"We?" Harry questioned, nostrils flaring.
"Yeah, we. The good guys, don't you know." Draco smothered another laugh. "Oh, one more thing. Put Granger's stupid talking feather away. I don't want it reading on top of me and ruining my delivery."
"How did you know--"
"I've only been staring at it for ten minutes. Did you know it's tinted Gryffindor colors?"
"It isn't... Really?"
"Yes, really. Don't take my word for it, though. You'll be able to see for yourself, soon enough."
Harry snorted. "Oh, now I know I've heard everything. A Malfoy, trying to cheer me up!"
"No, I wasn't," Draco defended himself. "I was just letting you know. Severus is whipping up a batch of Eyesight Elixir as we speak. He's bringing it up here for you straight away when class lets out."
Harry frowned, puzzled. "I heard him saying days ago that he was making the Elixir then."
Draco slapped a hand to his forehead. "You're really in your own little world up here, did you know that? He's been making a fresh batch of it every single day, in case your eyes were ready."
Well, he doesn't hate me at all, Harry felt like saying, but he certainly couldn't say it to Malfoy. Or Ron or Hermione either, he suddenly realized. Not that it mattered. He knew; that was the important thing.
"Okay, so Potions," Draco started off. "Let's see, right about when you vanished, we were starting Chapter Five: Uses and Abuses of Dragon's Blood. Let's see... okay, here we are. Ready? Don't fall asleep; you'll hurt my feelings. But stop me if you have any questions."
"Shut your festering gob and just read," Harry rudely demanded.
Draco's teeth clicked as though he were biting back a response to that. In the end, though, all he said was, "All potions based on dragon's blood share the following characteristics..."
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"Ah, catching up on your schoolwork," Snape's deep voice interrupted Draco's monologue.
"I think I put him to sleep, though," Draco admitted. "He hasn't asked a question in... well, let's see. He never asked a question. That's not the best way to learn, Potter. Haven't you ever heard of the Socratic method?"
"No. What is it?" Harry challenged, pushing up and proving he was awake.
"Uh, not sure," Draco murmured. "Sounds good, though, huh?"
Harry's mattress lurched a bit as Snape sat down next to him and placed a hand on his chin, steadying his face. "Looking better again," he pronounced. "Lumos... Can you see any change?"
"The black is less black, just like before. Professor... is Malfoy still here?"
"Hmm? Yes, he is."
Talk about not taking a hint. "Get rid of him!"
Snape turned to address the Slytherin boy. "Did you return his property?"
"Can't say I got so much as a thank you very much, I know you risked your life to bring me this, but yes, the boy's got his wand again."
"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry loudly said, if that was what it took. "You can go now."
"Professor?" the blonde boy asked.
"Stay."
"I don't want him here!" Harry objected.
"You've made it abundantly clear," Snape replied. "I want him here."
"Why?"
"Nox," Snape said, ignoring the question.
Harry was about to object again, in terms that were even more abundantly clear, but just then Madame Pomfrey bustled over. "It's time for his Scaradicate Salve again," she announced.
"Yes, I brought fresh," the Potions Master told her.
"Well," the Medi-Witch sniped, "as you're here and you're the only one who can touch him without him kicking up such a fuss, perhaps you'd better do the honors!"
"Poppy's feeling a tad territorial," Snape remarked when she moved off.
"She's a bit--"
"Harry," Snape warned, his tone deep and dark.
"A witch," Harry finished, and when his teacher's fingers tightened, insisted, "Well, she is."
Draco made a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh.
"Well, off with your top, then, Harry," the Potions Master directed. "We'll see to this, first, and then tend to your eyes."
Harry raised his voice. "You expect me to strip off in front of Malfoy there? And me blind, not even able to see how much he's smirking? Are you stark, barking mad?"
Draco started making a low humming noise which didn't encompass words, but somehow seemed to suggest sounds like points from Gryffindor to me...eee...eee...
Snape didn't say a word about points. "Just your pajama top," he explained. "Draco's been helping with your treatment, remember? I'd like him to see how you're doing." His tone though, communicated another message entirely. Do this for me, Harry. Harry just hoped there was an I'll explain later in there somewhere, as well.
"Oh, very well," he moaned with ill grace, undoing the buttons down the front by feel alone, and shrugging it off.
Draco pulled in a harsh gasp when he saw Harry's bare chest.
"Oh, thanks," Harry drawled. Then to his teacher, "You said my eyes looked all right, more or less. Is the rest of me such a mess? I mean, I'm not too sore any longer."
"Mr. Malfoy?" Snape prompted as he began to dot a greasy salve across each wound.
"Oh, you look all right, Potter," Draco said, though the words sounded like they were being pulled from somewhere other than his throat. His gut, maybe. Harry had a feeling that the boy had glanced at his teacher before going on. "The... er, scars just look like furious red dots now. They aren't festering, or gross or anything."
"Well, that explains your thoroughly disgusted reaction," Harry retorted. "Not that I care one whit if I disgust you, you understand."
"It's just that there are so many," Draco quietly admitted, his voice sounding actually ill, that time.
"Yeah, four hundred and twelve!" Harry snapped. "Approximately. I lost count when that Voldemort-arselicking fucking excuse for a human being known as your father started in on my eyes!"
"That's enough, Harry," Snape scolded. "Now your back."
Harry shifted resentfully, though he was grateful he wasn't having to go through this again with the Medi-Witch. He couldn't stand her hands on him. Hers, or anybody's, except Snape's. Not for the first time, Harry wondered how long that was going to last... and what it implied about his mental state. If Remus had thought he was depressed before...
"When can I see Remus?" Harry suddenly asked. "He must be okay by now."
"You call him Remus?" Draco snidely inquired, scoring a point.
"When, Professor?" Harry insisted, ignoring the other boy.
"May I have a moment to consider the matter, Harry?" Snape calmly replied, one hand holding Harry's shoulder steady as he stroked salve on the wounds inflicted behind Harry's ears. "How about after your vision is back to normal?"
"Look, I know you think Remus coddles me, but--"
"My concern is rather different than you know," Snape drawled. "Lupin blames himself for your condition, and rightly so. Inviting him here while you're still blind is going to heap more guilt on him. Normally, this wouldn't perturb me in the least, but as you'll end up feeling just as guilty, let's leave it for now, shall we?"
"Fine," Harry snapped, not really up to arguing it in front of Malfoy, anyway.
"Lupin did find your snake, by the way," Snape remarked as he dotted the last few needle marks that showed above the boy's waistband. "Sals had curled up in the corner of the Floo. That might be what made her ill in the first place, assuming she caught a wash of magic as someone came in or out. Non-magical creatures don't always react well to spell residue. At any rate, Lupin set up a little nest in a box for her, and is coaxing her to learn to sleep there, instead."