Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy V

Harry was practically glowing. The young blond's lips twitched into a smirk.

The Gryffindor asked a few more questions before looking satisfied. He asked if Draco was willing to talk to him again later and Draco agreed.
Potter stood to leave. Maybe it was Draco's imagination, but the corners of the room were growing dark.

Grabbing some books, he stood to leave. A quick movement. Far too quick. The room darkened even more, like the fading scene of a movie. Draco felt light-headed and nauseous. A high ringing sound overtook all other sounds in the room.
Two steps and he was down.

Draco Malfoy is helping me.
Nope. Not happening. That guy definitely wanted something out of this.

Harry had been right about one thing; Draco was definitely an expert on dark magic. In less than a few minutes he had taken him through basic and advanced curses comparing the outcomes to the one currently plaguing them. Everything from ancient hereditary powers to new, un-accidental developments from either foul play or self-experimentation.

Who knew the native Sami from Norway had up to 24 different types of snow curses?

Absorbed in all this new vital information, Harry failed to notice the foggy look in Draco's eyes. The occasional stomach growl and biting of lips.

The next thing he knew there was loud thumps of books clattering on the floor and an unconscious Draco Malfoy.

Harry didn't really know what to do. Calling a teacher seemed logical, but instincts kicked it in instead and he rushed to Draco.

The boy was white as death and stone cold.
Harry put his fingers under Draco's nose. Yes, he was breathing.

Draco had fainted...

Why had he fainted?

Harry called for help and Madam Pince—the librarian—appeared shortly.

"Oh dear!" She froze for a second. Her resting, mean composure cracked. Then she rushed over to Draco.

Before she could ask, Harry answered, "I don't know. I was just standing there and..."

The librarian was old and frail. Her face said one thing, but those old bones said another.
There was no one around to help Harry carry Draco to the infirmary.

Clueless and impulsively, Harry did the water spell, aiming at Draco's face.

His eyelids snapped open, revealing a disoriented and groggy pair of silver eyes.
The blond groaned.

"Malfoy? Can you get up?"

Draco groaned again and attempted to push his body up. In all honesty it didn't appear Malfoy himself knew what happened and was probably on the brink if passing out again. He was like a half asleep zombie, mindlessly following instruction.

Harry helped him up, putting an arm around him. Slowly, they started walking.

When they reached the hallway Harry found it to be mostly empty.
Hermione Granger was walking head down, absorbed in a book. How the hell she knew where she was going, Harry would never know.
"Mione! Lend me a hand here."

She looked up, all the emotions fast-forwarding on her face in seconds. Confusion. Shock. Realization.

By the time they finally reached the infirmary they were basically dragging a corpse.

Madam Pomfrey laid him on a bed. The split second after Harry told him what happened, they were being shooed out.

Not that Harry cared or would've stayed. It may sound cruel, but he got what he needed out of Draco for now. What he'd done was what any other bystander would do.
Once a bully, always a bully.
While Draco had proven to not be wholly evil, they weren't any closer to being friends now than they had been in first year.