"Could you have been more obvious?" Pansy hissed. "Honestly, Crabbe could have done a better job."

"What else was I supposed to do?" Draco snapped.

"People are staring, guys," Blaise said.

He was right. Everybody from the Slytherin table had turned their heads to witness the one and only Draco Malfoy arguing with Pansy Parkinson about seemingly nothing. Even some heads from the other tables have turned; including Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood. Draco groaned and got up from his seat.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

"I'm going."

"You haven't eaten anything yet!"

Draco didn't listen, but left the Great Hall and walked to the Slytherin common room. He didn't want to hear Pansy's bickering any longer. First it was his arm, now it was this? He shook his head as he reached the entrance. "Salazar," he muttered, and the portrait swung open.

When he got to his dormitory, he locked the door, performed a silencing charm, and screamed. He screamed in fear of the task he had been assigned. He screamed in shame of the werewolf in him. He screamed in confusion about Potter. He screamed in anger about Pansy embarrassing him in front of everyone. He screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't scream anymore.

And that was when Blaise said the incantation, "alohomora," and he walked in to find Draco's textbooks strewn across the floor, owl feathers littered everywhere, and the head Slytherin himself sprawled our against his bed, panting heavily.

"What the hell happened in here?" Blaise said angrily.

"I had the door locked for a reason, Zabini," said Draco.

"Yeah, well, this isn't just your room, Malfoy," the other boy spat. "This is my dormitory too."

"Why did you come in here in the first place?" Draco snapped.

"That's none of your business," said Blaise scathingly.

Draco got up from his bed and approached Blaise. "This isn't just your room, Zabini," he mocked. 

"Fuck. You." Blaise growled.

His fist met Draco's face.

Fists were flying. Blood was spilt. Draco tried to throw Blaise off of him, but Blaise was stronger. With one arm, he drove him against the wall, where delivered blow after blow. After what seemed like hours, he let go, and Draco fell to the floor.

"Stupefy," Blaise yelled. He looked at the bruised, bleeding boy on the ground, took his shoe, and, with all of his strength, stamped on his nose. "Taste of your own medicine," he snarled, and muttered another incantation Draco didn't catch. He was surprised he could feel the trickling sensation on top of the searing pain, but that was when he knew that he had made him invisible. With that, Blaise left and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Just like he had done to Potter.

And that was the last thought he had before everything went black.

***

Draco awoke in the hospital wing.

Everything hurt. His arms. His legs. His stomach. His face. His hands. His feet. All aching so badly that he was unable to move or produce sound of any kind. He kept his eyes shut, hoping to fall back asleep again, just to make the pain stop.

"What happened?"

"Out."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"I said out, Mr. Potter."

"It's been two days! What-"

"What makes you want to see Mr. Malfoy anyway?"

There was a pause, and then, "He's my partner in...transfiguration."

"Well, I'm sure you can manage on your own," Madam Pomfrey snapped. 

"No, I can't-"

"He needs rest, Mr. Potter!"

"Will he be okay?"

"Out!"

"Fine."

He came to check on me? 

"Oh, good, you're finally awake." Madam Pomfrey walked over to him with a green bottle. "Here you go. Drink up," she said, pouring it into a cup.

Draco didn't ask any questions, but sat up. His entire body screaming with pain, he took the glass from the nurse's hands, and drained the cup. The pain alleviated a little bit, but Draco still felt as if a million knives were stabbing him all over. 

He laid back down and thought. He couldn't believe that Potter had come to visit him. Potter! Did he think of him as a friend? No, he couldn't. They had one meeting and that was all. Besides, it wasn't long ago that he frozen him, stamped on his nose, and threw his invisibility cloak over him on the train. 

Just like Blaise had done to him.

No, not Blaise. Zabini. That's what Draco needed to call him. He wasn't his friend anymore. He had reduced him to this; stuck in the hospital in immense pain just because of a fist fight. The thought enraged him. A fist fight? This is why he was in so much pain? He wanted to go back to his dormitory and scream again. 

And speaking of Zabini, had he come to see what he had done? Draco didn't know why he kept asking himself whether or not his former friend saw him in this state or not, but he couldn't help but wonder. And Pansy? She must have seen him right? Did she know what went down? Did Bl-Zabini twist the story around? Of course he did. He probably made himself sound like the victim. Pansy probably turned her back on him now. Great. Just when he needed his friends the most, they left him. He needed their help befriending Potter, and, even though he couldn't tell him what was wrong, the support of his friends when he was worrying about his arm was-

Hold on. His arm? Did they know? With the pain alleviated even more now, Draco turned his head to look at his arm.

The bite was visible. 

Stricken with horror, Draco shot up from his bed. 

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"I need to go," Draco said breathlessly. "Now."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Mr. Malfoy," said Madam Pomfrey. 

"Where's Snape?"

"Mr. Malfoy. Rest."

"I'm afraid that that will have to rest, Poppy," said a voice.

Draco felt his stomach do a cartwheel. Albus Dumbledore had entered the room.

"What do you mean, Albus?"

"Draco needs to come with me."

"Why? The boy needs his rest? Have you seen the condition he's in?"

"I assure you what we are about to discuss cannot wait," said Dumbledore. "Draco, come with me."