Friday, After Dinner II…

When the nightmare shook him out of his sleep, Draco's hand instantly reached out for the one thing his blurry vision could see properly, only to have the wrist he grasped wrenched away from him. He matched the voice he heard shriek in panic afterwards with Granger's, and immediately let his hand fall.

Which was all too inviting, really. His bones felt like they were made of lead. Eungh.

It took a few blinks before everything came into focus, and when he could see straight he realized he was lying on the sofa in his dorm… his head pounding, his nose burning, and the rest of his body freezing cold.

He tried shifting in his blankets – which hadn't been placed properly at all, if his hand hanging off the side of the sofa was any evidence – but then a twang of pain shot up from the base of his neck into his skull, and the pounding intensified to a shrill clang.

Groaning, he clenched his eyes shut and rode out the agony, his teeth chattering when he realized what was going on again.

Obviously, that filthy Mudblood had brought him here, so why wasn't she treating him?! And why wasn't he in the Infirmary like everyone else?!

Oh, that girl had a lot of explaining to do…

"Granger!" he shouted angrily. "Get down here, you little Mudblood! Oi! Mudblood! I said get down here, and you should know by now to listen to your superiors–"

He had fully intended to continue with his rant, but then suddenly his dry throat had caught and he couldn't breathe. Eyes widening, Draco tried to swallow, but nothing was…

"If you think I'm going to help you with that attitude, Ferret, you're so wrong!"

Well, at least he'd lured the freak out of her hole. Now, if only she could do something about…

Nope, no luck. Even with his eyes tearing, Draco could tell that Granger wasn't coming any closer to the sofa. The pressure in his throat built up… racing like liquid fire up into his eyes, and all of a sudden…

Draco sneezed.

Seeing stars, he shook his pounding head, sniffing his pointed nose in disgust, then, exhausted, fell back onto the leather of the sofa.

At least Granger could sense that it wasn't like him not to retaliate… and, of course, humiliate her or her friends and come out the shining victor of their battle of quick witticisms…

His head gave a particularly harsh twinge.

"…Malfoy?"

"Ungh…"

Inwardly, he winced. He sounded almost as horrible as he felt, which was never a good thing for a Slytherin. For once, he was glad for the fact he wasn't sharing a common room with his fellow housemates, because if he was, he would never hear the end of it… his reputation as a superb aristocrat would be ruined!

He closed his eyes when he heard Granger take a few hesitant steps down into their common room, and decided to play out his annoying sickness to the fullest to see how many of his mundane whims he could get Granger to follow through with.

Of course, he was assuming she'd been given the task of making him better. He wasn't Head Boy for nothing, after all – he was quite good in making accurate assumptions.

And Granger was too much of a goody-goody to resist.

"Malfoy?"

"Ungh…"

"What's the matter?" Stupid girl. She even sounded slightly worried; this would be as easy as beating Weasley in an insult-match.

"Hurts…"

Now she seemed hesitant, but he could hear the worry in her voice increase. She still seemed too cautious to get near, though. "What hurts?"

"Everything hurts…" He frowned, now, because as he spoke, he began to get dizzy. The ache in his bones increased, his head pounding harder. At least it contributed to his act…

"Oh, please." Wrong thing to say, apparently. "I've been to the Hospital Wing, you know, Malfoy. First-years have looked worse than you – which is pretty hard, at this point – and yet they've been braver, too. They don't complain nearly as much as you – and you only got sick today. Trust me, Malfoy, it's going to get worse, so if you can't handle it now, you won't be able to handle it then, either."

His eyes flew open and he lurched up, the blankets pooling to his waist. Granger had already retreated back to her room, though she stood in its doorway, her hand prepped threateningly on the knob. "Whaddya mean, 'looked worse than me?' I don't look bad! Malfoy's can never look bad! It's you who look bad, you good-for-nothing, filthy little Mud–"

Draco broke off with a gasp. Granger had already slammed her door, but Draco didn't notice.

The pounding had increased so intensely in his head that he slapped his hands to his head and clutched, vainly trying to stop the pain. He whined with the force of the attack, biting his lip to keep in a scream, hard enough to draw blood.

Then they waves of agony retreated, and Draco collapsed to his side, falling of the sofa limply. Cold sweat dripped from his temples, but he paid them no heed.

There Draco wallowed in his misery, knowing Granger wouldn't help him, knowing no one would notice if he just suddenly dropped off the face of the planet.

Well, except maybe Pansy.

Okay. No one worthwhile would notice.

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A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one. I kind of killed my neck two days ago (literally!) and was – as Draco put it – wallowing in my misery for the last little while. Wasn't exactly into writing something light – well, lighter than my usual stuff, at least. Sorry!

...Is it just me, or are the chapters getting longer? Sweet!