Chapter Four: Fever

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. Literally, I'm broke. So sueing me will be grossly ineffective.

Warnings: Language. Boy kisses. Pain.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! Thanks for following and favoriting! Thanks to Rufescent, DragonLover9865rlassie, Guest, Nyx Calliope, Princess-Warrior 17, hpdC, and Daddy's little crazy bitch!

Sorry this chapter is so late, guys. I have horrible writer's block and it makes it hard to write. This chapter contains some overlap, because it's switching POV's. If you hate it, tell me and I'll make an effort not to do it in the future.

Oh baby, light's on
But your mom's not home
I'm sick of laying down alone, hey
With this fever, fever, yeah
My one and own
I wanna get you alone
Give you fever, fever, yeah

Fever - Adam Lambert

Draco woke groggily, feeling rather out of place, reality having taken on a surreal sheen that made it difficult to discern if he was truly awake or still dreaming.

One moment he'd been in the Hog's Head with Potter – Harry – and the next he was waking up in the infirmary feeling like he'd spent the last few hours whistling through his throat.

Pansy and Blaise hovered over him protectively. For a brief moment, he felt a thrill of disappointment that Potter hadn't stayed with him, but of course not – that would have led to questions, questions they weren't ready to answer.

"Hey," he croaked. He winced at the sound of his own voice.

"Hey," Pansy gave him a smile that was a little too bright to be entirely genuine. "How are you feeling?" Her pug-like features softened into genuine concern, and caring. Good old Pansy, thought Draco warmly.

"Like shit," he admitted. "I probably look it, too – don't I? Oh god, I don't want to know what my hair looks like." His tone was mournful, but the other two Slytherins laughed.

"Draco, just be glad you're alive to worry about your hair," Blaise put in. "They say St. Potter saved your life. Again."

Oh.

That was unexpected, though perhaps it shouldn't have been. His heart warmed a little bit. He wasn't sure if he was more grateful to Potter or more frustrated at owing him yet another life debt.

"So, Draco, is it true?"

He blinked, confused. "I was unconscious. I don't know."

"Not that," Pansy rolled her eyes. "You and St. Potter. You guys are friends now?"

Is that what he said? Draco fought down a wave of disappointment. After all, he and Potter had agreed not to label whatever they were at least until after this date, maybe longer. That Potter called them friends didn't mean he didn't want to be more, just that he was respecting what they'd agreed on until further notice. That said, Draco still couldn't help being the tiniest bit disappointed.

He realised he'd been silent for a while. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, it's true."

Pansy crinkled her nose at him. It made her look even more pug-like and he absently made a note to tell her not to do it in the future. "You and Potter… friends? Alright, what does he have on you, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco said, miffed. "He doesn't have anything on me. We just decided to give the whole inter-house unity thing a whirl."

He could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't buying it.

"It's true." He was starting to feel a little exasperated. No, it wasn't entirely true, but the fact that he had intimate knowledge of just how golden the Golden Boy's blowjobs were – and had treated said Golden Boy to one of his own in return – was no one's business but theirs.

"I don't trust him," Pansy sniffed. "You shouldn't, either, Draco."

Draco wondered if Pansy had always been this overbearing and he just never noticed or if this was a more recent development since he and Potter had started snogging.

"Think what you want," he groused. "Doesn't change the truth."

"Hmmm." Pansy made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Draco growled, and Blaise laughed.

"At least you're feeling better, Draco," he pointed out, smirking. Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend for a moment before deciding that Blaise wasn't mocking him. At least, not in any ill-meant way.

"So, what exactly happened?" He was dying to know how he'd ended up in the infirmary with Potter having saved his life again.

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a glance. "Death Eater attack," said Blaise, finally.

Draco stiffened. "But why would they? The Dark Lord is dead!"

"Not according to Amycus Carrow, he isn't," put in Pansy. "I was there when the Aurors arrested him. He wouldn't stop yelling that the Dark Lord had returned again and this time would end us all." She shivered.

Draco felt uncomfortable. He was torn between wanting to insist that yes, the Dark Lord was dead and no, he was not coming back, and wanting to be prepared for the worst should it happen.

"So the Death Eaters injured me? Did I hit my head or something? Why can't I remember?"

"Apparently when the window in the Hog's Head blew out the glass slit your throat. You almost bled out before Potter got you to help in time. At least that's the story going around the school." Pansy tapped her chin with her forefinger. "Wouldn't surprise me if St. Potter had embellished his own part in things just to build up his reputation even more."

"Pansy," Draco said evenly. "He saved my life. Can we not insult him?" He was surprised by the feeling of protectiveness he felt towards Potter. Normally he quite enjoyed insulting him, but for some reason right now doing it when Potter wasn't there to be insulted by it seemed a low blow.

Pansy arched a brow at him and Blaise laughed. "Maybe you did hit your head, Draco," he teased. "Either that or Pansy's right and Potter does have something on you. Whatever it is, it must be good."

Draco grumbled and both his friends laughed at him. They stayed and chatted a while longer before leaving for supper in the Great Hall. Draco was given a small meal on a tray. Pansy and Blaise promised to stop by again soon. Madam Pomfrey checked on him and confirmed what Pansy and Blaise had told him about his rescue, giving him a few more details.

"You should be grateful to Mr. Potter," she insisted. "If he hadn't kept a clear head I might never have gotten to you in time. He knew just what to do to save as much time as possible while still getting me there with all the supplies I needed."

He did feel grateful.

Goyle came in after supper. They didn't talk much, he mainly just sat there and grunted at Draco when he said something, but he appreciated the thought. Even Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott visited, grossing Draco out with their public displays of their new coupledom. Daphne Greengrass came in and made a pass at him, which he found mildly disturbing. Not to mention all the visits and gifts he received from people from other houses. He had been virtually shunned before his accident, but clearly, nearly being killed in a Death Eater raid was enough to warrant the sympathies of the Hogwarts populace.

All in all however, Draco was quite relieved when visiting hours were finally over and he was free to go back to sleep.

Draco woke suddenly. It was dark and he felt disoriented.

"Pansy? Blaise?" He looked around blearily, only to spot Potter appearing out of nowhere. The cloak. "Oh, it's you." He tried to feign disinterest, but it just came out sounding tired as fuck. Which was how he felt.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," Potter spoke up. "Your friends kind of kicked me out." The apology in his voice made Draco smirk.

They proceeded to banter back and forth a bit. Draco learned that Potter knew Pansy thought he was up to something and that he had the corniest lines (and apparently, thought Draco's lips were sinfully snoggable).

"Thank you, Harry," he said to Potter, when Potter's quip reminded him sharply that he had come close to death. He felt almost fervent in his desire to convey what he felt to the messy haired boy sitting beside him.

"You're welcome," Potter gave him a gorgeous lopsided grin and his heart fluttered. "Though I didn't really do much."

"Madam Pomfrey said your quick thinking was the only thing that let her get to me in time. Said I would have bled out if you hadn't kept a clear head." He willed the other boy to understand just what a big deal this was.

"I did what I had to do. I couldn't watch you die, Draco," Potter's voice was so earnest, and there was such tenderness in his eyes, it made Draco's heart speed up immeasurably.

"And for that I thank you," he whispered, marvelling at how steady his voice sounded when every fiber of his being felt like it was shaking under the weight of Potter's gaze. "That's twice now that you've saved me from certain death. First in the Fiendfyre, now here." He needed Potter to understand just how important this was.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him, a kiss that took his breath away. It was a sweet kiss, almost chaste, and it felt more deep and intimate than any sexual encounter Draco had ever had. It practically made his toes curl. When Potter pulled away it took him a moment to school his features, willing himself not to show how deeply such a simple gesture had affected him.

Why Potter," he drawled. "You really are a sentimental sap, aren't you?" He affected amusement, and Potter seemed genuinely hurt by it.

"Just human, is all," he retorted. "I almost had to watch you die, and I was helpless to stop it, because I didn't know any advanced healing spells. I think under the circumstances I'm allowed to be a trifle sentimental."

Draco sobered up again. "I'm sorry," he offered, and Potter gaped. Draco scowled. "I'm allowed to say sorry once in a while, Potter." He felt frustrated with himself, for being so unwilling to be seen as vulnerable that he had hurt Potter.

Potter closed his mouth. "Sorry. It's just… not very like you. What I mean is, I never thought I'd hear you say those words, for any reason." He kept backpedalling, but was apparently only capable of making things worse. Draco felt slightly offended, but considering he was currently frustrated with himself over the same type of thing, his frustration only went so far. "That isn't what I meant." Potter huffed in his own brand of frustration, and Draco's frown turned to an amused smirk.

"Sure it isn't, Potter,' he sneered. This was better. More familiar. Him and Potter digging at one another, egging each other on.

"When did I become Potter again?" Potter sounded quite disappointed. Draco cocked his head at him.

"Force of habit. You saved my life; I guess the least I could do is call you Harry." Potter – Harry – grinned at him, and it was a smile that lit up Draco's whole world. Yes, he decided, it was worthwhile to try and remember to call Potter 'Harry'.

Harry confirmed what Pansy and Blaise had said about the attack being caused by Death Eaters. He also confirmed Amycus Carrow's insistence that the Dark Lord was back.

"He isn't," Harry insisted. "Voldemort's dead, for good this time. He can't possibly come back again." As disturbing as it was to hear that name, Draco was oddly comforted by Harry's assurances.

They switched topics several times and ended up on the subject of Quidditch.

"Puddlemere are a shoe in, Potter – Harry – and you know it."

"I still say that the Harpies have an exceptionally good chance this year."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's just cause you're a silly little Gryffindork who doesn't know any better. You've been following Quidditch since when? After you started school here? I've been following Quidditch my whole life. Which of us is more qualified to make a judgement on this?"

"Prat," Harry snorted. "Who's been playing Quidditch longer, huh?"

"Low blow, Potter. Low blow."

"How is that a low blow?" protested Harry. "I didn't say anything about you!"

"You practically cheated your way onto the team that first year, and you know if it wasn't for me you never would have ended up a seeker, at least not that quickly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, almighty Malfoy, for you altered my destiny and shaped my life."

"Damn right," Draco sniffed.

The boys grinned at each other, when suddenly Draco cried out. He yanked his sleeve back. "Harry!" he cried, holding up his forearm. The mark was black. He could see his own horror reflected on Harry's face.

Pain flared in his arm again and he bit back a scream. He twisted and writhed in the sheets and was vaguely aware of Harry calling for Madam Pomfrey. He felt Harry move to get up and leave and grabbed his arm.

"Stay," he choked out.

Harry stayed.

He needed Harry there with him. He wasn't even sure why, just that somehow he wanted the idiot Gryffindor, the stupid Boy-Who-Lived-Not-Once-But-Twice, the dumb speccy git with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

Pain burned through him. It turned his blood to lava and flowed through his veins like fire. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming, and that it seemed to be him. He couldn't stop. He needed to respond, to go to the Dark Lord. It was the only thing that would make the pain go away.

His world finally, mercifully, went black.

When Draco regained consciousness it was just getting light outside. Harry was still sitting in the chair by his bedside, his head laying on the bed beside Draco and his hand firmly clasping Draco's. It eased his terror somewhat to have Harry there, to know he had stayed with him through the pain.

"Harry?" He was still frightened, still wanting comfort. Harry stirred beside him. "Harry?" he repeated.

"Draco?" Harry yawned. "Hey… how you feeling?"

Draco smirked weakly. "Great, Potter. Like I almost died then got tortured for a while. Just great."

Harry looked pained. "I'm sorry, Draco. I really am. I'm going to find out what's going on and put a stop to it – I swear. No one will be able to use this to hurt you again." He gestured to Draco's forearm.

Draco shook his head. "It's him, Harry. I don't know how but it is. No one else can summon us with the Mark like that. It's him." He tried to stem the tide of panic that rose up within him.

"It can't be. We destroyed all his Horcruxes. He was mortal and vulnerable."

"You must have missed one."

Harry stilled. The possibility of an additional Horcrux had never occurred to him. Dumbledore had said that this was all there were, and Harry had believed him. But what if Dumbledore had been wrong?

Harry shifted uneasily in his seat. What if it was because he was still alive? What if for Voldemort to be defeated, he needed to die as well? What if there was no way out of that King's Cross Station he'd found himself in?

"Harry?"

He forced a smile. "It's going to be alright, Draco," he promised with a certainty he didn't feel.

Draco snorted. "Please, Harry. I've been watching you since I was eleven years old; I can spot a fake smile a mile away."

Harry chuckled. He and the blond certainly had history. His stomach clenched at the thought of never getting to explore where that might lead them.

"I was a Horcrux," he said softly, staring at the floor, still Holding Draco's hand. He heard Draco's inrush of breath at the words. He was giving an explanation that he and his friends had kept as a closely guarded secret.

"I was a Horcrux, and I had to die in order for Voldemort to be destroyed. That's why I survived the killing curse a second time. The Horcrux died, and while I died too, I got to come back."

Draco stared. "You died?" he asked, hesitantly.

Harry nodded. "It was… strange."

His grip on Harry's hand tightened. "I'll bet."

"I was just wondering if this is not how it's supposed to be." Harry hesitated, then plowed on. "If I'm supposed to be dead for Voldemort to stay dead."

"No." The word cut through his thoughts like a sword. It was sharp, quick, decisive. "Don't you dare, Harry James Potter. Don't you even dare. That's not true and you know it."

"It could be."

"Get Granger to research it then," Draco snapped. "That's what she's good at, right?"

Harry shifted again. "I just thought of it. And… she doesn't need this. She's already been through so much… I can look into it on my own."

"Harry James Potter," his voice quivered in fury. "Don't. You. Dare. You tell Granger and the others and you let them help you. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for nothing. And if you don't tell them, I will."

"Alright!" Harry all but shouted. He felt slightly betrayed by the blond's behaviour. He supposed it was really all his fault though. He quieted, remembering the other patients in their beds and Madam Pomfrey in her room nearby. "You're such a prat sometimes."

"Only because you're a git. A speccy one."

Harry tried not to smile. "Berk."

"Poof."

"You're insufferable."

"Then you're a glutton for punishment."

They both grinned.

They fell back into easy banter, and were soon finishing the argument they'd had the day before about Quidditch teams. They talked through breakfast, until Harry had to leave for his first class of the day.

Draco was informed that the Aurors and the Headmistress would be wanting to speak with him soon about his Mark and the summons that had occurred the previous night. He sighed and resigned himself to it.

"Draco, darling!"

"Pansy."

"How are you feeling?" Pansy sat next to him on the bed.

"Alright, Madam Pomfrey says I should be able to leave today, she just wants to observe me a little longer." Draco shrugged. He hesitated. "The Mark burned last night, Pans."

She stared wide-eyed. "Dray… you know what that means."

"Of course I know!" Draco looked away miserably. "What I don't know is what to do about it. The Aurors don't know either. Not even Harry knows."

Pansy stared at him for a long minute. "Spill, Draco. What's going on with Potter?"

"What makes you think something's going on with Potter?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "First, you agreed to be friends with him. You hate him. Second, you're mentioning him by his first name as if it's the most natural thing in the world."

Draco silently cursed Harry for insisting on first names. The fact that he had insisted on Harry using his own first name was conveniently forgotten.

"Well, that's what friends do, Pansy. And we really have agreed to be friends."

"Bullshit." Pansy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Tell me why."

Draco sighed. He knew Pansy, and he knew that she wasn't going to let up until she had the truth from him. "No telling anyone, even Blaise?"

She nodded, clearly pleased with herself. "Witch's honour."

"We're sort of… dating. I think. It's hard to quantify at this point."

Pansy stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Nice one, Dray! You had me going there for a minute!"

"I'm serious."

"But Dray, you're straight. I know you're straight. You can't make me fall for something like that."

"Apparently I'm not all that straight," muttered Draco, looking anywhere but at Pansy. "In fact, I can say that I'm definitely not straight. I have proof." He'd die before admitting his proof was that he'd sucked Potter's cock and liked it. Some things even Pansy didn't need to know.

Pansy stared at him again. "Merlin, you're serious!" She gaped. He nodded, flushing madly.

Pansy threw her head back and laughed, long and loud.
"Shhh!" protested Draco. "Everyone's looking at us!"

Pansy toned it down, but continued to let out periodic chuckles. "So, you're shagging the Chosen One?"

Draco flushed even darker. "Keep it down!" he hissed.

Pansy just shook her head. "I never would have thought… I guess all those fights you two had were just sexual frustration building up, and I wrong?" She eyed him mockingly and he regretted very much for a moment letting Pansy Parkinson in on his big secret.

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "I just know that I can't get the speccy git out of my head. He turns me on like no one's ever done before, and when we talk we actually get on pretty well. We still insult each other a lot, we just don't take offense."

Pansy smirked. "Sounds like you've got it bad."

"I do not!" Draco coloured again, the ruddy blush staining his normally pale cheeks. "I just… I like the sex. The sex is good."

He nodded, as if convinced. Pansy was less so.

"If you say so, darling."

"Well now," Pansy leaned forward. "We're going to have to come up with a plan to make Potter fall for you."

"What? Why would I want Potter to fall for me?" protested Draco, trying not to think of a smitten Harry and how lovely that might be.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You want the sex to continue, right?" Draco nodded. "Well, he's a Gryffindork. He's not going to be happy for long unless his feelings get involved. So snare his feelings and you get to keep him around."

Draco had to admit this was an appealing prospect.

He leaned forward. "What are you thinking, Pans?"

Draco sauntered down the corridor, wondering where Harry was. Probably in the Great Hall, he reflected, and wondered if he should go there and grab a bite to eat. He changed direction, but continued to move at a leisurely pace. His thoughts were a jumble of the last 48 hours, and all they had entailed.

He thought about how he'd nearly died, and Harry had saved him again.

He thought about the Mark on his arm, which had faded to look like a scar after the Dark Lord had been defeated, but now stood out in stark relief, as dark and clear as the day it was inked. He thought of how it had burned and tortured him for neglecting to answer the summons.

He thought about Pansy, and her ideas for ensnaring Harry's affections, and her insistence that Draco was falling for the Golden Boy. Which he wasn't. That was just ridiculous. Absurd.

He thought of Harry; his green, green eyes framed by those idiotic glasses, the way they crinkled in the corners when he laughed, and his wild black hair, looking like it had been through its own personal tornado all the time, the way he'd run his fingers through it when he was nervous.

He thought of Harry's perfectly shaped pink lips, full and rosy and the way he'd bite them, worrying the bottom lip with his teeth when he was thinking. Of the way his nose would wrinkle just a bit when he sneered out "Prat!" or some other such insult, but the light in his eyes betraying an affection that belied his words. The way emotions were raw and open and exposed on his stupid Gryffindor face. The way you could tell just what he was thinking with a glance into his eyes, the hidden depths swirling about in those pools of green enough to drown in.

He caught himself smiling absently as he walked through the halls and he stopped suddenly, surprised at himself.

"Ah, young love," crooned a portrait of an old woman knowingly.

Draco scowled and stuck his tongue out at her. It wasn't terribly mature, but it made him feel better.

Bah. He glared at all the portraits around him, as if daring them to comment further. He would entrap Harry with his cunning and his Slytherinness, and Harry would be the one in love, not him. Young love indeed.

He nodded his head with satisfaction, and proceeded to the Great Hall for supper.