Harry yawned. He had been up very late the previous night, wondering about Draco and awaiting the next day. In fact, he was so tired that at breakfast he proceeded to fall asleep into his cornflakes, much to the agony of Hermione, who had also woken up early to study for classes.

Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling a catonic Harry out of the milk by the back of his shirt . A michevous idea suddenly occured to her when she saw Draco brooding alone at the Slytherin table. She acted quickly, since years of hanging around with the clumsy Ron had given her training, and pulled out her chair, offering him the seat. Blearily, Draco sat down, neglecting to notice that he was at the Gryffindor table.

Draco started casually eating the bowl that appeared in front of him. He didn't notice Harry until he rolled onto his lap. Draco let out a sqeaul, swatting at Harry.

"Gack! Potter, gerroff! Ew ew ew!" He tugged on the back of Harry's shirt, careful to act as disgusted as he could, lest anyone in the hall see Potter lying on top of him. Wait a minute... he wasn't acting disgusted, he was... right? Draco sighed, as his efforts to awaken Harry proved futile. He left his hand on the back of Harry's neck, not quite ready to let go of the first physical contact he'd had in years. How many years had it been since his father hugged him? 5 or 6, at least. Possibly, it was on the day he left for Hogwarts. So... seven. Granted, Harry didn't even have that, but he did always have his friends.

Draco didn't. Of course, there was Crabbe and Goyle, but they were more his cronies then friends, and they had only ended up together because of their fathers professions: death eaters. He clung to Harry like he was his lifejacket in a storm. He had at least another twenty minutes until the other students started coming in, and he was going to savor every single minute of it. Just then, Harry shifted in his sleep. Draco shot back, as the small action had sent a bolt of electricty into his chest and right down to his toes. Unfortuantly, this now meant that Harry whacked his head against the bench and fell on the floor with a huge crash that echoes around the empty hall.

Draco scooted across the bench on his ass, peering with concern into Harrys face. When Harry opened his eyes mere miloseconds later, Draco was checking his body for broken bones and Harry, in his post sleep confusion, found himself reaching for Draco's hand, touching his collarbone to check for bruising. Dracos eyes widened. He hadn't expected Harry to do this... he'd known Potter wasn't a morning person, but using his hand as a teddy bear was just ridiculous. He yanked it away, pulling Harry out of his dazed state. "Uh... Potter!" He said nervously, searching for an excuse. "I was... uh, looking for you and- uh, yes! We need to decide on the food for the dance and order it tonight! McGonagall gave me a budget and... um...." His words trailed off as he saw Harry standing up, hair rumpled and in Draco's opinion, looking VERY sexy in post slumber. He yawned, then grabbed Draco's shirt to pull himself up.

His pinky finger brushed against Draco's chest, and even under the layer of his shirt, Draco felt himself turning red. Harry didn't seem to notice the awkwardness and said: "Well, we should look at some menus for catering. D'you have a computer?" Draco nodded. No-one other than him had ever been in his private bedchamber, and he was slightly odded out at the thought of Harry being the first. Harry still looked a bit dizzy, but Draco was sure it was from the sleep. "Alright, then. My bedchambers just through the dungeons."

When they reached his bedchamber (with a lot of moaning from Harry about how bloody far it was), Draco opened the door with a slam and turned on the brand new mac desktop in the corner with a certain sense of boredom, and motioned towards the bed in a somewhat polite gesture for Harry to sit. Harry drummed his fingers awkwardly against the green Slytherin bedpost as Draco pulled up the menu of a local bar. He scanned it, green eyes darting over the menu. He snorted. "Guess this is off the list."

"Why, Draco? Maybe everyone would like some normal food. Like, chips and butterbeer!"

Draco scoffed at Harry. "Chips? Potter, this is a formal event! We need real food! I'll check a proper catering service."

Harry put on a puppy dog face, looking up at Draco from his bed. "Butterbeer?"

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, playfully rolling over to him and giving him a push. "Fine. But only since we're such good friends."

Harry played with the edge of the bedcover. "Yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I mean... what do you really think this is? I mean, we've never been like we are now. Sort of... I dunno, civil, almost."

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I want it to keep going, I suppose." Draco had never been good at admitting what he felt, and even now, he felt the emotion in his sentence far too much. "I mean, whatever. I don't... I don't mind, I guess."

Harry grinned. "Good. Because I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow with me and Hermione. Ron is going to be at his mum's for Christmas. I know you don't like him much."

Draco peered at his face, trying to find the real Harry Potter behind the Lily Potters eyes. Finally, he said the words that he had been dying to say ever since Harry had grabbed his hand yesterday.

"Yes."

Harry poked him in the chest playfully. "Awesome." Suddenly, Harry got a strange feeling in his head.

"Ouch!" Draco's face contorted in alarm as Harry dropped back onto the bed, clutching his head. "Harry? Are you okay? Shall I go get Madame Pomfrey?" Draco asked nervously, grabbing Harry's shoulder. "My.. head... it hurts, Draco..." He moaned, tears coming to his eyes. Harry clutched Draco's hand, flung his head over the side of the bed, and retched, vomiting on the floor. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the face of disgust he was sure that Draco wore. When he finally gathered the courage to open his eyes, he could see Draco already cleaning up the sick and dialing something on his cell phone. Through his feverish daze, Harry could hear Draco talking to Madame Pomfrey, telling her to come to his bedchamber, and shouting obcenitys at her when she told him he was currently treating another patient. "NO!" He shouted into the phone, almost scarily angry as he paced around the room. "YOU HAVE TO COME NOW! HE'S SICK, YOU NEED TO HELP HIM!" Finally, he learned that his efforts were worthless and sighing, pressed the end button.

Draco turned back to Harry. "I'm sorry." He said in a gentle voice that Harry was sure Draco Malfoy had never used before. "She's not coming. There's been a pretty violent Quidditch match, and she's treating people all over the place. She says it's probably just a concussion, you should eat and drink as much as possible, and that you should sleep, but I should wake you up every hour." Harry nodded weakly, sitting up with much effort. Draco draped the bed covers over him. "Do you want anything?" He asked, getting up to grab Harry a glass of water.

"No!" Harry whispered, grabbing Draco's wrist feebly. "Please, stay with me, Draco. Please...promise me."

Draco stood for a moment, thoughts running through his head. He needs me... Harry Potter needs... no, wants me! He nodded at last, whispering "I promise" and Harry let out a great sigh of relief, at peace. Harry proceeded to fall into a fitful sleep, clinging to Draco like a boat in the midst of a storm. When Draco tried to get a glass of water for him from the bathroom across the hall, Harry clung to his wrist tighter. Draco sighed, prising Harry out of his grip. He got halfway across the room before Harry started to moan in his feverish state, crying out. Draco ran back and held both his hands, but even that didn't seem to be enough. Reluctently, Draco crawled into bed beside him and held him from behind, which seemed to calm him down.

It was then that Draco realized he was going to need help. He sighed, taking out his phone and calling the one person who could actually help Harry...

Ten minutes later, Hermione Granger was standing in Draco's room with 3 bottles of water, 2 of gatorade, three packets of instant noodles, a kettle, a thermometer, a container of extra strength tylenol, one Quidditch magazine, and several cans of soup. Draco nodded gratefully at her, indicating that they should talk quietly as Harry was sleeping. Hermione's worried look instantly vanished when she saw the two boys cuddling together, replaced by a look of pure joy.

"So you... and him?" She whispered happily, setting down her stash and plugging a kettle into the wall. "Finally! I've known he needed someone for so long and-"

"Whoa!" Draco said, blushing. "Hold yer horses, Granger! He was just upset, that's all. I'm just comforting him!" He eased himself out of Harry's grip. Harry moaned, but as Draco held his hand, the look on his face became peaceful and he seemed to sleep a little bit better. "It's okay, Harry." He said quietly, stroking his hair and wincing at the heat of his head. "I'm here, okay?"

Hermione got the strangest look on her face. "What?" Draco sighed, feeling her gaze. "Nothing, just- you called him Harry. Why are you being so sweet to him, Draco?" She asked, pouring the water into a cup. The smell of tea instantly infused the room. Draco sighed again, running his hands through his hair. "I really... I really don't know. But thank you for being here."

She smiled at him, taking a sip of the cup and wincing as her tongue got burned. "No, thank you. I haven't seen Harry this sick in a while. And you're being so nice to him, too. I know that Ron has a certain grudge against you, but Harry's been talking about you a lot since yesterday. Are you coming tomorrow?"

He shook his head. Hermione looked crestfallen and a little angry, but Draco replied: "Not unless Harry's completly better. Because... because it was my fault! It's my fault that he's like this!" Draco burst into tears, and Hermione looked alarmed, but put an arm around him. "I... I pushed him away from me! I'm so stupid! And now he's sick!" He sobbed into Hermione's arm, whilst keeping a strong grip on Harry's hand.

"Who's sick?" Came a voice from Draco's left. "Other than me, of course. Can I have some water?"

"Harry!" Draco shouted, turning towards the bed. "Yeah, of course!" Draco hurried over to the table, fetching the bottle of water. Hermione smiled at Harry and said quietly "He's been really worried, you know. Crying, even. He thinks it's his fault, since he accidently pushed you off the bench."

Harry frowned. "But- it was an accident! He can't possibly-"

"He does."

Draco returned with the water, twisting off the cap eagerly and holding it to Harry's mouth. Harry tried to hold onto the bottle, but was still quite weak. Draco still looked quite concerned, and pressed the back of his hand against Harry's head. Harry smiled at the cool feeling and closed his eyes again, but spoke: "You know, Draco... it's not your fault." Draco frowned, taking his hand back. "Yeah. I guess not." He turned away to wipe the tears out of his eyes, emberassed. Hermione piped up "So, how do you feel? Do you want me to take your temperature?" Harry grinned. "Fine. Orally, if you please." She laughed, fetching the thermometer from the bottom of her bag. When she pulled it out seconds later, she frowned slightly. The she laughed in relief. "You're going to fine, I should think. 100 degrees and dropping even as I held it. It was probably quite mild, Harry."

Harry sniffed. "Oh, thanks. I'm hungry, though." Draco rolled his eyes. "At your service, King Harry."

Harry smiled. He knew that Draco had been holding his hand through his fever. He had felt it, his only grounding to the real world. He had felt it all through his dreams, and it had made him comforted. He smiled at Hermione and Draco talking about how much they hated raman, and how much better macaroni and cheese was, but how it was not fit to feed a sick person and he closed his eyes.

Well. This was nice. His best friend and his something possibly someone else something other than friends something more talking. He managed to croak up feebly before sleep took him again:

"But no stupid caviar, Draco. I'm not THAT much of a pushover and I'm not eating bloody fish eggs."

7 DAYS 'TILL THE DANCE!

Ah, sorry about the general shojoness and stereotypicalness of this chappie, but sickie Harry is just so cute. And guilty Draco, too!

Sorry about the lack of updates lately, with all my fics. *bows*

I'm so glad to hear that you like them, though! I'm writing this on an airplane. I'm extremly bored and have two hours left in my flight, so I'll keep writing. You might even get two updates! This one is very long anyways, so be grateful! XD

Sorry about the lack of UD's on the RTED fic. IT WILL BE UPDATED! I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP! I am resting, mmk? Also, I wrote a sequel to The Only Broken Ones, called I wuv you ickle Ronnikins! Which I've always wanted to name a fic! XDD luv y'all!