Hufflepuff, landing straight on the chapter about Godric Gryffindor.
“Born in 976…” “Godric’s Hollow…” “English…” “accomplished duelist…” “sorted students on bravery—“
This is it.
“The founders, however, were unsure of how they would sort the students when they were dead. To solve this, Gryffindor took off his hat and all four of them enchanted it so that it could sort the students long after their deaths. It was, from then on, known as the Sorting Hat.”
Draco skimmed along the rest of the page, hoping for more. He was not disappointed.
“Gryffindor left two known relics: a goblin-made sword (adorned with rubies) and the Sorting Hat. The two items share a particular bond; whenever a "true Gryffindor" needs it, the Sword will let itself be pulled out of the hat.”
Draco snapped the book shut and thrust himself out of the confines of his Occlumency walls.
Damn it, Dumbledore! More tricks! What if Potter’s not a true Gryffindor? We all know the chivalrous git is, but what if he wasn’t?!
At least they knew why he sent the hat now. Draco should feel satisfied that he figured it out—the puzzle was solved. Instead, he was concerned…about Potter. Why the hell did he even care if Potter lived or died down there? Ginny Weasley, that’s why. She wouldn’t stand a chance if Potter didn’t play the hero and go rescue her—do what I failed to do. Am I JEALOUS of Saint Potter? Eeughhh! File that away and never psychoanalyze it unless I want to kill myself!
In the midst of Draco’s mental breakdown, a head of dark red hair, like flames, flitted through the door to the Hospital Wing. Alive! Ginny Weasley slowly entered the infirmary, and wringing her hands, looked from bed to bed utterly lost. Her eyes started to swell with tears as she passed each of the now-un-petrified students who were all resting per Madam Pomfrey’s instructions.
The young girl’s fingertips skated across the ends of the beds, pausing momentarily at each one to watch and make sure they were breathing. Draco’s heart went out to her—she had no idea what had happened, he was sure of it.
She finally got to the fourth bed—her bed. The Weasley girl broke into sobs, shaky hands flying up to cover her face and stifle the sounds coming out of her mouth. Draco appraised her—her skin was so pale, and her freckles stood out like mud splatter; her hair was wet and caked with grime and to Draco’s horror, dried blood. He then noticed her hands were much the same—covered in dirt and dried mud, but she didn’t seem to care.
Draco mulled that over for a minute, he had never seen a female that disheveled and, well, gross—especially one who didn’t even care she looked like that. It must’ve been bad down there for her to not run straight to the showers. Of course it was bad, you idiot, she was probably almost dead in a secret death Chamber, and being held hostage by VOLDEMORT! He chastised himself. Naturally, she’s more worried about her friend, she’s a bloody Gryffindor…
Before Draco could steel himself for more visitors, another head of Weasley-red hair struggled through the door, pulling along a wide-eyed Professor Lockhart.
“Are we in a hospital?” The professor asked earnestly. “I don’t remember if I hate hospitals, you see. Oh! What’s wrong with those fellows? Are they students here?”
Weasley grumbled, and the Weaselette jumped, startled by the new voices. Madam Pomfrey promptly appeared from her post, and ushered Ginny into a bed opposite Granger’s, and pointing Lockhart to the bed next to Draco’s.
It was the Slytherin’s turn to grumble this time.
“Hello!” The man said brightly, flashing his award-winning smile. “My name is, oh dear me, I seem to have forgotten it again—“ he turned toward Weasley who was staring angrily at Draco.
“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he growled out with his jaw clenched tight.
“Ah, yes! Gilderoy Lockhart—what a snazzy sounding name—“ the confused man prattled beside him.
Ignoring the ex-professor, Weasley shoved the man into the bed and focused on Draco. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Weasley snarled as he looked at the short distance between Draco’s bed and Granger's.
Dumbfounded at the stupid question, Draco merely pointed at his arm wrapped in its sling. “Last I checked it’s the infirmary, Weasel, and I’m injured.”
“Whatever, just stay away from her!” He shouted, moving between beds to sit beside Granger’s.
“Out!” Madam Pomfrey commanded. “Mr. Weasley, you have been through enough today, I expect, as has Mr. Malfoy. I have little faith you two will be able to get along even for a short while, so I will have to ask you to return to Gryffindor Tower until the feast begins.” The matron returned to tending to the youngest Weasley with a few good scourgifys and a mug of hot chocolate.
Weasley stood angrily towering over Draco in his bed, but the blonde offered his signature sneer and the ginger was turning and walking back out. That’s right rodent, scamper along.
The Weaselette didn’t stay much longer than her brother, before she too was leaving to make it to the feast in time. Madam Pomfrey stripped the girl’s sheets for washing, then came over to check Draco’s arm and ribs. She checked the time with a quick tempura charm, and sighed.
“I really would like to keep you here another hour, but I suppose you’d rather head to the feast, aye?” She said in her Scottish brogue.
“I would, ma’am,” he said as politely as possible, hoping she would let him leave early, in case any more Weasleys turned up to berate him.
“Very well, I’ll ask you to escort Miss Granger then, if you don’t mind?” The Mediwitch said more than asked, a meddlesome twinkle shining in her brown eyes.
“I—“ he looked over at the recently awake witch who smiled tentatively at him. “I can do that,” he confirmed to her.
“Wonderful, now you two best get going or you’ll miss the feast!” She ushered them both out of the infirmary, much like she had Theo and Blaise earlier. Draco could hear her waking the three remaining students to get them up and ready for the feast.
The boy turned to look at her, but she blurted out her thoughts, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry about Ronald! He can be a complete and utter arse, and he had no right to say that to you,” she said, reaching out a hand to Draco’s good shoulder.
He stared at the hand for a second, then re-gathered his thoughts. “It’s fine, Granger. It’s just Weasley,” he started to chuckle.
“What? What’s so funny?” she really didn’t know.
“You said ‘arse’!” He laughed even louder, now knowing it was a slip of the tongue and she hadn’t even realized she said it.
“I did not!”
“Oh, yes you did, Granger! I’ll never let you forget it, either!” He continued to laugh until his ribs twinged, abruptly ending the merriment. “We’re here.”
The pair stood just outside the closed doors to the Great Hall, and Draco turned toward the girl, patted her shoulder understandingly, then went in first.
Alone.