The Ties That Bind Us (Drarry)

Chapter 4

I could kiss that woman, Draco thought as McGonagall strode into the classroom, closely followed by Flitwick. She glared at them with her lips pressed into a tight line and Draco couldn't help gulping in fright; he felt Potter squirm uneasily next to him and felt a little better about his own fear. But fear was good. Fear chased away unwanted reactions; reactions that, Draco was certain, were merely a figment of his imagination in the first place. Honestly, what was there to be aroused about? Potter, fighting, ropes? Draco frowned and quickly concentrated on McGonagall's frightening glare.

Flitwick stared at them with a peculiar expression on his tiny face. He looked as though he was ready to burst out laughing. Draco couldn't blame him; they must have been quite a sight. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, sitting closely together, with Potter all but tucked snugly into Draco's embrace.

"Your hand, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall barked sharply and Draco's free arm flew toward her instantly. Draco suspected she had Summoned it. Illogically, he thought that McGonagall might slap him with a ruler and he gulped audibly when she reached into her robe pocket. However, she merely pulled out a handkerchief and a small vial that Draco recognised as a healing salve. She poured a small amount of oily liquid onto Draco's fingers and placed the handkerchief in front of him. Without a word, she walked toward the teacher's desk, set the vial aside, and sat down, glaring much too viciously.

Since no further instructions were forthcoming, Draco smeared the liquid over his jaw. It tingled, not unpleasantly, and the slight pain ebbed away. He wiped his face with the handkerchief, stalling as much as he could, but in the end he set it aside and sighed, guessing that was the end of niceties.

"Filius?" McGonagall prompted politely.

Flitwick shook his head. "I don't think there's anything I can do," he said sadly. "But let me try . . ."

Flitwick raised his wand and Draco waited with bated breath, hoping that the old professor would know what to do.

"Relashio!" Flitwick cried and Draco rolled his eyes.

Noting happened, of course, and Draco heard Potter grumble, "We kind of figured that doesn't work."

McGonagall rubbed her temples. "Why not, Filius?"

"It's because Potter used the Disarming Charm to counter it, isn't it?" Draco asked promptly, earning himself glares from both Potter and McGonagall.

"Er, no, Mr Malfoy," Professor Flitwick squeaked, looking a bit taken aback. "Your spell merely malfunctioned."

Draco stared at him in shock and then stuck out his bottom lip. "I demand a second opinion. We should ask the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. This is his area of expertise."

Flitwick grimaced, undoubtedly insulted, and McGonagall snapped, "You're in no position to demand anything, Mr Malfoy." She turned to Flitwick. "Do you think the effects will subside?"

"Oh, certainly," Flitwick confirmed. "Just give it a few hours. It was a very poorly cast —"

"Yes, thank you, Professor, you may go now," Draco said quickly.

"Mr Malfoy!" McGonagall exclaimed and Potter had the audacity to snicker.

"Thank you, Filius," she said with a tight smile. "You may . . ." she glared at Draco, "leave now."

Flitwick nodded and with a last glance and a chuckle in Potter and Draco's direction, he left.

Draco promptly looked at his lap, having no desire to face McGonagall. Of course, looking at his lap meant staring at Potter's hand splayed over his trousers. A rope was wrapped around Potter's wrist and Draco's thigh in several loops, so tightly Draco's leg was going numb. He could see Potter's pale skin reddening beneath the rope. Potter should have asked for some healing salve, the dumb martyr.