How to Save a Life

Once Hermione had calmed Ron down, and persuaded him that wading in to punch Harry was not a good idea, she managed to convince her boyfriend to return to Hogsmeade.

“But I want to hear what he has to say for himself.” The redhead’s temper still hung on a knife edge.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Ron. You need to calm down first, or you’ll just make things worse.”

“Worse?” Ron spat. “My supposed best friend is in there molesting my little sister. He’s already got a girlfriend.”

“Ginny’s not a child. She can make her own decisions, and she wasn’t exactly fighting Harry off.”

“So, what? You’re calling her a slut, is that it?” Ron was not at his most rational.

“No! Of course not,” Hermione exclaimed, horrified by the accusation. “I’m just saying that she’s old enough to make her own decisions, and anyway, she won’t thank you if you go blundering in there and cause a scene.”

Ron just huffed angrily and Hermione continued trying to soothe his frayed temper. “Let’s just go back down to Hogsmeade. We’ll have a nice relaxing time and forget about all this. Then we can talk to Harry later, once you’re a little calmer.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest but he caught the determined look in his girlfriend’s eyes and promptly closed it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had opted to spend the day in Hogsmeade. He had toyed with the idea of waiting round the school until Harry had spoken to his friends, but he figured that with Granger’s inquisitiveness and Weasley’s temper, there was no telling when Harry would manage to escape their clutches.

Plus he figured that Harry would probably want cheering up once the deed was done, so he was planning to get his boyfriend a gift while he was out.

He headed off with Pansy and Blaise for company, both of whom were distinctly amused by their friends almost giddy behaviour. Along the way they were joined by Neville and Seamus, and also Daphne Greengrass, who seemed to have struck up a mutually satisfying sexual relationship with the Irish Gryffindor - or fuck buddies, as Draco had explained it to Harry.

Draco was in such a good mood that he did not even murmur a protest about these additions to their group. In fact, he even went so far as to spring for several rounds of butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks.

When they left the pub, the group lingered on the pavement outside, deciding where to go next. When Draco acquiesced easily to the others’ wishes, Pansy raised her hand and pressed the palm to the blond’s forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asked in confusion.

“I’m just checking you for a temperature,” she answered with a grin.

Draco paled a little. “Why? Do I look ill?” He turned and began checking his reflection in the window behind them.

Pansy laughed. “No, you look fine. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this mellow, or easygoing, before. I though you were sickening for something.”

Draco just grinned in return, not rising to the bait. “Nothing you say can upset me today, Pans. By the time we get back to school, Harry will have told Granger and the Weasel everything and we won’t have to hide anymore. I can walk into dinner holding his hand if I want. Merlin! I could just throw him down on the Gryffindor table and ravish him in front of them.”

Pansy giggled at the mental image this conjured. “I’d certainly like to see the She-Weasel’s face if you did that,” she admitted.

Draco nodded. “I’m almost tempted. Or I would be if I didn’t think that Harry would kill me.”

Pansy snorted. “As if that would stop you.”

Draco just smirked in reply, before his expression softened into a warm smile. “I can’t believe he’s finally doing it. I was beginning to worry that he had no intention of ever telling them.”

Pansy slid her arm companionably through his. “He loves you, idiot,” she chided affectionately.

“He does, doesn’t he.” It was impossible for Draco’s smile to get any brighter.

“Turn down the wattage, Draco. You’re blinding me.”

Draco bumped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re just jealous, Parkinson. I’m afraid you’ll have to content yourself with that Weasley of yours, because I am officially spoken for.”

“You’re such a vain git,” Pansy said, without any malice.

“Yep, and Harry loves me for it. Now be a good girl and come with me to Honeydukes. I want to get something for Harry.”

“Sap,” Pansy teased, and Draco was in such a good mood that he let it slide.

A short while later, Pansy waited patiently outside Honeydukes while Draco finished paying for, what seemed to be, their entire stock of Chocolate Frogs, and various other items. She had tried to persuade him to moderate his purchases a little, but the blond would not be swayed.

She smiled to herself as she waited. Pansy couldn’t remember ever seeing Draco this happy before. After everything the blond had gone through over the last couple of years, it was good to finally see him content.

The smile froze on her face, however, when she spotted Ron and Hermione exiting a nearby shop, with no sign of Harry in tow. She cast a desperate glance over her shoulder, praying that Draco wouldn’t emerge until the two of them had passed.

“Hello, Pansy.”

Damn, they had spotted her. “Hello, Hermione, Ron.”

The redhead mumbled something that just about passed as a greeting and Pansy couldn’t help but notice that the pair of them looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Where’s Harry,” she enquired, sure there was a logical explanation, and hoping to find out what it was before Draco reappeared and everything went to hell.

“What? Oh, Harry? I’m not sure where he is.”

Pansy watched curiously as the redhead stumbled over his words. “But I though he had arranged to meet up with you?” she pressed.

“We were supposed to, but something came up.”

Pansy opened her mouth to probe further, when the tinkle of a bell behind her warned of Draco’s imminent arrival.

“Pansy, I couldn’t decide which to get, so I …Granger, Weasley, what a pleasant surprise.” Grey eyes narrowed and scanned the surrounding area. “Where’s Harry? I thought he was supposed to be with you?”

Pansy placed a warning hand on his arm. “Hermione was just explaining that.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you. Please, continue.”

Hermione flinched slightly at the coolness of Draco’s tones. “I was just saying that something had come up.”

“Come up?” Draco repeated. “It must have been very important. I know how keen he was to catch up with you two.”

The two Gryffindors looked guiltily from Pansy to Draco. “I don’t know. He was just busy.”

‘Lying’ Draco thought, but he didn’t voice this suspicion. “Hmm, I suppose that our Saviour does have many pressing matters to attend to. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have shopping to do.”

Ron and Hermione quickly said farewell and hurried off in relief. Draco, meanwhile, turned flashing eyes onto his friend.

“Now, Draco,” Pansy warned. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions. I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. This is Harry we’re talking about.”

“You’d better hope for his sake that Voldemort has been resurrected again. Because if it’s for anything less important, I’m going to kill him.”

“C’mon, just calm down. How about we go back up to the castle? You can go find him and sort this misunderstanding out.”

“No,” Draco replied stubbornly. “I’m not going to go running around after him like some pathetic puppy. He’s in the wrong here, not me. Now lets go to Glad rags - I feel the need to spend an obscene amount of money.”

Pansy looked at her friend thoughtfully. Noticing that the Malfoy mask was firmly in place, she decided to let the subject drop - for now.”

As the afternnoon wore on, Draco’s mood became increasingly black. Not even making a serious dent in the Malfoy’s Gringotts vault shift the dark cloud that ha dbeen with him since the encounter with Ron and Hermione.

Pansy had tried her best to reason with him, knowing as she did his tendency to overreact. Nothing the Slytherin girl said made an iota of difference to Draco, who was mentally running through a list of unpleasant hexes, and deciding which to use on his boyfriend first.

By the time their group had reformed and made their way back up to the school, Draco’s mood was such, that even Neville was moved to speak up.

“I think you should wait to speak to Harry,” he said tentatively. “He doesn’t go back on his word, so I’m sure that something really important must have come up.”

“You’re sure, are you, Longbottom?”

Neville winced at the bite in Draco’s tone, and Blaise looked warily between his friend and boyfriend.

“You don’t think that he just decided not to do it, then? That maybe he decided he preferred to keep me as his dirty little secret? A bit like Blaise does with you.”

“You’re out of line,” Blaise growled warningly.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, clearly he had more to say on this subject.

“That’s enough, Draco.” Pansy intervened before any further damage could be done. The Slytherin girl took hold of the blond’s arm and pulled him in the direction of the dungeons.

“What the fuck, Pansy?” Draco spluttered in outrage.

“Just shut up. You’ll thank me for this later, when you still have some friends left.”

Draco glared fiercely at her, but allowed himself to be pulled along nonetheless.

Once they reached the Slytherin dungeons, Draco flounced off to his dormitory. He slammed the door behind him and refused to come out until it was dinner time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco sat watching the Gryffindor table through narrowed, steely eyes. There was still no sign of Harry, but Granger and the Weasel were there, and something was definitely off. Two thirds of the Golden Trio were huddled closely together, deep in conversation, while shooting furtive glances between the doorway, the Slytherin table, and someone that Draco couldn’t quite make out, but that was sitting further down on their own table.

The blond was already halfway through his dinner when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement in the doorway. Focussing his attention in that direction, he watched as Harry made his way into the Great Hall.

If Draco had paid close attention, he would have noticed the look of disorientation and confusion on his boyfriend’s face. But all he saw was Harry’s dishevelled hair and rumpled clothes, and he immediately leapt to his own conclusions. Only the distant echo of his father’s voice telling him that a Malfoy always behaved with dignity kept him from leaping over the Gryffindor table and shaking answers out of his boyfriend.

As it was, he managed to restrain his baser impulses and he settled instead, for shooting an icy glare in his direction. Harry met this with a look of bemusement, followed by a timid smile. All he got for his efforts was a fierce Malfoy death glare.

Draco turned his attention back to his meal, knowing he would never be able to keep hold of his temper if he continued to watch Harry. He tried to make polite small talk; realising what he was doing, Pansy played along. After a couple of minutes his friend fell silent. Draco looked up and found a look of something he couldn’t quite name on her face. He followed her line of vision all the way over to the Gryffindor table.

“What the fuck” he exploded, as he watched Ginny Weasley squirming up against Harry until she was almost seated in his lap. A look of outrage similar to his own, was currently marring Ron Weasley’s face, while Harry’s was covered in acute embarrassment.

Pansy placed a warning hand on his arm to remind him not to cause a scene, and with great difficulty he held his seat. Helped slightly by the sight of Harry trying to extricate himself from the She-Weasel’s advances.

Draco turned his attention briefly to the Hufflepuff table to see what the redhead’s boyfriend was making of all this. But Wayne Hopkins was either oblivious, or simply didn’t care that his girlfriend was doing a very passable impression of a Knockturn Alley whore.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Harry?”

Ginny Weasley’s shrill tones carried clear across the Great Hall and snapped Draco’s attention back in that direction.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I just want you to keep your hands off me.” Harry’s voice wasn’t particularly loud, but due to Ginny’s earlier outburst, the Great Hall had fallen silent. With everyone, teachers included, focussing their attention on the scene at the Gryffindor table.

With a low growl in the back of his throat, Draco began to rise from his seat. There was no way he was going to sit idly by while that Weasley trollop pawed at his boyfriend.

“You didn’t mind earlier,” Ginny yelled, and Draco froze midway out of his seat. Time seemed to stop for him and it felt like all the air had been sucked from his body. He put a steadying hand on the table and Pansy covered it with her own in support.

Draco was about to acknowledge his friend, but Harry was up on his feet, eyes blazing, and Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “You’re crazy. I never touched you earlier; I haven’t seen you all day.”

Harry towered over the still-seated Ginny. His face was flushed and his anger palpable.

Ginny blanched under this response. “W-w-why are you being like this?” she sniffed.

Harry didn’t respond immediately. He just glared down at the red head. Upping the stakes, Ginny let out a stifled sob and buried her face in her hands.

Harry snorted in disgust. “And here come the tears, right on time. What the hell are you crying for?” Harry didn’t intend for his words to sound quite so malicious, but a quick glimpse of the expression on Draco’s face had him panicking wildly, and his anger increased tenfold.

Harry looked down at Ginny’s tear streaked face and felt nothing but contempt. Draco had been right about her. Merlin! Even George had tried to warn him what a manipulative bitch she was. Not in those words exactly, but it amounted to the same thing. She was a spoilt, selfish little girl, and he had been blind to it all.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, turning away in disgust.

The next thing Harry knew, there was a sickening crunch as Ron’s fist connected with his nose, and he was sent sprawling to the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ron screamed, his arm still tensed as if waiting for Harry to get up so he could strike again.

“Mr Weasley! That is enough!”

Professor McGonagall was on her feet and making her way down the Great Hall. All pretence of eating had been given up by the rest of the room’s occupants, as they stared avidly at the unfolding drama.

None of this seemed to register with the two boys at the centre of it. They were locked in a bizarre sort of staring contest.

“You stay the hell away from my sister.” Ron’s voice shook with anger.

“I never touched her,” Harry yelled in response.

Hermione was at Ron’s side now, looking down at her friend. Harry wiped at the steady flow of blood from his nose and returned her gaze.

“Oh, Harry,” she said sadly. “We saw you kissing earlier.”

Harry’s jaw dropped at this, and he was vaguely aware that he must look like a gaping idiot. He started at Hermione in complete disbelief that such an apparently trustworthy friend could tell such blatant lies.

Hermione lowered her eyes, not quite able to meet the acute look of betrayal in the emerald irises that stared back at her. She turned her attention to Ron instead, who was now being soundly berated by the Headmistress.

Fearful of Professor McGonagall’s wrath, most students had gone back to eating their dinner. Albeit with one ear cocked in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Harry eased himself gingerly off the floor. Every movement causing a jolt of pain to burn through his throbbing nose - which he was fairly certain was broken. As he looked up he saw that Draco and Pansy were stood, as if frozen, only a few short feet away. There was a look of complete shock on Pansy’s face, and Draco’s…Harry shuddered at the icy expression that twisted his boyfriend’s features.

Suddenly the pain in his face paled in comparison to the twisting sensation that took hold of Harry’s insides. Draco believed it. He actually though that Harry could have ever betrayed him. It felt like an iron band was tightening round his chest and Harry could barely breath. As he took a step towards the Slytherin pair, Draco spun on his heel and swiftly exited the hall. Pansy cast a quick sorrowful glance in his direction, before hurrying out after her friend.

Harry started, as if to follow them. He had to talk to Draco, make him see the truth. But before Harry could taken even a few steps in that direction, he found himself face to face with Ginny.

The redhead bravely took a grip on his arm. “Harry, where are you going? We need to talk.”

Harry looked at her blotchy face, still wet from crocodile tears, and felt nothing but revulsion. He roughly flung her hand off his arm. “Don’t touch me,” he spat. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

Before either of them could say or do anything further, Neville stood between them, pointedly ignoring Ginny. He placed a tentative hand on his friend’s arm.

“C’mon, Harry,” he coaxed gently. “Let me take you up to the Hospital Wing so that we can get your face fixed.”

Harry tried to smile gratefully at Neville’s concern, but even this slight movement caused a stab of white hot pain.

“An excellent idea, Mr Longbottom,” Professor McGonagall interjected, scrutinising Harry’s face. “Madam Pomfrey will have you right in no time. Of you go, Mr Potter.”

Harry nodded in acquiescence and was forced to bite his lip to prevent a cry of pain from escaping him. This did not escape his eagle-eyed Headmistress’s notice, however. Turning round, the older woman found her victim.

“Mr Weasley.” Her voice was crisp and dangerously calm, and Harry almost felt sorry for Ron. “My office, now. You and I need to have a little chat about the standards of behaviour befitting a Head Boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Neville led him out into the Entrance Hall, Harry stopped and turned wide eyes onto his friend.

“I have to find Draco. I have to talk to him. Neville, he thinks that I …” Harry trailed off here, unable to put words to what it was that Draco believed he had done.

“I know you do,” Neville replied softly. “ But we have to get you healed up first. You’re in no state to be going anywhere other than the Hospital Wing at the moment.”

Harry looked into the sympathy-filled eyes of his friend. “I didn’t do it,” he whispered. “I would never. I love him too much.”

“I know.”

“You believe me?” Harry was shocked and immensely grateful all at the same time.

Neville looked at him thoughtfully before nodding slowly.

“But why? It’s not that I’m not pleased, but no one else does.”

“Because you’re you. And I don’t mean the Boy Who Lived, or the Saviour, or any of that crap. You’re Harry. You might have a temper, and a propensity for getting into trouble, but you’re loyal and honest. I’ve seen you with Draco and I think you would die before you would betray him.”

Harry beamed in spite of the pain. “Neville, I could kiss you.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea under the current circumstances,” Neville replied dryly.

Harry let out a burst of laughter, followed swiftly by a gasp of pain.

“Come on. Hospital Wing, now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Madam Pomfrey took one look at the state of Harry’s face and promptly ushered him to the nearest available bed, tutting loudly as she did so.

The pain in Harry’s face intensified briefly as Healing Charms were cast, re-knitting the broken bones. A thick paste was then rubbed into the tender skin under his eyes, to prevent the bruising that would certainly have accompanied his broken nose.

Not that Harry was really aware of any of this. Although his eyes were open, they were unfocussed and glazed over. Neville noticed worriedly how his friend’s hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles white with the pressure.

It took all of Harry’s self control to remain seated during his treatment. Logically, he knew it had to be done, but every fibre of his being was screaming at him to go find Draco and make everything OK.

The look on his boyfriend’s face as he had left the Great Hall had Harry terribly worrked. It had been cold, icy cold, and anyone looking at him in that moment, would have thought themselves facing Lucius, not Draco.

Just the memory caused a shiver to run through Harry’s body. Shaking his head, his eyes refocused and he turned to face Madam Pomfrey.

“Am I done?” he asked quietly.

The older lady smiled kindly and nodded. “Yes, Mr Potter, you may go. You should take things easy for tonight, to let the bones settle. Mr Longbottom, I expect you to make sure that he does.”

Neville agreed weakly, knowing there wasn’t a hope in hell of him preventing Harry from haring off after Draco. Sighing softly, he decided the only thing for it would be to accompany his friend into the dungeons.

Judging by the expressions on some Slytherins’ faces earlier, Neville doubted that Harry would be welcomed in their midst. Slytherins may be sly and cunning, but as Neville had learned over the last few months, they were also loyal to their housemates to a degree that would shame many a Hufflepuff. In their eyes, Harry had committed a cardinal sin; he had betrayed one of their own.

“Harry, wait up.” While Neville had been musing to himself, Harry was already on his feet, heading out of the Hospital Wing.

Harry paused momentarily, clearly irritated by the delay. “Just go back to the tower, Nev. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He paused a moment before adding, “Thanks for believing me.”

Neville shrugged. “What are friends for.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “After Ron and Hermione’s performances earlier, I’m not sure anymore.” He then nodded in acknowledgement of his friend and continued on his way.

After a couple more feet, Harry realised the Neville was still plodding along behind him. “What are you doing?” he asked, not pausing this time.

“Coming with you,” Neville replied simply.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” was the only reply that Harry got, and he felt a warmth surge through his body, thawing the chill that had been in place since dinner.

If Neville believed him, then there was a chance that he could convince Draco too; all was not lost. Ron and Hermione…well, he didn’t want to think about them yet. He couldn’t understnd why they had lied like that, and right now he didn’t care; Draco was all that mattered. If he lost him, then Harry swore to himself that he would never forgive his old friends, and there were also a few darker thoughts he had about what he would do to Ron when he got hold of him.

Then, they were outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and the worry that had filled Harry for the last hour, now became full blown panic.

He took several deep breaths to calm himself. For some reason, he was more terrified of entering that room than he had been on that long sacrificial walk into Voldemort’s camp. That night he had known what he was facing, what the outcome would be. But now, now there was no way of telling what was to come, and for once, Harry’s Gryffindorish urge to rush headlong in had deserted him.

“Are you ready?”

Harry turned to look at his friend and shook his head. “No, but I’m doing it anyway. Thanks for coming with me, but you don’t have to come inside. I’ll take it from here.”

“I’m not letting you face them all on your own,” Neville said fiercely, a determined set to his jaw.

Harry quashed the urge to hug his friend and turned his attention back to the blank wall in front of him. “Veritas,” he murmured, and the hidden door appeared. As he reached out for the handle, Harry couldn’t help but grimace at the irony of the password.

It seemed to Neville that the entire common room came to a halt the moment they entered. Harry was oblivious to this; he was busy scanning the room for signs of Draco.

They had barely taken a few steps into the room when the angry muttering started up. Even the first years were shooting death glares at them, and Neville was beginning to question the wisdom of their venture. He was relieved then, when he spotted his boyfriend. Blaise was sat on a sofa by the fire, with Pansy at this side. Spotting the two Gryffindors, he was on his feet in seconds, striding over to them.

“You shouldn’t be here, Potter. You’re not exactly welcome anymore.”

“Where is he, Blaise? I need to talk to him.”

Blaise took a step closer to Harry. “Don’t you think you have done enough damage for one day?” he growled, a dangerous expression on his face.

Neville was torn between the urge to protect his friend, and the arousal that his boyfriend’s forceful behaviour was creating.

Harry reached out to push Blaise aside. “I don’t have time for this,” he snarled. Before he could get past, the Slytherin boy grabbed hold of his arm and was glaring at him in anger.

“Let go of him, Blaise.”

The Italian boy turned to his boyfriend in disbelief. “How can you defend him?” he snapped. “You were there, you heard what he’s done.”

“He says it’s not true, and I believe him.” Neville refused to be cowed by the intensity of his boyfriend’s gaze.

“He’s in the dormitory.”

All three boys turned in the direction of this soft voice.

“Pansy!” Blaise cried in vexation.

“Let him go.” Pansy reached out and loosened Blaise’s grip on Harry’s arm.

Harry looked intently into the Slytherin girl’s face. She didn’t seem angry. Her skin was blotchy and she seemed to have been crying at some point. She looked at Harry sadly and he reached out and took hold of her hand.

“I didn’t do it,” he whispered.

Blaise snorted disbelievingly at this, but Pansy just smiled weakly. “I want to believe you, it’s just…”

Harry nodded. “It’s OK.” He let his hand fall from hers. “I have to see Draco.”

Pansy stepped to one side and smiled again. “Good luck.”

Harry moved to Draco’s room. It seemed like it took an eternity for him to walk the corridor to the dorms, and yet he was there far too quickly. He had no idea of what to expect on the other side of that door. If Blaise’s reaction was anything to go on, he could expect to face anger and hostility. Harry just hoped that Draco would give him a chance to tell his side before hexing him into oblivion.

Deciding against knocking, Harry reached out and pushed the door open. He was relieved when it opened easily; he had been expecting extensive Locking Charms and Wards. But he supposed that most sensible people knew better than to disturb the blond Slytherin when he was in a temper.

Draco was sat on the edge of his bed, facing the door, his head buried in his hands.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” He looked up as he spoke and Harry desperately searched his face for some trace of emotion, something to show how Draco was feeling - but there was nothing. The blond’s beautiful face was covered by a calm, expressionless mask.

“Draco, you have to listen to me,” Harry pleaded.

“I don’t have to do anything you tell me, Potter.” Draco was on his feet now and he closed the gap between them.

“I swear it’s not true. I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, you did plenty,” Draco replied bitterly. “Don’t make things worse by lying to me.”

“But-”

“No! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Potter.” Harry couldn’t help but shiver at the cold use of his surname.

“Draco, I swear I never touched her.” Harry was frantic now.

“So they’re all lying, are they?” Draco asked smoothly. “The two Weasels and Granger?”

“They must be, because it’s not true.” But even to Harry’s own mind, the idea of Hermione lying seemed incongruous at best. Instinctively, Harry reached out to touch Draco. He just knew that if he could hold the blond, remind him of everything they shared, then everything would be OK.

Draco, however, had other ideas. He slapped Harry’s hand away before it could make contact. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped icily. “You think I want your hands on me now that I know where they have been? After they’ve been touching that blood-traitor whore?”

“I didn’t do it,” Harry yelled, his temper finally flaring.

“Get out. You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”

Harry stepped closer to Draco, a determined look on his face. The blond had his wand out and pointed it at the Gryffindor. “Stay away from me.”

“Are you going to curse me then?” Harry asked softly.

“If I have to,” Draco replied calmly, but Harry didn’t miss the tiny shake of his wand hand. Reaching out, Harry clasped his hand round Draco’s wrist and lowered his arm.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Like lightening, Draco’s fist crashed into his face. “Just stop it!” the blond shouted, all pretence of calm gone. “Stop lying to me.”

Harry looked at his boyfriend, one eye already showing signs of swelling. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“You’ve been lying to your friends for months. Why should I be any different?”

“Because I love you.”

“I told you to stop saying that.” Draco’s tone was becoming steadily more distressed.

“But it’s true,” Harry replied, far more calmly than he felt.

This time the blow caught him on the mouth, splitting his lip in the process. Harry gingerly ran his tongue round to check for broken teeth, fortunately there were none.

Refusing to be cowed, Harry stepped closer still. “Just let me explain, please?”

Their bodies were so close now that Draco didn’t have room to swing anymore. So he did the only thing he could think of - he shoved Harry, hard.

Caught off guard, Harry went sprawling onto the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Draco looked down at him in disdain.

“Just get over it, Potter. You were only ever a way for me to pass the time. Just a convenient fuck.”

The words hurt Harry far more than any of the blows he had received. He tried to convince himself that Draco didn’t mean it. That he was just lashing out because he was hurt.

“Don’t say things like that,” he pleaded. “You don’t mean them.” Harry began pushing himself up off the floor, but Draco kicked his arms out from under him, sending him crashing back down.

“You weren’t a bad fuck, I suppose. But not so good that you’re worth this trouble. It’s a shame it has to end, but it’s not like there was any future in it.”

The words were like knives into Harry’s already wounded soul. Draco was so calm now, so emotionless, that Harry began to dread that it was the truth.

“B-b-but-”

“But what, Potter?”

“I love you.” No sooner had the words left his mouth, than Harry realised it had been the wrong thing to say. A sharp kick to Harry’s torso left him gasping for breath.

“I told you to stop saying that. Are you deaf as well as a liar?”

Unable to respond, Harry curled around himself, in a foetal-like position. Without pause, Draco stormed out of the room, apparently oblivious to the tears of pain and misery that trickled down his boyfriend’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wasn’t sure how long he had lain there, wallowing in his heartbreak; it seemed like hours. Eventually Neville had come to find him, and with a descretion that Harry had come to value greatly, he made no mention of his bloodshot eyes or tear stained face. He merely helped Harry to his feet and cast a quick Cleaning Charm, to preserve what little was left of his dignity. Neville then escorted Harry out of the dungeons, an expression on his face that dared anyone to comment.

Apart from Neville’s suggestion that he take Harry back to the Hospital Wing, which Harry had declined, the rest of the journey was spent in silence. Harry was immensely grateful for this. He had only a fragile grip on his self control and he knew that if Neville pressed him to talk about what had happened, well, he would have fallen apart.

The cruel words that Draco had spoken were like sharp barbs against his soul. With all his heart, Harry wanted, and needed to believe that it wasn’t the truth, that Draco was just saying that to hurt him the way he felt hurt. Surely no one was that good an actor?

But, as Harry bitterly reflected, the bad things were always easier to believe.

As they neared the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry hesitated uncertainly.

“I don’t think I can…”

“It’s alright, Harry,” Neville soothed. “We’ll just go straight up to the dormitory. We won’t stop to talk or anything.”

Neville already had the portrait hole open before he had finished speaking, and Harry found he was left with very little choice but to follow his friend.

Harry kept his head down and just made straight for the stairs, praying no one would see him. Unfortunately for him, both the Weasleys, and Hermione, were in the room, along with a scattering of other students.

Ron was on his feet in an instant, clearly intent on picking things up where he had left off earlier. Neville stepped in front of him. “Leave it, Ron. Harry’s had all he can handle for one day.”

Ron looked closely at his old friend, taking in the steadily swelling eye and the cut lip. “Who did that?”

“Malfoy,” Neville replied briefly, before turning and gently pushing Harry in the direction of the staircase.

Ron let out a bark of laughter. “Never thought I’d agree with that prat.”

Harry didn’t trust himself to speak for fear that his temper would explode. He had lost the most important person in his life, and sitting in front of him were the people he held responsible. He would have to talk to them eventually, to find out why, but not now - it was too soon. The pain was too raw and he wanted to be alone with his grief.

Both Ron and Hermione seemed to sense some of this and they wisely said nothing further. Ginny, on the other hand, had no such considerations. She attempted to follow Harry up to his dormitory. Neville sent the other boy on ahead and then turned to face the redhead.

“I have to talk to him,” she said, trying to get past him. “We need to sort things out.”

“There’s nothing for you to sort out,” Neville answered calmly.

Colour flooded Ginny’s face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.

“I know that you weren’t with Harry earlier.”

“Don’t be silly, Neville.” Her voice rose at this. “Ron and Hermione saw us.”

“I don’t care what they think they saw,” Neville said stubbornly. “I know Harry, and I know that he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? Because he’s so loyal to that Slytherin whore of his?”

Neville was forced to remind himself that this was a girl he was dealing with, and however much she might deserve it, he could not hit Ginny.

“I wondered how long you would keep the act up,” he answered coolly.

If it was possible, Ginny flushed an even brighter red. “You can’t keep me away from him forever.”

“I don’t have to. He doesn’t want you.”

“Oh, just fuck off,” Ginny spat, turning away from him. “You always were a loser, Neville,” She shot over her shoulder as she flounced in the direction of her bedroom.

“How can you say that you believe him, Neville?” Hermione spoke softly, but Neville turned a defiant glare on her.

“Because I know Harry, and he said it’s not true.”

“But we say him,” Hermione explained slowly as if talking to a small child.

Neville just shrugged. “You’ve lived in a world of magic for long enough to know that not everything is as it seems.”

“So it was what? An illusion?”

Neville sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I know it wasn’t Harry.” With that he turned and climbed the stairs in search of his friend.