Title: legare malade
Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst
Pairing: HP/DM
Rating: M
Summary: AU. There was never a boy who lived, only a boy who died.
Draco Malfoy is ill. Harry Potter is a Healer. Lucius Malfoy is desperate. Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. It's all the property of J.K Rowling, and this story is being written for entertainment purposes only. Not a dime is being made.
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1
Harry James Potter sighed deeply and threw his hands up in the air. His paper on the practical uses of a revised Sectumsempra curse in surgery wasn't going well. Despite having his former Potions Master's notes on the creation of the original curse at hand, and what seemed like fifty thousand other research texts, he simply couldn't find the angle he was looking for. He needed a beer, but more urgently, he needed a smoke. Rising from his cramped desk, he stretched his tired back muscles and scratched at that irritating itch on the nape of his neck that simply wouldn't go away, cursing as he stumbled over a stray pair of boots on his way to the kitchen. His flat was in complete disarray, clothes thrown about everywhere, and a weeks worth of dishes stacked on the counter beside the sink just begging for his attention. But Harry didn't see any of that, as his head was still trying to wrap itself around the problem he'd left in the living room. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, popped it open with ease, and lifted the cold bottle to his lips. It was amazing how clear and simple the world looked after one sip of wheaty, sudsy goodness. Really, it wasn't that big a deal. Not really. Just a paper. It would come eventually. He heard a crash come from the other room and sighed again. A pile of textbooks must've fallen over.
There was really only one thing he could do. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He checked the clock on the far wall and tried to reach for the courage he wasn't so certain he had. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards his tiny fireplace, grinding his teeth as he went.
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Katherine Lily Potter had no response except to laugh as Harry's shaggy head appeared in the common room fireplace. Snickering, she stood up from her comfortable position on the Ravenclaw sofa, and leaned casually against the mantle. "You know how much trouble we'd be in if someone were to find out you had this connection?" She asked rhetorically, examining her pristine nails as she did so.
Her older brother snorted. "You and I both know that everyone and their owl knows about these conversations we have. It's not like this is a new thing." Harry mentally calculated the years that he'd spent chatting with his Godfather through a link just like this one in the Slytherin common room. No, not a new thing at all. Suddenly feeling older than he was, he sighed. "Are you going to help me or what?"
Kate smiled mischievously. "What will you give me if I do?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "My eternal gratitude and respect. Please, Kate?" He picked up a text closest to him, tossing it through the flames. "I know you probably read all of this shite when you were in third year. I've been busting my fuckin' skull over it all weekend, and it doesn't make any sense. Please help me?"
Kate ran a loving hand over the textbook. "Very well" She huffed, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. "Your thesis is still the same?" He nodded. "I'll see what I can do for you and send Percy with it later, ok?"
"Thanks sis."
Kate sighed as Harry's head disappeared from the flames. "Typical Slytherin," she spoke to her friends on the sofa. "Always conning others into doing their work for them."
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