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***
“Well,” Regulus intoned thoughtfully after Draco had finished the tales of his first year, venting out his frustrations with Potter. “It seems he likes you.”
Draco glares. “I don’t want him to like me, I want him to leave me alone!”
The portrait sighs, eyes flickering to the side in consideration.
“So, to be clear: you met Harry Potter at Madam Malkin’s, accidentally made him feel like an idiot, avoided him – yes, I know, you had better things to do – every chance you could, wreaked havoc in the Great Hall, then expected him to leave you alone?” Draco flushed in embarrassment.
“I don’t like the way you worded that.”
“Dragon,” Regulus drawled exasperatedly, and he cringed at the way it reminded him of Snape. “You should know that the Potters don’t take kindly to be ignored once they’ve latched on. Trust me, I would know, and it seems the poor boy has unknowingly latched onto you.”
“You make it sound like they’re leeches.”
“They are.”
Draco let out a startled laugh, relishing in the company of Regulus gratefully.
A sudden thought occurred to him.
“How did you and Potter Sr. meet?” He asked curiously.
Regulus raised a brow. “Potter Sr.? What is he, fifty?”
Draco shrugged, “may as well be.”
“Fair enough.”
The silence lasted for a few moments.
“I didn’t quite like him, when I first met him.” Regulus murmured quietly, and Draco stayed silent. “Thought he was a nasty, blood-traitor who steals brothers for shits and giggles. My brother, Sirius, was the one who introduced us. He was far too loud for my tastes. Anyway, I was sorted into Slytherin, and we ignored each other up until my fifth year, when he caught the older Slytherins picking on me – or attempting to, anyway –.”
Draco snickered. Imagine, trying to pick on the elegant, stoic Regulus Black.
“I think that was when I realized he was proper fit – don’t say that in front of your parents – and decidedly insulted him and walked away. Of course, my brother ran away the previous summer so the idiot was concerned for – admittedly understandable – reasons, and it turns out Potter liked to be insulted?”
He started to wheeze. “Wait, wait – what?”
Regulus shrugged helplessly, grinning. “I have no idea. Anyway, he – as I dubbed it – latched onto me – like a leech, as you put it – and practically stalked me. Literally, followed me everywhere, constantly trying to annoy me into talking to him.. it was quite funny, now that I look back on it.
Again, he found me in the Astronomy Tower one night, and I was in a mood so I let him talk to me a bit, and I sort of realized shit, I totally like this bloke. Again, don’t repeat that to your parents.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Regulus.”
“Sure you aren’t. So after that we met up almost every night, and eventually we confessed we were in love –”
“Wait wait – in love!?” Draco interrupted hastily. “What happened to liked? How about he’s hot?! ”
Regulus sighed dramatically. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my dear.”
“Apparently, it makes you want to shag a Potter,” he quipped back dryly.
The portrait gave him a scandalized look. “Where did you learn that language?!”
“You.”
“Damn straight,” Regulus winked before continuing his story. “We dated behind everyone’s backs for a year, but then I was forced to become a Death Eater, and, well – he married the girl he’d been thirsting after since first year.”
It was quite horrid, how a good mood could evaporate from the air so easily.
“I’m sorry,” he responds lowly.
Regulus shook his head.
“Maybe I’ll tell you the whole story one day,” the painting told him with a sad smile.
***
Draco decided to crawl in a hole and die, never to come out again. Really, he wasn’t joking. That scene at the bookstore was just embarrassing.
He’ll take great pride in the fact he didn’t participate in the brawl that was Lucius vs. Weasley, simply averting his gaze in careful disinterest. When their ridiculousness was finally interrupted by one Rubeus Hagrid, bless his soul, Draco’s keen awareness finds him noticing the extra book placed in the Weaslette’s cauldron.
Strange.
Before he could comment, his father had dragged him out of the store, fuming as he storms down the streets.
“Muggle-loving blood-traitors,” Father seethes. “Wait until the Dark Lord is back, then they’ll see what load of rubbish they lead their lives with.”
Draco decides he doesn’t quite like his father.
***
Enemies of the heir, beware.
Draco shifts uncomfortably, feeling fellow Slytherin’s piercing gazes land on him.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ he wanted to scream, to shake them in his insistence that he wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin or whatever load of rubbish these stupid messages entail.
The Golden Trio, as they’d been dubbed as Dumbledore’s favorites after last year’s debacle, stood guiltily at the scene of the crime, staring horrified at the sight of Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, dangling by her tail, water flooded around her petrified body.
Draco could tell almost immediately they were as innocent as they entailed.
He felt sick at the thought of any of his classmates doing this, putting their friends, possibly family, in danger. Merlin, he felt queasy at the implication that * he’d* done it.
He just has to hope he can convince the others of his innocence before all else.
***
He doesn’t join the dueling club, knowing he didn’t need the extra practice. Besides, Lockhart was a bumbling buffoon, unknowing on how to deal with the simplest of problems, let alone how to conduct a club of hundreds of students.
He tells Theo about the Serpensortia after being prodded for cool yet mostly harmless spells to impress the other students with.
He should’ve known it would backfire.
Draco hears of the Parselmouth incident almost immediately after it happens, Pansy practically flying to the dungeons in her haste.
Ridiculous, honestly.
“Do you think Potter’s actually the Heir?” Blaise asked skeptically. The others had joined them shortly after Pansy, panting and glaring. Draco rolls his eyes.
“Saint Potter, the Heir of Slytherin? I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Vincent wondered, snacking on a few muffins he’d nicked from the kitchens.
“Don’t you know? Potter’s Indian, and the ability to speak to snakes originally came from Indian descent.” He snagged one of the muffins, munching on his happily.
“Before all of the ‘everything associated with the Dark Lord is and always has been inherently evil’ thing, that is.”
Pansy sighed, flopping dramatically onto the duvet.
“I’ve no idea where you find this information,” mumbled Gregory defeatedly.
“There is a lot of propaganda books in the library of the Wiltshire Manor.” Draco informed them idly.
Blaise laughed. “I’ll never get over the fact that you call your house the Wiltshire Manor.
The blonde lifted his chin haughtily. “We have more than one, you’ve ought to know which one I’m talking about.”
Theodore huffed.
“Sure.”
***
Draco watches in pity as poor Potter is distanced from his fellow Gryffindors, along with the rest of the school, and can’t help the sudden urge to get up and sit with him.
“How would you feel if we were to sit with Potter?” He wondered distantly, and his friends paused.
“Okay,” Blaise answered evenly.
Pansy was already getting up.
Potter looked up as the six of them approached his section of the table, eyeing them warily. Most of the other students had hushed, watching the scene in interest.
They didn’t say anything, claiming seats and filling their plates. Draco sat to the right of Potter, Blaise sat across from him, Pansy sitting across from the blonde, and Vincent and Greg sat across from each other on Draco’s right. Theodore hovered silently, before taking a seat beside Vincent.
Potter had seemed immensely grateful for their presence, which seemed to scare off any tormentors. Ron and Hermione had arrived late to breakfast, and the muggleborn seemed to be hassling the redhead about proper time management before both their jaws dropped at the bundle of green at the end of Gryffindor table.
They had all scooched a little to make room for the pair.
***
The allegiance had tended to blend well into Draco’s personal life, interrupting his studying life most constantly, making him more and more irritable.
He was sat peacefully in the library, focusing his undivided attention into the charms textbook lying in front of him. Suddenly, two loud thumps caught his attention, an agitated Ms. Pince shushing them hastily.
“Malfoy,” two twin voices cheered simultaneously.
“Weasleys.” He responded simply, monotone voice made to annoy them.
“Malfoy, we need your help.” One of them declared, and Draco glanced up briefly.
“Why.”
“There’s some nasty kids in Slytherin–”
“I’m aware.” He quipped dryly.
The other huffed, “ – that was bothering Harry, so we were wondering–”
“ – if you could help us prank them.” The opposite twin finished.
Draco mulled it over.
“Who are these people?”
“Caldery, Mijkeld, and Jsart.”
Draco cringed. “Ah, weird name trio.”
They both started laughing. “I suppose so. Anyway, will you help?”
“Sure,” Draco sighed.
The twins exchanged a high-five.
***
Draco wrote the twins – Fred and George, apparently – the passcode to the dorms, turning a blind eye to two obnoxious heads of red hair as they passed by his dorm.
He heard, however, the funniest conversation he thinks will ever exist.
“Weasleys?! Who let you in?!” One enraged older Slytherin exclaimed, scandalized.
“Shhh,” George hushed.
“We’re here on a mission for the Heir,” Fred faux whispered. Pansy was practically falling out of the doorway in an attempt at seeing the pair.
She totally had a crush on Fred. Then again, who didn’t?
Suddenly, the conversation had become really hushed, and Draco watched as an older Slytherin bolted down the hallway screaming up bloody hell.
Amusing. Perhaps Draco wasn’t regretting this as much as he thought he would.
***
He completely regretted it.
Besides the fact that the dungeons went under an investigation to find out who snitched, the constant nagging from the Weasley twins was enough to absolutely drive him up the walls.
It didn’t matter where he went, they always knew where he was, set on annoying him for the rest of eternity.
It was aggravating, for lack of a more extravagant word.
Eventually, his friends had taken to hanging out with the nuisances. He’s not sure why, honestly.
Draco had gotten used to lingering in Potter’s presence (“Call me Harry!” “In your dreams, Potter.”) due to all this chaos, and essentially, he had to recognize the poor luck the boy had.
It started out with small things: trouble focussing in class, night terrors, general confusion with class, the inability to transfigure properly, things like that. Of course, it had gotten worse. Since the parselmouth incident, the idiot had been commenting about hearing voices in the walls. The walls!
“Are you sure you’re not going crazy?” Pansy quipped dryly one afternoon in the Gryffindor’s flashy dorm.
“Wha – I’m not going crazy!” Potter exclaimed indignantly, throwing his hands up dramatically.
“It might have to do with something about your Parselmouth abilities,” Granger commented offhandedly, fiddling with something she called a rube-is cube.
Draco hummed in agreement, turning back to the charms essay he’d been so close to finishing.
“Sorry about that, by the way,” Theo cringed.
Potter shrugged. “It’s whatever, people would find out anyway.”
“Where did you learn that spell, by the way?” Granger piped up again, eyes shining intelligently. Draco quickly glared at Theo to tell him to keep his dirty mouth shut.
“Draco told me,” The boy responded eagerly, seeming oblivious to how he had just ruined Draco’s life.
“Really?” Granger awed, ”well, where did you find it?”
“In a book from the library of the Paris Villa.” Draco sniffed, and Wealsey groaned.
“Wait,” Pansy interrupted. “Which one?”
“ Pansy ,” the pale-blonde groaned. “There’s only one villa in Paris, the other two are mansions. ”
“Is that the one you brought me to for your tenth birthday?” Theo wondered. Draco nodded in confirmation.
“What?!” Pansy whined, catching Blaise’s attention. “Draco, you took me to your mansion in Italy ! How come he got to go to France?!”
Draco gave her the flattest look he could muster.
“Your French was horrendous, you would’ve made me go through hell.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow.
“Draco took me to Rome.”
Ron gaped at him. “No way.”
Draco nodded proudly, smirking. “I let Blaise pick the location.”
“Well, I expect a group trip this summer.” Wealsey huffed, crossing his arms. Draco snickered.
Suddenly, the door opened and the Weasley twins strut in confidently.
“Ron, do you know where Ginny is? We want to test one of our–” the pair stopped short.
“No, I don’t know where she is. Don’t you guys have that super-secret-can’t-tell-anyone method of finding people’s location?” Ron suggested dryly.
The twins brightened, as if a lightbulb had appeared over their heads. “Oh yeah!” They cheered simultaneously, promptly turning and rushing out of the room.
The Slytherins shared a flat look.
***
Draco had been with the Gryffindors when they found the second message.
All Houses return to their dormitories immediately! A loud voice echoed throughout the entire castle.
Draco had already begun turning around in the direction of the dungeons when he saw the look that Weasley and Potter shared.
“What are you two doing?!” Whispered the Slytherin urgently. “We have to go to our dorms!”
“We’re going to see the message,” Potter declared fiercely. “Whether you like it or not. C’mon, Ron.”
The other two suddenly booked it down the halls, and after a moment’s hesitation, Draco ran after them.
When he caught up, the Gryffindors were hidden under Potter’s invisibility cloak, in which Draco was pulled under unceremoniously.
Weasley’s hand was covering his mouth so he didn’t make a noise.
Draco licked it.
The boy instantly retracted it, glaring at him in disgust as the blonde stuck his tongue out at him.
Suddenly, Draco’s eyes snagged the message on the wall and he froze.
Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
“Who is it?!” Professor Flitwick cried, and Professor McGonagall was incredibly solemn.
“Ginny Weasley.”
Draco heard the Gryffindor boys’ breaths hitch, and suddenly he was being tugged away by them.
“We know the monster is a basilisk–” Potter started to explain.
“A basilisk ?!” The blonde hissed. “You mean the thing that kills people with its gaze!?”
“Yes, exactly.” The Indian boy replied indignantly. “We think the entrance to the Chamber is in Myrtle’s bathroom, and she died by looking at the basilisk.”
“Wait,” Draco paled impossibly further. “You’re bringing me to fight a basilisk!?”
“With Lockhart,” supplies Weasley unhelpfully.
***
Eventually, the four of them – two Gryffindors, a Slytherin and a teacher, what a crowd – arrived in the Chamber entrance-type room. Draco cringed at the feeling of the bones under his feet, shying away from the molted skin in disgust.
He’d make a point to get this place cleaned up in the future. It’d be a nice place for the Slytherins, since their founder was the one who built this place.
If he makes it out alive, that is.
Suddenly, Lockhart has stolen Weasley’s wand, pointing it at them threateningly, the snapped and taped tip seeming more threatening than when he attempted to make Draco eat slugs.
A crazed smirk adorns the teacher’s face, no longer that nervous, oblivious man they see in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Draco feels himself subconsciously freeze in fear the moment Obliviate is mentioned, the false pitying voice making his skin crawl.
“Obliviate!”
The blonde squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the hit, when suddenly, he hears stumbling, and he opens them a small amount.
Lockhart was sitting on the ground, looking around in a perplexed manner.
“Professor?” Draco asks hesitantly. The man looks at him in an equally confused manner.
“Well, hello there! Who are you?”
The three boys exchange confused looks.
“I’m Draco Malfoy, uh, do you remember anything, Professor?”
Lockhart pondered over this again.
“I suppose not, Draco Malfoy.” He answered warmly.
He shivered at the thought that that could’ve been him .
“Uh, sorry Professor, but we’ve really ought to get going–”
Suddenly, there was a large rumble, and the ceiling just collapsed . Draco groaned.
The boys then have to spend the next few minutes digging through the rubble to make a big enough hole for them to walk through.
“You guys go ahead. Someone has to watch him,” Draco gestures vaguely at Lockhart, who still seemed to be dazed. Both boys frown unhappily.
“No way,” Ron argued. Potter nodded in agreement. “You know more spells, you go. I can stay and watch over this buffoon.”
Potter immediately soured, and Draco tried hard to not let that get to him.
It’s not like I care anyway , he thought.
“No, really – I’ll stay.” The blonde argued insistently.
Potter groaned, grabbing Draco’s hand and dragging him through the opening impatiently.
“Wha– Potter!” The Slytherin squawked, cheeks warming up.
“It doesn’t matter, Draco. Plus, Ron’s wand is broken, so you’ll be more useful anyway.” The other huffed, not letting go of his hand as they walked through the entrance (seriously, there were two!).
“Don’t you know Slytherins are known for their cowardice?”
Potter groaned again, releasing his grip to smack the back of his head.
“Ow!”
The Gryffindor grabbed him again, this time by the wrist, cheeks red in what Draco could only assume is frustration.
The grip doesn’t last long, as Potter immediately drops his arm as he rushes to Ginny’s side.
“Ginny! Ginny wake up, we have to–” he exclaims frantically, attempting to awaken her from her supposed slumber. Draco doesn’t have the heart to tell him she’s most likely dead.
“She won’t wake up.” A cold voice speaks up, and Draco feels a chill go down his spine.
Potter turns around at record speed, and Draco follows his gaze to a boy a few years older than him.
The boy is handsome, with his dark hair and pale skin, dark eyes and full lips, high cheekbones and a solemn expression.
He looks quite like Regulus.
Draco takes note of his Slytherin robes, frowning as he can’t place a name to his face.
“Tom!” Harry exclaims, relief flooding his features. Draco’s afraid his relief is misplaced, judging by the amused smile that plays at the older boy’s – Tom, apparently – lips.
The Gryffindor rises from his crouched position, robes fluttering around him in a serene way. “Tom – we have to get her to Madam Pomfrey I think–”
“You can’t help her.” Tom interrupts, and Potter seems to have to pause and mull over his words, shock filtering into his body.
“W-what?! She’s dying, Tom–”
“The weaker she is, the stronger I am.”
The silence echoed off the walls, tension thick in the air and Draco wishes he could run away.
The other two have drifted away from the body of Weaslette, instead hovering next to a large statue of Salazar Slytherin.
Draco sneaks quietly over to her, eyes scraping over her small, 11-year-old form. She’s much too young to be stuck in a chamber, dying for whatever wicked plan this Tom has in store.
“I had her do everything I asked–” He caught a snippet of their conversation. While it wasn’t quiet, Draco’s ears were ringing and if it weren’t for Harry, he’d probably be dead at this very moment.
“She flushed your diary down–”
A memory flickered, of his father putting a book in the cauldron of Weaslette just before they left the shop, and he searched frantically for any sign of the cursed object.
He spotted it a few steps away from the dying girl, and he quickly retrieved it, tucking his wand between its pages. He grabbed the red-headed girl, rising into an unsteady stand, when the most horrifying screech he’d ever heard arose from the statue. He almost dropped Ginny he was so startled.
His blood ran cold as the basilisk emerged from the mouth of Salazar, and Merlin if he wasn’t panicking before he was now–
Draco no longer wasted any time with cautiousness, bolting towards a covered corner and laying the young girl down as gently as he could with his body shaking like a leaf.
He watched as Harry’s wand was taken away from him, and prayed he had a backup plan.
He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.
Potter started hissing, sounds Draco could never hope to understand making the basilisk hone in on him curiously.
“Potter! Potter you stupid Gryffindor!” The boy’s focus never wavered as he shouted for him. Tom’s gaze snapped to him immediately, expression changing from surprise, to recognition, to curiosity.
“Abraxas?” Draco huffed.
“Potter! Harry !”
Nothing.
Draco watched in awe as a phoenix flew in and dropped the Sorting Hat, and suddenly Potter had a sword and –
He was fighting the basilisk.
He was fighting the basilisk.
The basilisk is blinded.
Harry bloody Potter is on top of the slippery, marble statue of Salazar Slytherin fighting the basilisk .
Draco eyes the diary hesitantly, gaze flicking back to the basilisk and snagging on long, poisonous fangs.
Something clicked.
Once again, Draco is hoisting one Ginny Weasley up as he grabs the diary, running towards Potter when the boy instantaneously striked the Sword of Gryffindor through the basilisk’s head.
The snake sways once, twice – and it comes crashing down.
The floor rumbles, the ceiling shakes, but Draco pays it no mind as he heists Ginny on one of the smaller statues and runs to Potter.
“No!” Tom shrieks, and then grins wickedly at Potter.
Draco follows his gaze, and nearly faints at the sight that greets him.
He’s gotten bit.
If it was just a graze, or a full puncture – it doesn’t matter. That venom could kill 300 grown men, let alone a single 12-year-old.
But the phoenix is there, and suddenly the boy is healed, turning to Tom.
“Where’d you put the diary, Tom.” The Gryffindor demanded.
“I– I have it,” Draco pants, holding it up weakly. Shock registers on Potter’s face, before concern floods in.
“Draco! Why are you still here? You should’ve left–”
“Didn’t quite have the chance to, with the whole basilisk-who-will-murder-you thing.” The boy quips sarcastically, heading straight for the snake’s open mouth.
“Listen, Tom – I don’t know who you are, but you just attacked two – no, three – students, so you’re going to have to go.”
The Slytherin yanked a fang from the basilisk, retracting his wand from the diary’s pages and holding the book open as he violently stabs it, quickly pushing the cursed object into Potter’s hands as he rushes to Ginny’s side, piercing screams filling the air.
That’ll haunt me for the rest of my life, Draco thought to himself.
He stoops over the rousing girl, checking her wrist and neck for a quickening pulse. She groans, shifting a bit as she cracks an eye open slightly.
“Wha–?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” He informs her strictly. “But right now, we have to go.”
He helps the girl to her feet, and they’re making their way to Potter, with Ginny leaning on his shoulder, when a rumble shakes the chamber.
“Draco!”
The boy’s cry is the only thing that warns him before Draco is thrusting his wand into the air with a shout.
”Protego!”
Ginny screams as large chunks of the ceiling crumble onto Draco’s strong, shimmering shield. She drips onto the Slytherin’s arm, and he doesn’t push her off, even as it gets painful and starts cutting off his blood circulation.
He grits his teeth, putting more and more magic into the shield as the chamber continues to collapse around them. He spares a glance at Potter, who is now stationed near the end of tunnel in a safe position.
At least one of them isn’t in a life-compromising position.
“Weasley,” he pants, gaze not wavering on the shield as its translucent blue doesn’t waver an inch. “We’re going to have to run, do you think you can manage–?”
“I can do it,” the girl confirms, voice full of determination and ferocity.
On his signal, he cancels the Protego and puts the last amount of remaining energy into absolutely booking it across the spacious area, Ginny not even a step behind him.
“Merlin, I’m going to regret this later..” He can feel the strain on his magic even as he’s not using it, his lungs burning and throat drier than the Dungeness desert.
“Draco, Ginny! Merlin, are you too okay?!” Potter exclaims worriedly as the pair meets him at the entrance of the cursed bloody chamber.
Draco narrows his eyes as the Weaslette flushes red, stammering nervously.
“Rappelez-moi de ne plus jamais partir à l'aventure avec vous Gryffondors,” he grumbles, sighing as if he’d suffered through five lifetimes.
Potter gazes at him dumbfoundedly, cheeks flushing with a light dusting of pink. His green eyes, ever so vivid, are filled with worry. He flocks over to Draco, grabbing his arms as he sweeps over his form, scanning for injury.
“Quoi?” The Slytherin asks confusedly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t – you’re not speaking English.” Admits the boy sheepishly, shyly retracting his hands and running one through his hair nervously.
“Ah,” Draco flushes. “Sorry, I’m just.. really tired.”
Potter shrugs.
“We’d better get back soon, I have the diary, so maybe we can show it to Dumbledore?”
The other two nod their affirmation, and they head back to Ron.
Suddenly, Draco finds himself stumbling, as the adrenaline is wearing off. He can feel all the scrapes where pieces of rock hit as they made their escape, his magic core drained and his eyes began to close, white stars dotting his vision. He blinked it away, determined to make it out of here in one piece.
“Ginny! Harry, Malfoy! Oh thank Godric you’re all alright.” The older Weasley exclaimed frantically, rushing toward them with concern.
“Don’t thank Godric, you’ve ought to thank Harry.. ugh, my head. ” The blonde groaned, gripping his hair tightly.
“Draco, are you alright? Did you get hurt? Draco– Draco!” Potter’s panicked voice was buzzed in his ears as his peripheral slowly faded to black.
“Huh?” The Slytherin muttered out eloquently.
Everything went black.
***
Draco groaned, head pounding and muscles aching as he slowly awoke from his slumber.
He shifted, mind clouded by the dysphoria of sleep before he recognized that he was not in his dorms.
He wasn’t in his dorms.
Suddenly, he was fully awake, jousted from sleep as he sat upright swiftly. He groaned again and the pulse it sent through his head as he clutched it painfully.
“Merlin’s beard, what happened…” he mumbled to himself, looking around.
He was in the infirmary, clad in a blue set of pajamas and resting in a private bed surrounded by blue curtains. Everything was sterile, not a speck of dirt anywhere in sight. His white duvet was scrunched at his hips, obviously laced with a heating charm.
Faint mumbling could be heard through the curtains, and Draco found himself wondering what in the bloody hell happened?
Last he remembered, he was coming back to the library with the annoyances with the names of Potter and Weasley, and then—
It was like a Lumos had been cast over his head, it all came back in rushes. Following them down the chamber slide, Professor Lockhart, finding Ginny, whoever Tom was, and rushing out.
Quickly, he tore the blanket off of him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. What day was it? How long had it been? Where was his wand? He needed to cast a Tempus charm. He could still feel a bit of exhaustion hanging off a thread from his Magic Core, so it couldn’t have been that long.
He attempted to stand, gather all his strength and let his weight fall to his shaky feet.
That was a horrible idea.
The subsequent crash of limbs caused shoots of pain to crawl up his legs as his knees collide with the floor, and immediately the hushed voices are silenced. Draco is lent over his bed, knees bended and hands grasping onto the edge of his mattress.
The curtain is pushed back almost immediately after, Madam Pompfrey standing there with Potter buzzing anxiously behind her. He brightened up at the sight of the blonde, rushing towards him as throwing his arms around him, even getting on the floor to hug him.
The Slytherin grunts, reluctantly returning the hug after a quick glare from Madam Pompfrey. Harry sighs, burrowing his face in his neck.
“Poor boy’s been fretting after you since he’d ‘woke, unfortunately,” the nurse sighs with a shake of her head. “And you, Mr. Malfoy, are to stay in bed for at least a week after this. You’ve exhausted your Magic, you ‘ave.”
“I feel fine!” Draco exclaims in protest, and Potter had risen from his position to glare at Pompfrey as his own form of disapproval.
“I don’t care if you feel fine, you almost completely drained your Core and you need to rest. No objections.” She said the last part with a pointed glance at Harry, who deflated almost immediately.
They helped him back onto his bed, and he huffed at the coddling disposition Potter had adopted. The Gryffindor had taken to fluffing his pillows and practically tucked him under the covers.
The curtains were pulled open even further at the sudden arrival of his friends. Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle all stood at the end of his bed defiantly until they had worn Madam Pompfrey down into letting them stay ‘just for a little while.’
***
When the end of the year came, it happened that Dumbledore gave a large amount of points to the Gryffindors for their ‘bravery, wit and courage’ yet again.
Draco sighed, but before he could open his mouth, a defiant voice rang out.
“What about Malfoy?”
Ginny Weasley’s voice rang out, and the hall went quiet.
“Pardon?” Dumbledore inquired innocently, his bright blue eyes flicking to Draco before returning to the standing girl.
“Malfoy was in the Chamber, too— he helped me escape as the ceiling fell. Surely you knew about that?” Potter had stood up beside her, nodding in agreement to his statement.
“Yeah, and Draco’s spent the last week in the infirmary because of some spell he cast that drained his magic,” he informed the headmaster strictly.
“Well then,” Dumbledore resolved. “60 points to Slytherin for courage and bravery during trying times. Later points may be added once I hear the full story.” He winked to Harry after he declared this.
Draco had a feeling no further points would ever be added, but he joined in on the celebration of his house, a smile tugging at his lips as his friends hugged him, screaming in his ear how happy they were.
He couldn’t wait to tell Regulus all about his year.