Forgiven // Drarry

The Daily Prophet

Harry reached into his back pocket, grabbing his wand, preparing to disarm himself in case anything happened.

"Harry Potter. I read about you in the Prophet this morning." The Slytherin started walking to Harry. Harry backed up, gripping his wand tighter.

"You shouldn't be in here." He said. "I might have to report you to Professor Umbridge for trying to hit on every guy who walks in here."

"I don't want a fight." Harry said firmly.

"What's that? You're not making sense Potter. You've gone bonkers." The Slytherin roared with laughter. Harry stayed silent.

"You know what happens to people like you?" The boy asked him stepping forward more. Harry backed up and felt the wall behind him. He took out his wand. The Slytherin took out his own wand at the same time.

"Expelliarmus." The boy cackled and the wand flew out of his hand before he could disarm himself. He didn't dare move to grab it.

"People like you are sick. Messed up." The Slytherin sneered. " You get what you deserve."

"Patrificus Totalus."

Harry was stiff, unable to move. His eyes were closed. The boy kicked him in the side repeatedly. He felt a cry in his throat but Harry couldn't move. Then the Slytherin kicked him in the nose and blood gushed on his face. He wished he would just pass out so he wouldn't have to be aware of what was happening. It reminded him of Dudley and Uncle Vernon. Then he felt pain in his arm, accompanied by a loud crack. He couldn't breathe through the pain.

He wasn't sure what was worse. His ribs or his arm. It all felt the same. He found it hard to breathe with the blood spurting out of his nose.

"What curse should I cast on you now?" The Slytherin asked himself. His voice was husky and deep. "I think the Cruciatus curse would be fitting."

Harry braced himself for the pain But it never came. He heard the opening of the Bathroom door. He heard spells being blasted back and forth. All he could do was lay there. Once the spells stopped, he heard people yelling. Bangs. Then everything was quiet except for foot steps against the tile floor. He began to regain feeling in his limbs. But he didn't move. He just lay there, with his eyes closed.

"Fuck, Harry. Fuck fuck fuck." A familiar voice called to him, horrified. Harry couldn't will himself to move, no matter how hard he tried. His brain felt fuzzy. The pain masked everything. And  everything went black.

...

He woke up in the hospital wing. He felt sore, but the pain had dissipated. His arm was still in a sling though. He sat up, and reached for his glasses on the table by his bed.

He realised along with them was a note.

" Harry Potter,

What happened to you was pretty shitty. The person who did this to you will pay dearly for it, mark my words. I'm glad Weasley found you when he did. Madam Pomfrey always says she could mend bones in a minute. You had a whole lot of broken ribs, a broken arm, and a broken nose, according to Granger. But you should be healed by the time you wake up. At least you don't have to drink Skelegrow like in Second Year. Don't let what happened affect you. I know it can hurt more mentally than physically. You have to move through it, alright. Don't show anyone that it affected you. I love you, I'll see you when you wake up.