Severus Snape had been in the war as a spy, yet he could not recall anything that made his heart jump into his throat the way it did while watching two of his students plummet from some incredible height. It had been a challenge to force the words Wingardium Leviosa from his mouth and it had been a miracle that he hit them with the levitation spell on the second try. They slowed down considerably, but that didn’t keep his stomach from churning at the sickening thud that could be heard as they hit the ground, though he would never admit it.

Blaise Zabini was already holding back Ben Pierce and Harper Skelly by the time that Snape reached the unconscious pair. Both first years were sobbing and near hysterics.

“Mister Pierce and Miss Skelly, please run ahead to the Hospital wing and inform Madame Pomfrey that she will have two very critical patients very shortly. Hurry!”

Both first years were off like a flash, Ben only sparing a half glance at his friend’s bloody form before he ran off. Snape tried not to focus too much on the blood coming out of Potter’s mouth and nose. The boy was still breathing, if barely.

“Don’t just stand there you fools,” Snape shot out as he reached to begin slowly untangling the knot of limbs, “Someone inform Professor Black and the Headmaster!”

There was the sound of feet running away and then other hands were helping him gently pull the boys apart enough to be mobilized without causing further injury. It was only after both boys were stiff and floating toward the castle that Snape bothered to recognize Weasley and Granger who were flanking their friend’s form and Zabini who guarded Malfoy’s side.

Madame Pomfrey met them halfway down the hall from the Hospital wing. “What on earth happened?!” she shrieked, “Never mind, never mind! Hurry!”

“All the blood is from Potter. He looks to have punctured a lung,” Snape said as they steered the boys through the door. Weasley and Granger led Potter’s body to a bed.

“If that is the worse injury between them, I shall take Potter first. There’s some healing potion in the cabinet over there, it should keep Mister Malfoy stable until I’ve seen to Mister Potter’s lung.” Pomfrey replied even as she shooed the injured Gryffindor’s friends away from the bed.

The familiar potion was easy to spot among the neat rows. At this point even Snape could not completely conceal his own worry. He stepped quickly to his student’s side. The blood on the boy’s clothing was not his own, but his complexion was deathly pale. Snape expertly tilted the boy’s head and began to pour a thin stream of the liquid down the boy’s throat. Almost immediately the boy began to cough. A moment later, Draco’s unfocused eyes peaked out from under his eyelids.

“Hurts,” he coughed.

Snape placed a hand on Draco’s sweaty forehead. “Where does it hurt the most Mister Malfoy?”

“Hurts!” the boy sobbed as he clutched his stomach.

“Drink Mister Malfoy,” Snape commanded. His voice caught the youth’s attention and Draco’s blue eyes focused on his teacher as the potion was once again held to his mouth. The boy swallowed obediently.

The healing potion Snape had given him had the effect of making the patient go into a healing sleep. No sooner had the last drop left the bottle then Draco’s eyes became hazy. Snape let out a sigh of relief the moment he realized the boy had dropped out of consciousness.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Severus! I’ve got Potter’s lung on the mend. There’s plenty wrong with him still, but the lung will take the most energy,” Madame Pomfrey said as she bustled over to Draco’s bed. “How is Mister Malfoy? Is he stable?”

“He woke up before I gave him the potion. He was in a lot of pain and clutching his stomach,” Severus replied with a calmness that surprised even him. He hadn’t survived Voldemort by ignoring his instincts and he couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Quickly then, help me get him bare to the waist,” Pomfrey said crisply, reminding Severus that the medi-witch was also a master of her emotions. The fact that she asked for his help at all betrayed her worry.

They made quick work removing the robes, using a combination of magic and gentle tugging to keep from upsetting any injures and also to prevent disturbing the magically induced sleep. Severus felt his own stomach flip at the sight of the large angry bruise on the young Slytherin’s side and abdomen. There were also bruises across his ribs, but those were only second rate compared to the purple mass below them.

“Merlin! Severus, you said he was actually awake? Get another healing potion and a salve!”

He didn’t stop to ask questions, just moved even as he was aware of Pomfrey casting diagnostic spells at the boy’s torso. Severus had already grabbed the needed items when he heard the medi-witch yelp and saw sparks shooting back out at her, as if her spell had bounced off Draco’s body. She tried again with the same result.

“What’s wrong with him?” Severus shouted at her.

Pomfrey was looking frazzled with her hair slightly on end from the sparks. “My spell isn’t working. I can tell that he’s in some advanced healing state, but the strength of the healing field is too strong to let me figure out the actual damage.”

“Then we must hurry! It has to have been a terrible amount of damage to need that much healing energy!” Several said, feeling frantic. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but his hands were shaking as he reached for the salve.

“I know Severus, but think! Where does that much healing energy come from? You gave him a simple healing potion. It would have taken a dozen potions and both of us casting spells to create a healing field that strong.”

Severus did think and his thoughts scared him. Without thinking he took out his wand and started casting the counter-curse to every dark spell he could think of. The energy had to come from somewhere.

“No,” Pomfrey interrupted, “the energy is self-contained, it’s not Death Eaters controlling him. The field rests where it originated, allowing no magic in or out until it has finished doing its job. It had to be either a potion or Mister Malfoy has shown himself to be a natural healer. I mean, he’s a bright boy Severus but I never saw any sign.”

The Slytherin shook his head. He hadn’t either, but Pomfrey was right; what other explanation was there? “What do we do now?”

“We hope the Headmaster arrives soon and then we wait for him to wake up.”

“I don’t like this. There has to be something else, something we haven’t thought of,” Severus said.

“Even if we knew, there is nothing we could do until the field breaks down and disperses the energy. But you’re right. There is something else and it feels like something I should have thought of, something I should know,” Pomfrey shook her head and looked at him. “ But I just don’t know.”

At that moment, Sirius Black came charging through the door, the Headmaster walking more calmly behind him. Severus knew it would be a long night.

It was like he was drowning and he couldn’t figure out which way was up. He was suffocating and had only a steady rhythm reverberating around him and the pain he could not place to hang on to…yet, there was something else. There was something that belonged to him, floating and crying out in pain with him. He tried to find a way to draw it closer, to somehow calm the panic radiating from it and suddenly from him, but he didn’t know how. The harder he tried the deeper down he went and the weaker he became. The pain began to fade and somehow he knew that this was the end. All at once he felt it as it stopped crying, stopped clinging to him, and stopped being. He cried out at the loss of its presence; the grief causing him to let go and he floated upward unnoticing.

In the hospital wing, tears welled up from under his eyelids as all the pain returned.

Dobby knew it was wrong to ears-drop on Dumbly, but something had happened to Harry Potter! The house elf had made his way up to the Headmaster’s office after overhearing some students. He was now crouched and waiting as Dumbly and some professors entered the office.

Once the door was closed, he heard Snape begin to speak, “Now Black, before you make a scene here like you made while we were still in the hospital wing, no, Draco in no way caused your godson to get injured on purpose.”

“We all know the Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t get along, Snape. Is it really that absurd to think that this might not have been a complete accident?” Black fired back heatedly.

“Maybe I should start demanding that Weasley be punished. He is after all, responsible for the bludger that hit Draco, or is it only you Gryffindors who are allowed to make a mistake?” Snape shot back.

“Gentleman,” Dumbly said calmly to Dobby’s relief. “From what the students have already said this incident was no ones fault, however we will need to be able to have an official account of what happened both for the boys’ guardians and for the school governors. Severus, you saw the whole thing correct? Good. Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

Dobby listened with wide eyes as the greasy professor explained how Harry Potter had tried to save his old little Master. He had not thought of little Master Malfoy in a long time but knew he had been mean to Harry Potter, yet he had helped him anyway. Dobby felt his chest swell as he felt even prouder to know the great Harry Potter.

“I know Pomfrey said they were both fine, Severus, but she seemed a little worried. You were there, are both boys going to be alright?” Dumbly asked.

“Potter should be fine as long as there are no complications with the healing of his lung. Draco is a different story. I don’t think Pomfrey wanted to mention it to you with so many eager ears in the infirmary and I’m not sure I want to discuss Draco’s well-being in the presence of anyone else, “ Snape said, with a glance in Professor Black’s direction.

“Now see here, Snape! I…”

Dumbly interrupted, “Perhaps you are being overly harsh here Severus. This incident involved both boys and I believe as a teacher and as Mister Potter’s guardian Sirius has a right to know everything that is going on.”

Snape sighed but didn’t argue, “We actually cannot figure out the extent of Mister Malfoy’s injuries. I gave him a simple healing potion while Pomfrey first tended to Potter. He awoke briefly in great pain and managed to convey that it was his abdomen that hurt. However, once he was unconscious and Pomfrey attempted to find what was wrong with him, she found a magical field containing a great amount of healing energy encompassing that part of his body. All of her spells reflected back at her and we have no explanation for the energy field.”

“Well, there must be some sort of dark magic at work then…” Sirius started.

“No,” Snape interrupted. “I admit I thought the same thing myself at first, but Pomfrey says that the healing energy is from either a potion, one much stronger than anything we have here, or that Draco is a natural healer. There is no sign of either.”

Dumbly spoke after a short silence, “I am guessing that there is nothing that can be done in any case until Mister Malfoy has woken. I suggest gentleman, that we all get some rest. The boys will hopefully be mended enough so that we may explore the subject further tomorrow. I wish you goodnight.”

Dobby’s brow was creased in worry as he made his way to the Hospital wing to see Harry Potter. What if the greasy professor was wrong and it was dark magic? Dobby shivered. He had seen enough of dark magic not to like it while he still served Master Malfoy. No, Dobby would go down and see for himself.

The Hospital wing was dark when he entered and Dobby crept quietly towards the two curtained off beds in the room. He peeked through one and saw Harry Potter sleeping. Dobby saw that his breathing was steady and smiled, but before he could enter he heard a noise coming from the bathroom at the other end of the wing. Dobby hid under a bed before he bothered to look around. He saw the curtains of the other bed were partly opened and he could see the bed sheets rumpled on the floor.

There was a noise again and this time Dobby heard a sob and so he made his way to the bathroom. Whoever was in there had not even bothered to shut the door, nor pick up the pajamas they had taken off before getting in the shower that he could here running. Being the dutiful house elf, Dobby went to pick them up only to stop when he saw what covered them: blood.

Draco couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he had become conscious. The pain that seemed to engulf him had increased with every breath he took, like waves lapping at the shore as the tide began to rise. Then suddenly Draco was aware of the tears on his face as a single drop rolled down his cheek and into his ear. Instinctively, he turned his head to wipe it out. His eyes opened stiffly as his skin pulled from all the dried up trails on his face.

It was dark, but mostly because of the curtains he could see outlining his space. He was in the hospital wing. Why was he in the hospital wing? Why hadn’t they made the pain stop?

He clutched at his belly as he felt it cramp. He couldn’t seem to remember what if felt like not to have this pain. Only during his dream had it seemed to fade slightly, but just remembering the dream made Draco even more confused. It was only as the cramp eased that he noticed something else. He was wet.

Wet. Not like wet from sweat, though he could certainly feel a thin layer covering his entire body. No, there was definitely something very wet and warm between his legs and as Draco reached down he could feel it soaked into his pajamas and into the bed sheets. He blushed in embarrassment. As far as he knew, he had never even had an accident as a child fresh out of diapers.

It was only as he brought his hand back up that he realized the substance was coating his hand and the smell…it didn’t smell like urine. The smell was more metallic. Another cramp swept through him, but he forced himself to throw the sheets back anyway. He couldn’t see within the dark enclosure so he threw his legs over the side of the bed, almost falling on the floor because of his rubbery knees. Draco felt more fluid run down his legs. He had to steady himself against the bed as he started to panic.

He never let go of the sheets as he walked the two steps toward the curtain, effectively pulling everything off the bed. The bundle nearly tripped him as it came free. As Draco reached toward the place where the curtain closed, a stray bit of light hit his hand and all he saw was red.

Red. Red from where his hand had reached down to feel the wetness in the sheets. It was an automatic reaction to jerk the curtain open and let the moonlight shine through. More red. It was on everything. On his hands, on the sheets pooled around him, soaked into his night clothes and when Draco looked down, he half expected it see it collecting on the floor as he felt more of it gush down his legs. It was blood.

Draco was bleeding. Why had they left him to bleed? He couldn’t make a sound though he could feel himself shaking and desperately wanted to call out for help. Maybe it was a dream? Maybe all he needed to do was go to the bathroom and wash his face to wake himself up and when he looked again it would all be gone. He dropped the sheets and walked steadily to the bathroom.

Torches flickered on automatically as he entered. Draco looked down. Still there. Pain gripped him again. Another cramp. Another gush. He went to the sink and turned on the water. He started washing his hands and watched as the red ran down the sink. That’s it. All he had to do was wash it off. The sink would take too long.

As Draco pulled off his clothes he found he couldn’t breathe. It was only as he tried to catch his breath that he realized he was sobbing. He got his clothes off and went to the shower. His knees gave way as the warm water hit him. He hadn’t realized he was so cold. He just sat there as he watched the water slowly make the dried red stains on his skin disappear. He watched the reddish water wash over the white tile and into the drain. Yet, even with the dried blood off of him the water refused to run clear.

Draco’s sobs echoed in the room but he barely noticed as his hands began frantically searching for a wound. The pain was there, but there was no torn flesh. Where was he bleeding? He got up on his knees to watch the blood flow off of him. It ran thick and clotted from between his legs, coming faster with the spasms in his stomach muscles every few minutes. Draco watched and felt like he was dying.

He was so deep in despair that he didn’t notice as someone else entered the bathroom. He didn’t notice the small figure’s look of horror and then realization. He only looked up when he heard mumbled words and then a flash of light, but he was too happy to welcome the unconsciousness that came afterward to really care.

The next morning, Draco woke to the sun. For a moment it reminded him of those mornings he would wake to the sun and to his lover’s gentle prodding. He nearly expected to hear Ian’s voice.

It was only as he shifted and felt the dull echoes of the pains from the night before that it came back to him. Draco’s eyes snapped open and in a panic he threw back the covers to see nothing but pristine white sheets. No red. No blood anywhere. His nightclothes were spot-free and though he had just thrown them back, the bedding was all neatly tucked in place.

“Mister Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey said as she suddenly appeared. “For goodness sake, lay back! I can’t believe you are awake already. That was quite a fall you took last night.”

Draco said nothing but did what he was told and let Pomfrey prod him as she rambled on about dangerous sports. Surely if something else had happened she would have mentioned it. That means it must have been a dream. A horrible dream brought on by pain, panic, and a bad reaction to some healing potions. Even so, as Pomfrey ordered him to sleep and left him alone, Draco rested his arms across his stomach and fought back feelings of despair he could not explain.