Bond (Drarry)

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

February 27 - March 16

Day 152, Saturday, continued

"Oh my god," Harry breathed as he rushed into the hospital wing at lunchtime, Hermione and Ron at his heels. Draco was sitting up on one of the beds, Pansy by his side, his left arm in a sling, a bandage across one cheek, his lower lip split. God, this was worse than he'd thought - all he'd heard was that there had been a "scuffle" and that Draco was in the hospital.

Draco smiled dryly at him. "You should see the other fellow," he quipped.

Harry shook his head, horrified, and hesitantly reached for his hand, not knowing whether Draco would accept a public display of affection or not. Knowing only that whoever had done this to Draco would have to be scraped off the walls after Harry was done with him.

"No, really, you should see the other fellow," Pansy said heavily, as Draco took Harry's hand and motioned him into the chair closest to him, opposite from Pansy.

"Who did this?" Hermione asked quietly, coming to stand next to Pansy.

"Goyle," said Pansy.

"What?" Harry exclaimed in angry disbelief as Ron swore volubly behind him.

"Oh stand down, you dolts," Draco said tiredly. "It's not what you think."

"He was a blubbering mess by the time he was done, too," said Pansy, shaking her head. "Poor Goyle."

"Erm... what?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Pansy asked him to," Zabini said, approaching the bed and standing next to Ron with his arms crossed. "And she had a time trying to explain in words small enough for him to understand."

The Gryffindors gaped at each other in complete bewilderment.

"My father drew a target on my back with that fucking Howler," Draco said impatiently. "I wasn't safe going back to Slytherin-"

"Then why the hell didn't you come to Gryffindor with me?" Harry asked, exasperated. "I told you after breakfast that-"

"Shut up, please, it hurts to talk and I'd rather not waste my time shushing you. Yes, you offered, but as I believe I told you, I couldn't run away from Slytherin just like that. Because then even if my father ever took me back into the family again, I'd be branded a spineless coward. So Pansy asked Goyle to beat me badly enough to get me admitted here, without causing permanent damage. He did a good job of it, too - no broken nose or black eyes, just a couple of ribs cracked, and my arm broken and the split lip."

"You're mental, the lot of you," Ron said faintly.

"Maybe, but I'm also safe in the infirmary, with not nearly as much loss of face as if I'd just ducked out before anything happened. And Goyle got to help out a friend, and he'll still have both my father's approval and his. Not a bad deal all around."

"Completely mental."

"You know, after having Goyle sobbing and dripping snot on my tie for the last twenty minutes, I'm not sure this was such a good deal all around, myself," Zabini said tightly.

"He'll get over it," Pansy said indifferently. "And hopefully this'll also help when Draco goes to see his father." Zabini gave a snort of derision but didn't interrupt. "It might make Lucius feel Draco's already been punished enough. Or, even better, make him feel guilty for having put Draco in a position to get hurt in the first place."

Draco smiled cynically. "He might also tell me he's going to hand over the family business to me and take up Hinkypunk-herding, but I'm not counting on that either, Pansy."