Not Slytherin (Drarry)

Chapter 22

Draco couldn't believe it. His father had tried to kill him. Sure, he was friends with Muggleborns and Blood-traitors and he knew that his father was going to be mad. But trying to kill him? His only heir?

And now, here he was in the hospital wing, Harry sitting by his side even though Dumbledore had called him to his office. Harry had explicitly said that he wasn't going to be leaving Draco any time soon, and Draco had no intention of letting him leave before he had properly berated him about all the absolutely mental things he had done. Really, was it that hard to remember to bring a bloody bird?

"And you didn't even tell a teacher! What if you had died in there?! They wouldn't even be able to find your corpse, you know why? Because no one else is a bloody parseltongue!" Draco continued to yell from his hospital bed.

Harry had stopped reacting to his lectures around 10 minutes ago. And that only infuriated Draco more. He just kept looking at Draco with that stupid dopey smile on his face. Draco didn't even know it was possible to smile that wide in these circumstances. Harry's grin stretched from ear to ear and it was getting hard to keep yelling at him.

In hindsight, he should have predicted this. Gryffindors had no common sense. Look at Weasley: he was on a hospital bed as well, sleeping. He had made the unbelievably stupid decision of fighting a miniature Voldemort as a second-year!

Idiots, complete and utter idiots.

But...they were his idiots.

Draco sighed and reached out to Harry. "Promise me you'll never do that again."

"Fight a Basilisk?" Harry said, amusement lacing his voice.

Draco half-heartedly hit his head. "Risk your life."

Harry's smile faltered a little, dying into a small smile. "I can't do that."

Draco wanted to say more, but he knew that even if Harry did promise him, he wouldn't be able to keep it. No promise was better than a fake one. Draco gave up and put his head on Harry's shoulder, mumbling 'idiot' repeatedly.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" a familiar voice chirped.

Draco and Harry looked over to see Dumbledore and Flitwick walking over to them. Well, Dumbledore was walking; Flitwick was running over to them, he had to to keep up with Dumbledore.

"Professor Flitwick," Draco said, his mood suddenly elevated.

Flitwick hopped onto the side table and began to talk. "I apologize for not believing you, Draco. It was foolish of me. Are you alright?" he said sincerely.

Draco didn't have to think about it, he forgave him. After all, Flitwick was Draco's favourite professor, and even Draco had thought he was going insane. The random surges of rage, as well as the blackouts, didn't help prove him wrong.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore addressed Harry, the twinkle in his eyes still shining brightly.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked.

"I find myself curious. Why exactly are you in possession of a Diary from one of my older students?" Dumbledore asked, his smile faltering a bit as he read the name inscribed on the bottom of the book.

Harry glanced at said book that was resting on the small table next to the Hospital bed. Draco couldn't bear to look at the book for longer than a minute. All the things he had told Tom, all the secrets he had divulged, and for what? Because he needed someone to talk to. He let his feelings cloud his judgement and that would never happen again. There were lives at stake, he couldn't afford to let his heart get in the way of his brain.