Chapter Four: Matchmaker Pansy

The first coherent thought that crossed Harry's mind when he woke up was I feel miserable. He opened his eyes slowly, suppressing the urge to groan at the intense pain in his head. He realized there was someone sitting in the chair next to his bed. He turned his head slightly to the side and his gaze locked onto a pair of bright silver eyes. What pretty eyes crossed his still-groggy brain, then he frowned, puzzled. He was beginning to pull things together and he realized he didn't know these eyes. Hermione had brown eyes. Ron, Ginny, and Dumbledore all had eyes of varying shades of blue. Who did he know that had gray eyes? His brain cleared a little more and he was able to take in the person that was sitting next to him.

"Malfoy?" he mumbled, sounding as shocked as a person can when stuttering sleepily.

Malfoy smiled a half-smile. "The one and the only. Here, you need to take these," he said, holding out a small, white plastic cap with two white pills on it and a glass of water. Harry looked at him suspiciously and Malfoy's smile disappeared. "Look, Potter, Pomfrey told me to give these to you when you woke up. It's not poison; it's some Muggle medicine called ibuprofen or something."

"Ibuprofen?" Harry asked. He, of course, knew what ibuprofen was, and he desperately wanted his head to stop pounding. And besides, Malfoy was a Pureblood, how would he know what ibuprofen was unless he was telling the truth? Harry popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of water. It wasn't until the water touched his dry tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. He drained the rest of the cup in one gulp then cast a shy look at Malfoy, who gave him another half-smile and filled his glass again. This cup he drank more slowly, savoring the cool liquid against his mouth and throat. After he was finished he gave Malfoy, who was studiously avoiding his eyes, a long, calculating look. "Thank you," he said finally.

"You're welcome. I'll go tell Pomfrey that you're awake," he said, and then he was gone, leaving Harry deep in thought. The Malfoy he'd seen just then had been very different from the arrogant, selfish git he had known to be Malfoy. Had he possibly changed that much? Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess. My head is killing me, but I just took some ibuprofen that Malfoy gave me, so it should be better in a couple of minutes." He gave her a quick look to see if she seemed surprised that Malfoy had given him medicine, but she just nodded.

"Good. You should be all better by tomorrow. Next time, Mr. Potter," she said, giving him a severe look, "you should come to me if you begin feeling unwell instead of waiting until it gets severe. You're lucky Mr. Malfoy found you."

"Yes, ma'am. Um... what about Malfoy?"

"He found you unconscious in the hall and carried you down here."

"He carried me?"

"Yes, he did. Then he wiped you down with cool water to help lower your temperature." Harry glanced down at his bare chest and wondered at the blush that heated his cheeks. He was a boy; Malfoy was a boy—what was there to be embarrassed about? Harry decided that the heat in his cheeks must be left over from his fever. "In fact," Madam Pomfrey continued, "Mr. Malfoy slept in the bed next to yours all night, and when he woke up this morning he kept an eye on you for me, so that I could take care of my other patients and not have to worry about getting you medicine as soon as you woke up."

Harry was speechless. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Why what, Mr. Potter?"

"Why did Malfoy do all of that for me?" Madam Pomfrey gave him an odd look.

"Mr. Malfoy was very concerned about your health. He tried his best to make you more comfortable. That's what friends do, Mr. Potter.

Boy, was Madam Pomfrey out of the loop. Harry didn't bother trying to explain to her that he and Malfoy weren't friends. He swung his legs out of bed and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?"

"Um... class?"

"I think not. You need a full day of rest, at the very least."

"But..."

She held up a hand to silence his protests. "If you don't give this virus twenty-four hours to get out of your system then you will still be contagious. Then you may spread it to anyone with Muggle blood, like your friend Miss Granger." That shut him up and Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Now, I'll go get you some chicken noodle soup and crackers and we'll see if it will sit in your stomach without any problems." She bustled out past the curtain and Harry sighed. Glancing down at his bare chest, he got out of bed, wondering where his shirt had gone off to. He found it folded neatly next to the chair beside his bed, and he pulled it back on over his head. Once he was dressed again, he noticed that there was a small rectangle of folded sliver fabric that must have been hidden beneath his shirt. He had almost forgotten completely about his invisibility cloak. When he bent down to pick it up, he noticed that there was a small scrap of parchment resting on top of the cloth. Examining it, he saw that it was a note written in curly, precise handwriting that said:

I thought this might belong to you.

D.M.

Malfoy had found his invisibility cloak and, instead of stealing it or crowing about knowing how Harry had always gotten away with so much, he had simply folded it and put it in a place where Harry could easily find it but no one else would see it. What was Malfoy's game? Harry didn't know what Malfoy had up his sleeve, but he planned to find out.

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After leaving the infirmary, Draco headed down the Great Hall for lunch. As soon as he entered the door he was hit by a solid blur of pink.

"Merlin, Pansy," he gasped. "Get off me!" Pansy Parkinson released him from the stranglehold she'd had on him and stepped back.

"Sorry, Draco, but dammit, don't scare me like that! I couldn't find you anywhere! I was afraid they had gotten you." Draco didn't have to ask who she meant by they. Both of them knew that the Dark Lord would eventually get impatient with trying to sway him to his side, and sooner or later he would change his orders to "kill on sight".

"Yeah, sorry about that. I spent all night in the infirmary with Potter." A smile curled the edge of his lips, anticipating her reaction to such an outrageous statement.

Sure enough. "You what?" she shrieked.

"It's a long story." Pansy raised an eyebrow, saying clearly in that simple gesture that he better spill, and quickly.

Draco explained. After he finished he paused for a moment, and then couldn't hold it in anymore. "My God, Pansy, have you seen Potter close up this year?"

"No, why?"

"Because he looks bloody amazing, that's why. I don't know how any person can change that much over the course of three months."

"Draco...?" Pansy asked carefully.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like Potter?"

"Of course I don't like Potter; we've hated each other for seven years. But yeah, I think I might have the teeniest little crush on him," he admitted, blushing slightly.

"Really, Draco? That's incredible! When was the last time you were actually attracted to someone?" Draco got a funny look on his face, and Pansy paused. "This isn't a new thing, is it?"

Draco looked startled. "Of course it is! I mean, I couldn't have really been attracted to Potter for all these years now... could I?" Draco looked unsure for a second, then shrugged it off. "Come on, let's go get some lunch before it's all gone. I'm starving!" Pansy watched her best friend shovel down food, then glanced to the empty spot at the Gryffindor table where Potter usually sat. Unless Potter was a real bastard, he had to be grateful for what Draco had done for him. And if she could only get them together... She wasn't as surprised as Draco seemed to be that he was attracted to Potter. And unless she missed her guess, which she doubted, Potter felt the same way. Unfortunately, she knew Potter was way too proud to approach Draco on his own. She would just have to... push him along a bit.

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Harry slumped grumpily on the infirmary bed, bored out of his mind. It was after dinner now and Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had already come by, visited, and left. He had nothing else to keep him occupied until the crazy nurse finally let him go, and only God knew when that would be. He saw the curtain move as someone shoved it aside to enter. Great, Pomfrey was back, probably to shove something else down his throat. He swore the woman enjoyed treating him with Muggle medince. He opened his mouth to start complaining to her again, then stopped with his jaw still hanging.

"Parkinson?" The Slytherin girl sneered, enjoying his shocked expression. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came by to see how you were doing," she said sweetly. Harry snorted. "Hey, listen," she, began more seriously, "I need to talk to you."

"About what?" Harry asked nervously. This was so surreal. First Malfoy, now Parkinson.

"Draco told me what he did for you. Now, are you really the insensitive, selfish bastard I pegged you for, or are you going to prove me wrong by thanking him like a decent human being?" Harry opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He really should thank Malfoy. He nodded and Parkinson actually smiled at him.

"Good. Tomorrow night," she said, then started to leave.

"Wait, what's tomorrow night?" he asked, feeling distinctly as though he had been tricked into something.

"That's when you're going to thank Draco. He has the Head room in the Slytherin dungeons."

"Why does it matter when or where I do it?" Harry demanded. Parkinson sighed and sat down on the chair next to his bed.

"Because Draco is lonely," she said softly.

"Lonely?" Harry asked, surprised. Of all the adjectives he had ever applied to Malfoy lonely had never been one of them, but Parkinson nodded sadly, then looked at him for a moment.

"Potter, if you tell Draco I told you this I will made sure you suffer a slow, horrible death, got it? But you need to understand." Harry nodded. "At the end of last school year, Draco refused the Dark Mark."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, now stop interrupting. I renounced my allegiance to the Dark Lord at the same time," she ignored another surprised raising of eyebrows from Harry, "but Draco and I are a completely different story. The Dark Lord didn't really care that I had left, but he had had high hopes for Draco—and the Dark Lord doesn't like to be disappointed. Everyone who Draco has ever considered a friend turned their backs on him, except for me, of course. His father disowned him and cut him off from the family funds. Dumbledore gave him the Head Boy position so that he can have a room to himself and doesn't have to worry about his safety while he sleeps."

"Well, that explains that. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how Malfoy scored the Head Boy position, but that makes more sense." A look from Parkinson reminded him whom he was talking to, and he wisely shut up.

"So, will you go tomorrow?" she asked him. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, I'll go."

"Just make sure you go with an open mind. Draco could really use a friend right now."

Harry nodded again, but he wasn't going to guarantee to her that he and Malfoy would be best buds after one conversation. Come on, that was expecting a bit much. Wasn't it?