I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.
Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan
Pansy, Potions and Protection
Ginny woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She looked around the hospital wing in confusion, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Across the room she saw her mother sitting in Madame Pomfrey’s office, having a cup of tea.
“See, they don’t care what happens to you,” Tom’s voice taunted her.
“Bugger off,” Ginny hissed.
“You bugger off,” came a weak voice from the behind the curtain on the other side of her bed.
Ginny glanced over at her mother and saw she was still not paying attention, so she pulled back her covers and slid out of bed. She shivered as her bare feet hit the stone floor, and had a sudden flash of memory about lying on the frigid stones in the chamber. She shook it off with a toss of her head, picked up her wand and pulled back the curtain between her and Draco.
He was lying with his eyes closed, but as she tiptoed closer he murmured, “I’m not up for company.”
“What are you doing here?” Ginny questioned.
Draco blinked in surprise at her sharp tone, giving her a brief look of interest, but then quickly getting bored.
“Sleeping,” he murmured, trying to roll over away from Ginny’s steady gaze. He gasped at the pain that caused and fell back to his original position. Ginny watched with interest as the blood drained out of Draco’s face, but she made no move to help him.
“Potion,” Draco gasped, reaching for the nightstand next to his bed where a half-filled bottle sat. But it was too far for him to get to, and the movement only worsened his pain.
Ginny still made no move to help him. Instead she pulled on the drawer of his nightstand. “That’s right, you have potions over here. Let’s see the good stuff Snape hid,” she murmured.
But the drawer would not open. Ginny tapped it with her wand, ignoring Draco’s moans as she muttered spells, until she finally found one that made the drawer spring open. “Well, well, well, look at this,” Ginny murmured, pulling out the open box of potion bottles from the nightstand.
“Pain potion,” Draco pleaded.
“Oh, I think it’s much more than that.” She waved her wand over the potions. Each shone a light the color of its bottle, inside of which appeared the ingredients of the potion it housed. “Quite a collection you’ve got here,” Ginny told him, clucking her tongue in disapproval, but smiling wickedly. “Quite an illegal collection,” she added, noticing dragon and unicorn blood among the ingredients. “Did Daddy send these?” she questioned, slipping one of the bottles up the sleeve of her nightdress.
Draco only groaned in answer. Ginny frowned. “It’s no fun tormenting someone when they don’t react. But you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you, since tormenting people is your favorite sport.”
“Weasley,” Draco moaned.
“What?” Ginny snapped. “Do you want me to take pity on you? Sorry, but the Ginny who would have done that is gone.”
“Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley called worriedly from the other side of the curtain.
Ginny waved her wand over the potions again, breaking the spell. She lifted a burnt-orange bottle out of the drawer. “Here, drink this one,” she told Draco, gently putting the bottle to his lips just before her mother and Madame Pomfrey pulled aside the curtain. Draco swallowed it eagerly and sighed in relief.
“Ginny, what are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.
“He was hurting, I wanted to help,” answered Ginny. Her face was the picture of innocence, but her hand was covertly sliding the orange bottle back into the nightstand and shutting the drawer.
“What did you give him?” Madame Pomfrey questioned sharply, noticing Ginny’s hand hovering near the nightstand.
“This,” Ginny lied smoothly, letting her hand rest on the half-empty potion still sitting on top of the table. “He told me that was what he needed, but he couldn’t reach it himself.”
“That was very kind of you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, putting an arm around Ginny’s shoulders as she led her away from Draco’s bed. “But you need to let Madame Pomfrey give out the medicine. You could have hurt that boy.”
“Good,” thought Ginny, but to her mother she said, “I’m sorry, I only wanted to help, because he was hurting so badly.”
“I know, and it was very sweet of you,” Mrs. Wesley told Ginny, as she pulled back the covers on Ginny’s bed. “But you need your rest, you’re not ready to be out of bed yet.”
“I’m not hurt, Mum,” Ginny insisted, yet she dutifully climbed into the bed and let Mrs. Weasley pull the covers up over her. She slid the stolen bottle of potion under her pillow before her mother could spot it.
“Rest anyway,” Mrs. Weasley instructed, giving Ginny a kiss on the top of her head.
“I am still a little tired,” Ginny said, curling up under the covers. “Why don’t you go finish your tea while I go back to sleep? Or get some rest yourself, I know you must be knackered.”
“I’m fine here,” Mrs. Weasley insisted, settling into the chair next to Ginny’s bed and leaning her head back as her eyes closed.
“Get rid of her,” commanded Tom’s voice inside Ginny’s head.
Ginny rolled over on her side, then restlessly rolled over to the other side, then rolled back again with a whimper. “Mummy,” she whined.
“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, not opening her eyes.
“Mummy, will you go get my bear?” Ginny pleaded. “You know I don’t like to sleep without her. Especially now.”
Mrs. Weasley got up wearily and stroked Ginny’s hair with a sad smile. “She’s good at keeping the bad dreams away, isn’t she?”
Ginny nodded. “So will you go get her?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” She gave Ginny a quick kiss. “She’s on your bed?” Ginny nodded. “I’ll need the password to the tower.” Ginny sat up to whisper in her mother’s ear. Mrs. Weasley smiled. “I’ll be right back then.”
“You’re good,” Draco said softly after Mrs. Weasley had gone. The curtain between his bed and Ginny’s moved aside, and Ginny saw Draco lying with his wand in his hand. “How do you do that, fool them into not seeing you’re evil?”
“I’m not evil!” Ginny declared hotly.
“You’re not the goody-goody Gryff they all think you are,” said Draco, sounding almost impressed. “You could even give a few Slytherins a run for their money.”
“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ginny growled.
Draco clucked his tongue admonishingly. “Such language from such a dainty little thing.”
“Little, yes, dainty, I don’t think so,” Ginny admitted.
“So nothing about you is what it seems,” noted Draco.
“Why did you say I was evil?” Ginny questioned suddenly.
Draco didn’t answer as he studied Ginny for a long moment. “It wasn’t because you wouldn’t give me that potion,” he explained finally. “It was the enjoyment you got from seeing me suffer. I’ve seen that look before, on…on other people I know. But I never expected it from someone like you.”
“That wasn’t me,” Ginny protested. Seeing Draco’s confused look, she added, “I’m not myself today.”
“Then who are you?”
Ginny rolled over, away from Draco’s gaze. “I’m tired,” she murmured.
“You’re not getting off that easily, Weasley,” Draco warned. “What kind of potion did you steal from here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you do. You slipped one of those potions from my nightstand into your dressing gown,” Draco accused. “And don’t try to deny it, or I’ll come fetch it.”
“It was nothing you need,” Ginny told him.
“Why don’t you let me decide that?”
Ginny rolled over so she was looking at him again. “What kind of dreams do you have?” she questioned.
Draco blinked, surprised by the question. “I don’t dream,” he declared.
“Then you have no need for this potion,” Ginny assured him.
“What kind of bad dreams do you have?” Draco wondered.
“Dreams…nightmares, I should say…” Ginny started. Draco shifted in excited anticipation, wincing at the movement. Ginny grinned maliciously. “…about being stuck in the hospital wing with Draco Malfoy.”
“You really are evil,” Draco muttered.
“It’s none of your business what I dream about,” countered Ginny angrily.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Draco reminded her.
“What do you care anyway?” Ginny questioned. “I didn’t think Malfoys concerned themselves with Weasleys.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do right now,” Draco explained. “Except sleep, which sounds like a much-better option than talking to you.” He closed his eyes wearily.
“What did you do to land yourself in here?” Ginny wondered. “Fall off your broom while practicing Quidditch in a pathetic attempt to be as good as Harry?”
“Potter has luck, not talent,” Draco mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Too bad you don’t have either,” Ginny taunted.
The sharp retort she was expecting from Draco didn’t come. Ginny glanced over and saw he seemed to be sleeping. “Malfoy?” she called. Draco didn’t answer.
Ginny slipped out of her bed and went to his side. She shook his shoulder, but Draco didn’t move. “Madame Pomfrey, Malfoy’s passed out,” Ginny called.
Madame Pomfrey came bustling over. “Leave the boy be, Miss Weasley,” the matron ordered as she took Draco’s pulse.
“I was only talking to him,” Ginny insisted. “He wanted me to, he was bored. But then he suddenly stopped talking.”
“He’s not up for talking, he’s seriously injured,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. She fished a bottle of potion out of her robes, pulled Draco’s chin to open his mouth and poured the liquid down his throat. “Leave him be while this potion does its job and get back to your bed where you belong.”
“I can’t sleep, the nightmares will come back,” Ginny insisted desperately.
“I’m not a nightmare, Ginny,” she heard Tom murmuring in her head. “I’m your fondest dream, a boy who will love you forever.”
Ginny choked out a sob. “I don’t want to see that monster again. Please, Madame Pomfrey, please don’t make me.”
Tears were coming full-force now, Ginny shaking with the effort of her sobs. Madame Pomfrey looked alarmed as she slipped an uncertain arm around her. “Now, now, child, there’s no need for that. Come, let’s get you back into bed.”
She led Ginny over to her cot and helped her climb back into it as Ginny continued to cry. “Let me get you something to help you sleep,” Madame Pomfrey offered.
“Yes, Ginny, let yourself sleep,” Tom coaxed.
Ginny shook her head violently. “No, don’t put me to sleep. He comes to get me in my sleep!”
“It’s only a dream, child,” the matron assured her.
“I don’t want to dream!” Ginny screeched. “I can’t get away from him in my dreams, he keeps making me…he keeps…”
She was crying too hard to go on. Madame Pomfrey rubbed Ginny’s back comfortingly as the girl curled into a ball on the bed. “It’s okay, Miss Weasley, it’s okay. I’ll give you something to stop the dreams. Just give me a moment.”
The matron hurried to her office as Ginny continued sobbing.
“The tears are a nice touch,” came Draco’s weakened voice from behind the curtain separating their beds.
Ginny didn’t answer, but her sobs quieted a little. “You can’t keep taking that dreamless sleep potion, though,” Draco warned her. “Not having dreams will drive you mad. Although it seems that horse is already out of the barn with you.”
“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Ginny spat.
“I’m already there,” Draco muttered as Ginny’s sobs grew louder upon Madame Pomfrey’s return.
“There, there, Ms. Weasley, there, there,” Madame Pomfrey soothed. “Take this potion and rest some more. You won’t be quite so hysterical when you have your strength back.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Draco muttered, but if Madame Pomfrey heard the comment she ignored it as she held a small vial of potion to Ginny’s lips.
Mrs. Weasley came back in as Madame Pomfrey was tucking the covers around a droopy-eyed Ginny. She carried a quilt and a ragged-looking bear in her hands. “Is everything okay?” she asked Madame Pomfrey worriedly.
“The nightmares again,” the matron informed her. “I gave her another dose of dreamless sleep potion, as it was the only way to settle her down. I’m hoping it will allow her to get enough rest that she will be feeling more like herself in a few hours.”
“This might help,” Mrs. Weasley said, laying the teddy bear on the pillow next to Ginny. “She has protection spells on her.”
“Lil' bear,” Ginny murmured happily, snuggling closer to the bear.
Mrs. Weasley smiled as she gently brushed Ginny’s hair out of her face. “How long will the nightmares last?” she asked Madame Pomfrey.
“There’s no telling,” the nurse admitted. “I don’t think she’ll be free of them until she talks about what happened to her down in the Chamber, but she’s not ready to do that just yet. In fact, reliving it all too soon could push her over the edge. So you’ll have to be patient with her, Molly. You’ll get your daughter back in time, I assure you.”
*********************
Draco awoke to someone stroking his hair softly. He jerked his head away from the touch, wincing at the pain the movement called. “Stop,” he pleaded when the hand continued touching him.
“Draco, darling, you’re awake!” Pansy exclaimed.
“Go away, Pan,” Draco muttered.
Instead Pansy threw her arms around him, eliciting a painful moan from Draco. She pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Not when every millimeter of my body hurts like hell,” Draco told her, closing his eyes again.
“Are you going back to sleep?” Pansy whined. “You’ve been sleeping all day, while I’ve been stuck here getting yelled at by that hag Pomfrey for trying to check on you.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I had to,” Pansy cried. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead! And then I find you’re stuck here with all these ratty Weasleys hanging about, and the youngest one starts screaming like a banshee for no reason whatsoever.”
“She was screaming again?” asked Draco, opening his eyes in interest. “I guess her potion wore off. Did Pomfrey give her more, or did she find a way to settle herself down on her own?”
“Who cares?” Pansy declared with a dismissive wave. “I’m surprised you slept through all the racket, though.”
“Guess it wasn’t loud enough to wake the dead,” mumbled Draco.
“Dead, who’s dead?” Pansy asked in confusion.
“Pan, please let me sleep,” Draco pleaded, closing his eyes again.
“Not yet, Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey declared, bustling over with a tray full of bottles. “I didn’t want to wake you, but since Miss Parkinson has seen fit to do so, I’ll have you take your potions now.”
“He has to take all those?” asked Pansy in horror.
“He’s very ill, Miss Parkinson, which is why you should not be disturbing him,” Madame Pomfrey scolded as she put a bottle to Draco’s lips. He swallowed it dutifully, without even opening his eyes. “Come back tomorrow, when Mr. Malfoy should be more up for company.”
“No, I’m staying here!” Pansy insisted. “Everyone in Slytherin has been wondering what’s going on with Draco, and you won’t tell us anything.”
“Because it’s none of your business,” snapped Madame Pomfrey.
Draco chuckled. “Tell them to bugger off, Madame Pomfrey.”
“I will do no such thing!” she declared, forcing another potion down Draco’s throat so forcefully that he choked. Draco moaned in between the coughs that were worsening his pain. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey apologized, putting another potion to his lips. “Drink this down, it will help.”
Draco swallowed it cautiously, and the coughing stopped. So, seemingly, did his pain, as he managed to push himself into a sitting position with only a slight wince. “Tell them I’m fine, Pan. I’m spending one more night here as a precaution, but I’ll be back in the dorm tomorrow. If they have any further questions about my condition, they can direct them to my father.”
“Yes, Draco.”
“You are not leaving here tomorrow!” ranted Madame Pomfrey. “It will be two or three more days at the least until you’re ready for that.”
Draco shook his head. “You need to heal me faster, then,” he announced.
“I don’t think you realize just how close you came to dying, Mr. Malfoy,” the matron told him. “And you’re still bleeding internally – it will take a few days for these potions to fully heal the damage you suffered. You don’t have exams to be concerned about, Professor Dumbledore has cancelled them, so all you need to focus on is getting the rest you need to get well.”
“That’s not all I have to focus on,” Draco protested. “Pansy, have I had any owls?”
Pansy nodded and reached into her robes, pulling out an envelope and laying it on Draco’s lap.
“Mr. Malfoy, I must insist that you put those things away and rest!” Madame Pomfrey proclaimed.
“I’ll rest in a minute,” said Draco impatiently. “Why don’t you go give that Weasley brat another potion? Her screaming is more disturbing to my sleep than a letter from my mum, who only wants to check on me, since she wasn’t up to making the trip here in person.”
Madame Pomfrey eyed the letter and then Draco with a frown, but set the tray of potions down on Draco’s nightstand. “Take these, all of these,” she commanded. “I will be back in five minutes, and I expect to see all of these potions gone, as well as Miss Parkinson.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Draco dutifully, his forced smile almost covering his smirk.
“Thank you, ma’am,” added Pansy, her fake smile much more convincing than Draco’s.
“Five minutes,” Madame Pomfrey repeated, stalking away.
“Hag,” Pansy hissed, but Draco ignored her as he ripped open his letter.
“What does your mum have to say?” Pansy wondered. “Dad said he was going to go by and see her, let her know you were recovering, so she shouldn’t be worrying about you.”
“This letter isn’t from Mum, it’s from my father,” Draco revealed.
“Apologizing, I hope,” Pansy huffed. “He could have killed you if my father hadn’t come to save your life!”
“He didn’t mean it, he was angry at Potter and I picked the wrong time to talk back to him,” Draco insisted. “And he was the one who sent your father to fix me up.”
“I still think he should apologize.”
“He has, in his own way,” Draco told her.
Pansy snatched the letter out of Draco’s hand. Draco tried to grab it back, but Pansy scooted her chair away where it was too painful for Draco to reach her.
“I hate you,” Draco growled.
“That’s why I love you so much, my darling,” Pansy purred. She opened Lucius’ letter as Draco sat back with a moan.
Dear Draco:
I was surprised to learn you’re still alive after the events of last evening. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for, and I will be more careful about underestimating you in the future. Healer Parkinson will make himself available if you need further treatment. Send Artemis if you need anything else. Your mother and I will see you at Kings Cross in two weeks.
Father
“That’s not an apology,” Pansy sniped. “You should definitely make him get you something good to make up for all this. Maybe an exotic trip somewhere or a new broom.”
“He won’t get me a new broom, I just got my Nimbus last September,” Draco lamented. “And it won’t do me any good to ask for anything else, either. If he wants to make it up to me he’ll do it his way, not mine.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Could you hand me those potions? I don’t want to hear Pomfrey’s screeching if I don’t finish them.”
Pansy pulled the tray of potions onto her lap, handing Draco one that still had liquid in it. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”
“No idea,” Draco admitted. “They came from Snape and your father, though, so they should be safe.”
“You seem better than when you first woke up,” Pansy noted, trying to stroke his hair again.
“Pansy, leave my hair alone,” Draco grumbled.
“Yes, you’re definitely more yourself,” she said with a smile. “Will you really be leaving here tomorrow, though? I don’t think you’re going to be up for it.”
“I’ll come back here to spend the night if I’m really feeling badly, but I have to make an appearance in the common room sometime tomorrow,” Draco announced, drinking another potion and pulling a face. “I can’t have them all thinking I’m incapacitated. You know any number of them will try to make a power play if they sense weakness.”
“Draco, this is ridiculous!” Pansy snapped. “I can come up with a story to cover for you, I lie to Flint, Montague, Zabini and the rest of those idiots all the time.”
“I know you do, it’s your only charming quality,” Draco teased. Pansy smirked at him, but Draco’s face grew serious. “Father will have someone checking on me, too, to see how long it takes me to get back on my feet.”
Pansy nodded in understanding. “I’ll let you rest, then, so you can gather your strength.” She handed him a green bottle of potion. “Drink this last one and then go back to sleep. I’ll come check on you first thing tomorrow, and we’ll figure out how we’re going to get you out of here and back downstairs.”
“Thanks, Pan,” said Draco, giving her hand a squeeze. “I knew I could count on you.”
Pansy beamed brightly and was about to lean in to give him another hug when Madame Pomfrey returned. “Shoo, Miss Parkinson,” she commanded.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Pansy announced brightly, still beaming as she ran from the room.
***********************
When Draco next awoke, the hospital room was dark and eerily silent, but he sensed he wasn’t alone. Lifting his head, he saw Snape sitting in a chair next to his bed.
“Good evening, Draco.”
“Evening?” Draco questioned groggily. “Have I been sleeping that long?”
Snape nodded. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be able to speak with you at all tonight, or if you were going to sleep straight through to morning.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I think Madame Pomfrey might have slipped a sleeping draft in with all those other potions she gave me,” Draco told him, trying to push himself into a sitting position.
“I think you’re not quite as well as you think you are,” replied Snape, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Lie back down.”
Draco gratefully sunk back against the pillow. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“I came to retrieve the potions I brought last night, but I’ve found some of them are missing,” Snape revealed. “Do you know where they might have gone?”
“Didn’t you give some to me?” questioned Draco. “Or maybe Pomfrey or Healer Parkinson did. I’ve had so many potions today I don’t know what’s what.”
“No, I locked them away. I wanted to wait to see if Healer Parkinson could heal you without them,” Snape admitted.
“Because the ones you brought were a bit dodgy?” asked Draco with a raised eyebrow.
Draco thought he saw Snape’s mouth twitch, but it was gone in a second, replaced by his usual sour look. “What makes you say that?”
“Weasley did a spell that showed what was in all of them, and she said some of the ingredients were illegal,” confessed Draco. “Weren’t trying to poison me, were you, Professor?”
“How did Weasley get in that drawer?” snapped Snape. “There was a very strong protection spell on those potions.”
Draco was startled by his tone. “I don’t know how she did it, she just tried spells until she found one that worked.”
“And she was also able to do one that revealed what was in the potions?” queried Snape.
“Yes, sir.”
“That kind of magic is far beyond a first year,” Snape growled. “So why don’t you tell me what really happened to those potions?”
“It was Weasley!” Draco insisted. “She’s not like any other first year. She’s nothing like what everybody thinks she is. That goody-goody Gryff act is all a lie.”
“What makes you say that?” Snape wondered.
“She came over to look at those potions you were hiding, and I asked her to hand me a pain potion that Madame Pomfrey had left for me,” Draco explained. “But she ignored me and just stood there watching me suffer. Not just watching but enjoying it, with this look on her face like my father…” He stopped with a shudder. “A look like that doesn’t belong on a face like hers. It’s unnatural.”
“Miss Weasley hasn’t quite been herself since her unfortunate experience in the Chamber of Secrets,” Snape noted.
“Did she really get taken down there by whoever was petrifying everyone?” asked Draco excitedly. Snape nodded. “So who was it?”
“Nevermind that, the person responsible is gone now.”
“Not to Weasley he’s not,” Draco revealed. “She wakes up screaming whenever she nods off without a Dreamless Sleep potion. She took one of your potions to help with the dreams, I think. And she gave me one for pain after her mother caught her out of bed, so she could pretend she’d gotten up to help me. At least she said it was for pain. It did make me stop hurting, but I was knocked out for hours. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try and poison me.”
“What color was the bottle?” questioned Snape.
“Burnt orange, like her hair.”
“If you haven’t stopped breathing by now, you should be fine,” Snape assured him. “That was quite a powerful pain draft, though, it was meant to counteract…It wasn’t meant for just any kind of pain.”
“You have a potion to help the pain from Cruciatus?” asked Draco in awe.
“I didn’t say that,” Snape protested.
“You didn’t need to. Will you teach me to make it?” Draco pleaded.
“No. And you are not to speak of this to anyone,” Snape ordered.
Draco frowned. “Don’t pout, Draco, it’s unbecoming.”
“Will you teach me how to make that Dreamless Sleep potion?”
“Why?”
“Weasley is running out of lies to tell Pomfrey to get the old bag to give it to her, and I don’t relish spending all night listening to her screaming,” Draco told him.
“You’ll drive the girl mad,” Snape warned.
“Someone’s already beaten me to that, she’s as barmy as can be,” declared Draco. “She’s always muttering to herself or screaming from the nightmares. It’s dead annoying.”
“I would think you’d enjoy seeing a Weasley suffer so,” taunted Snape.
Draco balked. “I...I…I’m too knackered to enjoy it is all,” he stammered. “You won’t tell my father, will you?”
Snape’s scowl softened at the anxious look on Draco’s face. He put a hand on the boy’s knee. “Our secret, I promise.”
Draco noticeably relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”
Snape nodded and picked up the box of potions from the drawer. “I’ll be taking these now, before you or Miss Weasley can make any more trouble with them.”
“May I ask where you got them, sir?” asked Draco. “Did my father send them?”
“No, but he would quite like to get his hands on them,” Snape confessed. “Which is why I’d prefer you not mention to him that I had them out.”
“Our secret, I promise,” Draco vowed, echoing Snape’s promise.
Snape’s lip quirked upward ever so briefly. “Good boy. How are you feeling? You came very close to dying last night, you know.”
“So I’ve been told. I don’t remember much about last night,” Draco admitted.
“Do you remember how you got hurt?”
Draco nodded somberly. “He’s sorry about what happened.”
Snape couldn’t hide his surprise. “He said that?”
“In his own way.”
Snape nodded in understanding. “It’s safe to allow you to go home then?”
Now it was Draco’s turn to be surprised. “Of course.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What other option do I have?” wondered Draco.
“Dumbledore has very effective means of protection, if you ever feel you need to partake of them,” Snape told him, watching Draco closely to gauge his reaction.
Draco sneered. “Father says he’s a fool, and I’ve seen little evidence to refute that.”
“You see what you want to see,” said Snape cryptically. “When you’re in need of something different, perhaps you will see more.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll know when you need to know.” He got to his feet. “Goodnight, Draco.”
He glided out of the room as a confused Draco sighed in frustration.
Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to review. Your support means the world to me. I've been working on this story for almost three years, writing it steadily but never working up the nerve to start posting it until now. So to know that people are reading and liking it has been a great thrill (and a great relief!) Thanks, too, as always, to my awesome beta Karen.
Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan
Pansy, Potions and Protection
Ginny woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She looked around the hospital wing in confusion, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Across the room she saw her mother sitting in Madame Pomfrey’s office, having a cup of tea.
“See, they don’t care what happens to you,” Tom’s voice taunted her.
“Bugger off,” Ginny hissed.
“You bugger off,” came a weak voice from the behind the curtain on the other side of her bed.
Ginny glanced over at her mother and saw she was still not paying attention, so she pulled back her covers and slid out of bed. She shivered as her bare feet hit the stone floor, and had a sudden flash of memory about lying on the frigid stones in the chamber. She shook it off with a toss of her head, picked up her wand and pulled back the curtain between her and Draco.
He was lying with his eyes closed, but as she tiptoed closer he murmured, “I’m not up for company.”
“What are you doing here?” Ginny questioned.
Draco blinked in surprise at her sharp tone, giving her a brief look of interest, but then quickly getting bored.
“Sleeping,” he murmured, trying to roll over away from Ginny’s steady gaze. He gasped at the pain that caused and fell back to his original position. Ginny watched with interest as the blood drained out of Draco’s face, but she made no move to help him.
“Potion,” Draco gasped, reaching for the nightstand next to his bed where a half-filled bottle sat. But it was too far for him to get to, and the movement only worsened his pain.
Ginny still made no move to help him. Instead she pulled on the drawer of his nightstand. “That’s right, you have potions over here. Let’s see the good stuff Snape hid,” she murmured.
But the drawer would not open. Ginny tapped it with her wand, ignoring Draco’s moans as she muttered spells, until she finally found one that made the drawer spring open. “Well, well, well, look at this,” Ginny murmured, pulling out the open box of potion bottles from the nightstand.
“Pain potion,” Draco pleaded.
“Oh, I think it’s much more than that.” She waved her wand over the potions. Each shone a light the color of its bottle, inside of which appeared the ingredients of the potion it housed. “Quite a collection you’ve got here,” Ginny told him, clucking her tongue in disapproval, but smiling wickedly. “Quite an illegal collection,” she added, noticing dragon and unicorn blood among the ingredients. “Did Daddy send these?” she questioned, slipping one of the bottles up the sleeve of her nightdress.
Draco only groaned in answer. Ginny frowned. “It’s no fun tormenting someone when they don’t react. But you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you, since tormenting people is your favorite sport.”
“Weasley,” Draco moaned.
“What?” Ginny snapped. “Do you want me to take pity on you? Sorry, but the Ginny who would have done that is gone.”
“Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley called worriedly from the other side of the curtain.
Ginny waved her wand over the potions again, breaking the spell. She lifted a burnt-orange bottle out of the drawer. “Here, drink this one,” she told Draco, gently putting the bottle to his lips just before her mother and Madame Pomfrey pulled aside the curtain. Draco swallowed it eagerly and sighed in relief.
“Ginny, what are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.
“He was hurting, I wanted to help,” answered Ginny. Her face was the picture of innocence, but her hand was covertly sliding the orange bottle back into the nightstand and shutting the drawer.
“What did you give him?” Madame Pomfrey questioned sharply, noticing Ginny’s hand hovering near the nightstand.
“This,” Ginny lied smoothly, letting her hand rest on the half-empty potion still sitting on top of the table. “He told me that was what he needed, but he couldn’t reach it himself.”
“That was very kind of you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, putting an arm around Ginny’s shoulders as she led her away from Draco’s bed. “But you need to let Madame Pomfrey give out the medicine. You could have hurt that boy.”
“Good,” thought Ginny, but to her mother she said, “I’m sorry, I only wanted to help, because he was hurting so badly.”
“I know, and it was very sweet of you,” Mrs. Wesley told Ginny, as she pulled back the covers on Ginny’s bed. “But you need your rest, you’re not ready to be out of bed yet.”
“I’m not hurt, Mum,” Ginny insisted, yet she dutifully climbed into the bed and let Mrs. Weasley pull the covers up over her. She slid the stolen bottle of potion under her pillow before her mother could spot it.
“Rest anyway,” Mrs. Weasley instructed, giving Ginny a kiss on the top of her head.
“I am still a little tired,” Ginny said, curling up under the covers. “Why don’t you go finish your tea while I go back to sleep? Or get some rest yourself, I know you must be knackered.”
“I’m fine here,” Mrs. Weasley insisted, settling into the chair next to Ginny’s bed and leaning her head back as her eyes closed.
“Get rid of her,” commanded Tom’s voice inside Ginny’s head.
Ginny rolled over on her side, then restlessly rolled over to the other side, then rolled back again with a whimper. “Mummy,” she whined.
“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, not opening her eyes.
“Mummy, will you go get my bear?” Ginny pleaded. “You know I don’t like to sleep without her. Especially now.”
Mrs. Weasley got up wearily and stroked Ginny’s hair with a sad smile. “She’s good at keeping the bad dreams away, isn’t she?”
Ginny nodded. “So will you go get her?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” She gave Ginny a quick kiss. “She’s on your bed?” Ginny nodded. “I’ll need the password to the tower.” Ginny sat up to whisper in her mother’s ear. Mrs. Weasley smiled. “I’ll be right back then.”
“You’re good,” Draco said softly after Mrs. Weasley had gone. The curtain between his bed and Ginny’s moved aside, and Ginny saw Draco lying with his wand in his hand. “How do you do that, fool them into not seeing you’re evil?”
“I’m not evil!” Ginny declared hotly.
“You’re not the goody-goody Gryff they all think you are,” said Draco, sounding almost impressed. “You could even give a few Slytherins a run for their money.”
“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ginny growled.
Draco clucked his tongue admonishingly. “Such language from such a dainty little thing.”
“Little, yes, dainty, I don’t think so,” Ginny admitted.
“So nothing about you is what it seems,” noted Draco.
“Why did you say I was evil?” Ginny questioned suddenly.
Draco didn’t answer as he studied Ginny for a long moment. “It wasn’t because you wouldn’t give me that potion,” he explained finally. “It was the enjoyment you got from seeing me suffer. I’ve seen that look before, on…on other people I know. But I never expected it from someone like you.”
“That wasn’t me,” Ginny protested. Seeing Draco’s confused look, she added, “I’m not myself today.”
“Then who are you?”
Ginny rolled over, away from Draco’s gaze. “I’m tired,” she murmured.
“You’re not getting off that easily, Weasley,” Draco warned. “What kind of potion did you steal from here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you do. You slipped one of those potions from my nightstand into your dressing gown,” Draco accused. “And don’t try to deny it, or I’ll come fetch it.”
“It was nothing you need,” Ginny told him.
“Why don’t you let me decide that?”
Ginny rolled over so she was looking at him again. “What kind of dreams do you have?” she questioned.
Draco blinked, surprised by the question. “I don’t dream,” he declared.
“Then you have no need for this potion,” Ginny assured him.
“What kind of bad dreams do you have?” Draco wondered.
“Dreams…nightmares, I should say…” Ginny started. Draco shifted in excited anticipation, wincing at the movement. Ginny grinned maliciously. “…about being stuck in the hospital wing with Draco Malfoy.”
“You really are evil,” Draco muttered.
“It’s none of your business what I dream about,” countered Ginny angrily.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Draco reminded her.
“What do you care anyway?” Ginny questioned. “I didn’t think Malfoys concerned themselves with Weasleys.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do right now,” Draco explained. “Except sleep, which sounds like a much-better option than talking to you.” He closed his eyes wearily.
“What did you do to land yourself in here?” Ginny wondered. “Fall off your broom while practicing Quidditch in a pathetic attempt to be as good as Harry?”
“Potter has luck, not talent,” Draco mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Too bad you don’t have either,” Ginny taunted.
The sharp retort she was expecting from Draco didn’t come. Ginny glanced over and saw he seemed to be sleeping. “Malfoy?” she called. Draco didn’t answer.
Ginny slipped out of her bed and went to his side. She shook his shoulder, but Draco didn’t move. “Madame Pomfrey, Malfoy’s passed out,” Ginny called.
Madame Pomfrey came bustling over. “Leave the boy be, Miss Weasley,” the matron ordered as she took Draco’s pulse.
“I was only talking to him,” Ginny insisted. “He wanted me to, he was bored. But then he suddenly stopped talking.”
“He’s not up for talking, he’s seriously injured,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. She fished a bottle of potion out of her robes, pulled Draco’s chin to open his mouth and poured the liquid down his throat. “Leave him be while this potion does its job and get back to your bed where you belong.”
“I can’t sleep, the nightmares will come back,” Ginny insisted desperately.
“I’m not a nightmare, Ginny,” she heard Tom murmuring in her head. “I’m your fondest dream, a boy who will love you forever.”
Ginny choked out a sob. “I don’t want to see that monster again. Please, Madame Pomfrey, please don’t make me.”
Tears were coming full-force now, Ginny shaking with the effort of her sobs. Madame Pomfrey looked alarmed as she slipped an uncertain arm around her. “Now, now, child, there’s no need for that. Come, let’s get you back into bed.”
She led Ginny over to her cot and helped her climb back into it as Ginny continued to cry. “Let me get you something to help you sleep,” Madame Pomfrey offered.
“Yes, Ginny, let yourself sleep,” Tom coaxed.
Ginny shook her head violently. “No, don’t put me to sleep. He comes to get me in my sleep!”
“It’s only a dream, child,” the matron assured her.
“I don’t want to dream!” Ginny screeched. “I can’t get away from him in my dreams, he keeps making me…he keeps…”
She was crying too hard to go on. Madame Pomfrey rubbed Ginny’s back comfortingly as the girl curled into a ball on the bed. “It’s okay, Miss Weasley, it’s okay. I’ll give you something to stop the dreams. Just give me a moment.”
The matron hurried to her office as Ginny continued sobbing.
“The tears are a nice touch,” came Draco’s weakened voice from behind the curtain separating their beds.
Ginny didn’t answer, but her sobs quieted a little. “You can’t keep taking that dreamless sleep potion, though,” Draco warned her. “Not having dreams will drive you mad. Although it seems that horse is already out of the barn with you.”
“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Ginny spat.
“I’m already there,” Draco muttered as Ginny’s sobs grew louder upon Madame Pomfrey’s return.
“There, there, Ms. Weasley, there, there,” Madame Pomfrey soothed. “Take this potion and rest some more. You won’t be quite so hysterical when you have your strength back.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Draco muttered, but if Madame Pomfrey heard the comment she ignored it as she held a small vial of potion to Ginny’s lips.
Mrs. Weasley came back in as Madame Pomfrey was tucking the covers around a droopy-eyed Ginny. She carried a quilt and a ragged-looking bear in her hands. “Is everything okay?” she asked Madame Pomfrey worriedly.
“The nightmares again,” the matron informed her. “I gave her another dose of dreamless sleep potion, as it was the only way to settle her down. I’m hoping it will allow her to get enough rest that she will be feeling more like herself in a few hours.”
“This might help,” Mrs. Weasley said, laying the teddy bear on the pillow next to Ginny. “She has protection spells on her.”
“Lil' bear,” Ginny murmured happily, snuggling closer to the bear.
Mrs. Weasley smiled as she gently brushed Ginny’s hair out of her face. “How long will the nightmares last?” she asked Madame Pomfrey.
“There’s no telling,” the nurse admitted. “I don’t think she’ll be free of them until she talks about what happened to her down in the Chamber, but she’s not ready to do that just yet. In fact, reliving it all too soon could push her over the edge. So you’ll have to be patient with her, Molly. You’ll get your daughter back in time, I assure you.”
*********************
Draco awoke to someone stroking his hair softly. He jerked his head away from the touch, wincing at the pain the movement called. “Stop,” he pleaded when the hand continued touching him.
“Draco, darling, you’re awake!” Pansy exclaimed.
“Go away, Pan,” Draco muttered.
Instead Pansy threw her arms around him, eliciting a painful moan from Draco. She pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Not when every millimeter of my body hurts like hell,” Draco told her, closing his eyes again.
“Are you going back to sleep?” Pansy whined. “You’ve been sleeping all day, while I’ve been stuck here getting yelled at by that hag Pomfrey for trying to check on you.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I had to,” Pansy cried. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead! And then I find you’re stuck here with all these ratty Weasleys hanging about, and the youngest one starts screaming like a banshee for no reason whatsoever.”
“She was screaming again?” asked Draco, opening his eyes in interest. “I guess her potion wore off. Did Pomfrey give her more, or did she find a way to settle herself down on her own?”
“Who cares?” Pansy declared with a dismissive wave. “I’m surprised you slept through all the racket, though.”
“Guess it wasn’t loud enough to wake the dead,” mumbled Draco.
“Dead, who’s dead?” Pansy asked in confusion.
“Pan, please let me sleep,” Draco pleaded, closing his eyes again.
“Not yet, Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey declared, bustling over with a tray full of bottles. “I didn’t want to wake you, but since Miss Parkinson has seen fit to do so, I’ll have you take your potions now.”
“He has to take all those?” asked Pansy in horror.
“He’s very ill, Miss Parkinson, which is why you should not be disturbing him,” Madame Pomfrey scolded as she put a bottle to Draco’s lips. He swallowed it dutifully, without even opening his eyes. “Come back tomorrow, when Mr. Malfoy should be more up for company.”
“No, I’m staying here!” Pansy insisted. “Everyone in Slytherin has been wondering what’s going on with Draco, and you won’t tell us anything.”
“Because it’s none of your business,” snapped Madame Pomfrey.
Draco chuckled. “Tell them to bugger off, Madame Pomfrey.”
“I will do no such thing!” she declared, forcing another potion down Draco’s throat so forcefully that he choked. Draco moaned in between the coughs that were worsening his pain. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey apologized, putting another potion to his lips. “Drink this down, it will help.”
Draco swallowed it cautiously, and the coughing stopped. So, seemingly, did his pain, as he managed to push himself into a sitting position with only a slight wince. “Tell them I’m fine, Pan. I’m spending one more night here as a precaution, but I’ll be back in the dorm tomorrow. If they have any further questions about my condition, they can direct them to my father.”
“Yes, Draco.”
“You are not leaving here tomorrow!” ranted Madame Pomfrey. “It will be two or three more days at the least until you’re ready for that.”
Draco shook his head. “You need to heal me faster, then,” he announced.
“I don’t think you realize just how close you came to dying, Mr. Malfoy,” the matron told him. “And you’re still bleeding internally – it will take a few days for these potions to fully heal the damage you suffered. You don’t have exams to be concerned about, Professor Dumbledore has cancelled them, so all you need to focus on is getting the rest you need to get well.”
“That’s not all I have to focus on,” Draco protested. “Pansy, have I had any owls?”
Pansy nodded and reached into her robes, pulling out an envelope and laying it on Draco’s lap.
“Mr. Malfoy, I must insist that you put those things away and rest!” Madame Pomfrey proclaimed.
“I’ll rest in a minute,” said Draco impatiently. “Why don’t you go give that Weasley brat another potion? Her screaming is more disturbing to my sleep than a letter from my mum, who only wants to check on me, since she wasn’t up to making the trip here in person.”
Madame Pomfrey eyed the letter and then Draco with a frown, but set the tray of potions down on Draco’s nightstand. “Take these, all of these,” she commanded. “I will be back in five minutes, and I expect to see all of these potions gone, as well as Miss Parkinson.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Draco dutifully, his forced smile almost covering his smirk.
“Thank you, ma’am,” added Pansy, her fake smile much more convincing than Draco’s.
“Five minutes,” Madame Pomfrey repeated, stalking away.
“Hag,” Pansy hissed, but Draco ignored her as he ripped open his letter.
“What does your mum have to say?” Pansy wondered. “Dad said he was going to go by and see her, let her know you were recovering, so she shouldn’t be worrying about you.”
“This letter isn’t from Mum, it’s from my father,” Draco revealed.
“Apologizing, I hope,” Pansy huffed. “He could have killed you if my father hadn’t come to save your life!”
“He didn’t mean it, he was angry at Potter and I picked the wrong time to talk back to him,” Draco insisted. “And he was the one who sent your father to fix me up.”
“I still think he should apologize.”
“He has, in his own way,” Draco told her.
Pansy snatched the letter out of Draco’s hand. Draco tried to grab it back, but Pansy scooted her chair away where it was too painful for Draco to reach her.
“I hate you,” Draco growled.
“That’s why I love you so much, my darling,” Pansy purred. She opened Lucius’ letter as Draco sat back with a moan.
Dear Draco:
I was surprised to learn you’re still alive after the events of last evening. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for, and I will be more careful about underestimating you in the future. Healer Parkinson will make himself available if you need further treatment. Send Artemis if you need anything else. Your mother and I will see you at Kings Cross in two weeks.
Father
“That’s not an apology,” Pansy sniped. “You should definitely make him get you something good to make up for all this. Maybe an exotic trip somewhere or a new broom.”
“He won’t get me a new broom, I just got my Nimbus last September,” Draco lamented. “And it won’t do me any good to ask for anything else, either. If he wants to make it up to me he’ll do it his way, not mine.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Could you hand me those potions? I don’t want to hear Pomfrey’s screeching if I don’t finish them.”
Pansy pulled the tray of potions onto her lap, handing Draco one that still had liquid in it. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”
“No idea,” Draco admitted. “They came from Snape and your father, though, so they should be safe.”
“You seem better than when you first woke up,” Pansy noted, trying to stroke his hair again.
“Pansy, leave my hair alone,” Draco grumbled.
“Yes, you’re definitely more yourself,” she said with a smile. “Will you really be leaving here tomorrow, though? I don’t think you’re going to be up for it.”
“I’ll come back here to spend the night if I’m really feeling badly, but I have to make an appearance in the common room sometime tomorrow,” Draco announced, drinking another potion and pulling a face. “I can’t have them all thinking I’m incapacitated. You know any number of them will try to make a power play if they sense weakness.”
“Draco, this is ridiculous!” Pansy snapped. “I can come up with a story to cover for you, I lie to Flint, Montague, Zabini and the rest of those idiots all the time.”
“I know you do, it’s your only charming quality,” Draco teased. Pansy smirked at him, but Draco’s face grew serious. “Father will have someone checking on me, too, to see how long it takes me to get back on my feet.”
Pansy nodded in understanding. “I’ll let you rest, then, so you can gather your strength.” She handed him a green bottle of potion. “Drink this last one and then go back to sleep. I’ll come check on you first thing tomorrow, and we’ll figure out how we’re going to get you out of here and back downstairs.”
“Thanks, Pan,” said Draco, giving her hand a squeeze. “I knew I could count on you.”
Pansy beamed brightly and was about to lean in to give him another hug when Madame Pomfrey returned. “Shoo, Miss Parkinson,” she commanded.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Pansy announced brightly, still beaming as she ran from the room.
***********************
When Draco next awoke, the hospital room was dark and eerily silent, but he sensed he wasn’t alone. Lifting his head, he saw Snape sitting in a chair next to his bed.
“Good evening, Draco.”
“Evening?” Draco questioned groggily. “Have I been sleeping that long?”
Snape nodded. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be able to speak with you at all tonight, or if you were going to sleep straight through to morning.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I think Madame Pomfrey might have slipped a sleeping draft in with all those other potions she gave me,” Draco told him, trying to push himself into a sitting position.
“I think you’re not quite as well as you think you are,” replied Snape, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Lie back down.”
Draco gratefully sunk back against the pillow. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“I came to retrieve the potions I brought last night, but I’ve found some of them are missing,” Snape revealed. “Do you know where they might have gone?”
“Didn’t you give some to me?” questioned Draco. “Or maybe Pomfrey or Healer Parkinson did. I’ve had so many potions today I don’t know what’s what.”
“No, I locked them away. I wanted to wait to see if Healer Parkinson could heal you without them,” Snape admitted.
“Because the ones you brought were a bit dodgy?” asked Draco with a raised eyebrow.
Draco thought he saw Snape’s mouth twitch, but it was gone in a second, replaced by his usual sour look. “What makes you say that?”
“Weasley did a spell that showed what was in all of them, and she said some of the ingredients were illegal,” confessed Draco. “Weren’t trying to poison me, were you, Professor?”
“How did Weasley get in that drawer?” snapped Snape. “There was a very strong protection spell on those potions.”
Draco was startled by his tone. “I don’t know how she did it, she just tried spells until she found one that worked.”
“And she was also able to do one that revealed what was in the potions?” queried Snape.
“Yes, sir.”
“That kind of magic is far beyond a first year,” Snape growled. “So why don’t you tell me what really happened to those potions?”
“It was Weasley!” Draco insisted. “She’s not like any other first year. She’s nothing like what everybody thinks she is. That goody-goody Gryff act is all a lie.”
“What makes you say that?” Snape wondered.
“She came over to look at those potions you were hiding, and I asked her to hand me a pain potion that Madame Pomfrey had left for me,” Draco explained. “But she ignored me and just stood there watching me suffer. Not just watching but enjoying it, with this look on her face like my father…” He stopped with a shudder. “A look like that doesn’t belong on a face like hers. It’s unnatural.”
“Miss Weasley hasn’t quite been herself since her unfortunate experience in the Chamber of Secrets,” Snape noted.
“Did she really get taken down there by whoever was petrifying everyone?” asked Draco excitedly. Snape nodded. “So who was it?”
“Nevermind that, the person responsible is gone now.”
“Not to Weasley he’s not,” Draco revealed. “She wakes up screaming whenever she nods off without a Dreamless Sleep potion. She took one of your potions to help with the dreams, I think. And she gave me one for pain after her mother caught her out of bed, so she could pretend she’d gotten up to help me. At least she said it was for pain. It did make me stop hurting, but I was knocked out for hours. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try and poison me.”
“What color was the bottle?” questioned Snape.
“Burnt orange, like her hair.”
“If you haven’t stopped breathing by now, you should be fine,” Snape assured him. “That was quite a powerful pain draft, though, it was meant to counteract…It wasn’t meant for just any kind of pain.”
“You have a potion to help the pain from Cruciatus?” asked Draco in awe.
“I didn’t say that,” Snape protested.
“You didn’t need to. Will you teach me to make it?” Draco pleaded.
“No. And you are not to speak of this to anyone,” Snape ordered.
Draco frowned. “Don’t pout, Draco, it’s unbecoming.”
“Will you teach me how to make that Dreamless Sleep potion?”
“Why?”
“Weasley is running out of lies to tell Pomfrey to get the old bag to give it to her, and I don’t relish spending all night listening to her screaming,” Draco told him.
“You’ll drive the girl mad,” Snape warned.
“Someone’s already beaten me to that, she’s as barmy as can be,” declared Draco. “She’s always muttering to herself or screaming from the nightmares. It’s dead annoying.”
“I would think you’d enjoy seeing a Weasley suffer so,” taunted Snape.
Draco balked. “I...I…I’m too knackered to enjoy it is all,” he stammered. “You won’t tell my father, will you?”
Snape’s scowl softened at the anxious look on Draco’s face. He put a hand on the boy’s knee. “Our secret, I promise.”
Draco noticeably relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”
Snape nodded and picked up the box of potions from the drawer. “I’ll be taking these now, before you or Miss Weasley can make any more trouble with them.”
“May I ask where you got them, sir?” asked Draco. “Did my father send them?”
“No, but he would quite like to get his hands on them,” Snape confessed. “Which is why I’d prefer you not mention to him that I had them out.”
“Our secret, I promise,” Draco vowed, echoing Snape’s promise.
Snape’s lip quirked upward ever so briefly. “Good boy. How are you feeling? You came very close to dying last night, you know.”
“So I’ve been told. I don’t remember much about last night,” Draco admitted.
“Do you remember how you got hurt?”
Draco nodded somberly. “He’s sorry about what happened.”
Snape couldn’t hide his surprise. “He said that?”
“In his own way.”
Snape nodded in understanding. “It’s safe to allow you to go home then?”
Now it was Draco’s turn to be surprised. “Of course.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What other option do I have?” wondered Draco.
“Dumbledore has very effective means of protection, if you ever feel you need to partake of them,” Snape told him, watching Draco closely to gauge his reaction.
Draco sneered. “Father says he’s a fool, and I’ve seen little evidence to refute that.”
“You see what you want to see,” said Snape cryptically. “When you’re in need of something different, perhaps you will see more.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll know when you need to know.” He got to his feet. “Goodnight, Draco.”
He glided out of the room as a confused Draco sighed in frustration.
Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to review. Your support means the world to me. I've been working on this story for almost three years, writing it steadily but never working up the nerve to start posting it until now. So to know that people are reading and liking it has been a great thrill (and a great relief!) Thanks, too, as always, to my awesome beta Karen.
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