Chapter Text
“If I didn’t know you any better, Draco, I’d say you were scared”.
“Scared, Potter?!” a contemptuous smile flashed across Draco's face, and Harry rolled his eyes: of course, this arrogant Slytherin would rather accuse the whole world than admit he was scared. And there was something to be scared of, especially as they walked deeper and deeper into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
And then it happened. The moment that haunted Harry’s dreams night after night later on: when they ran into a slim black figure sucking unicorn’s blood in the middle of the forest clearing.
It was right there, in about ten steps from them, and Harry gasped, taking a step back. He couldn’t move. Not back, not forward – as if some invisible power was holding him straight on that spot. Shivers went down his spine, spreading all over his body.
It got obvious in a second that the creature knew Harry was here, even though he and Draco were still hidden in the shadows of woods. It knew. And it was holding Harry still, not allowing him to run, escape, get out…
“Potter, what the-” Draco appeared behind his back, widened eyes fixed on the horrifying scene before them. “Potter…” Draco’s whisper sounded unusually sharp in the silence of the Forest. “Potter, let’s go.” So quiet and calm that at first Harry thought Malfoy didn’t see the creature at all.
But he did see it. Malfoy’s eyes were still fixated on the dark figure bent over the crystal unicorn’s body, watching over its every movement. Harry heard Malfoy's heart beating furiously very close to him, heard his ragged breathing, felt the trembling when Malfoy clung to the sleeve of his robes. But the voice was so quiet and steady it seemed impossible that Malfoy was the one whispering these words.
“Potter, don’t stand there, we need to get out.”
How does he do that, Harry thought. How on Earth is he still able to speak in finished sentences, to move?! He, Harry, was standing right next to him, petrified, unable to take even one tiny step back, and Malfoy was just… wiggling around telling him to run…
“I- can’t-” he breathed out, feeling that his legs start shaking uncontrollably. The figure before him raised its head and Harry saw the eyes glaring right through him from under the hood. Blinding pain pierced his scar, blood-red dots swirling before Harry’s eyes.
“Potter!” Malfoy’s hands squeezed tightly around elbows, dragging him away, deeper into the shadows of the forest. Harry felt cold wind hitting him in the face and freezing wet grass under his hands, as he realized he’s… falling. Tripped over some stick, probably.
That was it. Malfoy won’t be able to drag him much longer, not when he’s on the ground, suffocating with pain, paralyzed by this creature with red gleaming eyes. All Harry could do was stare at it back and wonder if Malfoy will have the time to escape-
Why must it be so painful?.. Maybe if he tries really hard, he could move his leg and at least try to get up… The creature was gliding closer and closer…
“Impedimenta!”
…and it worked. Draco’s shaky hand was the only thing Harry could see in the bright light, shining from his wand. This would never work. And probably because it wouldn’t – it worked.
Magic flashed from the wand, blinding everything around, and the figure, approaching the boys in a threatening glide, got hit by a blizzard of light. It jilted and stopped for a second, but it was enough: Harry felt he can move again. The pulsating pain in his scar was still there, but the main thing was: he had a chance to escape.
Harry jumped up to his feet, Draco’s hand still on his, clutching his sleeves, turned around and pushed himself forward. Tree branches hit his face, his legs got caught in some snags, but Harry simply rushed straight, following Draco, who clearly knew the terrain better than Harry.
What was it? Did they just escape death or was there nothing to escape? Why did Malfoy stay with him? He surely had the strength to run away, considering his energetic whispering into Harry’s ear-
“Hey! Hey, boys!” they heard Hagrid’s voice and followed, nearly hitting the giant off his feet. Malfoy did the explanations. And he did it in such a high-pitched, hysterical voice, gesturing rapidly, that Harry was completely confused. He himself couldn't do the talking even if he wanted: he was rubbing his scar that was still burning hard, almost muffling the voiced around him.
“Yer lot wait ‘ere,” Hagrid ordered seriously, heading into the forest. There. Finally. The pain is gone, he can hear clearly again, Harry thought. And almost immediately Malfoy’s body slid down the tree he was leaning against.
“What- Malfoy!”
“I’m okay, Potter, not gonna faint,” Draco answered in a weak, but irritated voice, and Harry kneeled beside him just to see a trickle of blood, clearly visible on Draco's deathly pale face.
“You… you got a nosebleed, I think,” whispered Harry, searching desperately in his pockets for some kind of a tissue. Malfoy looked puzzeled.
“Oh. Really? Wait…” he reached into his pocket, pulled out a white handkerchief and put it to his nose, throwing his head back.
“No… No, don’t do that,” Harry reached forward, grabbing Malfoy’s hand. “I heard it’s not safe to do that, you have to bend forward when there’s a nosebleed…”
“Who are you now - Granger?!” Draco muttered through his teeth, but he lowered his head. Harry didn’t know if his mind was just tricking him, or did Malfoy’s voice actually trembled? Well, his hands surely did. Harry reached for his hand one more time.
“Hey, hey…”
“Get off me!” Malfoy bellowed, and this time Harry very clearly saw his eyes shining feverishly in the dark. Draco was crying.
“Stop with the third degree already!” Harry argued, not taking his hands off. “Malfo-”
“I said get off-!”
"Hey, listen to me-!"
"Goddamn it, will you-"
“I WAS SCARED TOO!”
The silence that followed this exclamation could have been easily cut with a knife. Draco froze, glaring blearily at Harry, who gently squeezed his shoulder again.
“I was scared too,” he said once again quietly, feeling Malfoy’s shoulder shaking underneath his fingers. “But I could never fight that thing – whatever it was – like you did. That was… amazing, Malfoy.”
“Oh ssstop it, Potter,” Draco’s face, half-hidden with the handkerchief, was still pale, and he suddenly sobbed, no longer trying to hide his tears. “If you would bloody move when told to-”
“I couldn’t.”
“What?”
“I think that thing got me. You saw it yourself, I was actually trying, but it was as if… as if that thing was holding me telepathically or something. The second you knocked it down, I could move again.”
“I see, Potter,” Malfoy said seriously after a second of silence.
“I just wanna say thanks,” Harry uttered. “You were so calm and… composed out there. And that spell- I mean,” he smiled weakly, “we don’t actually learn that stuff on our first year here, do we?”
“My father taught me that,” said Draco finally. Two trails of tears glistened on his cheeks in the moonlight. “How to stay calm and… the spell… He always says that… the minute you lose your head over something, you’re the easiest target there is. And it’s a third-year spell. Of course I’d never cast it properly, it was just to confuse the enemy. You know… to have time to run. ”
“Well… your father seems like a very wise man,” Harry said. Malfoy nodded. He lifted the handkerchief from his face, examining the bloody stains on the white fabric. Harry turned his attention back to Draco's shaking hands. Strange, he thought. For such a frightened boy, Draco was surprisingly well prepared for danger.
“What are you looking at, Potter?” sharp voice, almost as arrogant as always.
“No… Nothing, sorry-” Harry stumbled, looking at Malfoy again. “Hey! Hey, we’re fine now-”
“Oh, bugger off!” Malfoy hastily wiped away the tears of aftershock that had appeared in his eyes again, and turned away. "You as much as try to say a word to someone about this, Potter, and I..."
“I won’t,” Harry said simply.