After convincing the Slytherin to return to his own bed lest they be discovered by Madam Pomfrey–and noting that he walked shakily and gasped when the bandages on his chest shifted–Harry found that he felt well enough to get dressed and go down to the Great Hall for lunch. He had probably just been utterly fatigued and under altogether too much stress, for which it seemed sleep and orgasm were a wonderful remedy.
Malfoy seemed ready to drift back into a snooze when Harry left, but Harry assured him he'd be back later. He still needed to talk to the sleepy boy, perhaps even more now, after what had happened that morning.
One last thing, though... "What did you mean, 'wands are quite nice sometimes'?"
Malfoy smiled lazily and waved him away.
"Harry!" Hermione cried when she saw him sitting down at the table. "You're up!"
"How're you feelin', mate?" Ron asked.
"Loads better," Harry said. "I'm starving, though."
"I bet," said Ron, reaching over and taking second helpings of everything. "Two days without food is a long time."
Harry, who had been thinking of his morning romp when he said that, cleared his throat and simply nodded his agreement and began piling food on his own plate.
"Harry, what happened in that bathroom?" Hermione asked. "Malfoy woke up yesterday, but he said he couldn't remember anything at all. After Snape brought him to the hospital wing, we looked for you everywhere. It took us hours to find you. And when we did..."
Ron spoke up. "You were just lying there. No one could find any trace of a curse on you, but you didn't respond to us at all. Bloody terrifying."
Harry hesitated before speaking. "I'd rather not talk about it just now, actually."
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder understandingly. "Okay, Harry."
Harry smiled at her and began the process of shoveling as much food into his mouth as he thought his stomach could handle–in other words, he was taking the Ron Weasley approach.
When he felt that he might burst if he took two more bites, Harry leaned back. "Have we got any classes this afternoon?"
"It's Tuesday, so we have Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said.
"Bugger." The last thing Harry wanted was to see Snape again so soon.
When they got to the classroom, however, Snape didn't even glance at Harry. He was doing what the Dursleys had done: pretending Harry didn't exist. As Snape taught the lesson, he failed to make eye contact with Harry even once, and when the class ended, he swept off without a word.
Hermione, observant as usual, remarked, "Snape didn't once glance at you, Harry."
"It's an improvement over his usual hyper-criticism," Harry replied. Hermione gave a nod in acknowledgment.
Later that evening, the three were sitting in the common room once again. Hermione was writing Ron's essay helping Ron write an essay. They were both rather engrossed, although Harry suspected Ron's interest stemmed primarily from Hermione's proximity. He seemed to spend more time watching Hermione than the parchment.
Harry decided to go talk to Malfoy while the other two were busy. He stood to leave and Hermione looked up. "Harry, where are you going?"
"Oh, erm... I'm still kind of tired. I'm going to bed," Harry lied. He didn't think Hermione believed him, but she didn't say anything. But now he had to go up to the boy's dormitory. Then he realised that he could grab his Invisibility Cloak and sneak out of Gryffindor. It was made even better by the fact that he could sneak into the infirmary without having to worry about anyone seeing him going to see Malfoy.
A few minutes later had him creeping quietly past Madam Pomfrey's office into the infirmary. He decided to have some fun. He sneaked up to the foot of Malfoy's bed–he seemed to be deep in thought, eyes glazed over.
"Draaaaacooooo," Harry whispered. "Draaaaacooooo..."
Malfoy's eyes widened dramatically when he heard the disembodied voice. He looked frantically for the source with a genuinely frightened look on his face.
He's actually terrified, Harry thought. He pulled the Cloak's hood back from his face and nearly took a step backward at Draco's reaction. In an instant, he went from cowering to radiating waves of hate.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he asked viciously.
"I... I'm sorry," Harry said. "I wasn't trying to scare you."
The angry visage softened slightly. "I don't know why it did. I think–I think it reminded me of Saturday."
He bit his lip. "Your disembodied voice brought back a trace of a memory... Like..." he bit his lip, "like someone was whispering my name. Telling me what to do. But I can't remember any of it."
Harry thought back to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Impostor Moody. When he had put the class under the Imperius Curse, one by one, it had been just like that: a disembodied voice and fuzzy memory.
"Draco... d'you think you might've been under the Imperius Curse?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sure. I don't even remember Friday night. The last thing I remember..."
"What?"
"The last thing I remember is sending you the note," he finished.
"That means, if you were Imperiused, whoever did it had access inside Hogwarts."
That was a scary thought; Malfoy had a scarier one. "Harry, what if whoever cursed me tries to do it again? While I'm alone and asleep tonight?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't think they would. You're almost too weak right now to be of much use."
"Of use? What do you mean?"
"Merlin. You really don't remember anything. When you were being controlled on Saturday, you put someone else under the Imperius Curse. Katie Bell. You gave her a cursed necklace and told her to take it to Dumbledore. That has to be why you were cursed in the first place."
"Oh." Malfoy's face became worried. The expression was genuine; Harry's gut told him so. That meant he hadn't been trying to kill Dumbledore in the first place.
"Harry, there's something I need to tell you."
The tone of his voice scared Harry. "You're not going to tell me you're a Death Eater, are you?"
"Don't be stupid, Potter." For a moment, the old Malfoy reared his ugly head. "You've seen my arms. I don't have the Mark."
"Oh, right," Harry said.
Malfoy started to speak again, but hesitated and bit his lip. "I don't have anyone else to talk to and I figured... well... It's my parents, Harry. He... You-Know-Who... has them–"
His voice cut off, thick with emotion. Tears of worry started to leak from his eyes and he angrily brushed them away.
Despite Malfoy's obvious distress, Harry was relieved. "I thought you were going to tell me you'd been trying to kill Dumbledore all along."
"Don't be–hic–stupid."
"But that time in the bathroom. You said..."
"Sarcasm, Potter." Malfoy bit back a sob.
If someone had told Harry a month earlier that a month from then, he'd be climbing into a hospital bed with Draco Malfoy to comfort him hours after having his first sexual encounter one bed over, Harry would have told that person they needed to go to the infirmary themselves and get checked out. But there he was, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder and resting his cheek on the blond's head as the latter began to sob into his chest.
After a while, the sobbing subsided. Harry wondered if Draco might have fallen asleep. He was content to sit there and enjoy the closeness.
"Stay with me tonight? Just in case?"
Harry smiled. "Okay."
Harry had to briefly hide under the Cloak while Madam Pomfrey came around with Draco's evening medication; after that, she retired to her quarters, which were presumably nearby, and left the pair undisturbed.
Draco decided, as per precedent, to see how much he could milk his physical (and emotional) state for.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"You know what would make me feel better about lying in this bed all day?"
"What?"
Draco craned his neck up to whisper in Harry's ear. Then he drew his head back and bit his lip, looking up through his blond lashes at Harry's green eyes.
Harry gave a loud laugh, before stopping himself, lest he alert the nurse. "Are you kidding me?"
"Um... no?"
"You're going to have to make me feel a lot worse for you for that to happen."
"Well, it would take my mind off You-Know-Who for a while." Even as he spoke, he could feel his swelling erection pressing into Harry's leg. He knew he had won when he saw the green eyes flick down and glance at the stirring sheets.
Harry pretended to be torn. He suspected that Malfoy was not convinced, but it was in the Slytherin's interest to play along.
"I suppose," Harry said finally. "But no mouth."
Draco pouted.
"...today," Harry finished.
That made Draco feel slightly better. What also made him feel better was tormenting Potter. "But I thought you weren't gay?"
Harry sighed. "Look, do you want me to toss you off or not?"
"Yes, please."
"Funny how you suddenly sprout good manners when you're getting sex."
"Either shut up or put your mouth to good use, Potter."
Harry pursed his lips. He slid down in the bed so that he was now resting against the left side of Malfoy's (still bandaged) chest. Slowly, with his right arm across the flat stomach, he pulled the sheets down until the other boy's fully engorged rod was exposed.
Unlike that morning, he now had time to admire Draco's body. It was even better than he had imagined that night in his bed. He inspected the erection before him. He could tell that it was slightly thicker than his own, but otherwise fairly similar. The foreskin was partially drawn back from the pinkish-purple glans underneath; he could see a drop of precum forming at the piss-hole. The shaft was creamy white and faintly spiderwebbed with veins.
His pubes were true to his hair colour, though slightly darker. Harry brushed them with his fingers and found that they were softer than his own coarse, dark ones. When he brushed his hand across the soft skin of the scrotum, which was sparsely dotted with hair, Malfoy coughed impatiently. "Get to it, will you?"
Harry gave him an insolent glare. Maintaining eye contact, he lowered his head to Draco's pink nipple. Slowly, he ran his tongue over it, feeling it harden under his attention and seeing the grey eyes watching him dilate in arousal.
Having taken his sweet time, he primly raised his fingers to the soft skin of Malfoy's shaft. He gently pulled down until the foreskin rolled back, completely exposing the shiny head. He felt the torso under him tense in anticipation when he leaned his head down, then heard a gasp when instead of a tongue, Malfoy felt a stream of cool air on his sensitive member.
"I thought you said no mouth," Draco moaned.
"I lied," Harry responded. But he brought his head back to Draco's chest. Making eye contact again, Harry replaced his tentative touch with a firm grasp. "Tell me how you like it."
"Lower down. Your hand." Harry's hand obeyed.
"Long, slow strokes." Draco's breath came in a hiss.
"Mmm. A bit less pressure. Oh. Yes. Mmm.
"Other hand–balls–gently–
"Faster now.
"Faster. Mmm.
"Faster. Oh. Fuck. Gonna cum–nngh–"
Draco's balls tightened under Harry's fingers; his shaft swelled ever so slightly. His eyelids closed, breaking eye contact as his jizz flew in pearly ropes onto his stomach.
"Ah..." he sighed with release.
He took a few deep, relaxing breaths.
"Potter, you're a filthy slut." He cracked a lid to look down at the green eyes that burned with lust. Then his gaze slid down to the erection straining against confining fabric. A small, wet dot in the fabric pinpointed the tip.
"Come up here."
Harry sat up and straddled Malfoy's legs. A pale hand found its way to his straining trousers. "Zipper."
Harry undid his fly and pulled down his underwear. His cock sprang free and began to throb.
"Tell me how you like it."
"Just–fucking–do it."
After just a few quick tugs, Harry arched his back and thrust into Malfoy's hand, coming with a final "fuck!"
He fell forward onto his hands and knees, bringing his face close to Draco's.
"Someone was excited."
"Nearly came in my pants when I felt your cum pulsing through your cock."
They shared a short kiss before they both drifted off to sleep.