Harry watched as Malfoy's head hit the hard wooden table with a sickening thud, his white-blond hair flopping over his pale face. It seemed as if no one else was noticing the unconscious Slytherin, and his 'friends' stared at him in confusion as a strangled yell left his throat. Hermione shot him a worried look, shuffling away from the group and sitting alongside Harry.
"Are you alright Haz?" He gestured to the shady table in the near back of the room, heart beating wildly. Hermione gasped softly, a mixture of mild fear and bewilderment evident on her features.
"Do you - do you think that we should help him? I mean, he might just be drunk, but that's highly unlikely-" Harry shook her arm urgently, eyes wide and impatient. "No offence, but you should try babbling incessantly when Dra- I mean Malfoy isn't passed out on a table." She huffed indignantly, but got to her feet quickly enough, her and Harry's absence going unnoticed by the rest of the group - all of which were chatting away happily. The dark haired boy marched straight past the tables filled with people calling his name, purposely heading for the very back of the brightly lit room.
It was cooler back there, somehow, the atmosphere felt more somber. Harry peered nervously at Malfoy's pale face, every ounce of confidence drained from his face. Hermione loomed over him, obviously expecting him to take care of the blond himself. "Well go on then, he's obviously not going to move himself - and besides - weren't you just panicking at the very thought of him being hurt?" She teased, stepping back slightly. Harry threw her a mock-angry look, before gently lifting the other boy's limp arms up and slinging them round his own shoulder, his body feeling surprisingly light.
Slipping out of the door and out into the cold evening with Hermione trailing a few paces behind him, Harry carried Malfoy bridal-style towards Hogwarts, stroking the boy's white-blond softly.
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Madame Pomfrey walked towards a window, sighing before throwing it open, a cool breeze drifting through the room. Harry sank lower in his chair, occasionally glancing at the blond lying on the bed next to him. He had practically 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 Madame Pomfrey to let him stay in the room while she was tending to Malfoy, to which she initially refused, but upon realizing the dark haired boy wasn't leaving anytime soon, she finally relented - albeit reluctantly. Harry didn't even fully know why he wanted to stay with his sworn 'enemy' when he could've been spending his night sleeping in his actual bed, instead of stubbornly curling up on a chair.
Malfoy groaned softly, suddenly fluttering his eyes open and rolling onto his back.
"What...?'' He glanced at Harry, rushing into a tense sitting position. "Get out Potter.'' The other boy sat up a little straiter, glaring the blond. "Lay back down, blondie. And I'm not going anywhere - you fool - I carried you all the way here.'' Madame Pomfrey suddenly came bustling in, an exasperated look on her face. "Do keep it down-''
"Tell him to leave Poppy,'' Malfoy called, not taking his eyes off Harry. "Oh. Well you can't just expect Potter to depart so soon after he went through all the trouble in getting you here.'' The blond huffed loudly, flopping back onto the hospital bed.
The matron frowned slightly, turning to leave.
"I'll be back to give you a sedative. Maybe then you'll sleep.'' Now that it was just him and Malfoy, Harry turned to him, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "How are you feeling? Headachy? Nauseous?'' The blond did not move from his place, staying head-first in the snow white pillow of the hospital bed. "I'm not talking to 𝒚𝒐𝒖, Potter. You're not even meant to be here.'' Harry rolled his eyes, taking in the other's muffled, childish voice. "You mean I don't 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 to be here. I chose to be here. I was actually planning on leaving, but I can see that me being here is bothering you, so I'll stay.''
Malfoy looked up from the pillow he had buried his face in, his face so close Harry swore he could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes. "I hate you. Do you know what day it is?'' The dark haired boy stared for a second, momentarily stunned. "What? Oh, it's um, Sunday I think."
"And do you think - ugh, what the hell?" Harry frowned, worry taunt on his face. "Are you ok?" Malfoy glared at him, a hand grasping his head. "Migraine. And why do you care anyway?"
"Should I get Madame Pomfrey? It sounds bad-"
"NO- I mean no, don't get Poppy - it'll only bother her."
Harry frowned for what felt like the hundredth time that day, confused by Malfoy's reaction. "Alright then..? And why do you call her Poppy? It's a bit weird." The other boy rolled his eyes, throwing himself back onto the bed, this time laying face-up.
"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Harry wrinkled his nose. "You sound so old." Malfoy scoffed, rolling onto his side.
"Hey - I was just kidding - please tell me." He moved again, this time to face the other boy. "She helped me get out of a really dark place, and I guess I've grown attached to her. Poppy's kind of like another mother to me."
"Oh, ok then," Harry mumbled, not wanting to push any further, sensing that he had already broken a boundary. "Matron said earlier that you must of been given something like weak poison in your drink last night," he said, changing the subject, "Who would want to hurt you like that?" Malfoy stared right through him, seemingly unbothered. "Oh I know. And I know who too - you're really not that smart Potter."
"Then who is it?" Harry leaned in slightly.
"My father of course."
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I actually had a lot of fun writing this-
-R🧚
YOU ARE READING
I kissed a boy (drarry)
FanfictionDISCLAIMER: I kind of don't like this fic, so read at your own risk 😭 --------- Harry Potter was a saint - or at least that's what it looked like. Nothing he did was ever remotely wrong or laced with bad intentions. Everyone said it, the image of p...
