Two Can Be As Bad As One
~UnwiseCow

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling and Warner Bros. I own nothing!

I

Draco left the stall of the bathroom and let the door swing shut behind him, making his way to the collection of sinks, ready to wash his hands. He glanced in the mirror as he turned on the tap, and found himself both pleased and displeased with the appearance on the surface. He wasn't unattractive of course. He knew that, as did many Slytherin girls that found themselves drooling as he walked past, or when he shot a lazy smile in their direction. No, he knew he was good looking. That wasn't what made him frown at the boy in the mirror. What made him frown was his eyes. They looked paler than usual, mere shadows of their once steely grey, now taking on a more weak, icy colour. His irises looked almost see through, they were so pale. And that was a description that could also have easily been used for his skin. His face looked incredibly gaunt. His cheekbones jutted out terribly, making him look like he hadn't eaten in weeks. His skin appeared to have been stretched over his bones, making him look even more ill, and the shadows under his eyes that threatened to dominate his cheeks didn't help any. His snowy white hair also looked unwell. He reached up a long hand and toyed a strand in between his fingers for a few moments, feeling the straw like texture, and sighing discontentedly. It was the first time he could remember properly assessing his appearance in, well, a very long time, and Merlin did he look bad. He looked for a moment longer, carefully scanning his face for any obvious signs of life, and when he found nothing that wouldn't look out of place in a coffin, he resolved to eat more, and perhaps invest in some 'wizard' foundation. He cringed at the thought. The idea would normally have seemed absurd, but it wouldn't do to continue wandering the halls of Hogwarts looking like death warmed up, and if foundation for men was what was required to stop looking so damn ill, then maybe it was just what he needed. He already got enough pitying looks from his fellow students, particularly after the news of his parents had arrived. Draco of course loathed the sympathy. Just because he was now an orphan didn't make him any weaker in himself.

Although, judging by his reflection, maybe it did.

Sighing, he began running the water for a short while, then cupped his hands below the stream, bent his head down and splashed the cold water onto his face. The coldness hit him immediately, and, all of a sudden, he was overcome by the familiar sensation that he was about to sneeze. The tickling in his nose continued for a few seconds, before he threw his head backwards, then violently forwards again, with a great "Achoo!" He grimaced at the amount of mucus he felt leave his nose and, he was sure, splatter the sink. Eyes still closed, he sighed, realising it would do no good to leave it there. He resignedly opened his weak eyes to look at the sight before him, and was slightly taken aback. The stuff covering the sink was...purple. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer, needing to check that it wasn't just a trick of light. On closer inspection -though not too close, it was still gross- he could see that it was really purple. And completely covering the sink. Ugh. Maybe he really was ill. Turning back toward the cubicle to get some toilet paper to clean the mess up with, he caught sight of a flash of purple in the mirror. Oh Merlin, he didn't have it on his face did he?

When he turned to fully face the mirror, the sight he beheld made him gasp, and stagger back a few feet, slamming backwards into one of the cubicle doors. His hair was bright purple. Purple! Not the familiar ice white it had been since birth. Purple! Still with a horrified expression on his face, he cautiously stepped toward the mirror, as if it would attack him, and peered at his hair, bringing a hand up to curl through it. "Merlin..." he whispered at himself, not trusting his voice at any louder volume. He might shatter the mirrors if he screamed. Instead, all he did was gaze, dumbfounded at the brand new him that looked at him through glass, and who seemed just as shocked. The colour clashed horribly with his green and silver uniform, not to mention the way it brought out the shadows in his face even more. What the hell was wrong with him? His hair had obviously changed colour when he sneezed, but why? He needed to see Madam Pomfrey, and soon. He slipped into a cubicle and tore off a piece of toilet roll, wiped his red nose with it, flushed it, then made his way to the bathroom door, preparing to run as fast as he could to the hospital wing without being noticed. However, just as he neared the door, he was caught off guard by yet another sneeze that this time caused most of the ground to be covered in a slimy orange goo. Draco grimaced again, then, noticing the change in its colour, darted back to the mirrors to check his hair. He whimpered as he noted the change from purple to bright orange, once again running a hand through it distractedly. "Oh Merlin, help me."

Deciding that speed was of the essence he turned around quickly, ready to sprint through the corridors. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when the main door opened, and in walked the worst person for that moment conceivable. Potter.

Potter too stopped, apparently frozen at the sight he was presented with, his eyes fixed on Draco's bright hair. The two stood completely silent for a moment, before Potter opened his mouth, ready to speak. It was then that he noticed the mucus on the floor. Draco saw his face turn to a frown, probably in disgust, and then saw his eyes travel back up to Draco's hair.

Merlin, anyone but Potter would've been preferable. Anyone at all. Draco had tried so hard to avoid Potter ever since they'd returned to school, and although he'd had to share almost every class with him, he'd managed to sit as far away from his as possible. He worked hard to keep his eyes cast downwards when they passed in the corridor, avoided any eye contact Potter, for some reason, had attempted to make in lessons, and had only spoken to him once, when he had accidentally knocked into him, and mumbled something which sounded like an apology.

He knew Potter didn't really understand why he was doing it. He could see the confusion in the stolen glances Draco made of his face. Draco had managed to convince himself that the reason he couldn't stand to look at Potter was because if he did it for too long, he might snap and curse him, and he didn't want to that, because, technically, Potter had saved his life. When really, the truth was, he didn't now what he felt when he looked at Potter any more.

When he saw that mess of black hair, or those goofy glasses, he still felt those feelings he did before the war. The contempt, the wanting to laugh and point, the mild anger he always had felt ever since he had first denied Draco's handshake all those years ago. Of course he still felt those feelings. But now, there was something else there. Something he couldn't quite explain. It was unlike anything he had felt before, and he wasn't certain he liked it. If anything, he despised it.

He despised the way his stomach turned, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. He despised the way his heart fluttered on the rare occasions when Draco caught a glimpse of those green eyes. He especially despised the way Potter ended up in his dreams. Never anything sordid, Merlin, that would be far too much. No, when he dreamt of Potter, he simply saw him standing there. Sometimes in a wood, sometimes in the Great Hall, occasionally in the Slytherin Dormitory. Just standing. Doing nothing. But standing.

It unnerved him greatly.

So, instead of giving what these feelings and dreams could mean any real thought, and thus conjuring the possibility that he might figure out exactly what it was he was feeling, he simply ignored it, hoping it would go away. And when he did, against his will, dwell on hit, he simply came to the conclusion it was merely gratitude. And nothing more. Certainly not anything like, well, that.

When he managed to draw his mind back from his not too distant past, he realised he had been staring at Potter. And he didn't like what Potter looked like.

Draco saw Potter's face, and knew he was about to laugh. No, Draco couldn't deal with that. Wanting to leave before Potter burst into hysterics, he took several steps forward, ready to push his way past the dark haired boy and make his escape to the hospital wing. But, his new found illness had other ideas. Approximately half a meter away from Potter, Draco felt another sneeze bubbling beneath the surface, and before he could do anything, he sneezed all over Harry Potter.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Potter's top half almost completely covered in green mucus, from head to around mid chest height. It would have been hilarious to Draco if it hadn't have come from his own misfortune. His glasses were completely opaque, and his jumper was no more recognisable, such was the volume of goo he was covered in. The good thing was though, that he no longer looked as of he wanted to laugh. In fact, he looked as if he might vomit.

Draco noticed the colour, and turned his head sharply to glance in the mirror, already certain of what colour haired boy would be looking back at him. Sure enough, his hair was an ugly green colour, the same that a lot of Potter was.

Draco stood for a few moments, embarrassed by his 'outburst', and not wanting to look at Potter's covered form, looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. He sniffed slightly, before mumbling his way of apologising. "I've got a cold or something," then, not noticing any difference in Potter, added "Sorry."

A few heartbeats passed, before any sort of reaction came from Potter, and when it did, it startled Draco greatly. Potter burst out laughing. LAUGHING. For Merlin's sake, what was wrong with him? He had just been covered from head to waist by the snot of his enemy, and he was laughing? Draco was at a loss for words. All he could do was stand there, gaping at Potter, silent.

After a few minutes of Potter clutching his stomach it was so funny, he straightened up, wiping tears away from underneath his glasses. When he had calmed down enough to form coherent sentences, he finally spoke since the first time he entered the room. "I think you need to get checked out. This just isn't normal." He gestured to himself, and then to the change in Draco's hair, still chuckling at the situation.

"Right..." he mumbled, still embarrassed somewhat. He took a tentative step forward, stepped around Potter and was ready to head out the door. He stopped, however, when he heard the tell tale beginnings of a sneeze from Potter. 'Oh Merlin,' he thought from just behind Potter. His fears were confirmed when he heard Potter sneeze violently, and when he turned around, he saw Potter's hair had turned bubblegum pink, and the orange on the ground had been partially covered by pink mucus. Was he seriously that contagious? All he had to do was sneeze on someone, and they instantly befell the same fate as him? Merlin.

Potter, no doubt after seeing his pink haired reflection in one of the mirrors across from him, turned slowly to face Draco, an absolutely horrified expression on his face. Draco sighed, then nodded his head in the direction of the door. He needed the Hospital Wing. Clearly Potter needed the Hospital Wing. Potter paused for a moment, then, understanding Draco's intentions, nodded, his eyes still wide and fearful. Or, at least Draco thought they would be. He couldn't tell from the amount of green covering his glasses. They both started making their way to the door, and as Harry had been moving a little quicker than Draco, they stood side by side as they opened the door to the bathroom.

Nothing could have prepared either boy for the embarrassment they felt when every student in the vicinity cast their eyes upon them. Draco, in his usual response to embarrassment, paled even more, whereas Potter turned a colour not unlike the one on top of his head. Although, Draco could only tell because he was close to the boy, and could see through various gaps in the mucus. He was sure others could only see the green goo covering Potter and not the burning red blush rapidly spreading across his cheeks. Keeping their heads bowed, they decided to move through the crowd not making eye contact, and not speaking to anyone. They moved as if deaf, not apparently hearing the comments and questions flying at them, and before they knew it, they were outside the doors of the hospital wing. They practically threw themselves through the double doors, startling Madam Pomfrey who stood on the other side. She didn't remain shocked for long, however, and quickly set about getting Draco and Potter onto beds next to each other, waving her wand and murmuring spells. She questioned each boy as to what had happened, and didn't even flinch at the mention of mucus being propelled at the chosen one. Instead, she listened intently whilst waving her wand at Potter, and clearing off the worst of the goo. She didn't succeed entirely, as it seemed there was some property in Draco's mucus that made it more resistant to magic. Potter would need to be cleaned 'manually'.

Madam Pomfrey fretted over the two for a while longer, taking temperatures and forcing them to just lie back whilst she examined them, before hurriedly moving toward her office, looking slightly worried.

Draco simply lay, startled at the speed the situation had moved with, before turning his head to glance at Potter. He too was looking startled, gazing at the spot where the older witch had just been stabbing him with her wand.

There was a pause, before Potter turned his head and his eyes met Draco's. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'Blimey!' but then, unfortunately, he sneezed again. This time his blue snot coated the white sheets covering his legs, and Draco saw his pink hair change to a royal blue.

"Ugh," was Potter's eloquent musing. Draco couldn't help but snort. Potter had never been particularly good at stringing together coherent sentences, and he didn't seem to have conjured up any ability in it since vanquishing the dark lord.

Draco internally shuddered at the memory of that day. He had detested being rescued by him, but as the only other option was death, he had no choice. Unfortunately, that meant he had no grounds on which to bully Potter when they were both back at school, and the loss of his once favoured pass time meant he very often found himself with little to do and a long time to do it in.

Even worse than that, however, was the faded ugly mark that sat on his left arm, still serving as a memory, a link to those times he so loathed. He had spent a long time looking into ways of having it removed, or covered over, or anything that would mean he could sleep for one night without the reminder that forced him to toss and turn and sweat all through each and every night. Unfortunately, such dark magic couldn't be as easily removed as ordinary tattoos, and an unfortunate wizard had to break the news to him that he would be stuck with the dark mark forever. That wizard, suffice to say, had suffered a few injuries as a result of Draco's foul mood following.

Potter decided to ignore Draco's sneer, and instead focused on wiping the goo from his hands onto the sheet in front of him.

At that point, Madam Pomfrey returned with two small vials in hand, and on seeing Potter in his state, sighed. She set the small glasses on the bedside table in between the two boys and promptly waved her wand, removing as much of the goo as possible. When the remaining mucus refused to be magicked away, a wave of her wand removed the sheet from Potter's form, and was replaced with a clean sheet she summoned from the laundry basket. Job done, she turned to Draco, and ordered him to drink the small purple vial nearest him. Sitting up in bed, he reached out, uncorked it, and sipped it gingerly. He retched instantly. It tasted foul, absolutely disgusting. There was no way he could drink the whole -

"Mr Malfoy, if that vial isn't empty by the time I return, I will tip it down your throat myself. The same goes for you Mr Potter." And without another word, she turned on her heel and headed toward her office. Draco grimaced at the small bottle, wanting nothing more than to throw the disgusting vial at the wall. He glanced across at Potter and saw he wore the same expression as himself. Potter sniffed the open bottle curiously, then pulled back immediately, making a disgusted face. Draco saw him take several deep breaths, saw him look at the bottle with a newly formed determined expression, and, to Draco's surprise, tipped it into his mouth and downed it in one.

Drake looked on, dumbstruck. How had he managed that? Well, if anyone could, of course it would be the chosen one. Not to be outdone, Draco set about doing the same.

He took a few moments to compose himself. Then drank. When the entire contents of the vial had been emptied down his throat, he gagged at the taste. Euch. He shook his head as if that would rid him of the after taste, and then, sneezed again.

Damn that woman! Could she do nothing right? Draco's bed was covered in a red muck, and he now knew that his hair had taken on a crimson colour. 'Just like a Weasley,' he thought bitterly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed once more when she returned and saw Draco's bed. "Honestly Mr Malfoy, I told you to drink it!" Draco immediately raised his hands in defence of himself, whilst she switched his cover with a clean one.

"I did! It's not my fault your bloody potion didn't work!" Draco was shocked at the accusation. He'd suffered through that potion, and it hadn't done anything? Bloody hell! Madam Pomfrey moved to the bedside table and inspected the empty vial.

"Did you drink it, or simply tip it in the goo?" She asked, exasperatedly.

"I drank it! Honestly!" Why didn't she believe him?

Sighing, and obviously disbelieving, she turned to Potter. "Well, Mr Potter, did he drink it?"

Potter nodded immediately. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey. I saw him do it." Although Draco noticed Potter seemed not to want to say it. She turned back to Draco who smirked triumphantly, although that only seemed to make her more annoyed.

"Very well then Mr Malfoy." She turned to stand at the end of both of their beds, to begin what Draco believed must be an explanation of their shared illness. "It seems you both have Aldivitis, a very rare illness that causes, as I'm sure you both are aware, the sufferer to sneeze uncontrollably, produce enormous amounts of mucus of varying colours, and change hair colour. Whilst it's not life threatening, it is rather annoying," she emphasised the last word, clearly wanting it known just how much it annoyed her, "and is very contagious. Therefore, you both must remain here until you have recovered fully, and you must have no visitors, under any circumstances. Understand?"

Both boys sat in shock at her explanation. Both of them? Together? Stuck there? For how long?

Potter decided to voice Draco's last internal question, and Pomfrey replied, "Around three weeks should do, and although it may be longer, unfortunately it will not be any shorter. Make yourselves at home boys, you're here for the long run. I'll keep you two separate from the rest of the wing, and the only people you are to come into contact with are yourselves and me. And try not to come into contact with me." She added, sighing.

Merlin, this was the worst situation imaginable. Weasley would be better than Potter. Seriously, three weeks? With Harry Potter? Just them? Nothing could be worse than this, surely?

Draco would gladly trade places with either of his parents right now, if it meant getting away from Potter. Merlin. Merlin Merlin Merlin. Three weeks alone with him would mess with his mind. He wasn't ready to do the inevitable thinking that would come with this situation.

No. This simply wouldn't do.

"Excuse me Madam Pomfrey, but there is no way that is happening. If you want us away from everyone else, for the sake of my sanity, and in time, yours, I suggest you keep me alone." He made no attempt to keep the threat from his voice, and he made sure to stare at her with the sort of intensity that normally terrified even brave witches and wizards. He needed to be alone, and that did not translate to alone with Potter. Strange feelings aside, there was still an extremely large part of Draco that loathed the boy. Or man, he supposed.

"As much as I hate to agree, I kinda have to." Potter's voice suddenly piping up made Draco turn to watch him, before he could stop himself. "After three hours, let alone three weeks, one of us will have killed the other." He concluded his argument by sneezing, the colour this time being an odd white colour. Draco found it very surreal seeing Potter with white hair. For a moment, all he could think was that it was good Potter wasn't born a Malfoy, because that sort of hair on him would not suit him permanently. He slapped himself mentally for thinking such an absurd thought. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and switched Potter's sheets again.

"I'm afraid I simply do not have the room to give you both a private part of the wing. There are others in need of attention, and right now, what's important is keeping the illness localised. Spreading you out would do no good, to you or anyone else. Unfortunately, this is the way it has to be."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms across his chest angrily. The mediwitch rolled her eyes at the action, and began to turn away. "I can't believe this." He grumbled. "Stuck with Potter for three weeks."

He had been talking to himself, obviously, but Potter, with his need to eavesdrop, had obviously heard. Prying nosey prick. "Hey, it's you who got us into this mess, remember? If you hadn't bloody sneezed on me, we wouldn't be here! And do you seriously think I'm happier than you are? That I have to spend time with you? Just shut the hell up Malfoy. Stop complaining and shut the hell up."

Draco huffed some more at Potter's outburst, but said no more. Yes, it was technically his fault, but it wasn't his fault he'd been sick in the first place, had it? What right did Potter have to shout at him? Just because he was the saviour, didn't mean he wasn't a complete pillock as well.

Why was Draco the only one who could see that?

Three fucking weeks. With Potter.

Merlin.