WITH FIRE AND IRON | Draco Malfoy

xvi. case

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The frowned look on Madam Pomfrey's face did not settle well with her. It was uncomfortable, terribly so that she squirmed in her place on the bed. Knowing you've been caught doing something you're not supposed to do damage to her people-pleasing nature.

"You shouldn't be skipping meals," Madam Pomfrey scolded as she continued to jot down notes on Diana's file. The same one her father sent to the school so that he could have full disclosure of her health.

She stayed silent and listened to the sounds of scratching parchment and smelled the scents of different medicinal potions. From a few beds away, Harry Potter laid sleeping with his bandaged arm. It was early in the morning and seeing his serene figure, Dobby must have already talked to him.

"Here," a vile was placed on her hand. She stared at it for a moment, a slight grimace on her face at the memory of how bitter it was. She hated taking her medicines. She hated how weak she was. She hated that all she could do was watch and read about spells; not being able to perform and master them.

Diana pinched her nose and swallowed the liquid in one whole gulp.

"Alright, you may go, Ms. Romanov," Madam Pomfrey says after retrieving the empty vial from Diana. She stands up with a pile of parchment in her hands and leaves the Hospital Wing. She must be sending it to Dumbledore before he owls it to her Father.

A sigh tumbled down her lips, the sleep stinging her mostly shut eyes. The soft sheets underneath her hands were seducing her now. The silence of the world was humming a lullaby to her. Just. . .maybe. . .she can catch. . .a few minutes. . .

"Diana?"

Her eyes snapped open, her heart jumped and her body stiffened. The voice was slightly groggy--she realized and only one person would be awake at this hour and be with her in the room.

"Goodmorning, Harry," she greeted once she turned her head to face him. He had fumbled retrieving his glasses from the side table of his bed and was now staring at her, wide-eyed and confused. His hair was sticking up in wild places and his cheeks, still heavy with baby fat, were flushed.

Diana lazily stood up from her own bed and walked towards his to properly converse with him. Might as well, after all. She still had an hour or two until the Great Hall is stocked with food.

Harry watched her smooth down her pleated skirt to sit beside his bandaged arm and cross her black thigh-high clothed legs. She was dressed to impress like always with her ivory headband and dangling silver cross earrings, despite the sun still waking itself up with a yawn. Her eyes, though, were a little darker than usual.

"Good. . .morning," he greets back. He was still confused; disoriented. Granted, he was hit with a bludger and lost his arm's bone.

"Slept well, I presume?" Diana said, eyeing the small crease on his cheek gifted to him by the sheets.

Harry sheepishly nods. "I guess. What are you doing up so early?"

"An errand," she answers, tethering over the thin line of truth and lie. "Congratulations on winning by the way."

His eyebrows furrow. Cute. "Aren't you mad at me? Slytherins lost."

A chuckle leaves her lips. It's wispy and airy again. "A win is a win, a loss is a loss. No one will condemn you with playing fair, least of all with a broken arm," she gestures to the bandages. "Everyone agrees that Draco was too busy being a little twat than finding the snitch."