Wicked

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Harry sat on the bed for a while, pondering what had just happened; there were still a lot of questions reeling in his mind, but he knew he would not get them answered too soon, therefore he could as well concentrate on other things. Such as, facing the Dursleys.

He slowly went downstairs, listening intently but not hearing them. He found them in the kitchen, where they were sitting around the table.
Dudley was stuffing himself with cookies, while Petunia and Vernon looked simply dumbfounded.

At the sight of Harry, however, Petunia´s face went white and then red in a quick succession. She did not say anything, just glared at Harry with a murderous expression he had never before seen on her. He would have loved to know what exactly Dumbledore and Remus had said to her.

It was Vernon who finally opened his mouth: “I am warning you, boy,” he growled, his face growing redder than ever, “I will not tolerate any funny business with that little friend of yours.”

Harry counted till five before he answered: “He is not my friend, Uncle Vernon.” At this, Petunia huffed.

Harry was tired, and he was worried. The last thing he needed was the Dursleys pretending he enjoyed this. “He is the son of Voldemort´s most faithful servant, and he has nearly been killed.” Harry therefore said before he could help himself, feeling a tingle of satisfaction at Petunia´s visible wince when he mentioned the name. “Surely you don´t think I want him here.”

With that, he turned around and left the room. He knew that had been cheap, but he usually had so little to oppose them that he didn´t care.

Draco awoke in the early evening. Harry was sitting at his desk and staring out into the evening. The sky was still light, but the gloom of dusk was already settling in.

A soft moan from the bed alerted the dark-haired boy. Draco´s eyes opened slowly, he blinked several times. Harry got up from his chair; Draco flinched when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and remained in a tense posture until Harry had sat down next to him: “It´s me, Harry.”

Draco slowly exhaled. His eyes were glazed over, and his cheeks looked flushed; Madam Pomfrey had warned Harry that he might develop a fever, since his body was severely worn-out and had to deal with the medication in addition to the wounds.
Harry reached for the glass of water he had put on the nightstand and helped Draco lift his head to drink. They spilled some of it, but Draco drank most of the glass.

Harry lowered his head down onto the pillow again: “My aunt is going to make some soup,” he said. “Madam Pomfrey said you´d need a lot of liquid inside you.”

Draco did not respond to this, he only closed his eyes again. Harry had never seen him so defeated; this was hardly the Draco Malfoy he usually loathed.

When Aunt Petunia reluctantly brought up a tray with a mug of broth and some toast a while later, Draco had dozed off again. Petunia looked at Malfoy with an expression of pure disgust, and ungently set the tray down on Harry´s desk before leaving wordlessly.

Funny, Harry thought idly as he watched her retreating back, that she would share this feeling of his now that he was actually experiencing mostly sympathy for his enemy.

He was reluctant to wake Draco, but given the state his body was in, the food would do him good.

It was much harder to coax Malfoy to swallow the broth than Harry would have expected; the blond turned his head away, for his stomach was delicate after days without proper nourishment, and he felt nauseous.

Harry patiently tried again: “Come on,” he said, “you will feel even worse with an empty stomach.” He would have expected Draco to give one of his trademark snotty retorts, but he didn´t even so much as smirk. He simply looked helpless.

Harry eventually resorted to sitting on the bed and propping Draco up against his chest. He was afraid that he might hurt him or put too much strain on him, but the other boy seemed comfortable enough, and in this position drinking was easier.
Being made to drink as well, thus Harry finally succeeded.

It had gotten dark by the time the mug was empty. Harry set it aside and decided to hold off on lowering Draco back down a little, since he did not want to risk the other boy to vomit again.

If Draco wondered why they were staying like this, he did not let it on. He just lay against Harry, eventually closing his eyes again; he felt so tired, and the only thing he wanted was to rest.

Harry could tell that Draco had fallen asleep again when his head lolled sideways. Gently, he eased the blond down on the pillow, and tucked the blankets around him before he got up and returned to his desk.

Hedwig, his snowy owl, normally went off to hunt at dusk; as she had been disturbed out of her slumber by the events of the day, she only made ready to leave now. She stretched each leg of hers delicately, partly unfolding her wings, then she left her cage and hopped onto Harry´s desk.

He smiled, stroking her head with one finger before reaching behind her and opening the window: “Have a good night,” he said fondly. “Be careful.” Hedwig blinked her huge eyes at him reassuringly and clicked her beak once, then she soared off into the darkness.

As Harry felt tired to the bone, he went to bed soon, only to realize that he did not have a blanket now that Draco was using his. Sighing, he got up again and rummaged through his trunk until he had found his Hogwarts cloak; it would do, since the night was warm anyway.

He took off his glasses and laid down. If someone had told him he would be sharing his bed with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed at them, yet here he was, lying in the dark and listening to the blond boy´s quiet breathing.

At one point, he must have drifted off to sleep, since he jerked out of it in the middle of the night when he heard strange sounds.

It took Harry a few seconds before he remembered what had happened, and only then did he realize where the sounds were coming from. In the dim light the street lamp cast in his room, he could see Draco moving about; he was whimpering and pleading with someone.

His words were unintelligible, but their tone told Harry all he had to know. He quickly turned on the little bedside lamp and put a hand on Draco´s shoulder to stop him from writhing.

Draco shied away from him until Harry started to speak with him: “Draco, it´s me Harry. It´s only a bad dream, you need to wake up... “

The other boy was shaking badly again, and it took Harry several minutes to get through to him. He woke with a start, then winced and contorted his face in pain, never taking his eyes off Harry, though, as if he was not sure wether he was dangerous or not.

“Draco,” Harry repeated. “Calm down, it´s okay... you´re safe here...”

Gradually, Draco sagged; not because he relaxed but because his energy was spent. Harry could not but feel pity; Malfoy was still shaking, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“It´s okay,” before Harry knew what he was doing did he reach out and take the blond boy´s hand in his, “I´m here with you. I won´t let them hurt you again.” He sounded far more reckless than he felt, but he supposed that he had to make Draco feel safe or else he would not get any rest.

Draco gave another strangled whimper and held on to Harry´s hand as if he was clinging to dear life.
This was how they both fell asleep again.

When Harry woke up in the following morning, the first thing he noticed was the warm body next to his own. For a blissful moment, he was unaware of life´s circumstances; all he knew was that he felt comfortable.

This changed when he opened his eyes: he found himself lying on his side, with Draco huddling against him in his sleep. The blond was still lying on his back, and his face was turned away, but he had subconsciously sought Harry´s warmth.
Harry´s hand had slipped out of Draco´s grip, thus his arm was lying on the blond´s hips. Harry cautiously removed it, since he didn´t want to put the weight on Draco´s injured body. He sat up: golden morning light was filling the room, promising a wonderful day.


Draco stirred when he felt Harry move away, opening his eyes slowly. Harry saw that they were still glazed, but he seemed to recognize Harry, as he stayed calm.
“How do you feel?” Harry asked.

“Still tired,” Draco murmured. Harry nodded, trying not to let on his worry as Draco was obviously ill: “I´ll go and get some breakfast. You can go back to sleep after you´ve eaten something, and I have to give you some potions.” He didn´t get a reply.

Sighing inwardly, he took the tray and went downstairs.


This time, Draco did not turn his head away as Harry forced him to eat a bit of toast and drink some tea. He was leaning against the Gryffindor again, as Harry did not want to take any risks involving spilling the hot tea.

After the breakfast, Harry uncorked two vials and asked Draco to swallow the potions they contained, which he did without objecting.
His absolute compliance only increased Harry´s worries; the Draco Malfoy he knew would have demanded to know what exactly the potions were made of and would have accused him of attempted murder even before trying so much as sniffing at them.
The Draco Malfoy who was currently leaning against him, however, scared Harry.

Madam Pomfrey would be looking in on him later in the day and tend to his wounds; Harry only had to make sure Draco took his medication and stayed in bed.

The Healer had cast a spell on Draco which obviated the need to use the bathroom, so that Harry did not have to bother with that. He was really glad about it, since he didn´t fancy handling a bedpan, and he guessed Draco would be either. He suspected that the main reason for it were Malfoy´s injuries, though, which were not allowing any strain during healing.

Harry had just cleared away the dishes and gotten a jug of fresh water, all under the seething looks of his aunt, when Madam Pomfrey Apparated in his bedroom, much earlier than expected.

“Good morning, Mr Potter,” she said to Harry, peering over his shoulder over to the bed. “I´ve been up early, so I thought I might as well stop by already. How is Mr Malfoy?”

Harry stepped aside to grant her a full view: “He´s running a fever, and he had nightmares,” he said quietly. “But he has eaten something.”

“Good, good,” Madam Pomfrey approached the bed; Draco had turned on his side and lay curled up, his hair obscuring his eyes.

“Hello, dear,” the Healer said and bent over him. Harry couldn´t see her face, but her voice sounded very caring. “How are you feeling today?”

Again, Harry automatically anticipated a condescending remark, but instead he heard Malfoy whispering: “Only... tired...”

Harry could see Madam Pomfrey squaring her shoulders at this, then she gently asked Draco to turn on his stomach so that she could see to his wounds.

As he did so, she removed his nightshirt and the pads and assessed the injuries before applying more ointment; Harry noticed that she was biting her lip all the time, as if all this was aggrieving her tremendously.

She applied new pads, then helped Draco to turn back on his back by using the levitational spell again, and covered him with the sheet.
After she had tended to his upper body, she moved on to his abdomen; she did not ask Harry to leave the room this time, and Draco only lay there impassively, his eyes closed, as she cautiously lifted and spread his legs.

He whimpered a few times; Harry, who had turned away, found it too hard to bear. He did not care if this was the boy he had come to hate with a passion as long as he sounded this hurt and afraid.

He quickly approached the bed and sat down next to Draco´s upper body, facing him and careful not to be in the Healer´s way. He found the other boy´s hands and held them in his own; when Draco opened his eyes at this, Harry met his gaze: “It´ll be okay,” he soothed. “It´ll be over soon...”

When Madam Pomfrey finally lowered Draco´s legs down again, she made sure his hips rested on the cushion she had placed underneath them the day before: “Please be careful not to slip off it, dear,” she said. “You´re only just starting to mend, after all.”

Draco nodded feebly. The Healer tucked him back in; Harry gently squeezed Draco´s hands before letting go, then he got to his feet to make way for her. She administered her patient one additional potion which was supposed to help against the fever: “You will feel better soon,” she murmured reassuringly.

Draco was thoroughly worn-out. He did not mind being given all those potions, even though they made him dizzy, as long as they kept his thoughts at bay. He did not want to think, did not want to remember the past few days- all he wanted was to sleep and forget.

His old life seemed to have faded to grey, had become insignificant all of a sudden. People he thought he could trust suddenly had turned against him, whereas the one person he had learned to fervently hate during the past years had suddenly become his only hope of survival.

Draco closed his eyes exhaustedly, trying to get his mind blank: maybe it would have been better if he had died.

He would have curled in on himself to take up as little space in the world as possible , but his body ached too much, and he did not have the strength. He did not really care, though; he was beyond hurting, beyond feeling pity for himself or being humiliated. He just wished it would end.

Maybe he should simply have crawled under a bush and kept Potter out of this.

Harry however still heard the echo of Draco´s pained whimpers. No one deserved something like this, he thought while he was changing the water in Hedwig´s cage; she had just come back, and he had realized that he had forgotten about it.

Draco had fallen asleep again even before Madam Pomfrey had left. They had had a quiet conversation, then the Healer Disapparated, and Harry had seen Hedwig arrive.

It bothered him that he wasn´t allowed to write to anyone about this, but of course it´d be too dangerous. If the letter was intercepted, the secret would be out. He sighed; he would have loved to discuss the situation with his friends, even though he was not sure if they would understand his sudden compassion for Malfoy.

Harry spent the entire day in his room; as much as he felt the urge to go outside now that he no longer was being locked in, did he not want to leave Draco alone. Apart from that, he knew it would probably not be safe outside, thus he practiced patience and settled down at his desk; he had homework to do, after all.

Draco slept quietly until the early afternoon. Harry was staring outside dreamily, having lost his train of thought and drifted off, when the Slytherin gasped loudly enough to pull him out of his reverie. When he turned to the bed he saw Draco writhing about just as he had done the previous night, trying to get away from whoever haunted his dark dreams, and had started to bat the air with his hands.

With one step Harry was next to him. He was afraid Draco might hurt himself, thus he gripped his arms in order to calm him. Draco whimpered and shrunk back from Harry: “Not the chain,” he pleaded, “not the chain...”

“Shshshshsh,” Harry said, “wake up, Draco! It´s nothing but a dream, no one is going to hurt you!”

Draco only thrashed more desperately, Harry´s words did not seem to get through to him. It was quite hard to hold him down without using too much force; his body seemed frail, and Harry was mindful of his wounds.

He raised his voice a little: “Draco, please calm down, it´s me, Harry! I am not going to hurt you, you are dreaming!” He knew he was repeating himself, but he could not think of anything else to say; he thought it was most important to make Malfoy realize that his dreams were not real.

With a start, Draco suddenly reared up, opening his eyes, and tried to wrestle out of Harry´s grip. He was gasping and wide-eyed, obviously not properly awake yet for he squirmed relentlessly until Harry, desperately, slapped his face.

Draco immediately stilled, looking at Harry as if he had come out of a trance. His energy was spent, and to Harry´s horror started to sob dryly in helpless despair as the memories he had just lived through again overwhelmed him and the pain became too much to contain.

Harry could only imagine what Draco had been through, but he knew what it meant to feel literally devastated after having been through such an emotional ordeal, and he knew that there wasn´t much others could do about it, except for being there and offering comfort.

Thus, Harry leaned forward and cautiously wrapped his arms around Draco.

He could feel the other boy tense, trembling violently, and was afraid that he might have gone too far, that Draco was reluctant of his touch while being awake, but a moment later, the Slytherin sagged against Harry, and the sobbing turned into weeping.

Draco had not been treated this gently for a long time, and only when he had perceived Harry´s honest concern had his defences broken at last. He knew it was pity, not affection that made his former enemy react like this, but did not want to care about that now; he needed someone to be there for him, someone who was strong.

When he had been little, his parents had done this for him, but now he had lost that kind of comfort forever; being held like this only emphasized his loss all the more, thus he cried so desperately that his whole body was convulsing.

Harry´s eyes were filling with tears as well; he had never seen someone else suffer like this, and it saddened his heart.


Gradually, Draco´s sobs weakened. Harry could feel little tremors run through him until they subsided completely, and his breathing evened out. He had fallen asleep.

Harry, feeling shaken himself, lowered him down onto the mattress and pulled the blankets up around him. Draco whimpered when Harry moved away; the Gryffindor quickly settled down next to him, not wanting to risk another nightmare.
Draco had seemed fragile in his arms, and Harry wondered about how things could change so rapidly.

A short while later he had fallen asleep as well.


To Be Continued...