Rewound (Drarry)

Same Old Scars

Harry blinked his eyes open to a muted light spilling onto his face.

He stared around himself, taking in the scene. The white walls of the Hospital Wing were familiar, the creak of the mattress beneath him and the smell of magical disinfectant in the air.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. What had happened?

He thought back to the last thing he remembered; the Yule Ball, dancing excitedly, the Champion's dinner, going outside with Draco.

Draco.

He remembered, and suddenly all the events came flooding back. Harry started to panic, he looked around, he needed a sign, something, anything, that Draco was alright.

But nothing.

He wasn't there. Whatever Moody-Crouch had done, either he'd only hurt Harry, which was actually pretty likely, or he'd done something even worse to Draco. Dread settled in his chest at that. No- he couldn't think that way, he'd lose his mind. He couldn't afford to panic now, not when so much was on the line.

Harry ignored the pang in his head and the sting on his arm, rising from his bed and ripping the sheets off himself.

He jogged to the exit, reaching for the door when a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"And where do you think you're going, Potter?"

Harry spun, now face to face with Professor Snape.

His eyes widened. If anyone could help him and Draco, Snape could.

"Professor!"

Snape raised a cruel brow.

"Please, Professor I need your help. Where's Draco?"

Snape's cool expression evolved to anger.

"Mr Malfoy is being dealt with by the Headmaster at this moment. I'm sure your pathetic schoolboy revenge can wait." He spat.

Harry was taken aback, he held out his hands placatingly, shaking his head. He ignored Snape's aggressive tone, he had bigger things to worry about than Snape's current opinion on him.

"No, no that's not what I want. Draco is my friend - I know you probably don't believe that, but it's true- and he didn't do this! I know he didn't, it was Cr- Moody! He's framed Draco, please, sir I need you to help us."

"And you know this how?" Snape said in scathing disbelief.

"I just do."

Snape seemed unsatisfied by his answers, turning away from Harry.

"Please. Draco is your godson."

Snape spun back around, "How do you know that?"

Harry blanched, "I- Er- He told me."

That was a lie. Harry had overheard them after Slughorn's party in sixth year, but that was irrelevant. Anything to make Snape believe him.

Snape glared at him, eyeing Harry with intense dislike. Right as he went to turn around again, Harry grasped at straws.

"Would you do this if my mother had asked?"

Snape paused. The silence was deadly.

"What did you say?"

Harry steeled himself.

"Professor. I'm not who you think, and neither is Draco, and neither is Moody. I need to tell you, I need you to believe me, and more than any of that, I need you to help us." He said, as carefully as he could.