Chapter six

                                    

                                          
Draco ran his finger through Harry's hair. It had been a long day for the Gryffindor. His other hand was holding Harry's calloused one. 
                          
"No, Albus."
                          
Draco heard come from the office. 
                          
"I will not allow you to take that boy anywhere. What he needs right now is a place to rest and heal. I will not allow you to destroy that for some petty war."
                          
"It's not petty, Poppy."
                          
"I don't care what it is. My foot is down on the matter. Harry Potter will not leave this wing, until I say so."
                          
There was a sigh. 
                          
"Alright, Poppy. I will obey your wishes."
                          
The door opened to reveal Dumbledore leaving in long purple robes with gold stars and a matching hat. He barely gave a second glance at the Slytherin, sitting at the chosen-one's bedside. 
                          
He must have stopped by when I was sleeping, Draco thought. 
                          
Harry stirred in his sleep. Draco gave his hand a comforting squeeze. 
                          
Only a couple minutes after Dumbledore left, the Hospital Wing doors opened again. Draco turned to see who it was. Hermione Granger was walking through the doors looking stressed and annoyed. 
                          
"You're still here," she said, sharply.
                          
Draco's shoulders tensed. "I'm always here," he said, stiffly. 
                          
He was telling the truth. Since the day he found Harry in a pool of his own blood, his eyes practically glazed over, and his body cold enough to be considered dead, he had been planted at the boy's bedside. He took care of the potions when Pomfrey was out. He comforted the boy during a horrific nightmare. He was in that uncomfortable plastic chair until Pomfrey shooed him away for food, but he always came right back. Always, holding the Gryffindor's hand. If only for a reminder that he was not alone. That someone care for him. That someone was by his side. That someone would be here for him when he woke up. He helped Harry with his homework in the classes they shared. He helped tutor him in the ones that he just did not understand. Draco was inseparable from the injured boy. 
                          
Hermione pulled up a chair. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. 
                          
"Has he woken up yet?" she asked.
                          
"He's been in and out of it. Nightmares," he said. 
                          
His body was rigid at Granger's body language. 
                          
Harry stirred again, a pitiful whimper leaving his throat. Draco ran his fingers through Harry's raven hair. His fingers lingered on the left side of his temple. It was coated in sweat. 
                          
"Hand me the cloth, please." He held his hand out. 
                          
Granger handed him the wet cloth. Her face was taught with worry lines. It was clear that something was on her mind. 
                          
Malfoy dabbed the wet cloth against Harry's forehead to clean it of the sweat. He brushed the boy's matted hair away from his forehead. Potter lifted an arm latching onto Malfoy's wrist.
                          
Both teens were in shock at the action. It had been a few days since the incident and unless it was to use his wand to animate his quill. Or to pull and pick at his bandages. This was the furthest he had ever moved his arm. 
                          
Then he spoke in that soft broken, almost pitiful voice. "Don't go," he mumbled. "Stay. Don't leave me alone." 
                          
Draco wound his fingers around Harry's. He gave the other boy's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I promise."