Wicked

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A moment after Madam Pomfrey had gone downstairs, Harry heard a shriek- undoubtedly Aunt Petunia.

He grimly crossed his arms: if anyone was fit to deal with her, it would be the Hogwarts Healer, he conceded. He listened intently; he could hear Petunia a few more times, but other than that, it remained silent.


Petunia, who was boiling water for some tea, had indeed shrieked when a strange woman entered her kitchen with an air of being entitled to do so.

“Who are you?” she snapped warily, backing away from the matron.

“Poppy Pomfrey, Healer at Hogwarts,” she answered coolly, “I have just seen to my patient, as his condition has been aggravated by your husband´s assault.”

Petunia gasped for air: “Assault? My husband is sitting in the living-room, unable to move,” she screeched, “while my poor son is crying his eyes out!”

“Your son is doing no such thing, as he is currently trying to eavesdrop behind that door over there,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “And I would not call him poor, since he obviously is responsible for what has just happened. He would do well not to try something like that again, I dare say.”

Petunia turned red, thus remarkably resembling her husband: “Are you threatening my Dudley?”, she shrieked, outraged.

The Healer raised one eyebrow: “I do believe you have understood me perfectly well,” she said. “Your son and consequently your husband have inflicted severe damage on that poor boy, who has been through quite an ordeal anyway. If he will suffer from any long-term effects, it is your family´s fault. Those are the facts, there is no point in raising your voice or arguing.”

“We did not ask him to come here,” Petunia said venomly, even though her resolve seemed to lessen, judging from the way her shoulders had hunched at the other woman´s words.

“Well, you have made that very clear,” Madam Pomfrey said icily. “Now, I do not wish to discuss this any further. I do however believe you are in charge of provisions?”


Harry got the best breakfast he had ever had in this house.

Madam Pomfrey looked grim when she returned, but she was carrying a tray with tea, fruit juice, steaming porridge, buttered crumpets, toast, delicious smelling ham and a bowl with orange slices.

Harry did not eat much of it, though he felt himself calming down slowly; being cared for like this was still very unfamiliar for him.

He had once been very ill when he had been younger; Dudley and his buddies had chased him as usual, and he had had to hide until they were gone, miraculously finding himself on the roof of a shed next to their school.

It saved him from getting beaten up, but he didn´t know how to get down, and it had started to rain heavily. He remembered his fear; Dudley had taken away Harry´s glasses, thus he could not even see how far it was to the ground.


By the time the seven year old boy had assembled the courage to jump nevertheless, he had been soaked thoroughly and was frozen to the bone.

He recalled burning up with fever and aching everywhere when he awoke the following morning. His head had felt woozy, and he had cried because he had felt so miserable.

His aunt had merely scolded him for getting wet however and had forced him to take some pills which she said were helping against the fever. She had brought him tea and a bowl of cold water with a flannel, and Dudley had looked in to complain about Harry´s loud coughing a few times, but apart from that had he mostly lain alone in his cupboard, too ill to rise for days.

No one had really cared about him or for him, not even then.

One more reason to be grateful for being a wizard, he thought while he leaned back and closed his eyes. Who knew what would have happened to him if he had not gone to Hogwarts... his eyes closed while he was dwelling on this subject, and he fell asleep.


He woke up much later because someone was talking. Blinking, he turned towards the voice and saw that it was Madam Pomfrey who was speaking with Draco in a soothing voice, holding both his hands in hers.

The sedative had abated while he had been sleeping; when he woke up, he did not immediately recognize the Healer, due to still being dazed, and had simply closed his eyes again.

A little while later, though, an angry purple face had come back to him, the face of a man who had yelled at him and hurt him, and he started to tremble. You are nothing but a freak, boy... the words hit him hard, for he knew that the man was right... he was pathetic, unable to help himself and trapped in a situation he knew no way out of.


Only when Madam Pomfrey took his hands and started to talk to him, as she had seen that he was getting agitated again, was he able to drown out the angry voices in his head. There were not only the angry man´s and his own, but also others he never wished to hear again, voices with so much malice in them that it made him shiver.

He did his best to focus on the Healer, who was telling him that he needn´t worry, that Prof. Dumbledore had sorted it out and that it wouldn´t happen again. “You will be fine, dear,” he said.

Her words echoed in his mind: Dear... dear... will be fine, dear... freak... He closed his eyes, his face contorting with pain.

Another squeeze on his hand redirected his attention on Madam Pomfrey: “Look at me,” she urged. “It was not your fault, do you hear me? That man...”

“... is a bully.” a different voice said unexpectedly.

It was Harry, whom they both looked at now: “He has always been calling me a freak ever since I can remember,” he added, trying to show Draco that it was quite normal for his uncle to act like that. “He hates the wizarding world because he doesn´t understand it, I think.”

Draco looked at him: “He´s always been like that?”, he asked, his voice a whisper.

Harry nodded: “He has never hit me before, though,” he said. “He has never liked me and was happiest when he didn´t need to see me. I usually stayed in my cupboard whenever I didn´t have to do chores.” “C-cupboard?”

Harry blushed; he had not realized Malfoy couldn´t know about that. “Before I got my Hogwarts letter I lived in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Unnoticed by the two boys, Madam Pomfrey turned away and dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes.

How could Dumbledore leave Harry with these people, she asked herself. She had noticed how skinny and small Harry had been when he first came to Hogwarts, but had thought nothing unusual of it, as boys in that age often were skinny and small after all. Now that she knew, however, it made her feel even more for him.

Draco´s gaze was so disbelievingly that Harry smiled lopsidedly: “That´s why I´m not afraid of spiders.”

The tiniest smile tugged at the corners of the blond boy´s mouth at this. He was still trembling, but it had abated a little.

Harry laid down again and inched closer to Draco, lying his hand on his arm: “He didn´t mean you,” he said quietly. “He was angry at me.” “Because of me...” Draco whispered.

“No,” Harry smiled again, sadly this time: “Believe me, it was never you. He just needed an excuse.”

Harry´s closeness calmed Draco immensely, and the warmth against his arm helped him to concentrate so that he was able to shut out his fear.

Madam Pomfrey made sure he ate and drank something and stayed until he had fallen asleep again.

She had used a numbing charm on his injuries, since she didn´t want to give him a pain-relieving potion in addition to the sedative.

She had refrained from numbing the wounds in the first place because she feared he might overtax himself if he didn´t feel the pain to remind him to take it slowly, but it seemed to put him at ease since it made lying more comfortable, and she knew Harry would take care of it that he would not aggravate his own wounds any further.

She was in fact astounded by Harry´s sensitivity; for a boy who had not gotten to know much kindness before the age of eleven it seemed a remarkable trait.

Feeling anger welling up in her again, Madam Pomfrey got up and took the tray, having decided to pay Petunia another visit to make sure she had understood what was being expected of her.


Harry woke up from a weight suddenly pressing down on him, if gently. He started, relieved to see that it was Hedwig. The magnificient white owl hooted softly and clicked her beak, waiting for Harry to get up and let her out.

He gingerly stroked her before scrambling to the foot of the bed and getting to his feet, suddenly glad to have her.

His head felt better; only now did he realize that Madam Pomfrey had gone. She had left a small jar with more salve for him on the nightstand, but apart from that, nothing indicated that he had been here most of the day.

Harry watched Hedwig soar into the sky before turning back to the darkening room. He pulled an old jumper over his pajamas and made his way to the bathroom to take a leak before going downstairs and finding something for dinner.

The kitchen was empty, but as soon as he had opened the fridge did Petunia come in: “There is some quiche left,” she said testily, “you can reheat it in the micro-wave. And there´s chocolate ice-cream in the freezer for dessert. Don´t make a mess.”

With that, she left.

Harry looked after her, gaping: that had been almost bordering on something akin to a concession, at least if one knew her.

Apparently, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had managed to make her see that starving Harry was not an option any longer.

When he came back into the room, Draco was still sleeping, and Harry did not wake him. He was glad that the other boy was resting for once and had not even noticed when the Gryffindor had gotten up.


Harry woke up in the middle of the night once, since could feel Draco moving; he had turned onto his side. Harry considered waking him up to turn him back onto his back, but then decided against it, as he did not want to bother him unnecessarily.

He would not have expected the Slytherin to be able to go to sleep after the day´s incident at all.

When he awoke in the morning, Draco and himself had huddled together; his arm was lying around the other´s waist again, and he had turned onto his side as well.

Still sleepy, Harry blinked: he had not considered himself as being protective, but apparently he was. Or maybe Draco served as a late substitute for a stuffed animal? He had never had one as far as he knew.

He frowned at his own thoughts, since this was about Draco after all and not himself, but he remained like this, for it actually felt good and he was too tired to move anway.

He had dozed off again when he felt the other boy stir. He slowly opened his eyes and met Draco´s eyes, still tired as well but watching him intently. Harry held his gaze, trying to read his mind.

Draco murmured very softly. “Why are you so nice to me?” Draco murmured very softly.

Harry studied him a moment longer before answering in an equally low voice: “Maybe I need this comfort as well.” A small smile lightened up his features.”I just realized I never had a teddybear.”

Draco closed his eyes again for a second, a choked laugh escaping his lips, sounding as if he was bordering near tears: “Can´t be really comfortable with me. ... S-sorry, Potter...” he replied. “I didn´t know... s-sorry for everything... have been acting so stupid.”

“Yes,” Harry said after due consideration, “you have.” “I´ll try not to... from now on...” Draco muttered.

Harry furrowed his brow: “I don´t think that´s possible. It wouldn´t be you.”

“That´s the point...” the Slytherin answered, his voice so faint that it was barely audible now, “Draco Malfoy is dead.”

Harry did not reply, for he didn´t know how. It was understandable if Malfoy wanted nothing to do anymore with the lot which had done this to him, but he couldn´t possibly become an entirely different person, could he?

Everything he had ever learned, been taught and believed would become worthless then, wouldn´t it?

“It´s not so bad,” Draco continued exhaustedly, still holding Harry´s gaze, “he was a jerk anyway. Potter... I... am sorry for so many things I have done... you wouldn´t believe... need to apologize to so many... felt so superior...” He fell silent and closed his eyes.

Harry sought for something to say: “You will work it out,” he murmured, feeling very helpless once more.

Draco however began to sob silently: “...been living a lie!” he ground out while tears were rolling down from under his closed eyelids. “Cannot go on like this... cannot believe a thing anymore, he´s lied to me... he´s only ever lied to me...” He was shaking now.

Harry slid up on the mattress a little, very cautiously shifting his arm from Draco´s waist up to his shoulders, and inched closer to him until the other´s head rested against the Gryffindor´s collarbone.

Harry had taken such a comfort from Sirius´ embrace that he couldn´t think of any other way to console Draco, now that words were failing him.

And Draco, as if he was drowning, wrapped his arm around Harry and clung to him as if holding on to dear life. Images of how he had hugged himself when Harry found him came to the Gryffindor´s mind.

“Shshshsh...,” Harry finally whispered when Draco wouldn´t calm down. The blond boy was crying desperately again, his hopelessness evident in his heartbroken sobs. Truly heartbroken, Harry thought, there couldn´t be any word which was more appropriate than that.

“Shshshsh... you are not alone...” he tried, “there are other people there for you now...”

He knew that this was no empty phrase: even if Malfoy were to assume his former arrogant behaviour once they were back at Hogwarts, even if he would keep sneering and ridiculing Harry in the future, though it was hardly imaginable right now, would he still have changed in the Gryffindor´s eyes.

Some things were bound to leave an imprint.


Madam Pomfrey was quite worried about Draco even though she tried not to let it on. She knew that he was not particularly popular with the members of the Order, but she felt for him nevertheless.

She had seen the terror in his eyes, eyes that looked haunted, and she had seen the extent of cruelty he had been subject to in his injuries.


She had just stocked her bag with the potions and supplies she needed for him this morning when Dumbledore approached her.

His expression was grave as she spoke: “I am going to accompany you, Poppy; I need to speak with Mr Malfoy. I suspect you will not approve of it, but there is something I am going to have to request of the boy,” he said without any ado, looking into her eyes.
“If we are to find the people who have had him captive we need to know what exactly has happened. Therefore I would like to use my pensieve.”


The Healer was appalled: “But Albus- he is in no state to deal with those memories yet, let alone witness them like an onlooker!”

“He will not have to,” Dumbledore said quietly. “We can even do it while he sleeps, so that he doesn´t have to recall them actively- as long as he gives us his consent, of course. It takes nothing but a little Legilimency.”

Madam Pomfrey was not appeased by his words: “I strongly disapprove of it, Albus,” she said. “That boy has gone through a terrible ordeal, and just yesterday has he been mauled by that Muggle brute! How will he ever find the rest he needs?”

“He might find it once those who have put him through said ordeal are found and detained,” the Headmaster replied kindly. “I do have my suspicions, of course, but we need proof. And if I am assuming rightly that his own father has been among his captors, I am sure it is in young Draco´s interest to see him arrested.”

Madam Pomfrey looked down at her hands; Dumbledore was right, even though it seemed a terrible thing to do.

She nodded hesitantly, obviously shaken: “Well,” she then said, bracing herself. “Shall we leave?”


To Be Continued