Title: Look after me

Written by: Angel-Of-Lightness

Summery: Harry gets Ill, He never gets ill, but when he does, who will help him?

A/N: Well, It's been a long time coming, and I'm really sorry for the wait! Thanks for all the fab reviews! I really appreciate all the time you guys take to read my stories! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside: D So Thank you again!

Look after me: Chapter two

I opened my eyes groggily, I groaned- there was a crick in my neck and my clothes were sticky from the heat radiating from Harry's body. I groaned again. I suddenly remembered where I was. I looked down at Harry's face, his black hair contrasted disturbingly from his pale face, his scar more obvious than never. I brushed his hair back from his face- his skin was clammy and cold, a mystery to me as he radiated such heat. I tutted and shifted out from underneath him. He whimpered quietly and settled back into an uneasy sleep.

I crouched down at the side of his bed- the dorm was quiet. It was mid morning- I found as I looked my watch. Everyone had managed to slip in and out past me pretty easily.

Also- I noted, I had missed two days of lessons! That couldn't be good for my marks! Imagine how much I'd missed...

I stopped; I could be so self-centered sometimes. Here was Harry suffering from some unknown Virus or...something and I was worrying about school.

I felt the overwhelming sense of helplessness as it washed over me. I had read so many books, and I couldn't come up with one solution, not one. Usually- I'd know, If Ron or Harry had a cold- they would come to me first. Now- I couldn't even Help Harry.

I jumped and yelled, startled, as a hand gripped my forearm. I found I was looking straight into the eyes of Harry Potter.

"It's not your fault you know" He whispered looking at me, a distant look was in his eyes, like he was observing me from afar- but he was so close. At least he had a voice today; I noted stupidly, that had to mean he was getting better!

"W...what?" I muttered confused.

"It's not your fault- I'm not Ill because of you" He said.

"It's not anyone's fault that you're ill" I crawled to the side of his bed and stroked the hair from his forehead. "You're so cold!" I breathed "Why are you cold?"

He shrugged weakly- like there was no problem- and rolled from his side onto his back.

I sat next to him on the bed, taking his hand and rubbing it in between mine.

"You're not meant to be this cold!" I muttered- Over and over again. He was un-naturally cold, like he was dead and he just lay there, unresponsive to my fretting.

I sighed and willed my tears to hold back, stay strong for Harry, but they soon were overflowing as I muttered fiercely "Why are you so cold?" He still didn't move. I let go of his hand, and touched his cheek.

"Harry?" I whispered, he said nothing "Harry?" He nodded once but kept his eyes on the ceiling.

"What's wrong with you?"

He turned to look at me sadly "I don't know, 'Mione" I felt a strange feeling, like I knew he was lying but pushed it away.

"I should really go get Madam Pomfrey Harry, or…or Dumbledore, This could be serious. It looks serious!"

"No!" He shut his eyes and clenched his teeth "If Dumbledore really cared he'd be here by now"

I shut my mouth- Harry had been acting like he hated Dumbledore for a while now. It puzzled me and Ron, we often spent hours boggling over the toil of our friend, and his relationship with out headmaster. The more he shut himself off, the more we'd talk about him, the more we talked about him, the more we tried to look after him and to no avail. And now he needs looking after more than ever.

I conjured up a bowl and a damp cloth, and set to cleaning away the grime on him face, and he began to softly cry. I didn't want to ask why he was crying; too afraid of this strong image I held of Harry was going to crumble. I held back my own tears as I listened to his quiet sobs. I wiped away each tear as it fell, convincing myself that as I did it, I was wiping away a problem- making his life right, curing him.

He was probably feeling really lousy, and here I was treating him like a son. He'd never really been treated like this- he was a stranger to love and felt like he didn't deserve it. He had told me all this once, when he had found fire whisky a comfort.

Seamus had snuck it in from Hogsmeade, and Harry had willingly brought a bottle. He was blind drunk when I found him- sitting on a balcony, of all places- and he had poured his heart out to me but I feel as if he still hasn't told me everything even under the effects of alcohol. He was silent again then, silent but strangely stronger than before.