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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2

Draco Malfoy was tired, achy and bitchy. Bloody Potter had screwed everything up again. The Ravenclaw wench had somehow managed to get top marks in potions, despite Draco's tireless efforts to best her in the only subject he had a chance in. He glared wearily at his potions essay, Professor Snape's spidery scrawl bleeding into the parchment, its declaration of "you can do better" beside the meager "excellent" grade poisoning the pride Draco had felt a week ago after finally finishing the two solid weeks worth of research he'd done to get the bloody thing written in the first place.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" Draco's acidic glare moved from his essay to the bane of his academic existence, as she now hovered over his desk anxiously.

Kate furrowed her brows together and snatched Draco's essay from his hands. "Bloody hell! There really is no justice, is there? I know how much work you put into this assignment." Her eyes slipped down the parchment, studiously taking quick notes of the Slytherin boy's research. She whistled low in her throat and looked back up into Draco's sneering gaze. She tossed the essay on his desk casually and reaffirmed her hold on her books, smiling gently. "I'd appeal if I were you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Right, thanks." He rolled up the parchment carefully and gently inserted it into his bag, the small part inside him that was still proud desperate to maintain the crisp edges on the paper. Potter had long since walked away to join her other brainiac friends in the corridor when he finally finished. Draco sniffed and muttered under his breath about stupid bloody Ravenbrains. At least his next lecture was with the Gryffindors. No competition in the brains department there.

"What's up, Draco?" Oleander Parkinson stalked up to the grumbling Prefect, dumping his bag gracelessly on the desk where Draco's used to be. Olli, as his friends called him (much to the displeasure of his family, who insisted such a name was far too plebian for one of such pure birth) stood about a foot taller than Draco, his clothes hanging off his gangly form while he waited to fill out. His dark features stood in sharp contrast to Draco's fey appearance, and given a few years, he'd likely fill out into a vision of rugged masculinity that would leave women (and men) hanging off him in awe. It was with a great deal of persuasion that Draco had finally been convinced that the pug faced girl his parents intended him to marry was Olli's older sister, Pansy. That the two were related was quite the hard pill to swallow, but Draco had eventually conceded the point when he's seen the two bickering as siblings were wont to do.

Still, he often wondered how he could get hell to freeze over so that his parents might alter his binding engagement from Pansy to Olli. Not that he'd ever let anyone know that little desire. "Nothing." He muttered, firing off a belated glare into the now empty corridor.

"She beat you again, did she?" Olli chuckled, picking up his heavy bag and following Draco out of the dungeon classroom. "I wouldn't worry about it, Draco. She's a bloody Ravenclaw, it's what's expected of her. Come to think of it, it's all that's expected of her. I'd like to see her catch a snitch as fast as you can." Draco nodded, but his mind was still clinging to Snape's stinging comments on his essay. "Well," Olli tried. "At least she's hot. It would be awful to lose to a smart, ugly girl."

Draco's eyes snapped to attention and he stopped to glare at his longtime school mate and friend. "Are you insane?" he reached up to check his friends temperature just to be sure. "No sign of fever. Let me make sure I heard you correctly; did you just say Potter was hot? As in, you find her attractive?"

"Close your mouth, Malfoy." Olli snapped. "It's most unbecoming. You mean to say you don't think she's cute?"

"NO!" A light blush stole across Draco's cheeks and he turned away, staring into the crowd of students scrambling to class.

"Ah, yes. That's right. You're saving your admiring glances for my sister, aren't you? Honest and noble Draco, you poor fool." Olli laughed.

"She's not my type." Draco bit out, turning on his heel, even more desperate to get to his next class.

"Well, not everyone fancies red heads. Reminds them too much of the Weasley's, pathetic lot that they are, so I won't blame you. There's just something about her…some kind of fire-"

Draco cut him off. "You'd better not let her brother hear you talking about her like that, or you may never walk again."

Olli hissed sarcastically. "And how exactly is ol' Harry going to find out when he's bloody miles away?"

"Some punk firstie could write him and tell him." Draco offered, slipping through the door into Transfiguration.

"I suppose he'll just come running up here to kick my ass then?" Olli laughed again as he took the seat beside the blonde, rummaging through his bag for the right textbook.

Draco shrugged. "You never know."

xxxx

"I must say, Lucius, that your decision to resurrect your dead son has been most beneficial." Severus Snape hissed sarcastically and watched as his old acquaintance knocked back another shot of whiskey, the fifth since their conversation had started not twenty minutes ago, and arched a sooty eyebrow in response.

"You're treating him well then?" Lucius asked, his perfectly enunciated words giving no hint of his rapidly deteriorating sobriety.

"Only as well as he deserves." Snape ventured, his lips crooking in a sadistic smile as the words left his mouth.

"He's a Malfoy, Severus. He deserves the best." Lucius said tiredly, massaging his brow with his left hand. "You're keeping an eye on him then?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. These next few weeks, before Halloween, they're critical-"

"I know."

Lucius frowned. "Yes, of course you would. Forgive me. I'm-. We're a bit worried."

"I'm certain the spell worked just fine, Lucius, but I'll be watching him closely for any signs. Should anything happen, rest assured that I will do everything in my power to ensure your son's health and safety. Far be it from me to neglect the needs of a Malfoy." Snape ended snippily. The truth of the matter was, watching Lucius' brat son was hardly at the top of his list of priorities. He was a busy man, after all.

"Enough, Severus. I know that this venture has been taxing on you, but you must know that we had no other choice-"

"Yes, yes. I've heard all of this before." The dark man snapped impatiently. "Numerous times. Your lovely wife unable to conceive, the need for an heir, your only choice, etcetera, etcetera . Spare me, please."

Lucius' drunken eyes hardened suddenly within the green flames. "Severus. You do know that you will be well compensated when my son is found to be in good health? I don't want to hear your complaints. My son's life could well be in jeopardy, and you are the only eyes I have in that school."

The Potion's Professor nodded. "Of course Lucius. I'll be in touch." He paused. "I just think it would be wise for you to prepare for the worst. That way, you won't be disappointed."

Lucius growled. "No, I'll just be devastated. Good night, Severus." The light flickered out.

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