All I Ever Wanted

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write...are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.



"All I Ever Wanted" chap.16

Harry sat beside Draco's bed in horror. The angelic face that had made his last two weeks hell, and then heaven, was almost unrecognizable from bruising and swelling. Draco seemed to be a mass of bandages. This was MOSTLY healed?

His lover...his only love...ever, was lucky to be alive. This was Harry's fault. He'd pulled Draco into this and he'd gotten him hurt. Like Sirius, like his parents, like everything he touched. He should have been more careful. His own friends had figured out Harry's secrets, and so had Draco's enemy or enemies.

He held the still, cool hand of his unconscious love in his own while he cried for what felt like hours. He was dazed with lack of sleep when Madam Pomfrey came to administer a few last spells before retiring for the night. She allowed him to stay only because Snape had left him here and that must have taken a handful of miracles.

She rattled off a few Healing Spells for specific areas...and some of the outrageous swelling seemed to diminish slowly, then tucked the frail blonde's sheets in and wished Harry a good night, a look of pity and concern on her tired and lined face.

When she had gone, Harry mentally went over the handful of Healing Spells he knew. Only a few were right for this occasion, and all took personal effort and were very tiring for the caster. It was the nature of healing magic, the more specific, the more personal and involved. Harry didn't care what it took, his lover would be better than this when he woke in the morning.

He began to utter the spells he knew one after another, starting at the top of Draco's head and slowly working his way down, one injury, one spell at a time. He saw black fade to purple to blue to red and then finally to naught. He saw cuts shrink with painstaking slowness. He chain-cast them, spell after spell, each one dragging more effort and more magic than the last.

Almost three hours later, his vision blurring, swaying unsteadily, Harry tried to cast again and found himself sliding downwards to the floor. His last thought as consciousness left him was, "I'm sorry, Draco, I tried...love you."

When morning came, Madam Pomfrey opened her ward and began her daily routine of checking patients and preparing bandages and potions for sudden common ailments. When she looked upon Draco Malfoy she almost dropped her wand. There were a few bruises on his exposed skin, but they looked no worse than a simple fall might produce. This in no way resembled the boy she had left last night.

She had exhausted herself, as well as Snape, setting the broken ribs and nose, repairing the smashed fingerbones and the crushed toes, and restoring the blood to a near normal level. That had been exhausting labor even with help, thus she left the tissue damage for later treatment. Here was a boy who had evidently healed overnight injuries that might well have lasted weeks without the application of healing magic.

Then she saw a foot on the floor near the bed. As she stepped forward, she saw the pale form of Harry Potter, wand fallen from his hand, collapsed upon the floor. She quickly Levitated the unconscious boy into the bed next to Malfoy's and cast a series of diagnostic spells. Magical shock. Specifically, 'Healer's Drain'. Although this was the worst case she had ever seen in anyone other than a battlefield medi-witch!

The boy had tapped so much of his own strength and magic to work Healing Spells that he'd put himself in serious jeopardy of dying. Most people fell long before they reached that point. It took enormous will to reach such a serious state. Trust Potter to reach it.

She began the slow infusions of magical energy that would heal this malady. She had nothing supplied for such an unusual ailment, and last night had tired even her, but she continued until he was stable and breathing normally. Then she began to write up reports on the matter and sip some urgently needed and uplifting tea.

It was after noon when Draco stirred to consciousness. He was sore from head to toe. He remembered why and faintly felt raw amazement at the fact that he was thinking at all. A lot of those stray kicks had been to the head. Then he realized he was just sore... just sore?!

He peeled his eyes open and blinked owlishly. He tried to sit up, but he was still terribly light headed. Madam Pomfrey saw him stirring from across the room and came quickly to his side.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are a very fortunate lad. If Professor Snape had not found you so quickly, you most certainly would have died. We worked quite hard to stabilize you yesterday and then it appears that, for whatever reason, young Mr. Potter spent half the night and nearly his own life healing the rest of your injuries."

Draco turned and saw Harry's pale and slumbering form in the bed next to his. His heart fell. Harry, his Harry, was half dead from healing him. It should never have happened this way. His last thoughts from the beating were still with him. If he'd been just a little less of a weak and selfish idiot this never would have happened. They'd been playing with fire and both got burned. It was hard to speak, his chest hurt inside and out. He managed a croaked, "Will he be alright?"

"Oh, don't worry for him. Harry's quite resilient, been here a dozen times and always a fast healer. He'll likely be out of it until tomorrow afternoon. A few days of treatment and he'll back in classes good as new. Now just you lie there and rest while I get some potions for those aches." She toddled off to her work desks and began drawing forth ingredients.

Draco sighed and sat back, staring at the face of his love. Poor Harry. This whole thing had been doomed from the start. Too much of that famous Potter optimism had infected him. He'd let himself think he deserved a happy life, even though everything in the world would only try to crush it. It was over, this place would kill them if they tried to be together...and Harry had something bigger to do.

As soon as he had his strength back, he'd leave this school that held no place for him or his love. Give Harry back the life he deserved. Go home to the manor and make his peace with holding onto a faded family crest and a tattered reputation. He'd wasted his life for too long before, it was too late to have salvaged it and he had just been too much a fool to see it.

Draco had visitors later that day, just after classes had let out. Crabbe and Goyle, sheepish and shameful, looking like kicked dogs, slunk in and sat on either side of him. Draco remained silent, simmering with bitterness.

At last, Goyle spoke haltingly. "They got us in the hall, it was Petrificus. Stuffed us in a closet. Told us you were done, an' if we got in the way later, they'd give us what for worse than you." Crabbe nodded quietly in agreement. "We're sorry, Drake, we didn't even see it coming."

Draco sighed, at least they had stuck with the him to the best of their limited ability. "Greg, Vince...join up with him. Take care of yourselves and just pretend you didn't really like me. It'll go easier for you. I'm done. I just don't care anymore. Thanks for at least not being there to kick me when I fell."

Goyle looked at him like he'd just seen Malfoy grow a second head. "Follow Nott? They musta kicked you daft or something. Nott's a raving prat. Sod him!"

Crabbe nodded sheepishly. "Aye, sod the lot of 'em. Still, I gotta know, was it all true...'bout you an' Potty Scarhead?"

Draco nodded assent. "It's true. I'm sorry I let you guys down. You trusted me to lead you to glory and got this instead. This is my fault, no one else needs to catch any more hell for this."

Goyle smiled, the effect was always ghoulish, but it was a nice gesture. "Only one question then. Were you happy? I mean really happy. Was that whatcha wanted?"

Draco was floored, but maybe there was no harm is spilling it all now. None of it really mattered anymore. "Yeah, I really was. I don't think I've ever felt that good in my entire life. It was stupid, to risk everything for that, but in some ways it was worth every kick, maybe even a hundred more. You...you two aren't mad at me for screwing this all up, for dating Harry, any of it?"

Goyle shook his head, Crabbe followed suit a second later. Draco's jaw almost came unhinged again for the first time since Saturday night! Then Goyle started talking again. "Vince an' me talked about it earlier. It's been a good time knowing you. You always were good to us. An'...an' we know you didn't really need us that much. You coulda done it all alone. You took us along with you all the way to the top. Shouldn't complain now just cuz the rides over."

Draco started misting up, shaking his head in disbelief. "What did I ever do that was that good? I used you two like hired thugs. I never did anything to deserve all this."

Crabbe broke in. "Third year...I snuck in Firewhiskey and drank the whole pint. You held my head for over an hour while I threw it all up."

Goyle grinned. "And the time I got shot down by a girl I liked fourth year and locked myself in that closet. You talked me out of hiding there forever even though it took half your Sunday off."

It was Crabbe next. "We'd never have made it past fifth year and into higher courses without you helping us. I know you called us names at the time, but you still helped."

Back to Goyle yet again. "And chocolates and Butterbeer, and getting us dates, and covering up for us when we got in trouble, and parties we'd never a gone to if you hadn't brought us. Shite! Draco, it's been the best time we ever had. It was all you. We just wanted to say thanks. We figure if you wanna shag Scarboy then you must have a good reason. An'...an'...", Goyle almost seemed to choke on the words. "...well, we aren't gay, an' you oughtta be with someone good to you, all we want is to know that you're happy. It's Potter an' all, but if he's the one, then bugger it...or bugger him I guess, but fuck all, we don't care if you shag Dumbledore as long you're our friend." It was possibly the longest speech Gregory Goyle had ever made, and the effort tired him out visibly.

Draco cracked his first smile. He closed his eyes a moment. He'd actually been ready to quit a minute ago. Somehow, these two lunkheads just put the spark back in him. If they hadn't been butt ugly, he'd have thrown them some serious kisses and possibly a couple blow jobs to boot, if he hadn't had a boyfriend in the bed next to him in need of attention (after he took care of a few pests)!

He opened his eyes and looked at his pals with a hint of his old ferocity. "Right then, you two...you're the fucking best, the...fucking...best...got that!" Two quick nods of the head replied.

"I'm making a plan here. This sorry for myself shite is tired, but nowhere near as tired as Nott's gonna be when I get done. Alright, they left my wand, but that's identifiable by magical means. If I use it for this I'm busted. I need you to break into the DADA classroom and pluck two generic student wands for me. Then follow the directions I give you to a room on the sixth floor. I'm gonna spell you so you can get in and see the door. I'm the one that warded it. I'm betting there's a nice looking old cloak on a hook just inside the door. If there is...bring it! Bring the cloak and the wands to me as soon as possible tonight. Just leave them with me. When's Nott holding court?"

"Tomorrow morning. Just before breakfast. Attendance mandatory...bloody prat." Crabbe grumped.

"I'm making it unmandatory for you two. Be in the hall ready to go in tomorrow, when I show up I'll fill in the rest. That's the plan...get moving!" They bobbed their heads in twin salutes and headed out.

Malfoys always rally when the chips are down! Draco had his groove back, and he wasn't letting it slip so easily this time. He plotted silently, rolling over lists of hexes he'd been learning for longer than he'd been in school. The icy, nagging voice of his father assailed him again, but this time he wasn't listening. 'Fuck you, Father...when I'm done doing this MY WAY, I'm gonna find my boyfriend and he's going to shag me 'til we're both in here again!'

As he rolled over for a nap, facing Harry, he felt the crinkle of paper beneath him. The note he unfolded was interesting. Apparently someone had slipped in earlier and left it.

"D. I sent a note to Snape to get you out of there alive, won't risk my ass any more than that, but wouldn't let a class act and legendary lay go to waste either, would I? Yours, B."

Blaise, bless the horny bastard's heart. Funny that of all the people he'd shagged from Slytherin, the straight boy was the one who had at least a little loyalty and gratitude. He drifted into slumber, thoughts of Harry waking to see him easing his still-working mind.