Draco knew that he was dying the moment the poison hit his stomach. Strange... Potter had never shown any signs of nearly dying. Before he could proceed with a potion regimen, he needed to make sure that there wasn't anything that could hurt Harry. There was no curse, charm or spell in the world that could act as an antidote to poison, especially monkshood. Then, he remembered the number of Concealment Charms on Harry and what they were hiding. Most were for the curses, but a few were masking something physical.
"Harry? Could I scan you a bit? I think the spells I removed might have been hiding something in you."
Harry was already sitting on his bed and nodded. "Sing?"
Draco sighed. "Only if you ask properly."
Potter glared at him, and Draco almost regretted letting his annoyance with Potter's one-word responses show, until he said, "Will you please sing?"
He gave Harry a big smile. "Of course, I will, Harry. Just relax. I won't be doing anything strenuous," he said, scooting closer to the bed on his rolly chair.
He sang another French lullaby, lulling Harry into another memorizing chant, and focused his scans on Harry's stomach. He tried not to let his surprise show, but there was something small in it. It was hard to figure out what it was, as it was hard to discern. It also had some Concealment Charms on it and was organic, so it was harder to see it with magic. However, he realized that it was fractured, broken into even smaller pieces. It had was still embedded into the stomach wall, almost like it had been grafted into it. Draco then realized that the object, whatever it was, used to be a lot larger, if the damage on Harry's stomach wall was any indication. It had dwindled down slowly.
Huh, what was it, though? he asked himself.
"Mal-Draco?" Harry said, and Draco hadn't realized that he had stopped singing.
"Oh, sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. I'll start, again," he said, taking a breath.
"What did you find?" Harry asked, sounding a little worried.
Draco met his eyes and smiled. "Would you like to see it?"
Harry blinked. "See?"
"Yes, an image of it. I can cast a tomography spell. It'll display an image of what's in your stomach."
Harry grimaced and looked at his stomach. "There's something in there?"
"Yes, it's small, but I can detect it now that the Concealment Spells are gone."
"Okay," Harry said, in a soft voice.
"Okay, I'm just going to use one spell, but I'll have to keep my wand pointed at you, like a muggle ultrasound."
Harry nodded, though a little nervous, and Draco cast the Imaging Spell. The image appeared above Harry's abdomen, showing the inside of his stomach. He brightened the picture to see the walls and digesting food, but turned his wand to locate the object. Draco almost gasped when he found it. The spotted pattern was a dead giveaway, though it was nearly gone. It was nay impossible to break down in a normal stomach, but years of monkshood poison had almost completely demolished it.
"W-What is it?" Potter asked.
Draco smiled and turned to look at him. "You should be able to figure it out. See the spotted pattern? It is what has been keeping you alive all these years, saving you from the potion."
Harry grimaced, and he looked confused. "That little speck?"
"It used to be larger. See the damage around it?" Draco said, leaning closer and pointing out the deterioration in the image. "It had been fairly large when it was put there. Honestly... it's almost gone. If it had been much longer, the potion might have killed you."
Harry's eyes widened. "But what is it?"
"You remember, don't you, Harry? In school? What stone will save someone from poison?"
His jaw dropped, and then he said, "A bezoar?"
Harry had used a bezoar to save Weasley in their sixth year. Snape had told him what had happened. Harry had saved him, too. Saved him from becoming a killer. Saved his soul from being tainted.
"That's right, Harry. A bezoar. It was grafted into your stomach."
Harry's shoulders and eyes slowly dropped. He understood. "To keep me alive."
"Yes," Draco whispered and took a few more images, before cutting off the spell. "To torture you with constant monkshood poisoning."
Harry's eyes welled with tears, and he turned his head away. "Why? Why did he... why couldn't he just kill me?"
Draco had to wipe tears of his own. "He was a monster, Harry. He wanted you to suffer... destroy you."
"He did," he cried.
"No, he didn't. He didn't destroy me, Harry. He couldn't destroy you," Draco said, setting his hand on Harry's bed. The proximity hadn't set Potter off, yet, thankfully.
"I'll never be right!"
"Yes, you will. You might not be the same, but you can recover. You can heal and walk out of here free with your head high. You're still a hero, Harry. You still care. You remember what happened yesterday? When I drink that potion? You grabbed me. You told Laura what happened. You cared that I was hurt, that I was dying. My father couldn't take away everything that you are."
Harry's head lifted, and he stared into his eyes, unflinchingly.
Draco stared back. He had to get the words out. "You said that you trusted me? Trust that I will heal you. Trust that I will find a way to make you feel safe. Trust... that I'll never leave you alone in the darkness, again."
Harry nodded and looked down at Draco's hand on the bed. He was about to pull it away when Harry's shaky hand found it. His trembling fingers gripped his hand, willfully touching him, though it was as safe and distant as he could make it.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Anything for you, Harry," he said. Fuck everything else. His only responsibility in life now was to help Harry heal.