bPart 4/b

"How long has he been like this?" Draco demanded, uncaring that the little Creevey boy looked as though he was about to wet himself from fear. He'd been on his way to the pitch to confront Potter about his stubborn attitude when the quivering student had run toward him, filthy and stammering about Potter.

He'd rushed after the boy to find Potter lying prone on the ground, breathing, but not moving. His hip was jutting at an awkward angle and Draco couldn't help but wince. All that work and Potter was worse off now than he had been when he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

"Um, just a few minutes, Professor," Creevey squeaked out.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking like an idiot! Go and fetch the medi-witch. Tell her I've moved Potter into my private rooms," he demanded, shooing the boy away.

After the frightened student ran off, Draco sank to his knees beside Potter, gently coaxing his body into a more comfortable position as he shook his head in dismay. "Stubborn arse," he muttered as he placed Levitation Charms around Potter's form and began the long trek to his quarters. He would have liked to carry him, to feel Potter's heat and weight against his body, but not only did he not need that particular distraction right that moment, he also didn't want to exacerbate Potter's injuries further with the jostling that would create.

Once Potter was settled in a bed of fine silks and fluffy pillows, Draco moved the chair from his sitting area to Potter's bedside, staring down at the unconscious man as he waited for Madam Pomfrey to arrive.

Harry woke to a series of vicious stabbing pains that started in his hip and travelled up his spine, stealing his breath away. His eyes snapped open as a gasping moan of pain escaped him. Instinctively, he tried to move, only to have a hand push him back down.

"Stay still, Potter, you bloody imbecile," growled a familiar voice.

"Malfoy, what...?" Harry croaked. He barely had a chance to register the fact that he was in an unfamiliar room before Madam Pomfrey bustled in. The old medi-witch took one look at the state of him and shook her head with a series of tuts.

"What did I say to you about taking things easy, Mr. Potter? It seems things haven't changed much since you were a boy; always pushing the limits of your body," she scolded as she performed a series of diagnostic spells. "Oh dear." She sighed, shaking her head as she walked over to the other side of the bed and started organizing her things.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked with a wince of pain.

"You've fractured your hip and pulled a few ligaments," she informed them with a stern glare. "I can heal it, of course, but it will be extremely painful and recovery will be of the utmost importance."

"W-will I be able to fly?"

"Absolutely not!" she chastised. "Did you not hear a word I've just said?"

"I believe Harry was asking if he'd be well enough to fly after his imposed bed rest and recovery," Malfoy interjected, a look of understanding on his face as his eyes met Harry's.

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened. "Yes, Harry. So long as you follow my instructions exactly, you'll fly again," she elaborated.

Harry sighed at the prognosis. His newest injury was bad and it bloody well hurt, but it could have been so much worse. He was well used to pain by now and he'd suffer as much as he had to, do whatever it took, so long as it meant he could fly again. Ignoring Malfoy's presence, and the sudden realization that he was in the blond's bed, Harry dutifully drank down every potion Madam Pomfrey administered.

"Amazing," the medi-witch mused softly as she recast her diagnostic spells, "You're healing much more smoothly than one would've expected given the extent of your injuries. Tell me, have you been seeing a new Healer for your original injury?" she asked, open curiosity in her gaze.

Harry's eyes flashed to Malfoy and held for a moment, a blush stealing over his cheeks against his will. "Not a Healer, no, but I've tried a few new things, yes."

"Indeed? Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. It seems this new remedy has ensured your ability to fly again. Without it, I doubt you'd regain the ability to walk without a cane for the rest of your life. As it is, you'll need a week of bed rest, potions and physical therapy before you can even ithink/i of so much as itouching/i a broom."

The knowledge hit him like a ton of bricks. Malfoy's remedy had saved him from losing the one thing that brought him true joy. A surge of gratitude went through him, quickly followed by irritation. If the bloody wanker hadn't drugged him in the first place, he wouldn't have skipped his treatment and likely could have avoided the accident altogether. It was Malfoy's fault he was in this bed. In iMalfoy's/i bed. He paused at the thought, a shiver going through him.

"Madam Pomfrey, may I please be moved to my own quarters, or even the hospital wing?" Harry asked. "I think I'd be much more comfortable."

"I'm afraid not, Harry. The last thing we want to do is move you when your body is mending."

"But surely with magic..." he protested, his voice sounding a tad desperate.

"Magic will react adversely to the potions I've given you. I'm sure you'll be perfectly fine here for a few days," Pomfrey replied, her tone firm.

Harry turned to his only ally.

"Come on, Malfoy, you don't want to have to put up with me for idays/i, do you?"

"You heard her, Potter. It can't be helped," he replied, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

"There now. It's all settled. I'll be back to check on you in the morning. Until then, Mr. Malfoy, if you could see that he takes the appropriate potions?"

XXX

Draco nodded as Madam Pomfrey rattled off the details of the potions Potter needed to take, with Potter's protests going completely unheeded. After a moment, Madam Pomfrey bid goodnight to a sulking Potter and swept from the room, leaving the two men alone in a stifling, tension-filled silence.

"You really are an idiot, Potter. If you had just come for your treatment last week, this wouldn't have happened," Draco chided, filling the silence with his arrogantly derisive tone.

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't idrugged/i and imolested/i me the last time, I would have!" Potter growled, his narrowed eyes burning with anger as he glared at Draco.

"I only did that because I knew you'd never answer my questions on your own."

"Oh, well then, I guess that makes it okay," he replied sarcastically.

Draco glared, but didn't respond. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make the stubborn Gryffindor listen to reason. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, looming over Harry, his hand moving of its own accord to brush a strand of sweaty hair away from his brow.

After a long, dramatic silence, Draco sighed and said two words he hadn't said in a long, long time. "I'm sorry."

Potter blinked up at him, obviously just as surprised to hear those words as Draco was. "Pardon?" he asked, as if trying to make sure one of the potions hadn't made him dream up unlikely responses.

"It was wrong to lace your potion with Veritaserum. I should have, at the very least, given you the opportunity to answer my questions first," Draco elaborated.

"What, and ithen/i drugged me?" Potter asked, his tone incredulous.

"Perhaps," Draco remarked with a wry grin and an elegant shrug. "You could hardly blame me if I'd asked and you'd refused."

"I could blame you, actually," Potter countered with a scowl that lacked any real venom. "I'm quite good at blaming you for things," he added, his frown slipping into a barely-perceptible smile.

"I've noticed. Although I think I'm only accountable for a third of what you blame me for," Draco replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" Potter asked, his smile growing. "Which third are you accepting blame for?"

"It was merely theoretical," Draco explained with a wave of his hand. "I don't care to get into the particulars." Potter laughed at his answer and then winced as the motion jostled his injury.

"Alright. No laughing for the gimped," Draco chided, tucking the sheets tighter around the Gryffindor's body. He leaned over to click the light off and once again let his finger tips trail over Potter's forehead. "You should get some sleep. I'll still be here to provide snarky remarks in the morning."

"Where are you going?" Potter asked. Draco marvelled in the look of disappointment etched on Potter's face at the mention of him leaving. Not five minutes ago, he'd seemed ready to throttle Draco and now he didn't seem to want to let him go.

It must have been the potions kicking in.

"I'll be in the next room if you need me," Draco assured him. "I can Transfigure a perfectly suitable bed from my chaise."

"Right," Potter sighed, his eyelids beginning to droop with the weight of the potion. As Draco rose and strode toward the door, Potter called after him. "Draco?"

Draco turned his head, thoughtfully regarding the Gryffindor tucked firmly in his bed. "Hm?"

"Thanks," Potter whispered, glancing away for a moment before bravely regaining his lock on Draco's stormy gray eyes.

Draco only nodded lightly in return, a faint pink colouring his cheeks. "Just yell if you need anything, Harry," Draco said as his long, pale fingers twisted the doorknob. "I'm sure you're uncouth enough for that," he added with a wink and a smirk as he disappeared into the other room and out of Harry's sight.

"Prat," came the soft reply.

Draco smiled and closed the door. He stood just outside of his bedchamber for a long moment before he shook his head and headed for his lab. He had work to do.

Harry sat up in Draco's bed as he finished the last of his afternoon tea. It was his fourth day of bed-rest and truth be told, he was going more than a little stir crazy. He'd been driving Draco and himself round the bend after the first day. Harry had never been a very good patient and the blond was having a terrible time of keeping him from trying to get out of bed before he was healed enough to.

In an apparent effort to help speed the healing process – and save what little was left of both of their sanity – Draco had started giving Harry daily massages with the salve. Given the severity of Harry's new injury, the salve wasn't able to work as quickly, but it still helped to soothe his aches and aided in the mending of ligaments. Coupled with Pompfrey's medicines, Harry was certain he'd be up and walking again any day now. In fact, he was positive he could walk inow/i if only he could escape the bed he was currently lying in. Unfortunately, after Harry's last attempt to get out of bed – resulting in another near-crippling fall for Harry and a rather nasty lump on Draco's head where he'd hit the wall as he'd caught Harry – Draco had recruited Dobby to watch Harry throughout the day when he was in classes and the house-elf had gone to great lengths to ensure that his orders were adhered to.

Harry had voiced his opinion of Draco's new "minion" readily but Draco simply shrugged it off with a haughty look and a sneer.

"If you insist on acting like a child, then you'll have a babysitter to watch you as such."

With that, Malfoy had swept from the room, leaving a furiously seething Harry behind.

In hindsight, Harry had to admit that it was probably for the best, but he still hated to feel so trapped. Hated how easily Draco Malfoy had taken over his life. Though, if he were entirely honest with himself, he would admit that sniping with the blond had become the highlight of his days. Despite the constant snark, Harry found himself liking the blond more and more. Certainly the now-daily massages didn't hurt matters; after all, Malfoy had very talented hands, but it was more than that. Draco's usual acerbic attitude toward him made the times when he treated Harry with kindness and care all the more special to him.

Come to think of it, even Malfoy's usual snark had lost most of its bite. When they argued now, it was something akin to friendly banter rather than harsh words tainted with the bitter cruelty of a childhood rivalry. Even when Draco was being a prat, his actions spoke volumes more than his words. He had worked tirelessly making Harry's potions and salves, not to mention taking it upon himself to treat his injury. And even if the blond had practically chained him to the bed, he'd still given up his own bed and comfort for Harry's own good. Draco Malfoy had been taking care of him.

Over the past few days Harry had begun to realize that not only did he no longer dislike Draco, but he was growing rather fond of him. Perhaps itoo/i fond.

As if conjured by Harry's thoughts, Malfoy swept into the room and lifted an imperious brow.

"Merlin, Potter, still abed at this hour. I always knew you were a lazy sod," he drawled with a smirk, his words containing only the slightest bit of bite.

"And whose fault is that, arsehat?" Harry asked with an unimpressed look on his face as he tilted head pointedly toward Dobby as the house-elf gathered the remnants of Harry's tea service.

Draco's smirk widened into a look of self-satisfaction as Dobby rushed to assure him that he had indeed kept the Great and Noble Harry Potter in his bed all day just as he was instructed. He had done everything necessary to keep Harry Potter from injuring himself.

"Including erecting a damned force field around the bed," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Very good, Dobby, you did well. You may leave now," Draco instructed, turning to Harry as the house-elf disappeared with a loud crack.

"Would you like your massage before or after dinner?"

"How about after I get out of this bloody bed?" Harry suggested pointedly, tossing the covers off of his legs and scooting toward the end of the mattress.

"There's nothing wrong with that bed, I had it brought over from the Manor. The quality is impeccable," Draco insisted as he strode to Harry's side to put a hand on his shoulder, effectively stilling his movements.

"For fuck's sake, let me up already."

"It's only been a few days, Potter. You heard what Pomfrey said. It'll be a week before you can even attempt to walk," he said as he struggled to keep Harry in the bed.

"And with the treatments you've been giving me, I've been healing much faster than she could have predicted. You know I'm strong enough to do this," Harry insisted, struggling fruitlessly. Stilling his efforts with a heavy sigh, Harry gripped Malfoy's wrist and looked up at him, his expression pleading. "Please, Draco."

Draco scowled down at Harry, annoyance clearly etched on his face. Harry simply stared back, his thumb absently rubbing soothing circles on the soft skin of the underside of Draco's wrist.

"Fine. With my help," Malfoy conceded, looking none-too-pleased.

Harry fought the urge to whoop with joy and swung his legs gently over the side of the bed. Draco stooped and wrapped a strong, muscled arm around Harry's waist, moving Harry's own arm around his neck for balance.

"Ready?" Draco asked before helping him stand in one swift motion.

There was a slight twinge of pain, but it passed without much notice. Harry was too busy dwelling on just how closely Draco was holding him. His face was mere inches away from the blond's, his body pressed along the length of Draco's. The arm wrapped around his waist flexed once, pressing Harry closer, causing his heart to flutter and his breath to hitch.

"You all right, Potter?" Malfoy asked, his silver eyes searching Harry's face.

The concern on his face had Harry's heart doing another flip.

"Yeah," he breathed, sending the blond a shaky smile. "Brilliant."

Draco nodded reluctantly and tightened his grip on Harry's waist. "All right, then. Let's get this over with. Tell me when you need to stop."

They made it around Draco's quarters twice before Harry's hip gave out and sent him stumbling into Draco. The movement had Harry's face burying itself in the soft skin of Draco's neck as he clung tighter to the blond for support. Rather than stepping away as he should have done, Harry lingered in the impromptu embrace, his eye sliding shut as he breathed in Draco's intoxicating scent. Without thinking, Harry pressed closer and nuzzled the blond's neck with his nose, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping him as his lips brushed the warm flesh.

"Potter..." Draco murmured, his voice curiously unsteady.

Harry pulled back just enough to look at him, emerald eyes searching confused grey, though for what, he didn't know. There, laced with the curiosity, was a hint of something Harry couldn't quite name. Acting on impulse, Harry leaned in and captured Draco's lips with his own.

That first, light taste of Malfoy's perfect lips had Harry's heart racing and a soft moan escaping him. He pressed closer, moulding his lip more firmly against the blond's as his hands fisted in Malfoy's robes. After a few moments, Harry realized something was wrong. Malfoy wasn't kissing him back. The sudden realization hit him like a bucket of ice water and he pulled back abruptly, a violent blush heating his face.

"I'm sorry. I...um..." Harry stammered, running a shaky hand through his hair as he looked look everywhere but at the man in front of him.

"We should get you back into bed," came the reply.

Harry glanced up at the blond's carefully neutral expression and nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest at Malfoy's lack of response to his moment of foolishness. Reaffirming his grip on Malfoy's shoulder, Harry allowed himself to be led back to the bed.

Dinner arrived just after Harry had taken his pain potion and settled beneath the duvet. Neither of them said a word about Harry's misstep as they set about the now-familiar routine of eating together. They spoke haltingly about Draco's day; his student's, the potions he was teaching and the surprising talent of Neville Longbottom's progeny.

The conversation was somewhat strained, but Harry was grateful for the attempt at normalcy. He chuckled inwardly at the thought. Who would have thought he'd have ever considered having dinner in bed with Draco Malfoy inormal/i? Once the meal was finished and the dishes vanished, Harry shifted and let out a groan of pain.

"You must be sore after that exertion. Take off your shirt and roll over," Draco ordered as he pulled the jar of salve from the bedside locker.

Harry did as he was bade, turning his still-flaming face away from the blond as he heard the jar being opened. As usual, the moment Draco's hands touched him, Harry's skin tingled and he had to bite back a moan. Elegant fingers worked his muscles with practiced ease, soothing the ache and feeding his growing arousal. He'd long-since stopped trying to resist the reaction his body had whenever Malfoy touched him like this. It never worked anyways. Instead, Harry distracted himself with talk.

"So you had a good day, then."

"It was agreeable," Draco answered, his hands never faltering in their movements.

"That's good. You'll sleep well tonight," Harry said awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"As well as can be expected." The words 'considering you've taken over my bed' went unsaid.

"Sorry about that. You must be sick of sleeping on a Transfigured sofa every night."

"It's certainly not my first choice," Draco replied.

A shard of guilt grew within Harry. "Well, now that I can walk without risking permanent injury, maybe I should go back to my own quarters."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Draco scoffed. Harry could tell by the tone of his voice that the blond was rolling his eyes at him. "If you did that, you'd just be making my job harder by forcing me to come to you every night. It's fine. Besides, I've slept on worse."

Harry said nothing, knowing full well when Malfoy would have been forced to endure worse than a transfigured sofa. A shudder ran through him at the image in his mind, followed by another caused by the sensual kneading of Draco's fingers. He let slip a tiny moan and Draco's hands were gone in an instant.

"All right, that's you sorted, Potter," he announced, only a hint of a waver detectable in his voice as he replaced the lid on the jar and moved to put it away.

Harry turned his head, his hand shooting out of its own accord to wrap around Malfoy's wrist as the blond made to leave. Mercurial eyes shot over to meet his gaze, that wild look of confusion and want returning to their depths as he stared down at Harry.

"Thank you," Harry said softly as he watched Malfoy's eyes widen in surprise, "for everything."

Malfoy stood staring at him for a few moments before he gave a barely-perceptible nod and gently extracted his wrist from Harry's grasp.

"Goodnight, Potter," he answered, his expression unreadable. With that, he turned and left the room.

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

Once he was alone, Harry wasted no time in tending to his erection. A few rough strokes had him arching off the bed with Draco's name falling from his lips in desperate whisper. Retrieving his wand from the bedside table, Harry cast a quick iScourgify/i and settled back beneath the duvet.

A sense of longing stole over Harry as he lay in the dark, surrounded by the expanse of Draco's massive bed. A bed that felt increasingly empty each day.

Harry wondered briefly what Malfoy would do if he were to go into the sitting room and slip into his makeshift bed. Probably kick him right back out and demand to know if he'd gone soft in the head. Or, he would just pretend like nothing had happened. Like he had when Harry had kissed him. Harry groaned and turned to bury his face in the pillow beneath him. What on earth had possessed him to kiss Draco Malfoy?

His mind immediately provided him with a flood of answers; the man had been working to help heal Harry, giving up his time and putting untold amounts of effort into helping him, despite their history. He was witty, not a little sarcastic, and generally enjoyable to be around once you got past the arrogance and snark. Funny, talented and altogether gorgeous. Was it any wonder that Harry was falling for him?

Harry's eyes snapped open at his sudden epiphany. He was falling in love with Draco bloody Malfoy. Disbelief hit him first, followed closely by panic which was soon overwrought by a strange sort of excitement. He never thought he'd feel like this again. Not after the disaster that was his previous relationship with Ginny. Though, if he were completely honest, what he felt for Draco now in its infancy was far more than he'd felt at the height of his passion for his ex-girlfriend.

His excitement was quickly tempered by the memory of the look on Draco's face when he'd pulled back from the kiss and how quickly he'd seemed to shove it aside and pretend it had never happened. Then again, while he hadn't responded, he certainly hadn't reacted negatively. Surely if Draco was disgusted by Harry, he would have pushed him away, right? He certainly wouldn't have had dinner with him and offered to give him his massage. Or had he simply been trying to force them back into some semblance of normalcy? Harry remembered the look of longing he saw in Draco's eyes as he'd thanked him and shook his head. There was something there. He knew it. All he had to do was find out what.

Harry decided that he would try again and when he did, he would get a reaction one way or another. If it was negative, he'd back off, but if it he was right and Draco wanted him, he would work to prove to the blond that they could be together. If Harry couldn't have his dream of flying, perhaps he could have a new dream. One that included Draco.

Smiling at the thought, Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.