Title: legatum de maladie
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.
xxxx
8
Rhoswen Rainwater was no stupid twit of a girl, despite what anyone said about her. Everyone believed the solitary young girl ought to have been sorted to Ravenclaw for all the time she spent studying or with her nose buried in a book for pleasure.
She knew better, of course.
Her family chose a strategy of precisely implemented neutrality when it came to any sort of politics, and she was no exception to the family rule. Unlike most other pureblooded families, her ancestors had all been sorted evenly among the three Hogwarts houses, and as such, the Rainwater line held no negative stigma towards Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, or Ravenclaws.
They simply chose not to make such a declaration public.
Rhoswen has been raised in prestige, and while she had never wanted for anything, she wasn't what one would deem spoiled. She had been raised in a strict environment that valued discipline and respect above all else. That was why she adhered to the tradition of the virginal hair binding. She was made fun of my pure bloods and muggles alike for her archaic hair twists, but she insisted on keeping them, despite the fact that her parents would never be the wiser while she was away at school. It was a matter of principle. Besides, after wearing them for so long, she was rather fond of them. They were a mark of character, as far as she was concerned, and bugger anyone who thought otherwise. She'd worked hard all her life to keep up with the disciplined regimen her father had instilled in her, and she wasn't one to let a simple fashion faux pas undermine that effort. He had taught her stealth, strategy and intelligence, but he had also taught her humility.
He had been delighted to learn that his eldest child was a Slytherin, and while her mother had suffered an initial bout of displeasure, it had easily been quelled when Lucius Malfoy had come knocking at their door with his wife and their illustrious social influence in tow.
She'd been aghast at the idea of working for Mr. Malfoy, but her parents had bid her to keep her thoughts to herself and do what she was told. She'd watched, devastated, as her beloved parents were blinded by money and power, but she'd also been wise enough to hold her tongue. It had chilled her to the core that even her baby brother had known something was wrong when he'd pulled her aside and whispered that the bad man "felt funny." She'd been more than a little frightened when Lucius Malfoy had made her sign a contract forbidding her to tell a soul what her duties where, all the while wondering what he had to hide while she'd signed away her soul with a shaking hand.
The truth was far too ghastly to think about, but she had little choice when said "duty" was clinging to her in an effort to not fall on his face.
Draco was a very sick boy, but it wasn't his fault.
She cursed Lucius Malfoy while she hauled his son, four years her senior and one stone less, to Poppy's infirmary. She cursed herself when she saw Draco grow a distinct shade of gray while he stumbled on the stairs. She'd delivered the potions successfully over two hundred times. She'd never blundered on the stairs, forgotten, or supplied an incorrect dosage. Why had she ever allowed Alexander Nott to stop her last night? Truthfully, she'd been afraid. Nott had blocked her path and threatened her the way no Slytherin ever threatened one of their own. He spewed contempt for that "faggot" Draco, and had physically shoved her down the short flight of stairs that led back to the Slytherin common room. She'd debated trying again for two hours before she'd fallen asleep at one of the common room tables. Now, she was regretting every decision she'd made in the last two years of her life, and she was only twelve! Draco heaved suddenly, and his breath made a horrendous sound in his chest. "Oh my, Malfoy!" Rhoswen's eyes widened in fright.
"Mm'okay."
"No, you're not. Hold on, we're almost there!"
xxxx
"Merlin!" Poppy stood up from her seat abruptly, over turning a pile of brochures from St. Mungo's on the next Fundraising Gala. She quickly stepped around the mess and took hold of the other half of Draco Malfoy that was rapidly slipping to the floor. "What the devil has happened to him now?"
Rhoswen's eyes darkened and she couldn't help biting her lip. "I didn't administer his potions last night, and I've been unable to find him until just a few minutes ago."
Poppy threw a cursory glance at the infirmary door, her eyes growing wild. "We'll have to get him into the back. Quickly now, before someone comes along!" The two stumbled with the fragile boy between them, finally getting him through the barrier and into the private confines of the secret room in the back. It was used for patients whose situations were most dire. Draco Malfoy certainly qualified.
"I'm so sorry for causing so much grief, Madam. I tried to reach him, surely I did!"
"Hush girl, it's too late to mope over it now. Help me get him undressed and into bed, and be clinical about it. I don't need any love struck little girls in my infirmary!"
"Excuse me for saying so, Madam, but I hardly suppose anyone could be love struck over a walking corpse."
The two shared a grave look before getting to work on the fallen Malfoy heir.
xxxx
Harry stretched liberally in his seat and patted his full stomach appreciatively. "That really hit the spot."
Severus Snape sneered beside him. "Finally earning your keep, I see. I trust the brats didn't wear you out too badly?"
Harry laughed. "No, I survived, but I dare say after tonight I'm going to need a bit of rest."
"Hot date, Potter?" Snape let a small smile slip in Harry's direction, careful to let anyone else see it. Not that they'd believe their eyes if they did.
The younger man shook his head. "I wish. Unfortunately, I'm supervising detention with Mr. Malfoy this evening, and if Minerva is correct, at least the rest of the week if not longer. I don't suppose you know what he did to deserve such a stretch of time?"
Severus' goblet slipped from his fingers, but he was quick to right it before it hit the table and splashed the contents all over the place. "I thought Draco was serving with Filch?"
Harry's eyebrow twitched at his mentor's reaction, but he chose not to mention it. "No, I guess Filch is taking a much deserved vacation, and there was a scheduling conflict. Minerva asked me to oversee Malfoy's detention instead. Do you always call him Draco?"
Snape glared. "He happens to be my godson, so occasionally, the familiarity will slip out. The detention still starts at eight?"
"Yes"
"Walk with me to my chambers."
Harry frowned, but rose with the potions master when bid him to. Severus said nothing until they were a suitable distance into the dungeons. It was safe to talk in snake territory. "I'll get right to the point, since we both know I abhor Dumbledore's runaround." He paused. "I want you to go easy on Draco during detention. I had made arrangements with Filch, but it seems I'll have to re-make them with you. No physical labor. No outdoor assignments, and if you dare keep him any later than eleven o'clock on any given night, you will be hearing from me, is that clear?"
Harry's brain was processing at a mile a minute and he still couldn't keep up. So Snape was in on Draco's condition as well? Now THAT was interesting. "Sure thing Severus, I'll play teacher's pet for you. Don't worry about it."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I mean it, Potter. If you ever want access to my research again, you'll do this for me."
"I mean it too, Severus. I won't over tax Draco Malfoy. I promise."
"I'm glad we understand each other."
Harry cracked a grin as Snape swirled his cloak dramatically and stormed down the corridor. He checked his watch, delighted that it still worked inside Hogwarts' disgustingly powerful wards. He had an hour to kill.
xxxx
Poppy wrung her hands in frustration and gazed desperately at the young man now deeply sedated in the bed. She was now at a complete loss. None of the healer's at St. Mungo's had a clue what they were dealing with when it came to Draco Malfoy, and that was why they hadn't been able to help him.
It had been by accident that she'd stumbled across the answer while cleaning up the leftovers of one of her infirmary guests. There had been a magazine with a front page report on new advancements in the field of Necromancy, and it just so happened that Draco had asked to read it when she'd picked the dusty thing off the floor.
In that instant, her brain had exploded as she'd pieced together a puzzle that had plagued her for eighteen long months.
She'd been scared as hell when Lucius Malfoy had shown up a day later demanding her silence and forcing her to sign a bloody magical contract with a secret keeper complex imbedded into it. On pain of death, he'd said.
She should have shoved that bloody cane up his you know what. Albus surely would have helped. Well, hindsight, they say, is crystal clear, and she was too busy to worry over her own regrets.
She pressed a tender hand over Draco Malfoy's brow, wiping the sweaty hair away gently. She ached to see the boy have a real chance at life, but it seemed that it simply wasn't meant to be. Her contract had allowed her to write down everything she knew and found in her own records, but no one was to be given access to them.
When she'd heard that Harry Potter was coming to teach, she'd suspected that he might just be in the know. Lentil Nazareth's "accident" had been far too convenient. She knew from the letter's she'd received all summer that Lucius was very nervous about the upcoming Halloween. It couldn't possibly be coincidence that one of the leader's in curse related therapy and medicine was now a DADA professor in the same school as Draco when the boy could use those services the most? She didn't think so. So, she'd "arranged" to have a house elf misplace the file on Harry's desk. Since she hadn't shown the file to anyone herself, she'd looped out of the contract. And they said Slytherins were the only ones with wit.
The trouble was, Harry had been at the school for over twenty-four hours and he hadn't yet come charging into the infirmary to demand what the trouble was.
She could certainly use a charging Slytherin with a Gryffindor complex now. Se perked up. There was one sitting across from her, wasn't there? "Rhoswen?"
"Yes, Madam?" The girl looked up tiredly. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she looked in definite need of a pepper-up potion.
Poppy wandered over to her store and retrieved the needed concoction. "Take this, child," she handed over the vial, "and do me a favor. See if you can't make Professor Potter accidentally find his way to the infirmary for no specific reason?"
Rhoswen smiled. "Of course, Madam."
xxxx
Harry smiled as he finished the polishing of the lesson plans for tomorrow's classes. He was feeling quite accomplished, and was finally starting to feel like he might be able to handle the teaching aspect of his job.
This line of thinking inevitably led him to the other aspect of his employment, and the headache that went along with it.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry had been through Hogwarts' restricted section that morning, and had come up with nothing. That didn't mean that there was nothing to be found, but it had been disheartening nonetheless. He sighed, and leaned back into the comfy chair that constantly threatened to swallow him. There had to be something he was missing. Lucius Malfoy had been far too smug…
He suddenly remembered that Poppy Pomfrey had been kind enough to leave a file on Draco's medical history here at the school. He'd just been too damned lazy (stupid) to look it over.
Maybe there was something in that file that might start a new line of thinking? It was certainly worth a try. He just had to find the damn thing.
He was shuffling through the papers on his desk, wondering how'd he'd managed to amass so many of the damned things in one day, when he heard a knock at his chamber door.
"Come in!" He yelled, and then ground his jaw in frustration as the stack he was manhandling fell to the floor and dozens of papers flittered across the floor to find hiding places under the furniture.
All was forgotten when he looked up and saw the figure loitering in his doorway. "Can I help you?"
xxxx