Draco had been so busy with end of term grading and preparing for the Yule Ball that he hadn't realized he was feeling unwell again until he'd arrived at the Ball to chaperone. Since Azkaban, he had been getting fevers, nausea, coughing, chills, and aches quite often. He'd meant to grab something for the fever he felt creeping up again, but then two fifth year slytherin students had to be shooed apart every few minutes to keep them from snogging each other silly. At one point he thought they might start going at it then and there.
Fed up and starting to feel a bit queasy, he'd finally had to resort to the deduction of house points. Draco spent another half hour sipping a nonalcoholic ginger beer and trying to avoid talking to the other professors. He'd just managed to avoid Lovegood when his stomach gave a sudden lurch and his head began to pound.
The blond professor slipped from the party and down a random corridor to collect himself. It would only be a few more hours. He could manage that. He'd survived much worse before, particularly right after the war. Azkaban had not been kind to him.
He leaned back against the cool stone of the wall and took a deep breath that he immediately regretted. His lungs drew in the mucous draining down his throat and he was thrown into a violent coughing fit. He'd been there for what seemed like eons before the coughing subsided.
He pressed a hand to his sore stomach muscles, massaging gently. This was also a mistake, as it caused him to burp wetly, mouth suddenly tasting of sick. His other hand came up to his mouth instinctively.
He was just about to head off to find something for the fever, all over aches, and nausea when he showed up.
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" Harry Potter, Savior of the wizarding world, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and eternal pain in Draco's arse was standing a couple feet away in cheap dress robes looking concerned.
Draco forced himself to straighten, ignoring the way his head swam and his stomach churned. They made eye contact again and Draco cursed himself for being caught like this by the man, again. Weak and vulnerable. His cheeks heated and his anger began to flare. Unfortunately, so did his nausea and he had to swallow rapidly to clear the warm bitter liquid from his throat.
"What do you care, Potter?" He winced at the way his voice sounded, hoarse from coughing and vomiting. The vibrations nearly sent him into a coughing fit he knew his stomach wouldn't be able to handle and he had to focus on just breathing and swallowing.
Vaguely, he heard Harry ask again if he was okay, but he was still struggling too much to respond. A few more deep breaths and he was able to glare at the man. He started to reply, but stopped and clamped his hand over his mouth, suddenly hit with the horrifying realization that he was about to vomit. Right there in the corridor.
He was panicking, trying to decide which toilets were closest when Harry stepped up to him holding a trash bin and pulled him into a classroom. The movement made his stomach lurch violently and he couldn't stop the heave that followed. With his hand still clamped over his mouth, vomit sprayed all over the floor, himself, and even Harry. Draco was mortified.
Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and gently pulled it away from his mouth as he retched, another wave of hot liquid gushing out of his mouth and nose as he continued to try and fight it back. Draco heard himself whimper as he choked on more sick while Harry pulled them down to sit on the floor, but he was beyond caring for the moment.
He coughed and choked on more bitter bile and acid as he allowed Harry to position them so that he was pressed against the man's chest. He'd never admit it, but he was thankful for the warmth and support. His body was beginning to feel like jelly.
When he'd been sick for what felt like the twentieth time in as many minutes, Draco began to sob. Like the retching, he couldn't seem to stop it. Every part of him ached. He was freezing. He couldn't get in a proper breath. Behind him, Harry spoke, bringing him back to reality.
"Shh, Shh. You need to calm down. You're only making it worse this way." Draco was livid. He turned rapidly from his place between Harry's legs to glare over his shoulder at the other professor, uncaring that he was getting snot and vomit on the other man.
"Don't you think I know that, Potter?" He spat, suddenly not feeling sick anymore, just angry. "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 had to turn back to his bin to retch. For quite a while, his stomach convulsed. He moaned in discomfort as the contractions in his abdomen forced him to gag over and over.
Finally, he was able to pull back, collapsing against Harry with his eyes closed to catch his breath. He felt the tickle of cleaning charms, then the warmth of a damp flannel over every place that had been splattered with snot or vomit. It wasn't until Harry put a cool flannel on his forehead that he began to grow impatient.
"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?" Draco tried to glare at him, but Harry just smiled this off-putting little know-it-all grin.
"I can stand without your help, thanks." Draco said, pulling himself up onto his feet and made it about two steps out the door before his vision was darkening at the edges and his legs gave out under him. His eyes squeezed shut bracing for the crack of the hard stone floor against his elbows and knees, but it never came. He cracked an eye and found that Harry had caught him with a spell, looking smug.
"Still think you don't need my help, Malfoy?" Harry sneered and moved up to help him properly. Draco stiffened.
"Oh bugger off, would you." Draco tried for something angry, but it came out strangled and weak. How humiliating. He flinched away when Harry's hand reached for him again.
"Sorry. But it really is okay to ask for help now and again, you know." Harry was looking a him strangely. It was almost friendly, almost soft. He was actually sorry! Draco felt his tired body relax in spite of his discomfort with the idea of the man coming to his rescue. Again.
"Let me help, Draco?" Harry grimaced, looking incredibly uncomfortable and sounding awkward. Draco smirked. That was better. If Harry was uncomfortable too, then it was okay. He laughed weakly but 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. He felt humiliated every time, but thankfully, Harry didn't try to make him feel better. Once, they had to sit down right in the corridor, but Harry just pulled him back against his chest roughly, but staying blessedly silent while Draco caught his breath.
When they got there, Draco muttered the password and released the secondary wards to allow them both inside. He allowed his magic to snake out, pulling some of Harry's into the wards to allow him to enter whenever he wanted. He would change it later.
Harry immediately sat Draco down into an overstuffed armchair and began flitting around, gathering things. Draco was ready to stop him, but he couldn't find the strength. He could feel himself shivering and just wanted to crawl into the bed he could hear Harry messing with.
"Draco? Hey, wake up a sec." Draco blinks awake slowly, body heavy and head fuzzy. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to focus on what Harry is saying.
Harry waits patiently 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." His voice is soft, and Draco's pounding head is thankful.
"In the potions storage, bottom shelf. But I don't need all that. Just... help me to bed and sod off." He scowled, but he knew it was just a weak attempt to disturb the uncomfortable truce, both unused to the intimacy of the situation. A wholly unconvincing one at that.
Draco was unused to such coddling in general. His Father had only ever taken care of him when he was ill once. He was barely old enough to remember, but he could still recall his father, slightly panicked, holding him bare chested in the bath. And he was barely seven when his mother stopped taking care of him this way, coddling, kissing. So to have someone take care of him now left Draco feeling like an infant.
Harry came in with an armful of potions and disappeared behind him for a second before coming back empty handed. "Draco, I'm going to bring you to bed. That alright?" Harry asked softly.
Draco felt himself nod, barely awake. 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 at him. He was expecting the spell from earlier, so the the contact was something he was wholly unprepared for. And the lack of control had Draco suddenly anxious.
"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." He rasped, still clinging tightly to the other professor like an idiot.
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 felt his body heat from embarrassment, face, ears, and even chest. This was too far. He wasn't a complete invalid! But he couldn't really bring himself do anything about it.
"What the fuck are you doing? I can undress on my own!" Draco protested, but he relaxed, even moved his arms to accommodate Harry when he began undoing the dozens of tiny buttons on the man's dress robes. He told himself it was because he liked how frustrated Harry was over the amount of little buttons.
"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. Draco could barely follow the movements with his eyes by now.
"Just be quick about it, would you?" Draco was trying to sound irritated, but it just came out sounding exhausted. His entire body ached and he shook with the effort it took to hold himself upright.
Harry must have noticed, because he moved even more quickly then, pushing the robes off his shoulders after just a few more seconds. He removed the neck piece and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Draco was shivering by the time Harry got to his belt and trousers. He felt like he was half frozen when Harry slid a loose pajama top up his arms and settled it over his shoulders.
Draco insisted on buttoning it himself, though it took forever with how hard he was shaking. Harry didn't stop him, though. When his trousers were undone, Draco let Harry tug them down, face aflame, but he insisted on pulling the pajama bottoms on himself. It took him far longer than he cared to admit and took all of his strength. He must have the flu.
Harry tucked him into bed and Draco dutifully took each potion, Swallowing the offered sip of pumpkin juice after each. Embarrassingly, Harry had to prop his head up, tilting each potion and each sip into his mouth.
As he lay there while Harry flitted around again, he was struck by just what the man was doing for him. He was there with his enemy, someone who had actively fought against him, someone who was still fighting him today, and offered the comfort that he had not been given until he was already fighting a war. He deserved a thank you, Draco decided.
In spite of his best efforts, Draco couldn't stop himself from dozing off. He wasn't sure how long it had been when he felt a cool hand brush against his forehead, pushing back his sweat-stiffened hair. It took everything he had to open his eyes, but it was completely worth it to see the other man completely unguarded.
"Thanks... Harry." That was all he could manage before turning away, suddenly feeling very exposed and uncomfortable.
Harry left then, darkening the room so that the only light was a soft orange glow from the fireplace.
Draco was vaguely aware of nightmares. He remembered soothing whispers, too many potions, cool flannels. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he woke. It wasn't until he tried to sit up that Draco realized something was very wrong.
His head was pounding and his body ached. His mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva and he forced himself out of the bed to the attached toilet. He made it into the room, but before he could get to the toilet or even the sink, he was doubled over, heaving violently.
He staggered over to the toilet, still retching, splattering the lid with vomit. Suddenly it struck him that the color was off. Maroon with streaks of bright red. Blood. He had just vomited blood. Draco was suddenly trembling, utterly panicked. He forced back the urge to cry.
"Harry!" His tone was surprisingly calm, but his voice was unsteady, losing his battle with tears.
Harry was still there, thankfully, and he must have recognized that something was very wrong without having even come in, with how hastily he was through the door. His eyes widened, taking in the state of him, and Draco felt a little guilty for not warning him. He was spattered with blood, hands and knees covered, floor and toilet streaked with the bloody looking vomit.
"Oh, Draco..." Harry bent down and scooped him up all at once, not bothering to vanish the mess. Draco clung to him, letting his head rest in the crook of Harry's shoulder and neck as the professor apparated them both. The smell of ozone from the apparation mixed with disinfectant as mediwitches swarmed around them while Draco clung to Harry, no longer caring what anyone thought, reluctant to let go of the comfort he had so recently been offered.