“There's something wrong with me,” he said. “My reflexes — they're off.
I'm slower than I was. And I've been feeling dizzy a lot.”
“Well, you got shot in the shoulder two weeks ago. You lost a lot of blood.
Could it be — I mean, it would make sense if —”
Draco looked unconvinced. “Maybe,” he said. “I've been waiting for it to get better. But it's been getting worse.”
“For how long?” Harry said. “How long have you been ill?”
Draco shrugged. “Two weeks. Since the accident.”
“Then it must be the injury — they must not have fixed it right — or maybe you were supposed to rest, and you haven't been resting properly —”
Harry realized he was beginning to sound hysterical, and stopped with an effort. “This is why you lost the game Saturday,” he said. “Isn't it?”
Draco nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“You have to go to the infirmary,” said Harry. “Right now.”
Draco shook his head. “No.”
“Then I'll bang you over the head and drag you,” said Harry, in a decided manner. “I wasn't asking you. I was telling you.”
A slight flicker of amusement lit Draco's eyes. “That's touching,” he said.
“But I'm not going. I'm not so slow I can't duck a punch from you, Potter.”
He held up a hand at Harry's furious expression. “Look,” he said. “I already told Hermione and she's looking into it, in case there was some sort of — well, something on the shaft of the arrow that hit me.”
Harry felt as if someone had walked up and kicked him in the back of the knees. “Like poison?”
Draco hesitated for a split second, then shook his head. “That's impossible. I'd be dead already. There's no poison that takes this long to work. It could be a Slowing Potion or an Enervation Spell — annoying, but fixable. And look — we're going home in four days anyway. If it doesn't get better, I can get the best mediwizards in the country to come to the Manor and have a look at me. I'll owl Simon Branford himself if I have to. So don't get your knickers in a twist about it.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Draco looked him up and down, then, rather grudgingly, smiled. “I figured you'd freak out,” he said.
“I'm not freaked out,” said Harry.
“Right,” said Draco. “And I'm the Balinese Goddess of Plenty.”
“I think there was a statue of her in the museum,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Doesn't she have six breasts?”
Draco choked on a noise that was unmistakably a laugh. “Sod off, Potter.”
Harry ducked his head, and when he looked up again, he was relieved to see that Draco looked almost back to normal, no longer pale and strained.
“I'm assuming if there was cause for concern, Hermione would have told me,” he said. “So I am not, actually, going to freak out.” This was something of a lie. “But I am going to expect you to see the mediwizards when we get home.”
He saw Draco blink, and felt the slight jolt of gratified surprise that came from him — it was still more than slightly odd to realize that home was now, for both of them, the same place. “All right,” Draco said, and straightened up. “I said I will. So I will.”
And Harry realized he would have to be satisfied with that.
She was waiting in his room when he got back from the armory. Sitting on the foot of the bed, in an emerald blazer and short black skirt, one long leg crossed carefully over the other. As usual, from the top of her perfectly groomed red-gold head to the tip of her Jimmy Floo stiletto heels, she was perfect.
“Blaise,” Draco said, feeling the exhaustion that had been haunting him seep like a cold pain into his bones. He felt dirty, in need of a shower, and the blood that had dried on his shoulder itched. “Now really isn't the…”
She launched herself off the bed, and stalked towards him, her green eyes blazing. Before he could move or react, her open palm cracked across his face in a stinging slap. “Bastard,” she hissed.
Draco fought not to wince. It had not been a good day so far — punched in the face by Seamus, stabbed in the shoulder by Harry, now smacked across the cheek by Blaise. He wondered what else the gods had stuffed up their sleeves as far as harm to his person was concerned. “Do that again,” he said, “and I'll hit you back.”
She glared at him. “Draco Malfoy,” she snapped. “I will not let you make me look stupid.”
“You look stupid?” he said. “Impossible.”
She gave him a hard look. “Why?” she said. “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I kiss Ginny Weasley? Is that what you mean?”
She nodded tightly. “Have you got…” She looked sick to her stomach.
“Feelings for her?”
Draco considered. “Define 'feelings'.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“No,” he said.
“Then why the —”
“I wanted to hack off Seamus Finnigan,” he said. “It seemed the simplest way.”
