Title: Draco Malfoy Has a Cold
Rating: PG 13 (for now)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling (That wonderful woman) does. I unleash the plot bunnies in my brain yeah?
Summary: Draco Malfoy wakes up with a cold, not knowing what it actually is. He goes to Harry for help thinking he has been cursed.
A/N: Had started this a long time ago, back when I too had a cold. What was meant to be a one shot though is clearly turning out to be more of a chaptered fic. This story is un-beta'd so forgive me if there are any errors.
Draco Malfoy Has a Cold
Off in the distance in the snowy grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, two figures were engaged in a fist fight in front of a crowd of onlookers shouting encouragements through scarves wrapped tightly around themselves, their voices drowned out by the howling of the chilling wind.
Harry had Draco trapped in a headlock and was trying to pull him down into the snow, hoping he'd get a mouth full, but just as he made a move to push him, Draco kicked back his foot straight at his knee causing him to fall backwards in pain. The blond didn't hesitate to jump straight on him giving him a good punch in the nose before receiving a blow to himself as well. Their wands lay aside completely forgotten.
"Oh for goodness sake, this is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed, walking towards them, making a move to break up the fight but was stopped by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas.
"Are you serious? This is the only entertainment we're going to get all year, we have to savor this moment," Seamus said very seriously.
"Harry's been waiting for a chance to have a go at Malfoy ever since Potions back in the beginning of school, let the man have his fun," Dean added.
With an exasperated huff, she set off back to the castle in hopes of catching Professor McGonagall along the way.
No one knew how the fight had started and no one really cared. It didn't seem to matter whether there was a point to fight each other or not, all Harry wanted to see was Malfoy's face buried deep in the snow. Harry noticed the usual perfectly groomed blond hair was matted down, plastered against his face which sported a rather deep looking gash on the right cheek. Harry felt a twinge of pride. The worst he got was a nosebleed which was currently still flowing freely down his robes, but all he cared about was beating the stupid ferret's face into the snow.
"Well, Malfoy, what do you think daddy dearest would say if he saw you the way you are right now? You're a complete mess and I'm the one that did this to you," Harry growled before punching him again in the ribs.
Draco grunted in pain but grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and yanked it back. "I don't know what you're talking about, considering how much worse you look. I must say though, it's an improvement from what everyone has to endure on a daily basis."
Harry was pushed aside, landing painfully on a patch of ice. He noticed his wand lying not too far from him and reached out for it. Malfoy's heel came out of nowhere, stepping down hard on his fingers. Harry heard a crack and knew at least two of his fingers were broken by the sudden pain shooting from his hand.
"YOU FUCKING ARSE!" Harry yelled, getting up quickly while clutching his hand.
"YOU DESERVED IT YOU DIMWITTED FUCK!" Draco shouted back, grabbing Harry's wand and aimed it at his chest.
"ACCIO!" Professor McGonagall came striding towards the two boys with a look of pure fury on her face. "NEVER have I seen two students behave this way in my entire career, and not to mention you are both seventh years!"
"He started –"
"He called Ron a –"
"I DO NOT CARE WHO STARTED WHAT!" the headmistress snapped. She gave one look at the crowd and they immediately dispersed, slipping and sliding on their hurried way back inside the castle. "I want you both to head straight to the hospital wing at once, and I don't want ONE word to be spoken to each other on the way! Forty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"You can't do that—"
"But Professor—"
"One more word and it's another twenty. Now, GO!"
They didn't look at each other and kept a distance between them as they made their way to the hospital wing. Harry was shaking with anger and the throbbing pain in his fingers had only increased the more he thought about what happened. He planned on visiting Hagrid with Ron and Hermione after lunch, something he found comforting ever since the war had ended. Talking to Ron and Hermione didn't seem to help very much anymore. They just didn't understand since neither of them had lost anyone in the war, not that Harry wished they had, but the pain of truly losing someone doesn't haunt them the way it does for Harry. They found Malfoy sitting in the snow and for a moment Harry felt a slight twinge of pity for the blond. He had lost both his parents in the war. Ron, however, wasn't sorry for him at all, and decided to throw a snowball at the back of Malfoy's head. Luckily, it missed but Malfoy wasn't stupid, he knew it was meant for him. With a quick flick of his wand, he had Ron stunned flat on his back in the snow. If it weren't for the fact that it was a spell Harry had never heard of, Harry would have never attacked Malfoy, but it reminded him too much of unknown dark spells cast during the war.
Harry could not wait to graduate, knowing he would never have to deal with Malfoy ever again.
Draco Malfoy woke up to the birds chirping and immediately knew something was wrong. He was not a morning person to begin with. Add the fact that the pounding sensation in his head seemed to become more apparent, and he could feel phlegm at the back of his throat; he knew something was definitely wrong. He stumbled into the bathroom feeling worse now that he was standing up. A hangover! That was it. After a long visit to the hospital wing to fix his injuries, he headed back to the common room, finding a mass of students partying. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have stopped the party so he could go to bed in peace, but Parkinson had to drape her silly self on him with the offer of firewhiskey, his favourite and greatest temptation. He must have had too much to drink last night, though usually his hangovers don't result in sneezing three times in a row ending with a pitiful hacking cough as the grand finale. What the hell happened to him? After splashing cool water on his face he looked at his reflection.
"Fuck," he said weakly, examining the dark circles under his eyes, the redness at the tip of his pointy nose, and dry lips almost the same shade as his face. Not to mention the way his blond hair (which he had dubbed as a mood generator) hung limply, lacking its usual shine. It wasn't going to be a good day at all.
Thinking back to yesterday, Draco didn't remember drinking a lot of firewhiskey, knowing he had a Potions paper he had to finish in the morning. If this wasn't a hangover, there was only one conclusion; someone must have hexed him at the party, and once Draco finds out who the unfortunate being was, he was going to get Goyle to press that person's head into the floor with his abnormally large bottom, and repeatedly fart into the bastard's face.
The sound of Professor Binn's voice left Harry wanting to rest his head on his arms and fall asleep. His eyelids felt heavy, considering how little sleep he got last night, he wouldn't be surprised if he passed out right then. Hermione prodded his side and he sat upright, sending a glare in her direction. He didn't see a point in paying attention since the information coming from Professor Binn's mouth was missing its stop in Harry's brain. He couldn't wait for lunch.
Harry had his bag packed the moment the sound of the bell went off, and he was first out the door without waiting for Hermione. Ron was still resting in the hospital wing, complaining about an awful ringing in his head.
"Do you suppose we should visit Ron and give him his homework? I can even make an extra copy of my notes for him. He missed quite a lot today," Hermione said once she caught up with him.
"That's the last thing he would want to do right now, Hermione. He can catch up when he's feeling better."
"I guess so. I can't believe Malfoy jinxed him! But then again, I can't believe Ron attempted to throw that snowball at him."
"Yeah…" Harry was not paying attention. He spotted Malfoy leaning against a wall, watching him closely from behind a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and mouth. Harry was surprised when Malfoy waved him over. "You know what? Why don't you get something from the Great Hall and we'll have lunch with Ron in the hospital wing. I'll meet you there."
He waited until Hermione had entered the Great Hall before turning back around to where Malfoy was standing who was looking rather impatient and peaky.
"What do you want?" Harry hissed at once after looking around for signs of Professor McGonagall.
Malfoy's reply came muffled from underneath his thick scarf.
"What?" he snapped. "Was yesterday not enough for you?"
He glared and moved his scarf aside. "I need your help."
"After what you did to Ron? Not bloody likely," Harry snorted.
"If I remember quite clearly, it was your little friend that started it, was it not?"
"What's your point?"
"My point is I need you to help me."
"Now why would I want to do that?" Harry asked slowly.
"Look at me," Malfoy pointed at his face.
"You either got into Parkinson's make up bag and covered your face in foundation or I'm completely missing the point."
Malfoy pulled his scarf off and gestured wildly as he ranted. "Look at my face Potter! I am paler than usual. I have a fucking headache. My throat hurts when I drink water, and holy hell, it actually burns when I attempt to eat. I can't fucking swallow! My nose feels funny and it leaks this greenish fluid when I blow into my handkerchief."
"You actually have a handkerchief?" Harry snorted. "Can't you use kleenex like normal people?"
"Shut up!" Malfoy snapped irritably.
"Well if you're going to be like this, I'm not going to help you," Harry turned around.
"No, fuck! Fine! Just, help me, alright?"
"We'll see."
Malfoy watched Harry leave, pushing away the fluttering feeling he had been experiencing for a few months now. It only ever seems to happen whenever he was around Harry. It was beyond irritating and he didn't know what to make of it. The only idea that came to him was to ignore and it'll go away. So far, it hadn't worked. He sneezed into his white handkerchief three times and sniffled.
"Stupid Potter," he muttered and headed back to his room to continue his rant for Pansy instead.
Harry was finishing his Potion's essay when he heard a light tap on the window. Ignoring it, he continued scribbling a weak conclusion, unable to think of anything better.
"Harry, do you think that's for you?" Hermione asked as an owl tapped on the glass impatiently.
A gorgeous eagle owl was outside, waiting for him to let it in. Harry hurried over and the owl flew in, landing gracefully on top of Harry's essay, extending its leg out to Harry. He untied the note and read it curiously.
Meet me outside the greenhouse 3 at 11pm.
- DM
"Who is it from?" Hermione asked.
"Uh, no one," Harry said, trying to tie the note back onto the owl. "It's got the wrong person."
The eagle owl bit Harry's finger and shuffled over, glaring defiantly at him. Harry returned the look.
"You don't have to hide anything from me you know."
Harry looked at her and shrugged. "It's nothing. Malfoy talked to me on my way to the hospital wing but I didn't pay attention to him. He wants to meet me somewhere but I'm not going."
"Maybe he wants to apologize."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, right. Even if, for some strange reason Malfoy wanted to apologize, he'd be doing it to the wrong person."
The owl screeched loudly and flapped its wings sending papers flying everywhere.
"Oh! I was organizing my notes!" Hermione said looking dejectedly at the notes she had carefully put in piles next to her textbooks. "Just tell him yes and go!"
Harry glared at the owl and obliged, tearing off a piece of spare parchment and scribbling down a quick reply, tying it to the owl who calmed down.
"Now, leave," Harry waved it away carelessly. "The window's still open for you."
It sent Harry one last look before extending its wings and flew out, leaving a nasty mess on Harry's essay.
Harry left the common room hidden under his invisibility cloak a little after 11, setting off toward the greenhouses. Draco was leaning against the wall sniffling every now and then. Rubbing his nose with the back of his sleeve, he looked up and glowered at the sight of Harry.
"When I say 11, Potter, I do mean 11. It is now 11:26."
"I ran into Mrs. Norris, it's not my fault," Harry said defensively.
"Whatever," Draco walked closer to him. "Now, do your magic and fix whatever is wrong with me."
Harry stifled a laugh. "I'm afraid I can't do it. You came to the wrong person."
"You're kidding," Draco glared, taking his handkerchief out irritably from his pocket. "Then why couldn't you tell me before you daft git."
Seeing as how this bothered Malfoy so much, Harry shrugged and smiled. "Just thought it'd be funny to get your hopes up."
"You are such a fucker," Draco snapped. "Do you at least know what's wrong with me? I've been feeling like shit all day."
"Oh it's rather simple really," Harry smirked, enjoying the look of discomfort on Malfoy's face as he struggled to breathe properly through his stuffy nose. "You have a cold."
"A what?"
"Don't tell me you've never had a cold before."
"Well what if I haven't? Nothing wrong with that. I'm healthy."
"Not so healthy anymore now, are you?"
"Did I get this, cold, from you?" Draco demanded.
"If you did, I'd have it too but I don't. How unfortunate. Now let me bask in your suffering."
"This is not amusing!"
Watching Malfoy becoming increasingly irritated brought a smile to Harry's face. He had forgotten how enjoyable it was to bug him. What made it even more interesting was how Malfoy looked as if he was on the verge of death.
"Oh you're such a drama queen. When are you going to realize it's just wasting your energy, you're not going to get your way?"
"You are—" Draco struggled for a moment to come up with the right word. "Useless."
Harry watched the blond stomp back to the castle, laughing quietly as Malfoy slipped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the great oak doors before getting up, throwing a furious look at Harry, and hurried inside. He knew Malfoy was going to come back, begging for help.
Or better yet, he could try making a potion to cure his cold and end up with boils on his face instead, Harry thought, amused.
He walked back to the castle, looking forward to the next time he'll be seeing Malfoy.