Who Would Have Thought

Author's Note: Sorry for the very, very long wait. A lot has happened in my life since I last posted. While this story remains a way for me to unwind when things get stressful, I have had little time to sit and actually be able to focus enough to write something that isn't a research paper. In any case, thanks to everyone who still asks about this story from time to time and I hope you haven't given up on me.

Also, on my homepage, which you can find in my profile, I have now made this story available as a pdf. I formatted it in word as practice for getting Microsoft Certified in Word 2007 so it is very nice to look at. Enjoy!
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: An Unnamed Grief

Dobby sat quietly next to his little Master’s bed in the Slytherin dorms as he had done for the past two nights. He waited until little Master began tossing; fighting against his nightmares. Dobby placed his hand on the sweaty forehead until the blond boy lay still as an easier sleep took hold.

Like any good house elf, Dobby had served his masters well during his time with the Malfoys. He had learned about the family from an early age. He knew that the old Master Malfoy had not always been a bad master. He knew that natural healers ran in the Malfoy family, though few had their healing powers manifest. Dobby even knew that little Master was not a bad boy, though stories enough from the house elves at Hogwarts told him otherwise. He also knew how to sense when something was wrong with one of his Masters and though Dobby no longer served the Malfoys, he had known when he had walked into that bathroom the other night what had been wrong.

Poor little Master! Dobby had put him to sleep and cleaned up the mess at his bed. He had heard that Madame Pomfrey’s spells had not worked on the little Master, but Dobby was a house elf and had served little Master while growing up and he had helped him through the last pains of the miscarriage. Poor little thing! Little Master was far too young to be having a little one of his own. And playing quidditch! Little Master should know better! Now he was paying for it in his sleep, his natural empathy would not let the child’s passing be over so quickly. So like a good house elf, Dobby watched him each night and helped him in his sleep.

But Dobby could not understand why no one said anything. Dobby had listened but neither Dumbledore nor Snape or Pomfrey had mentioned it to his old Mistress. None of the students were talking either. No one had come to comfort little Master to help him through the loss of his little one. Could they not know? Why had little Master not told anyone? Pomfrey would not have been able to tell.

Dobby worried his hands. Maybe little Master had been afraid, like Pansy Parkinson. His old Master would not have liked his son baring a child. Little Master began to stir again and Dobby reached out once more to ease his sleep. No, little Master must have a reason for keeping his secret. Dobby would not tell. He would only watch and chase away the nightmares as he often had when little Master had been a little one himself.

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Draco stood for a long moment with his palm pressed flat against the cool surface of the door that separated him from the hospital wing. He and Potter had been released from the Madame Pomfrey’s care only three days ago and while it made sense that he would hold no positive feeling for his current destination, the dread with which he contemplated making that final step into the room made his feet feel permanently stuck to the floor.

The day his mother had visited had been pleasant enough. Or at least it was after the discussion of his and Ian’s relationship. His mother had explained as best she could about what appeared to be his manifestation into a natural healer. Study and later conversations with Snape and Pomfrey would help confirm it and guide him in figuring out what to do with these abilities. Even the part of the day when he finally broke down and confided in her the situation with Pansy had been cathartic despite his mother’s anger over the situation.

However, it was after his mother left, late in the evening, that his discomfort had started. It all began when he gingerly made his way to the bathroom for the first time to relieve himself. The moment he walked through the door his legs became weak and Draco was sure he was going to be sick. Maybe it was because the bathroom in the hospital wing reminded him of the one in his nightmare. In any case, the bathroom continued to have this impact on him for the rest of his stay and while in bed he remained restless and uncomfortable. Even the visits from Blaise, Ben, and Harper didn’t help. Somehow just standing at the door was enough to make his stomach do flips.

Draco took a breath, “Madame Pomfrey?” he called as he entered the hospital wing and looked around.

“Just a moment, Mr. Malfoy,” the medi-witch answered back, her voice drifting out from behind a curtain.

Draco forced his legs to move and take him to a nearby chair. It had already been a full day of class and he still had an essay to write for Potions before his day would officially be over, but every Tuesday, from now until dinner, his time belonged to Madame Pomfrey. He had a similar obligation on Thursday with Professor Snape. It had also been suggested he take some time to spend with Professor Sprout to learn more about the different plants used for healing. Draco’s shoulders slouched under the imaginary weight of it all.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in focusing his new abilities. In fact, the thought of his new training had been the only thing to get him out of bed that morning. His previous stress and anxiety over the term had evaporated into a feeling of numbness. He could care less about his classes, food had seemingly lost its flavor, and conversation just took too much energy to keep going. Even Ben and Harper’s exuberance did nothing for him.

The only time emotion seemed to come to him would be in the early mornings when he would wake up to remember his dreams. They only seemed to fade in and out as he slept but he could remember flashes of scenes with blood and a white bathroom along with sharp pain and a feeling of loss. The only benefit to it all was that his nausea was gone even if his appetite had dropped off even more than before.

“Now Miss Parkinson, I have a report telling the progress of your pregnancy so far. Give it to your new medi-witch or wizard when you get to your aunt’s and if there are any questions feel free to owl me,” Madame Pomfrey was saying and she showed Pansy out from behind the curtain.

Draco looked up, more surprised at his own interest than he was at seeing Pansy here. Everyone knew that this was Pansy Parkinson’s last week at Hogwarts. Early Halloween morning Professor Snape would escort his student into Hogsmeade where they would be met by Pansy’s Aunt who had agreed to take her niece in and care for her and the baby until her education was completed. Draco sincerely doubted his would see Pansy again for several years, if ever.

Somewhere in the fog of his emotions he managed to find the feelings of regret he remembered having before the Quidditch accident. As Draco watched, Madame Pomfrey finished talking with Pansy and turned toward in office to retrieve her notes. That was when Pansy turned her attention to him and took a few hesitant steps in his direction.

It had been some time since Draco had been this close to Pansy and paid much attention to her. He could see that fatigue clung to her every feature, from the shadows under her eyes to her slumped shoulders. Maybe it was compassion for a friend. Maybe it was a sudden realization of how scared Pansy must have been in the past months. Maybe it was nothing more than the empathy he had been told natural healers possess. Regardless of the reason, Draco felt a swell of sympathy for the young girl in front of him more powerful than anything he had felt for days.

“Draco, I…,” Pansy began as she stood in front of him. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for what happened. I was scared and desperate.”

Words of forgiveness and reassurance floated through Draco’s head, but caught in the back of his throat as he saw Pansy’s hands move to cradle the swell of her stomach. An indefinable feeling kicked Draco in his. Sympathy evaporated leaving a tumult of other emotions that Draco couldn’t hope to coalesce into anything meaningful: loss, guilt, fear, pain, anger, sadness, shock, disappointment…They seemed to paralyze him until one came through stronger than the others and before he knew it, the emotion forced its way out.

“You’re only apologizing now because you can afford to, Pansy,” Draco spat. “Your words are cheap and are hardly repayment for what your actions took from me.”

His teeth clenched at the end, biting off his last words partly in anger and partly due to his own confusion over what was coming out of his mouth. Draco felt his anger spike again as Pansy shrunk away from him, wrapping her arms more tightly around her middle as she took a step back in confusion. The feeling boiled inside him making him hot and uncomfortable in his skin. He made a fist, squeezing hard and the bite of his nails digging into his palm was all that was allowing him to hold his tongue. Pansy’s mouth opened as if she were looking for words and this would have been enough for Draco to reach his threshold once more and spew out a few more angry words had Madame Pomfrey not chosen that moment to return.

Seemingly not noticing the tension in the room, the medi-witch came to stand between them, “Here you are Miss Parkinson. Now I suggest you rest until dinner. This is going to be a stressful week for you.”

“Thank you,” was the timid reply from Pansy, who seemed determined to look anywhere but at Draco. The young, pregnant witch didn’t wait another moment before she fled the room.

Madame Pomfrey and Draco sat in silence even after the door had settled back on its hinges. The feelings of anger that had filled Draco to near busting had retreated with Pansy, leaving him exhausted and confused, but he knew that those feeling weren’t gone for good. It wasn’t until the medi-witch spoke that reality seemed to reassert itself.

“Empathy is often a part of the experience for natural healers. It seems that this is an ability you lack. While this does not rule out your healing abilities, Mister Malfoy, it does make me more reluctant to work with you. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but your little display makes it very hard from me. If I ever see you behave in such a way in this wing again, provoked or unprovoked, and especially with a patient, I will personally speak with the Headmaster about the wisdom of offering you this training. Do I make myself clear?” Madame Pomfrey finished in a steady, clipped tone.

Draco released a breath that seemed to deflate him, “Yes, Madame.”

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It was a little over a week now since Harry had spoken with Draco Malfoy in the hospital wing. Harry remembered feeling hopeful when he returned to the dorms as he thought of putting firmly to rest a rivalry that had existed since his early adolescence. Harry told himself that the happiness and contentment that had followed him were due to a sense of having made some peaceful progress in the midst of the tension that still existed in the world after Voldmort’s death. Despite wanting to put politics and the war out of his mind, this reasoning still seemed a better alternative than acknowledging what Harry suspected was a growing attraction the blond Slytherin. However, that attraction was suddenly being halted in its tracks.

“Watch where you’re going!” Harry watched Malfoy snap at a first year that had gotten underfoot. The first year, a Ravenclaw, squeaked out an apology but Malfoy continued down the hall, the arrogance Harry remembered from past years once again evident in every step.

“Draco! Wait up!” Blaise Zabini called after his fellow Slytherin.

Malfoy didn’t even turn around, “I’m late!”

Zabini halted, defeated as he stood there shaking his head. Harry had seen many similar exchanges over the past couple of days. He didn’t understand it.

His curiosity had also not gone unnoticed.

“What are you looking at, Potter?” Zabini said, more calmly than Harry would have expected.

What was he supposed to say? He shook his head.

Zabini sighed aloud, coming closer, “I don’t understand it either. He’s never been this bad.”
Harry couldn’t believe Zabini was actually talking to him, “We talked in the Hospital Wing and he seemed alright then. When did this start?”

“I know you talked to him. That was one of the last things he told me before he started acting this way. At first Draco was just quiet. I figured he was tired. Then five days ago Pansy Parkinson came back to the dorms nearly in tears. A while later Draco showed up and has been this way since.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “I thought the issue between Parkinson and Malfoy had been sorted out. Did they get into a fight?”

Zabini shrugged, “As far as I could tell, Draco hasn’t been angry with Pansy for awhile, but now he’s suddenly angry with everyone. He even snapped at Ben yesterday.”

“He really looks up to Malfoy. How did Ben take it?”

“I talked to him afterward,” Zabini replied. “He was upset, but he seems to think Draco will be better after this coming weekend.”

Harry looked at him in confusion, “This weekend?”

“Hogsmeade weekend,” Zabini said smirking, “I know Granger blabbed about Draco’s boyfriend.”

Harry’s mouth shaped a soundless “Oh” of understanding even as he felt his cheeks grow warm as he remembered exactly what he had seen Draco and his boyfriend doing during the last Hogsmeade weekend.

“Surely you aren’t prudish about such things are you, Potter?” Zabini challenged, looking Harry up and down.

Not to be outdone, Harry returned the look “Would be a bit silly to be prudish about it considering my own interests.”

Zabini smirked, “Nice to know where you stand, Potter. I have a friend to look after, but maybe I’ll see you in Hogsmead this weekend.”

Harry watched Blaise Zabini walk away in the same direction Malfoy had gone before. Even as he admitted to himself that Zabini was also rather attractive, he had to ask himself why his life couldn’t ever be normal.
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Additional Note: I recently discovered someone plagiarizing one of my favorite stories on fanfiction.net. If it bothers you as much as it bothers me when people do this, please visit my homepage (found in my profile) to get the details and send your own complaint to ffn.