Hurt

Warning: Pre-Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or Harry Potter.

Summary: Sis fic to Friends and Breakfast. When Harry is injured by Medusa, Crona takes care of him.

Pairing: Pre-Crona/Harry.

Originally for the 'Drabble a day challenge' I thought it would make more sense with the others.

Hurt

Blood dripped down the side of his face and his arms. He couldn't see straight and could hardly breath, staggering as he half-crawled, half-walked back to the room he shared with Crona. Whimpering, Harry cradled his broken wrist to his blood-soaked night-gown clad chest, tears swelling in his eyes at the overwhelming pain he felt.

Medusa had wanted to train with him, his form had interested her and she had pit him up against several Kishin—all at once—and he had barley made it out alive. While strong for a seven-year-old, Harry was far from being able to handle twenty-three fully grown Kishin on his own, especially without a Meister.

Seven hours later had Harry pulling himself back to his friend, in bloody rags and with more broken bones than not. Slipping inside the room, Harry would have collapsed had it not been for small arms that wrapped around him gently. Teary pale green eyes stared at him as Crona carried the half-dead Harry to their bed, carefully laying him down with Ragnarok's help before immediately going for the first aid kit under the bed. A large gloved hand ran through Harry's hair, trying to sooth the child as Ragnarok stared at him with a vacant expression.

"Harry...Harry. Stay awake...okay?"

Crona whimpered, pausing briefly in between words and staring at his best and only friend with teary eyes. Struggling quietly for breath, Harry nodded as something was slipped into his mouth. Immediately swallowing, Harry was happy to note breathing became easier.

"Is that better?.....Can you breath now?"

Crona whispered, spreading out Harry's first aid kit on the table beside him and quickly pulling out the fast working salves and creams kept there and gently spreading them on Harry wounds. Whimpering, Harry's eyes squeezed shut in pain as he rubbed it gently over his cracked ribs and Ragnarok began to gently squeeze his hand to try and take his mind off the pain.

".....nngh....hurts."

Harry hasped. He hated being weak, hated crying. He wanted to be the one to help Crona, who had been his first friend and one of the only people—besides Ragnarok—who cared for him. What he didn't know was that Crona's thoughts mirrored his own.

Crona hated seeing Harry like this. Hated to see Harry bleeding and in pain and hated being so weak that he could do nothing more than patch him up afterwards and hope he didn't die. Harry was always so kind to him: he bought him gifts on his birthday, hugged him, held hands with him. He made Crona breakfast and lunch and dinner and always smiled at him like he was the most important person in the world and he was never, ever, ever mean to him. He loved Harry so much he never wanted to see him sad or in pain but he seemed to always be getting hurt.

Moments later, a now drug-drowsy Harry fell asleep, a silent Ragnarok's hand in his own and teary eyed Crona watching him silently, holding his other hand in his own ever so gently, as if he would break with to hard a touch.

He just wanted to protect his friend.