Nevermore

Yay ficlet/drabbles. I have this image in my head that won't leave me alone (like I need to be writing more... XD)

*

Draco checked his hair in the mirror, and tucked his wand into the sleeve of his sweater. He wasn't going anywhere in particular - just out of the Slytherin common room, which was stifling. It was almost curfew, which meant he couldn't go far, but he wanted out while he still had a chance. It was one of his favourite classes in the morning, Potions with Snape, and he was almost looking forward to being able to show off a bit for his guardian. After the deaths of his parents, Snape had adopted him, and allowed him to retain his last name. Draco Snape just didn't have the same impact as Draco Malfoy, no matter how dirtied the name had become under his father. He owed a lot to the Potions Master, and as a thank you, did the only thing he could. He threw himself one hundred percent into his studies, and school work, and as a result was making better grades than Granger for the first time in years. He'd eased off the trio a lot while fixing the vanishing cabinet, and habit had become normal. He noticed that the less angry he was with them, the more he could study, and whenever he felt the urge to insult them, he read the most boring book he could pick up, the Monster Book of Monsters from third year Care of Magical Creatures. The end result was he didn't get angry as often, but learned quite a lot about the monsters listed inside, as he absorbed what he read even when it was dull.

Unsurprisingly, McGonnagal had become Headmistress of Hogwarts after Dumbledore, but shockingly enough, she'd moved for a full pardon for Snape and Draco for the murder. Potter had helped, he'd heard, as the geeky half-blood had been up there with them that night. Why he wanted to get them out of Azkaban was beyond even Draco's extensive imagination, as he looked ready to murder them on the spot the night he'd chased them from the school grounds after Dumbledore's murder.

Still, the ends justified the means, and he didn't care how he'd come to be free of Azkaban and admitted back to Hogwarts, but there he was, and he wasn't going to take it for granted this time. He was just about to head back to Slytherin, having cleared his head enough that he could actually get something done, when a suspicious noise caught his attention.

"--ou fucker!" A sickly, wet noise followed. "I hope they put you in Azkaban. You deserve no less for the things you've done."

As a prefect, it was his duty to make sure that they weren't fighting. As a Slytherin, his curiousity wouldn't have let him walk away without checking it out first. Draco followed the noises, which sounded as if someone were getting, for lack of a more appropriate way of saying it, the crap beaten out of them. He ducked behind a suit of armour, and watched two students - both sixth years by the looks of it, from Slytherin and... Hufflepuff? Draco frowned, and pulled closer, still making sure his body was hidden. The Slytherin was holding someone while the Hufflepuff landed blow after blow on the helpless student.

I should interfere. I should get a teacher. Something. I can't just let them --

He never knew how he was going to finish that thought, as at that exact moment the student being beaten had lifted his head, and spat blood in the faces of his attackers. Harry Potter. His glasses were missing, and there was blood pouring down the side of his face, but the defiant spark in mossy green eyes was a familiar sight, one he'd never forget even if he never saw the Gryffindor again. His brave audacity earned him a vicious kick to the stomach, and suddenly the Slytherin had hold of his throat, and slammed the back of his head into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Potter went limp, being held up by the grip on this neck alone, and Draco could hear him gasping for air. He scrabbled uselessly against the iron grip that held him, and Draco was shocked when those eyes landed on him, widening in recognition.

Draco retreated a few steps, waiting for some sign from Potter that their activities had been noticed, but he didn't do anything. Not a point, not a grunt, nothing. Watching the spark fading slowly from his eyes as the two students deprived him of breath was more than Draco could handle at that moment, and he went against everything his father had ever taught him.

"Stupefy. Stupefy!" The two attackers slid to the floor unconscious, and were followed by a bloody Potter. Draco moved forward, and caught hold of him.

"why...?" Potter whispered, and coughed, choking again.

"Not all Slytherin are assholes, Potter. Some of us can learn from our past mistakes." He wasn't sure how much the Gryffindor heard, as the body in his arms went limp as he was speaking. There was so much blood that Draco was afraid he'd simply bleed out on the dungeon floor. He tied the two younger students up, and left them where they were, intending to return with Snape as soon as he got Potter to the relative safety of the hospital wing.

Halfway there, he realized that at some point he'd stopped dragging and just lifted Potter against his body. He's so light! Does he eat? Thinking back, he realized that he hadn't seen Potter at the Great Hall in days. He'd noticed out of habit, but hadn't thought much of it.

Draco looked down, and grey met green. "Sorry," Potter mumbled. "'M useless." There was such a despondent, dejected feel about the words that Draco couldn't not answer.

"You're not useless, you've just been beaten senseless," he admonished, and blinked as Potter clutched at his shirt.

"You're all dirty. I'll walk." He didn't let go, however, and Draco sensed a need for closeness was driving him to cling. After the scene he'd witnessed, he wasn't surprised.

"You're not walking, you'll never make it. Why were they attacking you?" Snape had encouraged him to think about what he wanted now that he was essentially a free man, and he was reading about Muggle medicine, considering becoming a Healer. Madam Pomfrey had allowed him some 'study time' in the infirmary with happiness, glad for the help. He'd need the medi-witch to confirm it, but he suspected that Potter had a concussion, and possibly worse that might not be visible. There were already bruises forming on his throat, and the soft breaths were wheezy. Keep him talking. Don't let him go to sleep. Make sure he's still aware. The words ran through his head like a mantra, and he cursed the fact that the dungeons were so far from 'civilization' in the form of the hospital wing.

"Said I murdered.. Cedric," Potter murmured quietly. "And didn't like that I supported you in the Ministry. Thought you should've stayed in Azkaban. Better for them, less... competition."

Draco didn't know how to respond to this, and changed the subject. "Why were you in the dungeons in the first place?" he asked.

"Wasn't," Potter said. "Dragged down there on my way to the loo."

Blessedly, the infirmary doors loomed close, and Draco kicked one of them in. "Madam Pomfrey!" he called, startling a pair of students who'd done some damage in Potions. "Help! We need help!"

The Healer bustled out of her office, and gasped at the sight of them. "Merciful heavens, boy, what have you been doing?"

"I found some students beating him in the Dungeons. I'm getting Snape to take care of it, but first, they hit him really hard, and tried to strangle him, and that's just what I saw."

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," she said. "On your way now, it's past curfew." Draco reluctantly released his charge into her care, and returned to the dungeons. There were more layers to this Golden Boy than he'd thought originally. He didn't turn Draco over to his attackers when he could have to save himself, and he'd taken a beating over the fact that he'd helped the youngest Malfoy. They'd loathed eachother for years, but in the uneasy truce they'd fallen into the past year, he thought maybe it wouldn't be so out of place to do something to thank him. Starting with getting those two goons detention with Snape or Filch for the rest of the year. He dragged the Potions teacher out of his rooms, and down into the corridor where Potter's attackers were still stupefied on the floor.

*

The next morning found Draco in Potions class, as he'd anticipated, but Potter was still in the hospital wing. He couldn't concentrate on anything Snape was saying, which wasn't normal for him at all, and he couldn't sit still. It got so bad that Snape finally interrupted himself with a resigned sigh.

"Mr Malfoy, get out of my class. You're disrupting me. Go see Pomfrey or something." The hint was blatant between the two of them, but the rest of the class was mystified. Draco nodded in thanks, and stood, gathering his things. Finally free, he all but ran to the hospital wing, anxious to see how Potter had fared through the night. He found the dark-haired Gryffindor asleep, his hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. His expressive eyes were closed, and he looked almost angelic in repose. Draco was hesitant to wake him, but he noticed that the bruises were mostly gone, and the damage seemed to have been taken care of.

As he turned to go, he heard Potter stir. "Malfoy?" he called, and Draco turned.

"How are you feeling?" It was the stupidest thing he could have said, but his brain short-circuited at the sight of Potter sitting up awkwardly, looking slightly anxious.

"Been worse off," he shrugged. "Malfoy, I wanted to than-"

"Don't thank me," Draco cut him off. "I was just doing my job as a prefect." They both knew that Draco wasn't required to carry Potter all the way to the Hospital wing; he'd've been well within his rights to just leave him there for the teachers to handle. Red tinged his cheeks.

"Anyway, thank you," Potter said firmly, then resolutely laid back down, rolling over to face the windows. Draco stared at him for a moment longer, then turned to leave again.

By the door, he paused. Without looking back, he said, "You're welcome, Harry."

By the time Potter got around to look at him, he was gone. Smiling, he relaxed again, wondering what this meant for the war.