Issues

~~~ CHAPTER THREE: ~~~

“Harry, I told you he was a good-for-nothing fucker! Did you listen to me? No!” spat Ron, angry on Harry’s behalf, “Once a fucker; always a fucker”

“Harry, what Ron’s trying to say is that we always suspected Malfoy would pull something like this… He can’t be trusted Harry and the sooner you see that, the sooner you can get your life back on track…” said Hermione in what Harry suspected was meant to be a soothing way.

Harry, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, was simply staring morosely at the carpet, unable to really take in a word either of his friends were saying.

‘Draco… how could he…?’

The very thought that Draco would cheat on him after all they had been through was enough to make Harry nauseous and more than a little depressed. It was also enough to make Harry so tearing mad with rage that he was actually now feeling numb. He had put up silencing and strengthening spells as soon as he expelled Draco from the wards and unleashed all the power within him till much of their furniture was destroyed and, as a result, he was now sitting quietly on the newly repaired couch, fuming on the inside.

“Look, Harry, no doubt he’ll come grovelling for forgiveness soon,” began Hermione, “so you need to be strong. He’s a slimy, cowardly loser who has nowhere else to go because you’re the only one stupid enough to take him in. Don’t take him back Harry. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right…” said Harry slowly, looking up at them for the first time that evening, “he will come grovelling back. And I agree with you Hermione; I’m not taking him back no matter what pathetic excuse he has.”

~~~

Harry’s resolve to not take Draco back was starting to wane.

Yes, he was still tearing mad at him and still desperately wanted answers but two weeks was enough to make Harry start to miss Draco, even as much as he wanted to hate him.

Draco had been the one person Harry could always count on to cheer him up after another bout with the media, the person who would always go to great lengths to remember the simplest things that would always make his day. Draco knew when Harry needed a hug and he had been close enough to Harry that they talked about everything. It had taken a long time before either of them were able to even begin opening up about the war, but, tearfully, they had, and until very recently, the two were inseparable.

Their issues with each of their pasts had cut them deep and brought them closer at the same time and Harry had eventually become grateful for Draco’s presence in his life, even if nobody else understood Draco’s role in his life.

This led Harry to question just why Draco had not come back to him; why Harry had not received a single email, phone call or letter from Draco.

None of it made sense.

Fantastic actor as Draco was, even he couldn’t pull off the closeness between them as anything other than real so Harry was completely bewildered as to why Draco would not fight for them and why he had thrown away their relationship with Seamus Finnigan of all people.

Harry was not completely naïve however and was well aware that Draco still had many enemies, so there was a healthy amount of worry interspersed with his anger and hurt.

~~~

“Harry! Oh dear sweet Merlin! Harry! You have to see this!” screamed Ron gleefully, running into Harry’s office at the Ministry.

“What, Ron?” asked Harry, amused at his behaviour

“Check out what Hermione showed me! It’s a clipping from a muggle newspaper from a few weeks ago!” said Ron, brandishing said clipping almost like a weapon before shoving it under Harry’s nose.

“…Police report that an act of violence on this scale has not been seen in many years. Eye-witnesses report that they heard voices from down the street, yelling and screaming.

‘Initially, I thought it was those crazy youngsters from down the road playing the fool again,’ admits one anonymous witness, ‘but then I heard one of the voices screaming for help. It was terrible! For at least fifteen minutes, all I could hear was the man’s screams and the laughter of what must have been at least ten other men.’

The attacked man was found beaten bloody on the street by a passing witness and was immediately taken to hospital where he is currently fighting for his life. He is described as a blond man of average height and slim build. The only distinguishing features police could make out on a body covered with blood and bruising was a tattoo of a skull and snake on the man’s left forearm and a tattoo of a lion on his right bicep.

“Oh… my… god…” breathed Harry, suddenly feeling sick. After re-reading the article and the date of the clipping, Harry was certain that the attacked man had been Draco and, without further ado, promptly upchucked his lunch in the bin.

“Harry…you okay?” asked Ron worriedly

“… Oh poor Draco!” said Harry miserably, his head still in the bin.

“’Poor Draco’?!” exclaimed Ron in disbelief, “Harry, the fucker finally got what was coming to him! How can you possibly feel sorry for him?!”

“Ron, shut the fuck up,” said Harry in a deadly quiet voice, “I’m going to see him… see if he’s… fuck… if he’s still alive… I have to know…”

~~~

Harry had always, as a rule, hated hospitals. Having been in the infirmary more times than he could count as a teenager, he had developed a hatred of anything remotely medical and muggle hospitals put him more on edge than any other place in the world.

Nevertheless, a muggle hospital was exactly where he found himself, heart beating rapidly and a sense of worry so strong in his stomach that he truly feared he would vomit again.

He had called around the newspapers frantically after reading the article in a bid to find out what hospital Draco had been taken to but the only information he had been given was that he was ‘in KCH’. Bewildered by this, Harry had faithfully sought out Hermione’s help and, reluctant as she was to help Harry find his way back to Draco, she had pointed him to King’s College Hospital and before she had even finished her sentence, Harry had apparated there.

The look of fear and worry on Harry’s face must have attracted some attention and, sure enough, a middle-aged matron soon appeared. After explaining who he was looking for, the matron gave him a quick once-over with a disapproving frown before walking off back down the corridor she came from.

“Hey… wait! Can you help me? Do you know where he is? Could you please take me..” called Harry, racing after her only to plough straight into her back as she stopped abruptly. After she had finished righting herself, Harry was subjected to another fierce frown before he heard her muttering to herself.

“Ugh… fine… follow me,” she grumbled and Harry hurried to keep up with her as she made her way through the corridors.

Eventually, they made their way to an inconspicuous looking door and Harry once again had to stop himself from ploughing straight into the woman.

“Now, look here. This particular patient is in a very fragile state and has not yet woken up and I will not have you upsetting him. Do you hear me?” said the matron sternly, hands on her hips. She opened her mouth again as if to say something more but then thought better of it and ushered him into the room with a grudging look before closing the door and walking back down the corridor to her office.

Harry, upon turning around and looking at the occupant of the only bed in the room was promptly shocked and more than a little horrified.

“… Draco?! Oh my god…!” breathed Harry, hand to his mouth.

For there, in his pale, battered glory was Draco resting peacefully in the middle of the bed. He was sleeping as far as Harry could tell (or rather, as much as Harry hoped he was just sleeping) but how he could look so peaceful sleeping at this point in time completely escaped Harry.

There was no other way to put it; Draco looked terrible.

His face was covered with scratches and bruises and his nose had a bandage over it, leading Harry to suspect it had been broken at some point. He was in hospital pyjamas and the blanket was only covering half of him so it was plainly obvious for Harry to see that under Draco’s open shirt was a heavily bandaged torso, his right arm in a cast and his left leg suspended in the air by a sling and covered in a cast.

Harry, feeling faint with guilt and worry for Draco, sank slowly into the chair by Draco’s bedside and prepared to wait with him till he woke up.