Draco was going to skin that idiot alive and send back the flayed body with a request for a more intelligent servant, like a dead gerbil.
One set of footsteps went off, and the other set of footsteps came closer.
The churning in Draco's stomach got worse.
Harry Potter came into sight. His face was carefully neutral, but his blue-trimmed robes looked oddly askew, as if they hadn't been put on quite right -
"Your hand," Draco said without thinking about it at all.
Harry raised his left arm, as though to look at it himself.
The hand dangled limply from it, like something dead.
"Madam Pomfrey said it's not permanent," Harry said quietly. "She said it should mostly recover by the time classes start tomorrow."
For a single instant the news came as a relief.
And then Draco realized.
"You went to Madam Pomfrey," whispered Draco.
"Of course I did," said Harry Potter, as though stating the obvious. "My hand wasn't working."
It was slowly dawning on Draco what an absolute fool he'd been, far worse than the older Slytherins he'd chewed out.
He'd just taken for granted that no one would go to the authorities when a Malfoy did something to them. That no one would want Lucius Malfoy's eye on them, ever.
But Harry Potter wasn't a frightened little Hufflepuff trying to stay out of the game. He was already playing it, and Father's eye was already on him.
"What else did Madam Pomfrey say?" said Draco, his heart in his throat.
"Professor Flitwick said that the spell cast on my hand had been a Dark torture hex and extremely serious business, and that refusing to say who did it was absolutely unacceptable."
There was a long pause.
"And then?" Draco said in a shaking voice.
Harry Potter smiled slightly. "I apologized deeply, which made Professor Flitwick look very stern, and then I told Professor Flitwick that the whole thing was, indeed, extremely serious, secret, delicate business, and that I'd already informed the Headmaster about the project."
Draco gasped. "No! Flitwick isn't going to just accept that! He'll check with Dumbledore!"
"Indeed," said Harry Potter. "I was promptly hauled off to the Headmaster's office."
Draco was trembling now. If Dumbledore brought Harry Potter before the Wizengamot, willingly or otherwise, and had the Boy-Who-Lived testify under Veritaserum that Draco had tortured him... too many people loved Harry Potter, Father could lose that vote...
Father might be able to convince Dumbledore not to do that, but it would cost. Cost terribly. The game had rules now, you couldn't just threaten someone at random any more. But Draco had walked into Dumbledore's hands of his own free will. And Draco was a very valuable hostage.
Though since Draco couldn't be a Death Eater now, he wasn't as valuable as Father thought.
The thought tore at his heart like a Cutting Charm.
"Then what?" whispered Draco.
"Dumbledore deduced immediately that it was you. He knew we'd been associating."
The worst possible scenario. If Dumbledore hadn't guessed who did it, he might not have risked using Legilimency just to find out... but if Dumbledore knew...
"And?" Draco forced out the word.
"We had a little chat."
"And?"
Harry Potter grinned. "And I explained that it would be in his best interest not to do anything."
Draco's mind ran into a brick wall and splattered. He just stared at Harry Potter with his mouth hanging slack like a fool.
It took that long for Draco to remember.
Harry knew Dumbledore's mysterious secret, the one Snape used as his hold.
Draco could just see it now. Dumbledore looking all stern, concealing his eagerness as he explained to Harry what a terribly serious matter this was.
And Harry politely telling Dumbledore to keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him.
Father had warned Draco against people like this, people who could ruin you and still be so likable that it was hard to hate them properly.
"After which," Harry said, "the Headmaster told Professor Flitwick that this was, indeed, a secret and delicate matter of which he had already been informed, and that he did not think pressing it at this time would help me or anyone. Professor Flitwick started to say something about the Headmaster's usual plotting going much too far, and I had to interrupt at that point and explain that it had been my own idea and not anything the Headmaster forced me into, so Professor Flitwick spun around and started lecturing me, and the Headmaster interrupted him and said that as the Boy-Who-Lived I was doomed to have weird and dangerous adventures so I was safer if I got into them on purpose instead of waiting for them to happen by accident, and that was when Professor Flitwick threw up his little hands and started shrieking in a high-pitched voice at both of us about how he didn't care what we were cooking up together, but this wasn't ever to happen again for as long as I was in Ravenclaw House or he would have me thrown out and I could go to Gryffindor which was where all this Dumbledoring belonged -"
Harry was making it very hard for Draco to hate him.
"Anyway," Harry said, "I didn't want to be thrown out of Ravenclaw, so I promised Professor Flitwick that nothing like this would happen again, and if it did, I would just tell him who did it."
Harry's eyes should have been cold. They weren't. The voice should have made it a deadly threat. It wasn't.
And Draco saw the question that should have been obvious, and it killed the mood in an instant.
"Why... didn't you?"
Harry walked over to the window, into the small beam of sunlight shining into the alcove, and turned his head outward, toward the green grounds of Hogwarts. The brightness shone on him, on his robes, on his face.
"Why didn't I?" Harry said. His voice caught. "I guess because I just couldn't get angry at you. I knew I'd hurt you first. I won't even call it fair, because what I did to you was worse than what you did to me."
It was like running into another brick wall. Harry could have been speaking archaic Greek for all Draco understood him then.
Draco's mind scrabbled for patterns and came up flat blank. The statement was a concession that hadn't been in Harry's best interests. It wasn't even what Harry should say to make Draco a more loyal servant, now that Harry held power over him. For that Harry should be emphasizing how kindly he'd been, not how much he'd hurt Draco.
"Even so," Harry said, and now his voice was lower, almost a whisper, "please don't do that again, Draco. It hurt, and I'm not sure I could forgive you a second time. I'm not sure I'd be able to want to."
Draco just didn't get it.
Was Harry trying to be friends with him?
There was no way Harry Potter could be dumb enough to believe that was still possible after what he'd done.
You could be someone's friend and ally, like Draco had tried to do with Harry, or you could destroy their life and leave them no other options. Not both.
But then Draco didn't understand what else Harry could be trying.
And a strange thought came to Draco then, something Harry had kept talking about yesterday.
And the thought was: Test it.
You're awakened as a scientist now, Harry had said, and even if you never learn to use your power, you'll always, be looking, for ways, to test, your beliefs... Those ominous words, spoken in gasps of agony, had kept running through Draco's mind.
If Harry was pretending to be the repentant friend who had accidentally hurt someone...
"You planned what you did to me!" Draco said, managing to put a note of accusation in his voice. "You didn't do it because you got angry, you did it because you wanted to!"