Unmasked

Hermione, Ron, Pansy, and Blaise skidded around corners and sprinted through corridors to McGonagall’s office. The group panted as they turned left into a hallway in which she was stood halfway down, a group of other teachers surrounding her. Professors Flitwick, Snape, and Slughorn were with her as well. They seemed to be having a friendly discussion—Snape seemed mildly amused, while the other three were smiling.

McGonagall spotted the group running towards her and she stepped forwards, smile instantly erased. “What is it?” She demanded. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Draco,” puffed Pansy.

“What happened?” Snape prodded.

“Lucius,” Hermione panted. “The Three Broomsticks.”

“It’s bad,” said Ron. “Broken ribs, at the very least. He’s bleeding quite a bit.”

“He seems really shaken,” Blaise said.

“Where’s Potter?” McGonagall asked, sweeping the students with her as they and Snape headed back from where they had come.

“With Draco,” said Hermione. “He carried him back from Hogsmeade.”

“And you’re sure it was Lucius?” Snape asked.

“Positive,” said Ron. “We saw some of it before we had the chance to but in.”

“You interfered!” McGonagall screeched. The students cringed.

“Well, Harry, Hermione, and I did,” Ron admitted. “Pansy and Blaise weren’t there.”

McGonagall whirled on the two Gryffindors. “You could’ve been hurt! It could have been so much worse!”

“We couldn’t just leave him there!” Hermione screeched. “Professor, you should’ve seen Lucius. And Harry… we had to hold him back.”

“I assumed you did,” Snape drawled. They all gave him a look as they hurried along, to which he only smirked.

McGonagall turned her attention back to the students. “One of you, go find Dumbledore.”

“I’ll go,” said Blaise. “Draco probably won’t want to see me right away anyway…”

Hermione smiled sadly, and Blaise made a turn as the rest of them kept straight. They all knew that Draco and Blaise were friends… but they weren’t overly close. He didn’t know much about what was going on, nor did Draco want to tell him.

*

Harry ran into the hospital wing, searching it for signs of someone to help him. “Madam Pomfrey!” He lurched forwards, further into the aisle of beds. “Madam Pomfrey!”

The witch emerged, clearly startled, from a door off the side of the aisle. Her eyes widened at the sight of the unlikely pair. “Mister Potter… merlin. What’s happened to Mister Malfoy?”

“Please, I don’t know what to do,” Harry cried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, other than that his ribs are broken. I didn’t see all of it…”

Madam Pomfrey threw curtains open around a bed on their left, and Harry laid Draco down on the bed. “All of what?”

“His F-father. He was beating h-him.”

“Calm down, dear,” she said. “He’ll be okay. Take a seat.” She pushed him gently into the chair beside Draco’s bed. “Are you sure that’s what happened? That’s a very serious accusation.”

“P-positive.”

She was prodding around his ribs, and although now unconscious, Draco still winced and called out. “What did you see, dear?”

“I saw him being kicked in the head. Some of his hair got ripped out. I’m not, not exactly sure how he got the broken ribs,” Harry sniffed. “Er… his Father was threatening to use the cruciatus curse on him again.”

The witch paused. “Again?”

“Yes…” Harry whispered.

Madam Pomfrey looked down at the frail boy on the bed. Her features softened momentarily, then became stony. “Was he unconscious when you found him?”

“No. He was awake.”

“How was he responding?”

“It was awful!” Harry stared at the blood being wiped off of Draco’s face. “He was terrified. Shaking and crying uncontrollably. He still was, until he passed out just a few minutes ago. And when my friends and I tried to get him back here, he was originally standing—but he ended up puking from the pain.”

“Who was with you?”

“Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

“Where are they now?”

“They went to get Professor McGonagall… or someone else who can help,” Harry said, voice barely above a whisper.

She turned to look at Harry, hand still holding the bloody cloth. “He’ll be fine, Harry.”

“He’s being abused. He’s not going to be okay. Trust me.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “His wounds will heal.”

“How about in his head? Will that heal? He’s traumatized! Trust me!”

“Harry—”

“I broke my promise,” Harry stated, head in his hands. “I promised he was safe. I wouldn’t let Lucius hurt him.”

“You knew about this?”

“Of course I did!”

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed. “You knew Mister Malfoy was being abused… but you said nothing.”

“No! Hermione and I told Professor McGonagall. But that doesn’t change the fact that I broke my promise.”

She stepped closer to Harry, expression soft. “Let me tell you something, Harry. When your dad was in school, I had this same discussion with him. Same with Professor Lupin. Their friend, Sirius Black, was having similar problems at home. When they brought Sirius to me, they thought the same thing.”

Harry’s voice wavered as he spoke. “I didn’t know what to do. I feel awful…”

“So did they,” she continued. “And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told them. It’s not your fault, Harry. Just like it wasn’t your father or Remus’ fault that Sirius was being hurt. You’re only 16 years old… Forgive yourself. You did everything you could.” Harry swallowed thickly, staring up at the old witch. “Call me back when he wakes up. I have some potions to give him.”

Harry nodded at her and watched as she left, closing the curtains behind her.

He examined Draco’s face as he slept. His concealment was fading. New injuries mingling with the old ones. Fresh cuts and bruises standing out on purpled skin, scarred skin… The bruises on the boy’s neck appeared brighter than they used to. Upon a closer look, Harry realized they weren’t just plain bruises. They were finger marks. And they were freshly redone, purple and black.

Harry gulped, a pang hitting him square in the chest. He glanced over the rest of the boy’s body. It was very slender, made more obvious by his height. His hair was tinged red, standing out against its normal light colour. It fell in front of his eyes, which were still lightly shut. He seemed peaceful in sleep—no lines from fear, or worry, or pained grimaces. No sneer, or frown, or tears falling from his eyes. No smirk that drove Harry insane. Nothing. Just relaxed.

Harry reached out and took Draco’s hand from where it lay slightly off the edge of the bed. He shook his head to himself, not understanding anything. Not why this was happening. Not his feelings. Not anything.

*

Draco began stirring not long after. He tossed his head side to side, mumbling incoherently. Harry watched as his eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling in confusion. Harry brushed his thumb over Draco’s hand, and his gaze floated over to Harry. His brows furrowed in confusion, contemplating Harry. He blinked at the Gryffindor, and then followed Harry’s eyes down to their hands. He looked back up at Harry, silver eyes suddenly full of clarity.

He swallowed, then failed to clear his voice of its rasp. “Thank you…”

Harry nodded, lips pursed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “If you apologize to me again, I might have to hex you. I’ll have no choice.”

Harry chuckled, squeezing back. “How’re you feeling?”

“In pain.”

“Ron was right. Your ribs are broken.”

Draco sighed. “I figured, from the pain. It’s not the first time, but usually Mother can heal them for me. That and other minor injuries.” He paused, searching Harry’s face. “I’m sorry, for how I reacted. I was terrified and in terrible pain…”

“Don’t make me hex you, instead.”

“But—”

“You have no reason to apologize. I just wish we’d been able to do something sooner.”

Draco smiled at Harry. “You did what you could. Thank you for trying to calm me down.”

“It didn’t work very well.”

“It worked more than you thought,” he admitted sheepishly. “It could’ve been force had it been Hermione or Ron trying to do what you did.”

“Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Harry shrugged. “I have to tell Pomfrey you’re awake. I’ll be right back.”

However, just as he said that, Ron poked his head in through the curtains. “Perfect,” he smiled. “He’s awake.”

Draco raised a brow, then looked at Harry. “What did you do?”

“I, er…” Ron, Hermione, Pansy, McGonagall, and Snape stepped through the curtains. “That.”

Draco shot him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

“I was scared,” Harry admitted, staring at his feet.

“He was right in what he did, Draco,” said McGonagall. “This is a very serious matter if what I’ve been told is true.”

Draco yawned. “I understand, Professor.”

Snape surveyed Draco. “You may sleep again after we have heard the story. We’re just waiting on Professor Dumbledore to arrive.”

“Not anymore,” said Dumbledore, striding through the curtains. “Good evening, Draco.”

The blond nodded at him. “What do you need to know?”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “As much as you can tell us about what happened today.”

Draco sighed, looking down into his lap. “I received an owl late last night, asking that I meet my Father in the lavatory of the Three Broomsticks today. I… I knew that if I didn’t go, it would only make it worse for me when I return home in April for Easter.”

McGonagall’s voice was soft. “What happened when you met him there?”

Draco looked up briefly. “He, uh… he locked the bathroom door and charmed it so that as long as it was closed no one could hear us. He always does.” He took a shaky breath before continuing, clearly remembering sessions from the past. “He greeted me as he normally would, as if I was in public… but then he punched me before I could even speak to him. In the jaw.” McGonagall nodded, but stayed silent as the young Slytherin looked up at her. He swallowed thickly. “He… said some… comments. About my appearance… my mannerisms… normal things. I made the mistake of talking back, and ended up with these finger-marks on my neck. He’d pushed me against the wall and choked me… and I wasn’t strong enough to fight back. It would, would only make it worse anyway.”

Draco’s voice was thick with tears now. Memories of past sessions of abuse, insults, injuries, curses and hexes… he looked down, a tear falling into his lap. He swiped his face furiously with his free hand, almost growling at it.

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand during the pause, brushing his thumb over it again. “Go on, Draco…”

Draco held his breath a moment before continuing. “H-he took my my legs-s out, and I remember hitting the floor as he y-yelled at me. I can’t remember what he was saying, but I’ve probably heard it before. He probably has a li-list of the things he likes to tell me… doesn’t-t ma-make it hurt less, th-though.” He took a deep breath, fighting the mental and physical pain coursing through him. Hermione stepped closer, laying a hand on his forearm. Draco still didn’t look up. “I think I hit my head, but I don’t remember. He liked to kick me, that that’s why my ribs are like th-h-is.” He swiped furiously at his eyes again, growing frustrated with himself. “Fuck… He… I can’t remember it all.”

“That’s okay, Draco,” McGonagall said. “Just try your best.”

The tears were falling freely now. He shook his head, drawing in a breath. “F-fuck… H-he stomped on my head, threatened to crucio me again, used a few hexes t-that I c-can’t rem-remember… he s-said… said… I…”

The sobs took over him as the Professors watched. Harry wrapped a hand around the boy’s shaking shoulders. The teachers huddle together to discuss the situation, leaving Hermione, Ron, Pansy and Blaise to watch the scene unfold. They knew Draco was out of it, and they just wanted him to calm down.

Harry leaned closer to Draco and lowered his voice. “It’s okay… you’re safe… Draco, you’re safe with us, okay?” Harry’s hand snaked into the boy’s hair, smoothing it down. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”

“Harry,” Draco choked.

Harry leaned right into his ear, tightening his hold. “I’m right here, Draco. I’m right here…” He began rubbing the Slytherin’s back as he turned his face into Harry’s shoulder. “Shh… you’re safe…”

Off to the side, Pansy elbowed Hermione in the ribs. She turned to look at the dark haired girl, who whispered, “Why does it work when Harry does it, but not as much with any of us?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Pans,” Hermione said out of the corner of her mouth.

The Slytherin girl smirked, but it was soon replaced with a frown. “We shouldn’t have left…”

“You didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t change what happened though, does it…”

“I suppose not.”

A few moments later Draco was calmed down and the Professor’s broke away from their huddle. They glanced at Harry with his protective and comforting arm around Draco with amusement.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Draco?” The blond looked up. “We will be contacting the ministry about what has happened. You are not to go home at Easter Break or until the situation is dealt with. You are also not to be left alone at Hogsmeade. Do you understand?”

Draco’s puffy eyes rose to meet his Headmaster. “Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore turned to the other students. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Good. I wish you well, Draco. If any other issues arise or this one becomes more sever, do let us know. We are here to support you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dumbledore nodded as Madam Pomfrey stuck her head in the curtains. “Out! He needs potions and sleep!”

The Professors filed out of the curtain. Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, and Ron said their goodbyes, however, Harry didn’t move. He looked to Ron. “You go ahead.” Taking the hint, Ron left, something of a smile spreading across his face.

Harry turned to Draco, who was wiping a stray tear from under his eye. The blond turned to him. “You don’t have to stay, Harry. I’ll be okay.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

“What if I want you to?”

Harry felt a pang in his chest. “Do you want me to?”

Draco dropped his eyes. “No.”

Harry smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

“Git.”

“Sure, Draco. Whatever you say.”

“I said git.”

“You don’t really think that. Not anymore.”

Draco yawned as his eyes fell shut. “Not ever."