Dear Readers,

I am thinking about starting another story and working on both simultaneously, what do you think? There is a poll on my profile, I would love your input on this matter.

Here is chapter 25. Please enjoy and review

Very blearily, Draco's light eyelashes began to twitch slightly. He knew he was awake, but his body did not appear to be listening to him. He felt as if his left leg has been through a rock grinder; it felt oddly light but in a wrong way. What bothered the most was not the dull pain from his leg, rather it was his body's unwillingness to listen to any command his confused brain was giving it. Draco guessed that he must have lost blood, but he never expected to feel so weak, his fingers and toes could not be felt and every single muscle in Draco's body screamed of piercing needles. Struggling to open his eyes, Draco could faintly make out the dim light of the room. There was buzzing in his ears, but he could faintly make out the calm breathing of someone sleeping nearby.

Draco continued to struggle fruitlessly; he did not panic because he knew he was not paralyzed. But the sheer helplessness was making Draco fear that his body would take days to heal. The world swam in front of him the moment he opened his eyes and he immediately wanted to close them again. He resisted this temptation, cursing his own body for its uselessness.

He was laying on his and Harry's bed, with the latter boy sleeping comfortably against Draco's chest. Draco knew that he would not be able to move any other part of his body, opening his eyes seemed to have taken all of his energy. The blond was therefore forced to stay immobile, watching The Boy Who Lived sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of Draco's discomforting situation.

Draco was no used to his body not listening to him. He never felt weaker than this; Malfoys were not supposed to be weak - he could not afford to be weak now. Cursing silently, Draco decided to give up on physical state, switching to his mental one instead. He remembered vaguely what happened not too long ago, he remembered the Polyjuice, his mother and his father. The Dark Lord's curses, Severus' attempts to duel Voldemort and Harry's timely arrival were also imprinted in Draco's mind. It all felt like a bizarre dream, yet Draco knew that it wasn't a dream; his subconscious was telling him so.

He did not know how long he stayed on his side, but it must have been a while because his muscles were screaming their displeasure at Draco. Draco remembered seeing his father alive; what would Lucius Malfoy say if he was here right now? He would most likely criticize his son for being weak and incompetent, not even able to control his own body. Feeling more angry and frustrated at himself than ever, Draco tried to move his body, only succeeding in making a small jerk. Losing hope, Draco felt his eyes begin to moisten with frustration. Pathetic.

His jerky movement was enough to wake Harry up however. After all, Harry's head was millimeters away from Draco's chest and the Slytherin's movement made Harry spring awake instantly, his eyes only slightly sleepy.

'Draco?' Harry asked, wondering if it was Draco moved.

Feeling a little stupid, Draco once again cursed himself. He needed to stop making the tears fall right this instant.

Harry straightened up, his eyes on Draco's face. 'Draco, are you crying?'

The blond did not think he could talk, and even if he could he wouldn't. His eyes on the the dresser opposite the bed, Draco simply waited glumly for Harry to take action.

Harry guessed that his boyfriend may not be able to talk. This did not make him happy in the slightest, but he opted to help Draco in any way possible. He immediately noticed the weird angle Draco's body has taken on the bed, realizing that his boyfriend must be filling discomfort.

'Draco, here I am going to help you up.' Sitting up gingerly, Harry gave Draco an assuring look before carefully moving his boyfriend in a semi-setting position, Draco's flawless back against the wooden headboard.

Draco blinked his gratitude at Harry before feeling sick very suddenly. Feeling horribly faint, Draco felt the little color his face had drain.

Harry did not fail to notice this. 'Oh Gosh Draco. You better lay down again.' Harry gently but quickly lowered Draco into a horizontal position on the bed, realizing that siting up for Draco meant little blood and oxygen for his brain. Harry also realized that Draco was cold, so he covered the blond beauty with a duvet.

Harry wanted nothing than to make Draco feel warm again. But he didn't know what to do, he could only think of one thing. It was a stupid idea, but Harry's Gryffindor nature made him try it out. 'Erm, Draco I am going to try something.' Very gently, Harry raised Draco's elegant palm, starting to massage it, hoping to get the blood moving.

At first Draco felt mild pain from Harry's actions, but he could not voice this. Just then Harry's movements slowed down to gentle probing and Draco began to gain the feeling back in his hand. The "palm rub" was becoming were sensual and Draco closed his eyes in pleasure, his beaten up pain receptors were taking a break. The brunette now moved to Draco's left hand, massaging all the way up to Draco's pale shoulder.

Just as Draco thought Harry was done, he felt the same tingling pleasurable feeling in his toes; Harry moved to massage his boyfriend's feet. Harry gave Draco a slightly sheepish look, but Draco looked happy, his eyes twinkling, silently saying "I am enjoying your Gryffindor manners."

After about ten minutes, the Gryffindor got up, thinking about what else he could do. 'Would you like anything?' He asked shyly, the silence in the room made him feel a little out of place.

Draco simply stared back at Harry, who thought that meant "yes". Taking out his wand, Harry began conjuring up drinks.

'Water?' he asked, Draco looking at the drink for a moment.

'How about tea?' There was a cup of steaming tea in front of Draco. Harry vanished it immediately however, thinking that Draco would want something less smouldering.

'Pumpkin juice?' A glass of pumpkin juice with ice appeared. Draco looked at it indifferently.

'How about firewhiskey?' Harry asked, smiling at the wide gaze Draco gave him. Harry just laughed.

'Mr. Potter, I hope you do not plan to make my son drink that?'

Harry turned, seeing Narcissa Malfoy at the doorway, her eyebrows raised.

'Of course not, it was just a joke.' Harry mentally smacked himself; did Narcissa have to walk in this exact moment? Harry only hoped that she did not think of him as an alcoholic, or worse - what if Narcissa thought that Harry was trying to make Draco an alcoholic?

Narcissa has graciously decided to skip Harry's explanations, her soft blue eyes were on Draco now. She walked towards her son, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

'Oh Draco, I am so happy you made it out of there alive!' Narcissa took her son's hand, pressing her lips to it. She looked fondly at her son, straightening out the duvet.

Harry just stood there awkwardly, wondering what he should do. He felt as if he was intruding on something, but he did not want to leave the room. He conjured up a glass of icy water again, bringing the cup to Draco's lips. Draco tried to raise his head, but that only made him feel worse. The blond woman gently raised her son's head, letting Harry slowly tip the contents into Draco's dehydrated mouth.

Narcissa stood up suddenly, walking over to the dresser. 'I almost forgot.' She came back to the bed, holding a vial in her hand. 'Draco, you will need to drink this, it is Blood Replenishing Potion. You should be feeling much better with it in a few hours.'

Harry gently propped Draco's head this time, Narcissa guiding the vial between Draco's lips. Draco felt idiotic and helpless, unable to even drink on his own accord. He really hoped the potion would make a difference.

'Your father will be so happy to see that you are awake Draco.' Narcissa finally said, looking at her beloved son.

Draco looked back at his mother with wide eyes, wondering if she was going to expand on Lucius more.

'He is not feeling his best of course, but the damage is not as bad as I thought. I managed to fix his vocal cords, so he should be able to talk momentarily.' This was addressed more to Harry than Draco, although Draco blinked his approval at Lady Malfoy.

Lucius chose this moment to enter the bedroom. He was not wearing the pathetic torn up robes anymore, sporting a comfortable set of silvery robes, evidently Narcissa's creation. The elder Malfoy took in the scene - his very haggard wife, his extremely pale but conscious son and Harry Potter, who wore nothing but a white t-shirt and boxer briefs.

Lucius approached the bed, looking at his son. Pressing on his trachea, Lucius managed to rasp out 'Draco?' shakily, before commencing on a painful coughing fit. Pulling himself together again, Lucius placed his hand on Draco's.

'Now Luc, do not talk too much, your throat needs some time.' Narcissa cooed softly, watching as her husband gave her son an intense look.

Lucius ignored her, his eyes still on Draco. He tried to ignore Harry completely, but he knew that his next question would concern The Boy Who Lived directly. Lucius placed his hand on his throat again, managing another painful rasp:

'Draco, it is true?' Lucius took a gulp straightening up, 'Is it true - you and Potter?'

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