Potter

Chapter 67

Originally, I had believed I wouldn't get to say goodbye to Draco. I had thought he would disappear from sight, that I would be able to feign ignorance to the day he showed up in class, and to the day he finally didn't.

I wasn't allowed that ignorance though.

A few days after Christmas I sat in the library, pouring over the book Severus had given me. The information, while a lot to take in, was interesting enough to keep my attention. And with Neville currently in detention, Lavender with Seamus, and the late hour keeping most of the library empty, I had nothing to entertain me but the book. I was reading about the origin of the charm when someone slid into the chair next to me, startling me out of my thought process. I scowled when I realized who it was, but my expression softened though when I saw the grimace he wore.

"What's wrong, Nott?" I asked, marking my page and shutting the book. Theo made a point of rarely talking to me outside of a good teasing or snarky comment, so it was rare for him to be here now, looking as troubled as he did. It set a rock in my stomach. He must've seen my wide-eyed expression though because he was quick to soothe me. Or, at least, attempt to.

"Don't worry, everything is fine- Well, not everything- But most things- Well, not even, but some things are alright. Anyway, it's Thatcher."

"What about him?" I asked. Theo shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. He glanced around the room as if searching to make sure no one else was around, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I was in no mood for prolonging my curiosity. I kicked his skin lightly. "Get on with it."

Theo glared at me before speaking. "He needs you."

I like to think I did a good job of keeping the worry from being too prominent in my voice. "Why?"

"He's- I can't quite put words to it. He's by the Slytherin common room- Or he was. He seems- Off, I guess you would call it, and I can't think of anyway to try and set him right but you. I don't think he wants anyone else around right now anyway. He threatened to hex me, he did. Rather rude of him."

I frowned at Theo. "What happened?" Uneasiness was setting in now. Theo shrugged.

"He didn't say. But he didn't look too great- He was out before, if you know what I mean."

It didn't take many more words to convince me to go. With Theo's instructions I headed down to the lower levels of the school, breath shaky and steps rushed but hesitant all the same. The dungeons were dark this time of year, and I lit my wand for better sight as I made my way. Part of me was incredibly anxious- If I was caught down here, surely things would go any way but well.

"Thatcher?" I called timidly, praying that a Carrow or other student hadn't heard me. My skin prickled when I heard a scuffle from behind, and I turned just in time to come face-to-face with a dark eyed Marcus Thatcher, the light of my wand casting odd shadows on his face. I gasped, hand flying to my chest.

"Don't do that!" I hissed, taking a moment to calm my racing heart to properly take him in. Not all the darkness on his face were from shadows. At a closer look I could see a purplish mark on his cheek, blood leaking from a cut on his lip. My breath caught, and my heart fluttered again with a different emotion. Anger. Frowning as I reached up to touch his cheek, my fingers just brushed over the mark. He watched me silently, the light that was normally in his eyes not missing but muted. It was only when my fingers touched his neck that I realized his pulse was racing, and that the rest of him was shaking. It was completely out of character for Draco, and whatever had happened must have been no simple occurrence.

"Come with me." I said gently, reaching down to take his hand and pull him with me. He did so without protest, remaining silent even as I walked with him to the bathroom. It was abandoned, thankfully, and I made sure he was okay leaning against the sinks before I let go of him, pulling off my tie as I went and dampening it with water. He remained silent even as I wiped at the blood, and I never asked him to speak.But when he did, finally, his voice was quiet and rough, with a tone only the mourning used.