Prompt (by sicklylittlesnowflake): no one ever took care of me in the past and I'm super defensive and I yelled at you for trying to look after me because this is really confusing and I'm feverish and now you're upset and I'm so sorry
A/N: I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but I did my best.
It wasn't that Harry wanted to be sat here comforting his former nemesis, and certainly not when he was acting like such a stuck up, spoiled, little prat. But when he'd seen Draco stumbling out of the Yule Ball they were both meant to be chaperoning, looking like death incarnate, he found he hadn't much choice in the matter.
Harry took a few quick steps to catch up with the man who had just turned down another corridor. When he rounded the corner, Draco was leaning against the wall. One hand was pressed to his belly, and the other was covering his mouth. His sleeve had slid down his arm enough that a sliver of the mark was visible.
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" Harry forced his tone to be softer than usual. He didn't like the other man, but he didn't want to be nasty when he was clearly feeling ill.
Their eyes met and Draco's went wide, then narrowed in an angry scowl. He let his hands drop to his sides and straightened defiantly. This didn't help his stomach, however and Harry watched him swallow rapidly, fists clenched.
"What do you care, Potter?" His voice sounded raw, as though he had been coughing. He stopped then to try and regulate his breathing, staving off a cough and swallow again. Draco was deathly pale, more-so than usual.
"Are you sure? You look ill." Harry cast a wordless charm, summoning a garbage bin from a nearby classroom. Draco was so focused on not throwing up that he didn't even notice.
"I'm fi-" he started with irritation, but suddenly pressed a hand tightly to his mouth, eyes scanning wildly for a lavatory. He was about to rush off when Harry stepped up with the bin and pulled them both into the empty classroom just in time.
Draco hadn't moved his hand quickly enough and vomit sprayed out from the sides and between his fingers, splattering his dress robes, Harry's arm, and the floor of the classroom with droplets of sick. Harry grimaced, but used his hand not holding the bucket to pull his hand back from where it was again pressed to his mouth as another wave of sick gushed from his mouth and nose.
Draco whimpered and choked as Harry eased them into a sitting position, Harry pressed behind Draco to support him as he coughed and spluttered trying to get a few ragged breaths. Through their dress robes, Harry could feel the heat radiating off the other man. How had he made it through the day and half the party while this ill, he wondered? He was a potions master. How had he not treated this sooner?
As wave after wave of sick rose up into his throat to be expelled into the bucket in sick splashes, Draco began to sob. Tears and snot and vomit ran together, dripping off his chin into the bin as he struggled to properly breathe. Harry should be disgusted, but he wasn't. He just wanted to help even more.
"Shh, shh. You need to try and calm down. You're only making it worse like this." Harry said urging Draco to relax.
Draco shifted away, turning to look at Harry over his shoulder, snot and vomit being flung from his chin with the force of the movement. His glassy eyes were suddenly sharp and dark.
"Don't you think I know that, Potter?"He spat hoarsely, no longer sobbing.
"I don't need bleeding Harry Potter, boy-who-lived-twice, savior of the wizarding world, sitting here coddling me! In fact, I don't need you here at all. So just leave me the hell alone!" Draco was panting hard by the time he finished, and he abruptly turned back to his bin to retch.
Harry was fuming, but he didn't leave. He could see the other professor shaking almost violently and knew that he was going to pass out soon if nothing changed. Draco was mostly empty now, but his stomach occasionally convulsed, making him heave dryly. His face was red, speckled with tiny burst blood vessels under the skin, and his eyes were bloodshot by the time he was through.
When he collapsed back against Harry's chest, Harry vanished the sick and cast a few cleaning charms. He still summoned a flannel and two basins of water though. He started with the warm one, wiping down Draco's face, neck, hands, and forearms. Then he let the cloth sit in the cool water before wringing it out well and placing it across the man's forehead to help with the fever.
"I thought I told you to leave?" Draco asked, voice rough and glassy eyes heavily lidded.
"You did. Now, think you can stand with my help?" Harry smiled brightly, ignoring the weak scowl the man threw his way.
"I can stand without your help, thanks." Draco pulled himself up onto his feet and made it two steps out the door before Harry had to catch him with a spell to keep Draco from cracking his knees on the hard stone floor.
"Still think you don't need my help, Malfoy?" Harry sneered, coming up to put an arm around him.
"Oh bugger off, would you." Draco tried to shout, but it came out strangled and weak.
"Sorry. But it really is okay to ask for help now and again, you know." He said when Draco flinched away from the touch.
"Let me help, Draco?" Harry grimaced slightly at the use of the man's first name.
It felt foreign in his mouth, but the potions professor seemed to get some satisfaction from his struggles. Draco laughed weakly and allowed Harry to snake an arm under his and around his back, holding him up at the waist.
They made their way to Draco's rooms in silence. Every so often, they had to stop for Draco to retch, or catch his breath. Once, they had to sit down right in the corridor, but Harry just pulled the other man against him and let him rest. When they got there, Draco muttered the password and released the secondary wards to allow them both inside.
Harry immediately sat Draco down into an overstuffed armchair and began flitting around, gathering things. Draco was visibly irritated, but too tired to protest just then. Harry pulled back the covers in the bed and gathered pillows to prop him up.
He rummaged through the wardrobe for something Draco could sleep comfortably in. Most of his sleepwear was silk or heavy flannel, so Harry summoned a pair of his own pajamas. Well worn gray cotton. They were old, and a bit big for Draco, but light and incredibly soft.
When he comes back into the small lounge, Draco is mostly asleep. Harry doesn't really want to wake him, but he needs to know where a few potions are. "Draco? Hey, wake up a sec."
Harry waits for those gray eyes to focus on him before continuing. "Where would your medicinal potions be? I need a drowsiness draught, pepperup potion, fever tonic, and an anti-emesis potion."
"In the potions storage, bottom shelf. But I don't need all that. Just... help me to bed and sod off." He scowled, but his words held no malice.
It was obvious Draco was uncomfortable being helped like this. Harry had been, too, at first. After so many years of coping on his own, when he had the Weasleys and Hermione fussing over him whenever he was sick or injured, it was uncomfortable and overwhelming. From what Harry knew of Draco's family, any comforting likely stopped by the time he was 5 or 6.
Harry went through and gathered the potions. He snagged an extra pepperup to leave for Draco in the morning and headed back. The wards parted for him, and he realized that the man hadn't dismissed the wards entirely. Instead, he'd allowed them to recognize Harry. He set everything down on the bedside table and went to fetch Draco.
"Draco, I'm going to bring you to bed. That alright?" Harry asked softly. Draco nodded sleepily and sniffled. When Harry's arms slid under his knees and behind his back, Draco let out a rather undignified squeak and threw his arms around Harry's shoulders, all the while fussing weakly.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter? Unhand me at once! Use a spell, you absolute twit, not your arms. We get it, you're the savior. No need to go showing off. I'm not a damsel in distress." All the while he was very careful not to move or squirm. Harry thought he might be afraid of being dropped.
Harry settled Draco on the edge of the bed and knelt down in front of him, immediately beginning to undress him, starting with his shoes. Draco flushed, ears to chest.
"What the fuck are you doing? I can undress on my own!" Draco protested, but moved his arms to accommodate Harry when he began undoing the dozens of tiny buttons on the man's dress robes.
"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. We played quidditch together, remember? Why does this thing have so many buttons?" Harry said, deft fingers still focused on the buttons.
"Just be quick about it, would you?" Draco was trying to sound irritated, but it just came out sounding exhausted.
Harry moved quickly then, pushing the robes off his shoulders after finally getting the damned things open. He removed the neck piece and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Draco was shivering by the time Harry got to his belt and trousers, so Harry decided to put the pajama top on him.
Draco insisted on buttoning it himself. When his trousers were undone, Draco let Harry tug them down, face aflame, but he insisted on putting the pajama bottoms on himself. By now, Draco was so out of it that he hadn't even noticed the set wasn't his.
Harry tucked him into bed and gave him each potion slowly, separated by a sip of juice, which he'd summoned along with another glass and a pitcher of ice water. Draco pulled a face at each potion, but was too tired to actually protest. By the time he was done the other three, Harry decided Draco didn't need the drowsiness draught.
He tucked Draco in and made sure the fire had enough wood to keep the room comfortable. As he turned to leave, he heard a small sound from the bed and came back to check. He ran his hand through Draco's long hair, smoothing it back from his already cooling forehead. Gray eyes blinked open briefly.
"Thanks... Harry." That was all he could manage before turning away red-faced.
Harry left then, darkening the room so that the only light was a soft orange glow from the fireplace.
He had planned to leave, but he thought that a note should be left so Draco would take the pepperup the next morning. When that was done, Harry tidied up the small lounge. Then remembered they were supposed to be chaperoning and scrawled a messy letter to McGonagall. After that, he heard Draco stir.
Harry gave him a second fever tonic and the drowsiness draught then. He sat for a bit switching out cool dam flannels across the blond professor's forehead. By the time the fever had gone back down it was past one in the morning.
Harry settled into the big armchair and found that it reclined. He summoned a blanket from the couch and a book from the shelf and there he sat. He read for quite a while, occasionally getting up to check on the other man. By four in the morning though, Harry had fallen asleep, book still in hand.