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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6
"Fuck me, is that girl ever gorgeous."
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed deeply as his friend continued to salivate over Katherine Potter's arse. The students were outside, enjoying one of the last chances to do so before the long winter set in. It was already too bloody cold, as far as Draco was concerned, if his two jumpers and thick wool robes were any indication. He sat huddled under a tree by the lake, his scarf pulled up as high as possible without looking ridiculous, trying to get through the driest chapter of potions theory ever written. Well…maybe one of the later chapters in the book would be worse, but Draco hadn't gotten there yet. "Comon' Draco, look at her! She's fit enough to pose for Playwizard!" Draco blushed at the implication, but flatly refused to look over at his rival. He was actually quite surprised she hadn't heard Olli's ranting for herself and come over to sock him one; they were certainly sitting close enough.
Too close.
"God, can you imagine her nude? All that milky white skin…and that hair…I wonder if the red goes all the way down? She'd be firm and soft in all the right places…"
Draco finally looked up with the intention of telling his friend to shove off, but the words died on the edge of his lips and his eyes widened in horror. "Olli-"
"Jesus Draco, just take one look at Potter and tell me she's not the hottest piece of arse you ever saw!"
"Harry! You made it!" Kate stood up and ran to her brother, who was currently standing beside a group of Slytherins with a murderous expression on his face.
Oleander Parkinson's complexion lightened six shades and he looked at his friend in desperation. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" he asked quietly. Draco nodded. "Oh shite." Draco shook his head. After all, it had been all over the bloody Prophet that Harry Potter was coming to teach. Olli should have known better than to shoot his mouth off.
"Oh shite it right. Care to stand up? Parkinson, is it?" Harry's tone brooked no argument, and Olli found himself standing and turning to face the seriously brassed off brother of his hearts desire.
Kate rolled her eyes. "Harry, just ignore him. Merlin knows I have."
Harry Potter cut a rather imposing figure standing amidst the group of sixth year students. In the years since he'd been away from Hogwarts, he'd filled out his lanky frame with sleek, solid muscle. Just because he was a research student didn't mean he'd spent the last five years in and out of libraries. One research assignment had had him trekking through the Himalayas looking for an ancient document on a particular Asian curse. The results of his torturously athletic existence were more than evident, and the aging he'd done in the past few years had turned his soft baby face into the hardened face of a man, complete with a decent five o'clock shadow that, combined with his hair, gave him a rugged, dangerous appeal. Harry stood several inches taller than Oleander Parkinson, the young man who thought his vocalizations of his fantasies with Harry's own sister to be more than appropriate for an afternoon study session. Harry had heard him ranting and raving as soon as he'd come up the pass. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed. "Kate, as much as you don't seem to mind this ingrate's disgusting appraisal of you, I do mind." Reflexively, Harry began to grind his teeth, a habit he'd picked up in his youth when he became angry.
"Look, Potter-" Oleander began.
"That's Professor Potter, Mr. Parkinson," Harry interrupted, anger gleaming heavily in his emerald eyes. "That'll be twenty points from Slytherin for lack of respect for your colleague-and if I ever hear such disrespect from your mouth again, be it concerning Kate or anyone else, I'll make sure that you never speak again, am I perfectly clear?"
Parkinson stammered, "Yes sir," before quickly gathering his books and heading back to the castle at a run.
"Merlin, Harry. You do take to professor-speak fast!" Kate grinned cheekily, taking her books from a fellow Ravenclaw as her own group prepared to head inside.
Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you let him get away with talking about you like that. It's disgusting. Now, if I'd have walked up and heard him talking about how lovely your smile was, maybe…"
"Oh Harry, you're so old fashioned, you silly Slytherin." She patted him on the head patronizingly.
"A bit more respect, Kate?" Harry moved away from the pawing girl. "Speaking of Slytherins…" Draco had been silent until that moment, staring off into space with a severely blank expression that caused Harry a touch of worry. "Are you alight, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco blinked and stirred, his eyes widening as a deep blush stole over his cheeks. "Ye-yes." He stood quickly; too quickly it seemed, as all the blood went straight to his head. He knew he was going to fall, but he certainly didn't expect the strong pair of arms around him that kept him from hitting the ground. His blush deepened.
Harry looked down at the boy in his arms and felt the wave of pity return. Merlin but he was small, and he was currently trembling with a ferocity that concerned the mediwizard. "You're sure you're alright?"
Draco pulled out of Harry's arms and straightened his robes with shaky hands. "Yes sir, I'm fine." He stared at the ground, refusing to meet the concerned faces of those around him. Harry bent down and picked up the forgotten potions book, handing it to the young Malfoy. Draco took it gratefully. "Thank you. I'll just go inside now."
Harry frowned but didn't object, though his eyes never left the boy's slight figure until he disappeared over the ridge. Harry was surprised. Though Draco was small, he still showed very little evidence of the physical condition described in his file. Harry had expected the younger Malfoy to be little more than a walking corpse, but he looked to be reasonably healthy. Glamour charms perhaps? Or maybe whatever potions he was taking were stronger in their revitalization properties that Lucius Malfoy had led on. Regardless, the situation was growing more confusing and complicated with each new piece of information, and Harry didn't like it one bit.
"What's up, Harry?" Kate meandered back to her brother after retrieving her own books.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. We'd best get back inside," he glanced at his muggle wristwatch, "it's almost dinner time."
One of Kate's Ravenclaw buddies whispered something about teaching Harry the tempus spell, but Harry ignored him. He was too busy thinking about his charge to care.
xxxx
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry."
Harry smiled at the old headmaster, watching the ancient man with the critical eye of a medic that he hadn't possessed the last time he'd seen him. "Thank you, Albus. I really appreciate this opportunity."
Both men smiled at each other, and Harry was very grateful that Dumbledore hadn't offered him a lemon drop or a cup of tea. He'd also skipped over the obligatory "welcome to Hogwarts" speech and all that babble. Harry had been a student here less than a decade ago, and nothing had changed much in the interim. That meant that Albus wasn't in the mood to placate him, or distract him: Albus wanted to have a chat. Seriously. "Harry, I'm very glad that you were able to accept the position under such short notice. The investigation into Professor Nazareth's untimely illness hasn't yielded much in the way of results, and I thought it best to warn you outright, so that you can keep yours eyes open for any attempts at your own person."
Harry frowned. "I was under the impression that Professor Nazareth's illness was a result of an accident on his own part in the herbology labs…"
Albus Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That is the story that was fed to the students to circulate. The staff however, has our own suspicions. We don't know what happened, Harry, but I want you to be careful. Lentil Nazareth was an accomplished Auror, and while he's been retired from that profession for many years, he still had his reflexes about him."
Harry nodded. "I promise I'll be careful, Professor."
Albus smiled, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "No matter what you say to me about your house of snakes Harry, they can be dangerous. Just use that Slytherin wit you're famous for, and everything will work out fine."
Harry couldn't help but feel there was more to Albus' message than met the eye. This was punctuated when the elder wizard conjured a file out of thin air and tossed it to him. "Poppy Pomfrey has requested that you be given this information regarding one of the students, Draco Malfoy. She also requested that I set up a system with the portraits to alert you when young Mr. Malfoy finds himself in the infirmary."
Harry blinked. This situation had the potential to get awkward very quickly. How much did Albus know? What should he say? He decided to play dumb. If Albus caught him out, he'd go from there. "Alright, Albus, if Poppy thinks she needs a hand with this patient, I have no problems putting my new skills to use."
Albus pursed his lips, his eyes boring through Harry, making the younger wizard squirm in his seat. "I find it interesting to note that Poppy has never asked for assistance on this or any other case in the past. That being said, I know with your expertise in, what is it, Dark Arts spell mutation, that you're the perfect candidate to assist with Mr. Malfoy's-" Albus looked at his own notes to find the exact description, "mild, yet unknown malady."
Harry gulped. "Well, a new pair of eyes always helps, doesn't it?" He replied with false cheer.
Albus grinned. "That's the attitude to have my boy."
As Harry left the headmasters office, he couldn't help the small shiver that coursed through him. He clutched Draco Malfoy's Hogwarts rap sheet to his chest and wondered if maybe he shouldn't outright ask Albus for help. He was sure he could give enough information away without stepping out of Lucius Malfoy's contract. Albus was a smart man. Surely he'd figure it out? Two lives lay in the balance after all, and Albus was the wisest, most powerful wizard on the planet. However, the illegality of the potential situation shoved those ideas away. Albus Dumbledore was also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Harry had no intentions of going to Azkaban for signing Lucius Malfoy's contract.
xxxx
Draco shuddered as he pulled on his cock. He could feel the rising arousal that felt like a literal punch in the gut, but for some reason, he couldn't make himself hard. No matter how rough he stroked. He wanted to come, desperately. He could only remember feeling his hot and bothered once before, back in second year when Quality Quidditch had printed the issue with Harry on the cover, and he'd been able to come then. It had felt so good…But since he hadn't ever had an erection since, he'd never felt the need to wank.
He wanted to now though. Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, and he smelled fantastic.
He could feel the tears of frustration at the edges of his eyes. He felt so hot, like his entire body was on fire, but he couldn't do anything about it.
YouwillnotcryYouwillnotcryYouwillnotcry
Not even the family mantra could stop the hot tears from falling as he finally gave up, his limp penis falling between his legs pathetically. He buried his face in his pillow and tried to swallow his sobs.
Harry had held him. Caught him from falling, even. Draco couldn't get over the man's scent. It had followed him all day long, tormenting him…
He tensed when he heard the dormitory door open and the clunking sounds of his dorm mates filled the room. "You sleepin' yet Draco?" Olli all but shouted as he collapsed on his own bed.
Draco didn't answer.
"Of course he's not sleeping," Alexander Nott whispered maliciously. "His favorite wank fantasy is back at school. He's probably in there fucking himself or something."
Draco whimpered.
"HA!" Nott creid victoriously. "I knew it! And the dumb cunt didn't even think to cast a silencing charm. You enjoying yourself, Malfoy? I bet you are!" He gave a fake hysterical laugh, and turned his voice up a notch in his best impression of Draco's soft lilt: "Oh, Harry. Please…I want you to fuck me with your big, hard dick! Oh! Yeah! Put it in my ass now!" He made a crude humping motion while smacking his own ass. "Harder!"
"Shut the fuck up, Nott!" Olli roared, rising from his own bed and throwing a well-earned punch at Nott's nose. The smaller boy hit the floor, staining the carpet as a thick rush of crimson blood erupted from the damaged orifice.
"Owwww. Fuck, Parkinson! You broke my fuckin' nose! I'm gonna kill you!" He began to cry as he slowly picked himself up, his hands covering his face but doing little to stop the blood from flowing. Someone threw him a t-shirt which he hastily attached to his nose for absorption.
"Best get to the infirmary now, Nott. Before the crook becomes permanent." Olli was already walking over to Draco's closed curtains, massaging his right fingers and fighting down his own urge to whine. "Draco, are you okay in there?"
"Yes." Draco's head emerged from the emerald green coverings, eager to see Nott's retreating back. "Did you really hit him?" He wiped at his puffy red eyes, trying to look as casual as possible.
"Course I did. That fucker had it coming. He shouldn't be saying things like that about you." Truthfully, Olli felt guilty that his rumors had been taken so far.
Draco smiled weakly. "Its okay Olli, I don't really care." He bit his lip, staring at the floor. "I think I'm going to try and sleep now." He disappeared back behind the curtains. "Goodnight."
"G'night Draco," Olli meandered back to his own bed, sitting on the edge of it while ignoring the goings on of the other boys in the room. He looked over at Draco's closed curtains, his brow clinched together painfully. That boy was a mystery, really. Later, when everyone was tucked into bed, and the lights had long since been put out, he sat up with a start. Smiling, he whispered in the direction he knew Draco's bed to be. "Draco, no matter what anyone else says. Potter would be good to you." He settled back into bed, sleep finally claiming him.
In his own bed, Draco stared up at the canopy, eyes wide and puffy. "I know." He whispered. He never found sleep though.
xxxx
The bottle of muggle scotch Minerva had given him upon arrival was going down nicely. He'd certainly needed a drink about enduring dinner in the Great Hall. So much noise. He'd forgotten the noise. He shuffled over to his desk and slumped into the well-worn chair gratefully, swirling his glass of liquor while he licked his teeth.
Tomorrow he would be a teacher.
The thought still scared him to death.
He dropped the glass gracelessly on the desk, some of its contents riding the edge and spilling over onto the parchment underneath. Draco's Hogwarts file. Harry yawned and picked it up. He really didn't see much point in reading it, especially after the novel of information Lucius had given him to consume. If the best healers in the world hadn't noted anything of interest, why would Poppy's findings be any different? Besides, he was tired.
He tossed it back on the desk and stood. He'd look over it later. Right now, it was time to go to bed.
Sleep was easy coming, but his dreams proved to be quite stressful. When he awoke in the wee hours of morning, he could swear there had been a body in his arms, trembling viciously and whimpering softly.
He didn't have to think hard about who it might be.
xxxx