Harry spent breakfast hurriedly working on his homework. He knew that he wouldn't have many chances to work on it this week, and he had to turn it in. There were moments where he wanted to say 'screw it' and not do any of it. 

But he had to be fifth year Harry. He had to pretend to care about his OWLs. He had to pretend, pretend, pretend...

The only somewhat nice thing about Wednesday was being in transfiguration. He still couldn't cast anything, but at least it was McGonagall. She kept an eye on his work, and eventually took his wand from his hand, and set it flat on his desk.

"Clear your mind before you continue." She said. 

Harry sighed. The others probably thought it was in disappointment, when in reality it was relief. She'd given him a cover to not flail about for the entire lesson. 

Harry took out his other work and did his best to wrap up the essays and the bowtruckle diagram, and write out a few plausible dream ideas for the dream journal he'd be assigned later today.

After transfiguration it was lunch, followed by herbology, and then divination. 

Detention again was the same as it had been the night prior, though this time he only said 'Evening' and 'Night' upon arriving and leaving. When he left, his hand was red and inflamed, but it would still heal by morning. He fought back nausea on the walk to the common rooms.

When he got back to his room, he went straight to bed fully clothed atop the covers, and fell asleep immediately.

~~~

"Did she keep you late again?" Zabini asked when Harry woke in the morning.

"Yeah." Harry said.

"Lines?"

"Yeah."

"Bloody hell, your hand must be sore with how much you've had to write." Zabini said.

He had no idea how true he was.

Harry spent History of Magic working on his moonstone essay for Snape, finishing it just in time. In potions, he tried to look over at Ron and Hermione, without being obvious. Ron looked tired, and Harry remembered that he'd been sneaking out to practice for Keeper tryouts. Harry also came to realize that Angelina's glares were because he wasn't on the gryffindor team.

In DADA, Harry kept his face down, 'reading' his textbook. In reality he was in the stage where you are conscious, but feel like you're sleeping. Eyes closed, slow breathing, little movement... Every so often he turned a page. Usually about thirty seconds after Malfoy did.

Harry's third detention passed like the other two, except it stopped healing over. Two hours in, it oozed droplets of blood. It was going to scar sooner this time than it had last. It hurt him more this time.

Filled with spite, Harry set his hand off the side of the table. He kept writing, each line becoming more painful. His hand was properly bleeding now, and the drip of blood on the floor made Umbridge look up.

"Ah," She said softly, and Harry was satisfied. For a moment, there'd been surprise in her eyes. "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for the night."

"Should I still come back tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes," She smiled wide, "Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another night's work."

Harry grabbed his bag, and left. He hid his hand in his sleeve, certain that he wouldn't get a scourgify right. He knew it wouldn't be hard for Umbridge to do the same to his blood on her office floor, but it was the idea that she had to clean it.

Harry went straight to his room. He passed Zabini and Malfoy in the common room, but didn't bother to acknowledge them. He had just set his bag on his trunk when Zabini slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"What happened?" Zabini asked.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You dripped blood on the floor when you walked past." Zabini said. "What happened?"

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, realizing that he couldn't slip this past him. Harry held up his hand.

Zabini's eyes went wide, and he walked right up to Harry, grabbing Harry's wrist to get a proper look at his hand. It was still bleeding, though some that had gotten smudged off to the side had dried. 

He let go of Harry's hand, and went to the door, cracking it open. "Draco!"

"What?"

"Get your arse in here!"

When Malfoy got close enough, Zabini grabbed him and pulled him in the rest of the way, closing the door behind him in an instant.

"What the hell, Blaise?" Malfoy demanded.

"Look." Zabini pointed to Harry.

Malfoy's eyes landed on the bloody hand, and went wide. "What the hell did you do?"

Harry didn't answer, his jaw clenched.

"Draco, go look at it." Zabini said.

"I can see the blood from here."

"Draco, just fucking look at it."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and walked over to Harry. When Harry didn't move to offer his hand, Malfoy grabbed it by the wrist to examine it. 

"'I must not tell lies'." He said quietly. "She had you doing lines..."

Harry looked away.

"She had you carve into your own hand?" Malfoy asked.

"No." Harry said. "The quill uses my blood as ink."

"That's Dark." Zabini said. "Those are illegal. I know, my mother has one."

Malfoy looked between Zabini and Harry's hand. "Wound cleaner and murtlap essence." 

Zabini slipped out of the room. 

Malfoy dragged Harry into the bathroom. "Robes off. I don't want those sleeves getting in the way."

Harry shrugged off his robes, and attempted to roll up his shirt sleeve. Malfoy sighed, and did it for him far more efficiently. Then Malfoy carefully began to clean away the blood. Apparently the process was more complicated than Harry thought.

Especially when his hand was still bleeding slightly. It had definitely slowed down, but it was still oozing.

Zabini came back with the two requested items, and a small roll of gauze. Malfoy took the purple one first, and dabbed it onto the cuts, which smoked and stung. Then he applied the murtlap essence, and wrapped it in gauze. 

Harry watched mutely as Malfoy tended to his hand, impressed with how precise Malfoy was. 

"Thanks." Harry said quietly.

Malfoy gave him an odd look. Harry really wished they'd leave the bathroom. 

"You have to report it." Zabini said.

Harry shook his head slightly. "She's Ministry."

"Then we keep it within Hogwarts staff. Find a loophole." Zabini said.

"No."

"Why not?" Malfoy asked, his tone sharp. Harry absently noted that a lock had fallen loose and fell just to the side of his eye, tapping the cheekbone.

"That will just make it worse." Harry said. "Can I have the bathroom, please?"

"Hold your piss for just a moment, Potter." Malfoy said. "You aren't my favorite person by any means, but that doesn't mean a professor can use a Dark object on a student."

"Please." Harry tried again.

"Potter, you alright?" Zabini frowned.

Harry turned, and puked into the toilet.

"Oh." Zabini said. "Yeah, I'll take that as a no."

When Harry had finished heaving the little content of his stomach, he sat with his back against the wall. He was shaking or shivering, and wasn't sure which. The quill hadn't made him sick the original time. But this time, he could feel the Dark in his veins, and it made his head pound. 

"Blaise, help me get him up." Malfoy said, and reached down to Harry. Zabini joined him a moment later, and got Harry to his feet, though he was trembling too much to properly support his own weight.

"Merlin-" Malfoy exclaimed quietly, "Do you weigh anything?"  Harry felt an arm tuck itself across his shoulder blades, and then one under his knees. 

Then Harry was dimly aware that Malfoy was carrying him. If his head had been pounding less, he would've been embarrassed, or protested. However, at the moment it seemed far too trivial and not worth the effort.

"Get the covers, Blaise." Malfoy said.

After a moment, Harry was set down on his bed, then he felt his shoes tugged off and his glasses removed. Harry curled into the covers when they were pulled over him. Warmth didn't come immediately, but when it did Harry finally stopped shaking quite so much, and his head eased enough that he fell asleep.

~~~

Friday morning was quite unusual. When he woke, Malfoy was examining his hand. Harry wondered why that hadn't roused him from sleep.

"Erm." Harry frowned. 

Malfoy glanced up at Harry before looking back at his hand. "If we put more murtlap essence on it this morning and tonight, it might not scar."

"It will." Harry said.

Malfoy gave Harry a look. "And you are so well versed in healing?"

"I have detention again tonight."

Malfoy's fingers went still as they gingerly held Harry's hand. "Again?"

"Yeah. She won't be finished until it will scar." Harry said. "Wants to make sure the message sinks in deep."

Harry saw Malfoy's jaw clench, and he set Harry's hand down. "Take a shower. You smell like sweat."

Malfoy was waiting when he got out, and wordlessly dressed Harry's hand. Then he placed a quick charm to hide the gauze. 

"Neat." Harry said.

Then Harry followed him out to breakfast. Zabini looked up at their approach. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

"Fairly normal." Harry replied.

Zabini nodded, and slid Harry a plate. After Harry had set his fork down, evident that he'd finished eating, Malfoy was giving him a look that peculiarly resembled Madam Pomfrey. 

"What?" Harry asked.

"That would explain why you weigh as much as a first year." Malfoy said. "You hardly eat at all."

"I don't have much of an appetite." Harry replied.

"You need to eat more."

"I am trying, Malfoy. Surely a healer as well versed as yourself would know that you can't go from eating a single salad a day to feasting three times before sunset?" Harry snapped, and then got up, heading to the library.

On fridays, the slytherins had first and second period free. Which was excellent for catching up on the work he hadn't gotten to. Harry was tempted to go to the restricted section, but decided against it. He would have plenty of time to do that later.

Harry met up with his housemates in third period charms. Harry still struggled, and really wished he didn't have this class with Malfoy. He didn't even know what to think of the new behavior towards him. Since when had Malfoy ever been... Kind to him?

Harry wondered why. Why had Malfoy done all that? Why had Harry let him? 

After charms was lunch, where he could practically feel Malfoy analyzing his calorie intake and judging all of Harry's life decisions. 

"What did you mean earlier?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"What?"

"What you said earlier. About a single salad a day."

"Oh." Harry said. "They had Dudley go on a diet. And to support him, my Aunt and Uncle decided to do it too. Which meant so did I."

"A single salad a day is no diet."

"Oh, they ate more than that. But one of my punishments is getting meals taken away whenever I mess up." Harry said.

"They starved you." Malfoy said quietly. 

Harry shrugged.

Zabini turned from his conversation with Parkinson. "What was that, Draco?"

"Nothing." Malfoy said. "Tell you later."

Harry frowned at him. Malfoy didn't care.

After lunch it was off to double divination. Clearly Malfoy and Zabini enjoyed it as much as Harry, which is to say not at all. It seemed unanimous and unspoken that they were using fake dreams, and weren't to comment on it.

Divination was followed by astronomy. Then it was dinner, and back to detention with Umbridge. Before Harry left, Malfoy undid the bandages, and cleared away any traces of remaining murtlap.

"You know what to do, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said sweetly when he entered.

With careful and subtle maneuvering of his chair, he could see out the window, and have a distant view of the gryffindor Keeper tryouts. Harry wished he'd gotten to tell Ron that he could do it. Even if they weren't on good terms at the moment, Harry would have liked to assure him.

His hand began to bleed at the first line.

He ignored the pain as best he could, but this time it wasn't his hand that was the worst problem. It was the illness, the lethargy in his veins, the cold, the pounding of his head. Several times, Harry barely managed to keep back bile. He hadn't eaten hardly anything at dinner for this exact reason.

To distract himself, he looked out the window when he could, and tried to determine which was Ron. He knew Ron had to be one of the better ones, but with the pounding in his skull he couldn't find any distinguishing features. Which was frustrating, because he'd known Ron for years, and knew his flying style... Although this Ron wouldn't have the refined confidence that Harry had most recently known.

Again, Harry let his hand drip blood onto the floor. He morbidly wondered how big a puddle he could get before she sent him away.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" She asked softly a while later. She then walked over to him, and took his hand. Pain seared through his head, not his hand.

Harry pulled his hand from her grasp, and stood abruptly, his writing hand clenching the corner of the desk to keep himself upright.

A smile stretched across her wide mouth. "Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?"

Harry did not answer. If he did, he might spray stomach acid instead of words.

"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go." 

Harry grabbed his bag and left as quickly as he dared. As he walked down the corridor, he kept a hand against the wall for balance. Harry stopped at a window, and pried it open. The initial blast of cool air held back the nausea for a moment, but it made the shivering worse.

Harry wearily whistled two notes as loudly as he could. He waited a moment, and whistled again. After a few times, he saw Hedwig flutter up to the windowsill. 

Harry would have laughed in relief if he could've. "Help." He begged her.

She tilted her head at him, and then took off down the corridor. Harry closed the window, and slid to the floor, curling inside his robes for warmth.

A/N

~Sunshine and rainbows~

*totally didn't forget that today was a scheduled update*