Chapter thirteen:

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Draco stirred, his lashes fluttering. His first realisation was immediately the bitter absence of Harry, who he reminded himself swiftly, was only gone transitory. Harry was adamant that leaving Draco to rest was crucial, he also had homework to catch up on and he wanted to go to Hogsmeade to get Draco a Christmas present. Draco had frowned glumly as he had totally forgotten about the holiday season fast approaching. At least this year he would have Harry, if not his parents or any friends; Draco convinced himself he was more than content with just Harry. But he wasn’t. Draco had no need for friends, he had never really bonded that closely with any of them but Christmas without his mother and father; now that was a dissimilar thing all together. Draco had never gone a Christmas without either one of them, even if he had hated having to spend time with them. As Draco continued to reflect, a distressing realisation was creeping from the back of his mind. They didn’t love him anymore.

“Malfoy.”

Draco looked up abruptly to see a flustered and awkward standing red head, Weasley shuffled under Draco’s gaze and cleared his throat; not quite looking him in the eyes. Draco hadn’t spoken to Weasley since the incident in the library; both of them had avoided each other at all costs. Draco put it down to his unlikely civil attitude towards the foolish ginger and therefore didn’t want to disappoint or sadden Harry but really, he just didn’t want to apologise to Weasley. Draco was sorry he’d upset Harry, he was sorry he’d argued with Harry and lost his cool but he wasn’t sorry he’d hexed Weasley. If anything, Weasley should be sorry for what he said. Draco shifted his body so he was sitting up on his bed; he waited for Weasley to continue; anxious in case he tried anything while Draco’s wand wasn’t at arm’s reach.

“Look...just because I’m here, it doesn’t mean I like you or anything. And I still think Harry’s gone barmy for even trusting you,” Weasley grumbled, Draco smirked at his awful attempt at an apology. “I just wanted to say sorry about what I said in the library. It wasn’t meant to be personal, I just can’t stand you.” That was understandable; Draco could hardly tolerate Weasley either.

“Okay.” Draco replied coolly, hoping Weasley didn’t wait for his apology. He didn’t, instead he tensely shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed his shoe. “Out with it, Weasley; I want to use the bathroom.” Draco sighed irritably, rolling his eyes.

“I just want to make it clear that Harry might be your boyfriend but he’s my best friend, and has been a lot longer. And if you hurt him, you’ll have more than a Sectumsempra curse to recover from.” Weasley didn’t threaten in an intimidating way but Draco understood the importance of his words. Draco nodded. “Good...well I um,” he stammered. “Guess I’ll see you later.” Weasley left immediately and Draco heaved a big sigh, and then smiled. Boyfriend. Harry was his boyfriend.

After using the bathroom and showering delightedly; the hot water relaxed his unconsciously tense muscles, Draco slipped into more comfortable clothes and towel dried his hair; now sparkling and blood-ridden. He was managing to catch up on missed work which mainly consisted of Professor Flitwick’s essay; well he was until he contracted a dire headache, and as he buried his head into his pillow gloomily his mind flashed back, resistant to his will power. Victor’s cold face glared at him. The memory came back to him but it was blurry and almost unrealistic because the pain didn’t accompany the images. Not that Draco ever wanted to recall the agonizing feeling ever again.

“Mr Malfoy, are you feeling all right?” Madam Pomfrey asked apprehensively, rushing to his bed side and craning to see Draco’s face. Draco grunted and rolled over.

“Headache.”

“Oh, quite expected. I’ll get you something for that.” She shuffled off and returned almost immediately, giving Draco time to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He flexed and forced his head into his hands, clenching his eyes shut and hoping the pain would decrease; it did not. “Here.” Draco took the small silver goblet and looked at the green black bubbly liquid disgustedly. However the horrible slime pain relief won him over as his headache progressed into a worse stage. He gulped it down, not daring to breathe for a few seconds after each swallow in fear his gag reflex would transport it back up his throat. “Get some rest. The potion will take a few minutes to work. I will wake you in time for dinner.” Draco didn’t want to sleep anymore, he had done a lot of sleeping lately and now without Harry; it was definitely a lot less desired. He didn’t argue with her though, instead he lay down and got comfortable; staring dreamily at the ceiling of Harry. His green eyes that crinkled when he grinned, his messy black bed hair that he patted down when he thought Draco wasn’t looking; his lip biting as he thought hard about something or felt nervous talking about something. His lip biting was a habit Draco couldn’t ignore, if Harry was explaining Charms to him and got lost in his own words; he’d bite his lower lip and Draco’s mind would blank completely so that he could focus on the irresistible movement. Harry often blushed when he realised he’d gotten carried away, and then he’d blush more when he realised Draco was staring.

The potion shifted his headache so it was an uncomfortable sting in the back of his mind. An uncomfortable sting he could put up with and often found he could ignore as he replayed his incredible first experience with Harry not far away from where he lay. He had been so embarrassed in case he did anything wrong. In Draco’s eyes, Harry couldn’t do anything wrong. Unfortunately, he could. And not giving Harry anything for their first Christmas together would be incredibly wrong. He would go to Hogsmeade alone and find something for him, that is if he even got out of this hall before Christmas came. 

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