Irresistible Fate

Arguments, Firewhiskey, and Quidditch again.

When Draco led Harry through the hospital the following Friday they didn't speak, in fact, they didn't say a word, bar absolute essentials, to each other for nearly three quarters of an hour, until after Draco had taken Harry's bloods and tested them and re-tested them while Harry sat on the stool, waiting.

'They're clear.' Draco muttered into the microscope, 'completely clear.'

'Well that's one fucking good thing to come out of this week. Fuck, are you going to tell me what's going on, what you're doing?'

Draco glared at Harry, 'I appreciate your concern, but can you do me a favour right now by just keeping out of this, Potter. I told you to butt out.' His words were twisted with a hidden plea.

'I had to vouch for you, to your own mother.'

'I didn't ask you too.'

'No, but I didn't have much choice. You mother wanted me to find out about the mysterious Samson who had turned up on their doorstep asking bizarre questions.'

'I told you, don't get involved,' Draco enunciated each word clearly, gathering storm clouds edged into the greyness of his eyes.

A stony silence sat between them as they glowered at each other across the lab bench.

'And since when have you and my parents been lunch-buddies?'

'Since I started teaching with her.'

'Why can't you fuck off out of my life? Why do you have to be everywhere? Between me and everything precious in my life: my work, my research, school, Quidditch, my parents, my home. Answer me that, Potter, why are you always there?'

Harry tried to stay calm. 'Hang on, Draco, you chose to walk away from your parents and your home. You said you couldn't ever go back there. I just happen to actually get on well with your mother, it seems we have a lot more in common than you might realise. And your father, well, all he does is talk about his plants and you. He's hanging on to my vague connection to you, in his mind I'm the only one he has. And, well, you should know, when he talks about you, it's those times when he truly reconnects with the real world. Shit, Draco, what are you doing?'

'Why is there this incessant need to get involved? What are you trying to do? Rescue us? Why do you always have to be the fucking hero? You and your bloody hero-complex.'

The red-mist rose in a dizzying rush of utter disbelief. Harry slammed his fist into the bench in frustration as he stood abruptly to face Draco, equipment and glass slides jumped at the thud. He didn't care, 'Fucking hell, Malfoy. You know nothing.'

'And I prefer it that way. I wish you'd take the same course.'

Their voices were rising rapidly.

'Fine, ignorance is fucking bliss. But don't go throwing names around when you don't know the truth behind a situation. I was only trying to help.'

'I'm not some little pet-project for you, Potter. I don't want you to try to heal whatever you bloody think it is that needs healing. I don't want your fucking help and I certainly don't want your fucking charity.'

Harry leaned over the lab bench. 'You fucking stupid cunt, Malfoy. You and your fucking Malfoy pride. This isn't about charity. It's never about charity. I try to help because I can, because I never had anyone to give me a fucking break for the first eleven years of my life. And if you're referring to the room offer, that's all I was trying to do, to give you a fucking break. If you took your fucking self-pitying head out of your sorry arse you would know about my upbringing, about a fucking aunt who bullied me and considered me lesser than one of your bloody house-elves, and about a fucking uncle and cousin who liked to treat me like a fucking punchbag. You asked about those scars on my back, well, nine-years-fucking-old when I got the first ones, my ninth fucking birthday. All because I dropped a plate of fucking food. He used his belt. Regularly after that. Fucking charity? I never even had a fucking bedroom until I came to Hogwarts, what I had was the cupboard under the bloody stairs. They told me my parents died in a fucking car crash. I didn't know about magic, or wizards, or Hogwarts, or Voldemort, none of it, until Hagrid came to tell me I'd got into the school. So, don't give me your fucking privileged upbringing and start whining about your hardships and me trying to fulfil some fucking hero-complex until you understand what you're bloody talking about. Just fuck off! Fuck right off!'