Reaching Maturity

Disclaimer: see previous

A/N: I am not a medical encyclopaedia. I am a second-year occupational therapy student. We don't do medical procedures and suchlike that the nurses do. Therefore I am no expert on illnesses so don't bother flaming because they will simply be ignored.

A/N 2: I had intended to post this on Christmas Day. Unfortunately my computer has decided to not like me and I've been struggling to get into my e-mail and several other sites. I've also had my grandmother peering over my shoulder whenever I'm on the computer since Christmas Eve (she, Grandad and one of her sisters went home today, so privacy reigns again in this house!!) – oddly enough, I did not want her watch me post. So this is slightly later than intended, I'm afraid – but it is here!!

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Chapter 9: Back to Lessons Again

The start of term and the journey back to school on January 2nd couldn't have come too soon for Draco. He was silent on the journey to King's Cross, and slept fitfully on the Hogwarts Express. He was hot and yet he was shivering violently and sweating. The swaying motion of the train did nothing to ease the relentless feelings of nausea, and the headache that he was suffering from made him feel as though his head would explode. He found it impossible to get comfortable, and longed to be able to lie down in a nice, soft bed.

McGonagall met the returning students in the Entrance Hall when they arrived back at school. Her sharp eyes swept the gathered students (some of whom were rather wet, courtesy of water balloons thrown at them by Peeves) before she dismissed them, casting a drying spell on the clothes of the wet ones. She caught Draco before he moved from the pillar he was leaning against for support. "Malfoy, come with me. You're ill," she said briskly. She was concerned when he didn't argue, but then, he was undeniably ill. She had seen the too-bright eyes, the burning cheeks contrasting with the too-pale face, and the perspiration glistening on his forehead. He was shivering and was unsteady on his feet.

As she reached him, she could feel the heat radiating from him and she gently placed a supportive arm around his waist. He stumbled down the steps, allowing her to lead him to the hospital wing. It was a slow journey, but they eventually arrived. Madam Pomfrey immediately began clucking with concern as she bustled up. "What have you been up to?" she asked as McGonagall helped him to sit on the nearby bed.

"Out i-in the s-s-snow," Draco whispered through chattering teeth, suddenly feeling unbearably cold again. He hunched over, head dropped, arms wrapped tightly around his thin, shivering body.

Madam Pomfrey tutted as only she could. "Seventeen years old and you still go outside in weather like that without wrapping up properly. I don't know." She shook her head. "We're going to get you into some nice warm clothes and then you can sleep. Does that sound good?"

He nodded briefly, then winced as the movement jarred his already pounding head, unable to prevent a small moan from escaping his lips. He allowed himself to be undressed, too weak to put up a fight or to even care.

As she removed Draco's school shirt and helped him into a warm pyjama top, her eyes widened and she caught McGonagall's eye. The Transfiguration teacher nodded briefly – they had both seen the bruises of varying stages of healing spread across Draco's back. McGonagall set her mouth grimly.

Draco was soon curled up under the warm covers, dozing feverishly, having been persuaded by Pomfrey to take various medicines (all of which, had, as usual, tasted absolutely foul). Pomfrey placed a cold, wet cloth on his forehead. "I don't like those injuries, Minerva."

"Nor do I. Lucius Malfoy has a lot to answer for," McGonagall muttered darkly. She inclined her head towards Draco. "He mustn't know we know. Not yet."

"With a troubled mind – which doubtless he has – young Mr. Malfoy won't be making a fast recovery."

"I know what he's like, but nobody deserves to be treated like that – and certainly not by their own father," replied McGonagall tersely, barely concealing her fury. "Mind you, he's changed this year. I could have sworn I saw him and Harry Potter being civil to each other not so long ago. And there's still no sign of his mother, poor child."

Pomfrey nodded, placing cooling packs around Draco's wrists in an effort to bring down his worryingly high temperature, or at the very least prevent it from rising further. He was tossing and turning, making Pomfrey's task far harder than it would otherwise have been, and he was mumbling incoherently

He flung his arms out, perhaps in an attempt to defend himself from some unknown enemy. McGonagall caught them and his eyes fluttered open, though they retained their glazed, unfocused, glassy look. "Won't do it," he muttered. "Not joining. Isn't right."

The Transfiguration teacher sat down beside him on the bed and carefully put her arms round him as he started crying, drawing him into a hug. He stiffened and pulled away, clearly unused to the action from anyone. The most his mother would do was sit beside him; she never actually touched him. The only time his father ever touched him was when he hit him. He buried himself deep under the covers, away from everyone. McGonagall got to her feet. "I'm going to dinner," she told Pomfrey. "I'll come back and see how he's doing before I go to bed."

"I'm not letting anyone in to see him; he's too ill. If he's still this bad in the morning, I'm going to have to send for Dr. Jenner," Pomfrey told her, anxiety clear in her voice and her face. "I've dealt with countless Quidditch injuries, Gilderoy Lockhart's meddling, Hagrid's creatures exploding on students, Basilisks, dragon burns, werewolf-related afflictions…It's just so much harder when there are emotional complications." She dimmed the lights with a spell and went back into her office, from where she could still watch Draco. McGonagall left.

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"Another Death Eater? Inside Hogwarts?" Hermione hissed incredulously later that evening in the Gryffindor common room. She, Harry and Ron were huddled in a corner, and Harry was filling her and Ron in on his meeting with Sirius.

"Are you sure he didn't mean Snape?" asked Ron sceptically. "I mean, we know he was one, and technically still is…"

Harry shook his head. "Sirius knows I know about Snape. If it was him, he wouldn't bother telling me. No, it has to be someone else."

"Chances are, it's a Slytherin," Hermione reasoned.

"Malfoy," said Ron immediately. "It has to be. We all know what his father's like, and he's just a miniature Lucius Malfoy."

"No. Not Malfoy," Harry replied firmly. "It's not him."

Ron stared at him as though he'd suddenly grown another head. "But – but he's practically said he's going to be a Death Eater!" he spluttered incredulously. "What makes you, of all people, say that?"

Harry paused. This could be awkward if he wasn't going to break the other boy's confidence and tell his friends about the truce between them. "I just don't think it's him," he said finally. "It's just a feeling I have – and he's been acting really differently this year, as well."

"But his father's You-Know-Who's right-hand man!"

"Can we not waste the evening talking about Malfoy?" requested Hermione sharply. "We have to see him in lessons often enough as it is, without spending the rest of the time talking about him as well!"

Harry silently thanked her and turned the conversation around to Quidditch – Slytherin were due to play Hufflepuff in a fortnight. It was a safe topic; on that Harry and Ron could discuss for hours. "You know, Ron, it's pretty amazing that Hufflepuff actually won a game," he commented. Hufflepuff had had a torrid couple of years, and this year had been playing absolutely dreadfully. "I wouldn't have thought the current team had it in them."

Ron nodded. "I just hope they can do us a he favour and thump Slytherin for us."

Harry did some quick calculations in his head and then pulled a face. "But if they win by more than two hundred and twenty, they go ahead of us."

"That's not good! Especially Hufflepuff, of all the houses!"

Harry nodded, groaning. "Tell me about it. I think we're going to have to pray for a low-scoring game. I don't really care who wins, as long as neither of them get too many points."

"Such a pity Malfoy didn't get the Snitch when we played them!" gloated Ron gleefully. "Slytherin are last at the moment – and I love it!"

"Don't forget they've only played one game, and Hufflepuff and ourselves have played two," Hermione reminded him. "They could easily overtake us."

They sat in silence for a while – until they suddenly found themselves getting wet. Ron looked up and saw a small black cloud steadily raining on them. "What the…?" He looked around wildly and spotted Seamus grinning, wand pointed in their direction. "What the hell did you do?" he spluttered.

"Mood Charms – remember them?" inquired Seamus cheekily. "I thought you looked a bit mournful; I was right, wasn't I?"

"We'll probably all get pneumonia now!"

"Rubbish!" Hermione scoffed, standing up. "All we have to do is get changed into some dry clothes immediately, and ignore these childish people." She stalked off brusquely with her dignified-Head-Girl air about her. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at each other before heading up to their own dormitory. Mood Charms, which they'd learned in their third year as a follow-up to Cheering Charms, could be a source of great amusement – when the spell was cast, the weather most appropriate to their current mood hovered above their head.

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Lessons began the next day. Transfiguration passed uneventfully – the class didn't dare to upset McGonagall, who was looking angry, anxious and tired. Nobody wanted a detention. Following the lesson, the Gryffindors hurried to Defence Against the Dark Arts and were greeted cheerfully by Lupin (a bit too cheerfully for Harry's liking – teachers being cheerful was always something to be worried about). Moments later the Slytherins arrived and Lupin surveyed the room. "All here…except for Mr. Malfoy. Right, books away. You've got that test I promised you at the end of last term, so I hope you've revised."

So that's why he was looking so cheerful, Harry thought to himself mutinously. Much as he liked Lupin, seeing him obviously relishing watching them suffer was crossing the line.

"You'll find quills with Anti-Cheating Spells on your desks, so put your own away; you won't need them. Please don't try to use your own. Pass the papers back, those of you in the front." He handed a pile of papers to the person sitting at the front of each row, then glanced at the clock. "You have forty minutes. Begin."

The only sounds that could be heard after this pronouncement were the ticking of the clock (which seemed far too loud and far too slow), the frantic scratching of quills on parchment and the occasional groan.

Eventually Lupin announced ten minutes to go, then five minutes, and then it was the end of the test. Lupin collected in the papers and answer scripts. "They'll be marked in time for your next lesson. Dismissed."

The students raced for the door and their next lesson, although Harry did not join them and instead approached Lupin's desk. "Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "What's wrong with Malfoy? How comes he wasn't in the lesson? Is he ill?"

Lupin nodded. "Probably a chest infection, coupled with a rather unpleasant fever."

"So he's in the hospital wing?"

"You're awfully concerned," observed Lupin mildly.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "We – er – we've kind of called a truce."

"I did wonder. Now be off with you; I don't want to be held responsible for you being late to a lesson."

"Yes, sir." And he left.

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"They can't send Jenner – apparently he's unavailable, so they'll be sending Lister instead," Pomfrey informed McGonagall as she read the letter she held in her hand. "Lister won't be able to come until tomorrow morning at the earliest. Honestly. These people have no idea how ill this poor child is!"

McGonagall arched one eyebrow at Pomfrey's reference to Draco Malfoy, eighteen in two months' time, as a 'child'. She exchanged looks with Snape, who had just arrived and taken his place by the nearby window. "I would hardly call him a child, Poppy," she said crisply.

"Hmph." Pomfrey snorted derisively. "While he is a student at this school, under my care, I shall call him what I please."

"Of course, Poppy, of course," murmured Snape. Pomfrey glared at him as she placed fresh cooling packs around Draco's wrists.

"How is he?" inquired Snape, glancing out of the window at the cold January twilight.

Pomfrey exchanged looks with McGonagall. "His temperature's higher than when Minerva brought him to me yesterday evening. He's delirious. Keeps muttering all sorts of odd things."

"Like what?" asked Snape sharply.

"That he 'won't go over' and that he 'won't do it'. Don't think he knows what he's talking about. Nonsense, most likely, from bad dreams," answered Pomfrey briskly. "And now the Community Healers' office is giving me a lot of hassle that, quite frankly, I really don't need. Jenner's apparently away and they're sending Lister, but he can't come until tomorrow at the absolute earliest." She practically spat out the last three words, so annoyed was she. "I've not seen a child this ill for a long time." She shook her head anxiously as she watched Draco's restless tossing in the bed as he struggled to get comfortable, mumbling incoherently.

"Have you sent for his father?" asked Snape.

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Pomfrey in horror. "That would surely only serve to aggravate the child's distress."

Snape looked taken aback. "Why? Is there something that I should know, Poppy? He is in my house, after all."

"Lucius has been hitting him. We found bruises all over his body," McGonagall informed him tersely. "I never liked that little –" She called Lucius Malfoy an extremely rude name that made the other staff members look at her incredulously and caused Poppy to gasp, "Minerva!"

Snape's face darkened considerably. If one of Seamus' Mood Charms had been hovering above him, there would have been a full-scale thunderstorm taking place. "That man will have a lot to answer for." He glanced up at McGonagall. "You go, Minerva. I'll take over now." He watched as the Deputy Headmistress left the ward and he leaned back against the wall.

A couple of minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Come in," called Pomfrey softly, not wanting to disturb Draco.

Hesitantly, Harry poked his head around the door – and froze when he saw Snape standing there. He gulped; he hadn't expected the Head of Slytherin to be standing there.

"Potter? Not planning on sabotaging my Seeker, are you?" inquired Snape coolly, obsidian eyes glittering.

Harry was about to respond when Madam Pomfrey bustled up. "Mr. Malfoy will not be playing Quidditch at all in the near future!" she snapped. "And if he gets much worse, Professor, you won't have a Seeker!"

Harry stared at her in shock. "That – that bad?" he stammered.

Pomfrey nodded curtly. "You two keep the noise down. I'll be in my office." She bustled off again.

Snape sat down and indicated that Harry should do so. "I understand that you and Mr. Malfoy have called a…truce, Potter. Is that correct?"

"How do you know?" demanded Harry.

"Lupin. I must say it's interesting; very interesting."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware of Snape's piercing gaze on him, unsure whether the teacher was being sarcastic or not. "Malfoy called the truce."

Snape stood. "I shall see you in Potions, Potter." He turned to a Potions journal that he had pulled out of his pocket. Harry took that as his cue to leave, and he did so gratefully, glad to be out of Snape's unnerving presence.

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Lister arrived early the next morning, and was greeted wearily by Madam Pomfrey. "Thank goodness you're here at last!" she cried in relief.

"How is he?" asked the Healer as he followed Pomfrey to Draco's bed.

"About the same as when I sent the letter. Perhaps ever so slightly better, although it's hard to tell. He's certainly more aware of things, at any rate."

McGonagall glanced up briefly as Pomfrey and Lister entered. She was sitting on the bed, arms around Draco as he shook, partly from the fever and partly because he was crying. "Mr. Malfoy, the doctor's here," she told him gently.

Draco was vaguely aware of McGonagall lying him back down on the bedsheets, twisted and damp with sweat. His head felt ready to explode, as though there were red-hot hammers inside his skull. On top of that, he felt extremely sick and was unable to stop the constant shivering. He was desperately hot and, at this point in time, didn't think things could possibly get any worse. In his fever-driven dreams, he'd been having constant nightmares of his father forcing him to join Voldemort, with threats of horrific torture and death if he disobeyed. Then there was the dark, faceless, cloaked figure that tortured him and his mother relentlessly. He could hear his mother screaming, but wherever he looked, he was unable to see her.

Somehow he managed to answer Lister's questions. After that, he was carried to a large, comfortable armchair by a fire while his bed was changed. Someone – Madam Pomfrey? – washed the sweat from his clammy skin and helped him into fresh, clean pyjamas before he was carried back to bed. The clean cotton sheets were smooth and unwrinkled, and wonderfully cool. He didn't fight sleep (assisted, he suspected, by some kind of potion slipped into his water) and he drifted into another feverish sleep, full of nightmares.

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TBC

Author thanks:

Actionmaster

Samhaincat: 'poor Draco' indeed; my plot to win him the sympathy vote is succeeding! Yay!

Lucidity: Draco's health is going to become a significant issue…

The Lady Quotes: but it won't be ending for a good while yet – my estimate is about 5 months or so. And yes, poor Draco isn't well at all!!

Evanescent Dawn: you give me a long review, I give you a long reply! I love your reviews! We did not have a white Christmas; not surprising, given my close proximity to the urban heat island that is London. Some of my friends in Yorkshire and Lancashire had snow, though. Draco has no broken bones, I am pleased to report.

I didn't know it was humanly possible for Pettigrew to get a girlfriend either – but then, they said the Titanic would never sink. Besides which, I know far more about Marie-Jeanne than you. Do you honestly think I would make Snape "the" Death Eater in the school? There are a few small, subtle hints in the story – but there are very few. Regarding Dumbledore doing something, I'm not so sure. He's definitely pro-Gryffindor and distinctly anti-Slytherin, whatever he says to Harry in earlier books; have you read my fic "Damage Done"? That should give you quite a few clues as to my line of thinking on this issue. I was a freak at school for 7 years and not one of the 'acceptable' people, so I know what it must be like for the Slytherins.

'Vicissitudes' is a very posh word for 'changes'. You speculated on its origins – That would be the French. Latin-based, of course. Inventors of mayonnaise. (Actually, in all honesty, I haven't a clue about its origins).

Ruperts-a-Honey: (blushes) Really glad you're enjoying it! Marie-Jeanne may yet get further mentions…

A Monkey's Harp: thanks for the 'hug'; it does make me feel better. ;) I completely agree with you about Lucius; he's just 100 evil!! (Well, maybe 99). Do you really think I'm going to tell you in advance if Draco's going to find his mother???

Atana: (blushes) praise from an outstanding author such as yourself – I feel honoured. I agree with you on the Lucius issue.

Riob: Draco's not the world's greatest morning person either, which doesn't help!! I'm generally not too bad, although I'm still more an owl than a lark. Is your house warm yet? (shivers). Pleased you liked the description; it's how I imagine the Manor to be. Not telling you what's in the storage room!!

Rebell: Yay! Another new reviewer! (blushes Weasley-hair-red from praise). You may well be on the right tracks about the visitors to the Manor – the hints are carefully selected and I wanted my readers to be able to guess this – but I shall neither confirm nor deny!! The Manor is sort of based on classic images of big scary haunted houses.

AshleyPorter: keep the Draco-sympathy coming!!