Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own any part of Harry Potter.
It was the winter hols, and just about everyone had gone home, due to the mysterious attacks from the Chamber of Secrets. However, Harry had stayed, because not only would the Dursleys refuse to let him come home, but because he considered Hogwarts with a monster on the loose to still be better than Privet Drive. Ron, Fred, and George had stayed too, to keep him company he was sure, although they claimed that it was to avoid the crowd back at the Burrow that always developed around Christmas. Unfortunately, Malfoy had stayed also, and wherever Malfoy went, Crabbe and Goyle were not far behind.
About a fortnight before Christmas, Harry and Ron were sitting in the Great Hall, eating lunch.
"Hey look, Crabbe, poor Potter is stuck here on his hols because he's not wanted anywhere else."
Ron turned red and stood up before Harry could stop him.
"He's wanted more than you are, Malfoy!"
"Tut tut, Potter, you should keep a better hand on your friend. He might break something, and he can't afford to replace it."
Ron turned pink.
"Knock it off, Malfoy," Harry said, "You obviously aren't wanted either, since you're here and all."
Unfortunately, instead of becoming flustered, as Harry had hoped, Malfoy's smug grin only grew, as if he had wanted Harry to say that.
"I am only here to show the school that the Malfoys have nothing to fear from the Heir of Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets," he said haughtily.
"You may not have anything to fear from the Heir, but you still have me to deal with," growled Ron, obviously having found his tongue. "Meet you in the third corridor tonight at midnight for a duel."
Malfoy laughed. "Do you honestly think you can best me in a wizard's duel, Weasley? Have it your way, Goyle's my second. Who's yours?"
"I am," said Harry, not agreeing with his friend's rash decision, but unwilling to let him face it alone.
"Well, see you tonight then. You don't know what you've gotten yourselves into," sneered Malfoy as he left.
"It can't really be that bad," Harry thought as he followed Ron down the corridors to the appointed meeting place. "After all, what could Malfoy know?" Unfortunately, with his reputation, quite a bit more than either Ron or Harry did. However, it was too late to back out now.
As they approached the corridor, they could hear the clock striking twelve. They were right on time. Malfoy appeared at the other end of the corridor, a sneer evident on his face.
"Well, you showed up after all. I thought you would have chickened out."
Ron pulled out his wand.
"Let's get this over with," he said with a calm certainty that belied his pale face and shaking hands.
"Very well," Malfoy replied, and without a second's hesitation sent a spell flying their way. Poor Ron didn't stand a chance. He was hit directly in the stomach, the force of the spell knocking him to the ground, where he laid, unmoving.
Harry rushed to his side, "Ron? Are you okay?"
There was no reply.
"Well," Malfoy drawled, "Seems you must take his place, the incompetent idiot."
Anger surged inside Harry and, without thinking, he sent the first spell that he thought of, the spell that he had heard Professor Lockhart use in the dueling club.
"Expelliarmus!"
Draco looked stunned for a split second, and that was a split second too long. His wand went flying out of his hand and landed on the floor.
"I win," Harry said with forced calmness. "Now get lost."
Draco may have been arrogant and annoying, but he knew when he was beaten. "This isn't over, Potter," he spat as he walked away, Goyle behind him.
Harry turned back to Ron and knelt beside him on the floor. He wasn't sure what it was that Malfoy had hit him with, but now was not the place to puzzle it out. He had to get Ron back to the Gryffindor dormitory as quickly as possible.
After a few tries, Harry realized that Ron was heavier than he looked. Desperate, Harry used the spell they had learned the year before, "Wingardium Leviosa" he whispered.
Ron rose into the air and hovered, and Harry quickly took him back to his bed, thankfully without running into any teachers, Filch, or Mrs. Norris. Harry looked over Ron, trying to determine the nature of the spell he had been hit with. Besides being extremely pale, however, Ron seemed no different than normal. So Harry, having no better plan, went back to sleep.
No more than an hour later, Harry was woken by a sound coming from Ron's bed. He rushed over and drew back the curtains, only to find Ron leaning over the edge, puking violently. Harry stood there, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected development, until the vomiting had stopped. As Ron laid back on the pillows, shaking, he went over, carefully treading around the puddle on the floor, and sat down next to him. Ron did not seem to be aware of his surroundings, but instead seemed to be muttering under his breath. As Harry went to shake him, he realized that Ron was burning up with a fever. Well, that answered the question about the nature of the spell. Now that meant that Ron was sick with what appeared to be a stomach virus, and Harry couldn't go to a teacher or Madame Pompfrey for help. That left Harry as the only help Ron had, at least for tonight. So, Harry, not knowing of any magical way of helping and doubting whether it would work anyway, went to the bathroom and got a washcloth wet with cold water and a bucket. He returned just in time to shove the bucket to catch Ron's next bout of vomiting. When he was done, Harry ended up using the washcloth to wipe off his mouth. He went back to the bathroom to rinse out the bucket and get a new washcloth. Then he returned to Ron and laid it on his forehead. Ron didn't wake up, but he did seem to relax a little, which Harry supposed was a good thing. The rest of the night passed in much the same way. Harry was grateful that they were the only boys left in the dormitory.
The next morning he realized that he simply couldn't keep this up all by himself. He was already exhausted, and this didn't seem to be ending anytime soon. At least they weren't expected to be in any classes for a while; he had no idea how he would be able to cover for Ron if that had been the case. He needed someone that he could trust, and these days, what with everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin, there were precious few of those. Just as Harry was trying to come up with something, Ron finally woke up.
"Harry?"
Harry rushed over to the bed.
"Ron? How are you feeling?"
"Probably a sight better than you look," was the reply.
"Well, I've been up all night, looking after you. The curse Draco hit you with seems to be some level of stomach virus. At least, that's what it looks like."
Ron groaned. "No wonder I feel like there's fish trying to work its way up my throat."
Harry, noticing that Ron had gone even paler than before, hastily shoved the bucket in front of him for the umpteenth time. Once he had finished heaving, Ron lay back, exhausted.
"Go back to sleep," Harry said, "It's the best thing for you."
Ron nodded and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.
Harry felt like doing the same, as he went to wash out the bucket, again. He wished he knew a spell that would save him the trouble of going back and forth between the dormitory and the bathroom every time Ron was sick.
The day dragged for Harry. Ron woke up a couple more times, but only for a few minutes. Harry tried to think of someone he could get to help him, but his exhausted brain always came up blank. Finally, around dinner time, Ron seemed to be doing a little better, at least he hadn't thrown up in a couple hours and had a bit more color. Harry seized this opportunity to run down to the Great Hall and grab some food; he was starving. On the way back to the dormitory, a wave of exhaustion swept him, and he had to lean against the wall for support. Maybe he could just sleep here… No. Ron needed him. Not to mention it would look slightly suspicious if he was found snoozing in a random corridor. Still, he was exhausted. No, not exhausted, exhausted didn't even begin to touch the way he felt. As he climbed through the painting, he stumbled and would've fallen if someone hadn't caught his arm and steadied him.
"Hey, Harry, you look as if you haven't slept in a week!" a familiar voice said.
"Yeah, what happened, Harry?" the same voice asked from the other side.
"I-" Harry began before his knees buckled and he hit floor.
Fred and George had seen Harry leave the Gryffindor common room, although he didn't seem to notice them. The poor kid looked whipped. The twins started talking to each other after he had left.
"What do you think happened to him?"
"Dunno. I haven't seen him all day, though. "
"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen Ron either."
"What do you think their doing?"
"Knowing those two, they're probably trying to find the Chamber of Secrets."
"They can't do that from their dormitory."
"No. I guess that rules that idea out."
"What else then?"
The two thought about it for a while.
"I can't think of anything."
"Me neither. Why don't we wait 'till he gets back and ask him?"
"Haven't got a better idea."
So they sat around and waited. Just when they were starting to wonder what had happened to Harry, the door swung open and the boy himself came through. If possible, he looked worse than when he had left. Fred and George rose simultaneously, just in case, when he stumbled. Fred caught him before he could fall over.
"Hey, Harry, you look as if you haven't slept in a week!"
"Yeah, what happened, Harry?" George asked.
"I-" Harry began, but just then his knees buckled and he hit floor.
"Blimey, the kid's run himself into the ground. Wonder what he was doing."
"Well, let's take him up to his bed. Maybe we'll find out."
George picked up the second year and carried him up the stairs, while Fred followed close behind. Once they reached the dormitory, they laid him down on a bed. Looking around to find why their friend may have been in such a state, they noticed the only bed in the room with the curtains drawn.
"That must be where Ron is," George whispered.
"Yeah, but I can't imagine why he's still in bed," Fred replied at the same volume.
George tip-toed over to the bed and ripped the curtains open, though he didn't yell because he didn't want to disturb Harry. Both of the twins took an involuntary step back at what they saw. Ron lay just as Harry had left him, shivering in sweat-soaked sheets with only the slightest amount of color in his cheeks. Both the twins stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.
"Well, I guess we found out what Harry's been doing," Fred said.
"Yeah, I just wonder why he felt like he had to do it alone," George replied.
"Should we call Madame Pompfrey?"
"We should wait until one of them wakes up. Harry probably had a good reason for not getting help."
"He should have known he could count on us."
Their attention was diverted from their speculation when Ron moaned. They both turned to look at him, then realized that their brother's face had taken a slightly greenish hue. George noticed the bucket on the floor, grabbed it, and shoved it in front of Ron just in time. When he was done, Fred took the cloth from the bedside table and wiped his mouth. As they headed to the bathroom to clean out the bucket and rinse out the cloth, Fred and George looked at each other, beginning to understand why Harry was so exhausted.
"I wonder how long Ron's been like this," Fred said.
"I saw him yesterday in the Great Hall, and he seemed fine," George replied. He stopped in his tracks.
"What is it?" Fred asked.
"I think I know what happened," George said.
"What?"
"I said I saw him in the Great Hall. Well, he was arguing with Malfoy at the time."
"Ohh." Fred breathed, understanding. "You think he had a run-in with Malfoy that resulted in this."
"Yeah, but that wouldn't explain why Harry would run himself into the ground rather than tell anyone."
"You know most people think he is the Heir of Slytherin."
"Most of the kids, yes. The teachers don't blame him."
At this point they were walking out of the bathroom again. Just then, Harry bolted upright in his bed. "Ron!"
"It's okay, Harry-" George started.
"We're taking care of him." Fred finished.
"But why-"
"Didn't you-"
"Ask for help?" they finished together.
"Ron challenged Malfoy to a duel last night at midnight; I was his second. Malfoy cheated and hit Ron before he had a chance. I disarmed him, but once I got Ron back here he was vomiting and had a fever. I couldn't get a teacher, I didn't want him to get in trouble, and I couldn't leave him."
The twins nodded, understanding.
"I tried to think of someone to ask for help, but I was so tired I couldn't think of anyone. When he started looking a bit better I thought I would slip down to the Great Hall for some food-"
"Wait. When he was looking better!?" the twins exclaimed.
"Yeah. You should have seen him. His skin would have given Nearly Headless Nick a run for his money, and he was puking every fifteen minutes or so. I could barely make it back from rinsing out the bucket before he would have to use it again. I was having difficulty keeping his temperature down, what with running back and forth all night."
"How long did that go on?!"
"From about one this morning until…what time is it?"
"About seven"
"Until about two and a half hours ago."
The twins looked at each other, aghast.
"No wonder you looked as if you hadn't slept properly in a week!"
"Harry, you could have asked us for help!"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't really thinking clearly. Thanks for stepping in. I'll take over now if you guys want."
Harry started to get up, but George pushed him back down.
"No way. You've only had about four hours of sleep in the last twenty-four. We'll handle Ron,"
"He is our brother."
"You go back to sleep."
"But-"
"We'll wake you if we need your help."
"Okay," Harry relented. He took his glasses off and put them on his bedside table, then he lay back down and was soon fast asleep.
Fred and George looked at each other.
"Well,"
"That explains it."
"He could have come to us."
"The poor kid was exhausted and worried, no wonder he wasn't thinking straight."
"Well, might as well see how Ron's doing."
"I'll just check over Harry real quick. You never know, exhaustion makes you susceptible to all kinds of things."
"Good idea."
"He seems to fine for now."
"Now we just have the minor problem of our brother running a fever and puking his guts up."
"How hard can it be?"
Just then, Ron started throwing up again, and the twins soon learned exactly how hard it could be. Even with their more advanced spell knowledge, they found themselves exhausted by around midnight.
"Wow, this is harder than it looked."
"I know. How did Harry do it?"
"Seriously. There are two of us, and it's only been five hours."
"Why don't you check on him again, just to make sure he's all right."
"I checked on him last time, you check on him."
Before an argument could really get going, Fred and George heard a voice coming from Harry's bed.
"Guys, how's Ron?"
Both twins went over to reply.
"He's pretty much the same. We think we just have to wait for the spell to wear off. How are you?"
"I'm great, thanks to you. You two look completely done in; I'll take over now."
Both of the twins started to protest, but Harry cut them off.
"I know how exhausting it is, and you two are barely on your feet. You can sleep in one of these beds, no other boys are here. I insist you go to sleep though, unless you want me to have to deal with you two as well as Ron."
At this Fred and George relented and climbed into two of the vacant beds. They were asleep almost before their heads hit the pillows.
Harry sighed and began to tend to Ron. He hadn't asked if he had woken up while he had been asleep. To be honest, he was too tired to really care. He would have loved to continue sleeping, but one look at Fred and George, and he knew that they wouldn't last too much longer.
What he didn't know was that he was still way closer to collapse than they were. But, he didn't know and carried on.
Ron had apparently run out of things to throw up, for which Harry was grateful. That meant that he didn't have to run back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom. He just had to keep a cold washcloth on his forehead.
Harry, after several hours, started to worry about Ron's temperature. While he had been throwing up, the fever had seemed like a minor issue. Now that it was only the occasional dry heave, it taken a more prominent place in 'things of concern'. Harry was also worried about him getting dehydrated. He knew Ron couldn't keep anything down, so there was no point in trying to get him to drink water. Harry considered waking the twins and asking if there was any magical way of getting water into Ron, but decided not to. He didn't want to disturb them. After another few hours, Ron seemed to slip into a more restful sleep. His temperature had gone down, so Harry hoped that maybe the spell was wearing off. However, for reasons Harry couldn't explain, the room seemed to entirely too cold. He went over to his bed and grabbed a blanket to wrap around himself before sitting back down on Ron's bed.
That's where he was the next morning. The twins had slept until about ten o'clock, until Ron's voice woke them up.
"Hey, what the bloody hell are you two doing in here, and why is Harry on my bed?"
Both twins jumped up and went over to him.
"Well, it seems that you got yourself into a duel with Malfoy-"
"Which ended up, through a nasty bit of cheating-"
"With you having some spell-induced stomach virus."
Ron considered this information for a moment before asking,
"What does that have to do with the two of you being in here?"
"Well, it's a long story, but in short, Harry brought you back here after defeating Malfoy and took care of you for the rest of the night and most of the next day."
"Apparently there was an interval where he thought he could slip down to the Great Hall and grab something to eat real quick."
"He passed us in the common room, and when he came back we had to help him to keep him from falling on his face."
"We took him up here and started looking around for the reason behind him running himself into the ground."
At this point in the story, Ron face went from slightly pink with embarrassment to white with fear for his friend.
"We found you, running a fever and puking your guts up."
"So, we decided to help."
"Harry woke up about an hour later and tried to take back over, but we made him go back to sleep."
At this Ron was a bit confused.
"Then why is he here on my bed, and what were you two doing over there?"
At this the twins looked a bit sheepish.
"Well, around midnight Harry woke up again. By that time we were pretty knackered ourselves, and he insisted on letting us sleep."
"Wait, what time did you bring him up here?" Ron asked, thinking.
"Around six o'clock pm"
"So, you let him take back over after six hours of sleep, even though he'd run himself into the ground?"
The twins had the grace to look ashamed. Before they could reply, Harry shifted at the end of Ron's bed and let out a small noise. All three Weasleys looked over at their friend for the first time. They all realized simultaneously that not only was Harry abnormally pale, but he was shivering despite the sheen of sweat on his face. Ron turned to the twins.
"Now look at him! I don't suppose he got hit with any spells, did he?"
Neither of the twins answered and they rushed over to Harry.
"Well, it just seems to be a fever, though it's pretty high."
"Let's get him back into his bed."
Ron started to get up, but Fred pushed him back down.
"No way. You've been puking for the past twenty-four hours at least, and your fever only broke a couple of hours ago at best. You are staying put."
Ron protested, but in the end Fred played the trump card.
"If you relapse, Harry will just make himself worse trying to take care of you."
Once Ron agreed to stay in his bed, Fred went over to stand by George next to Harry's bed.
"How is he?"
"He seems to just have the fever, which implies that this was probably brought on by exhaustion."
"We'll let him sleep, and see how he is when he wakes up."
Fred and George turned back to Ron, only to find him sound asleep.
"Well, it seems all we have to do is wait."
"Bit easier than before."
"Sure is."
Harry woke up, unsure of how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was sitting on Ron's bed, waiting for him to wake up. Now he was in his own bed, so he assumed that he had fallen asleep. Sitting up, he saw Ron in his bed, looking much better. Fred and George were talking quietly across the room. Harry tried to hear what they were saying, but he couldn't make it out. He pulled the covers off of him and went to get up. However, when his legs hit the floor, they buckled. He just managed to grab one of the posts on his bed before he collapsed to the floor. Now he was definitely missing something. Unfortunately, he was too busy trying to stay upright to figure out what it was.
Just then, George looked over and noticed Harry just managing to hold himself up. Before Harry could think, "What's up?" George was helping him back into his bed.
"Harry, what do you think you're doing?"
Harry was bursting with questions, but he chose the most important one first.
"What happened?"
"Well, it seems that you thought it would be a great idea to work yourself into an exhaustion-induced fever. Ron was out of his mind."
"Maybe he got an idea of how I felt."
"Be that as it may, we had quite a time trying to convince him that he needed to stay in bed."
"You really had us worried, Harry. You shouldn't have done that just so we could sleep."
As Harry put his glasses on, he noticed that the twins did indeed have identical guilty expressions on their faces.
"I didn't mean to worry you guys. I certainly didn't do it on purpose. Well, I seem to be good now."
Harry made to get up again, but didn't get very far before both Fred and George shoved him back down into the bed.
"No way, Harry."
"You're not pulling that one on us again."
"You are staying in this bed for the next two days at least."
"But-"
"No buts, you have nowhere you need to be."
"Yeah, and just to make sure, we're going to stay here to keep you and Ron in line."
The rest of that day and the next was spent alternating sleep with various glances at Ron, who seemed just as annoyed at being made to stay in bed as Harry himself felt.
When Fred and George realized that Harry's fever was caused by exhaustion, they both felt incredibly guilty. He had gotten up so they could sleep, and goodness knows he needed it more than they did. While he slept, they could only sit there, hoping that the fever would be gone by the time he woke, and praying that he didn't get worse.
Unfortunately, a couple of hours later the fever hadn't dropped, if anything it was higher than before. Harry started thrashing around in the bed, and Fred and George knew that he didn't have that kind of energy to spare. They went over to the bed, but weren't sure what to do. With no ideas, Fred put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and much to their relief, Harry calmed down. They each sat down on either side of the bed, hoping that their presence would keep Harry from any other delirious dreams.
Not much later, Harry curled up into himself with a moan. His whole body trembled and his eyes were squeezed shut with tears leaking out. His breathing became shallow, almost panting. Not knowing what else to do, Fred rubbed circles on Harry's back, hoping he would relax, while George stroked his hair. They both knew that the gestures were probably ineffective, but they hated feeling completely useless.
Harry remained curled up, trembling, for several hours, leaving the twins highly concerned. His face was completely drained of color, even his lips were white, and occasionally a whimper would escape from behind clenched teeth. Normally, this would be followed by him heaving, but apparently he had been too tired to eat much in the Great Hall, as nothing came out. Gradually, he stopped trembling, but the twins didn't know if that was because the pain was lessening or because he was running out of energy.
"Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
"So am I."
"Should we take him down to the hospital wing?"
"At this point I don't think there is anything anyone could do, and moving him seems like a bad idea."
"You're probably right. I just feel so helpless."
"I know. I do too."
Finally, after what seemed like days, Harry relaxed slightly. He was still curled up and white as a sheet, but he seemed to be in a restful sleep now. George felt his forehead, and while the fever was still high, it was a few degrees cooler than before. Now all that was left to do, it seemed, was to wait. They took turns checking on him and Ron, and their relief knew no bounds when Fred reported that Harry's temperature was back to normal and his lips had regained their color.
When Harry tried to get up, the twins weren't about to let him out of the bed. Having seen him for the past twelve hours, they knew he was in no condition to get up, and the fact that he couldn't even stand up by himself was further proof. They were not about to let him pretend to be fine; they couldn't handle watching their friend suffer like that again.