Rating: Hm, I'll have to go with fluff. And usual Draco snarkiness. And Potter obliviousness.

Disclaimer: I saw this in one of my favourite fanfics (Conscience by sordid humor) and I thought it was hilarious. This by far is one of the best disclaimers ever:

I do not own them in a box,

I do not own them with a fox,

I do not own them while I'm bowling,

They all belong to JK Rowling.

I sincerely and utterly apologise for the lack of update. I have no excuse. I was going to say too much homework, but alas, that is not true. I do have homework, but two months without an update, not so much... This chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to cut it in half so you could have a sooner update, since it's not finished.

Chapter 3: Syrup

Two days later found Draco in a room with a bright light. Draco blinked furiously and peered around. He was obviously in the infirmary-Madam Pomphrey was not in the room though. Draco suddenly notice a pleasant warmth next to him. It was a person he was curled next to, as he could feel the gentle rise and fall of the chest of the sleeping person. Craning his neck, Draco looked into the face-and promptly screamed. Scrambling out of the bed, Draco was sprawled on the floor panting hard. He looked back up at the bed, only to see a confused Potter. Suddenly, an intense pain came crashing upon Draco. He cried out, but strong arms wrapped around him and brought him to a chest and cradled him there. Draco calmed down, but still he shivered from the aftereffects of pain. Finally having calmed down some, Draco looked up into the face of none other than Potter. Draco squirmed, trying to get away form the twat, but he kept a hold on Draco.

"Shush Draco, it's okay. Shush," Potter cooed while gently rocking Draco.

Draco further calmed down, but still did not relax in Potter's hold. "Potter, why are you holding me? And why am I in the blasted infirmary?" he asked after a minute or so.

"Well, I have to. And you're in the infirmary because you were beaten up. Badly, I might add," Potter stated this as if it was the simplest thing to comprehend.

"I know you are very simple-minded, but even a Hufflepuff can give a better explanation that that."

Potter just tossed Draco a glare. "I don't know much. You should be thankful that I saved you're ungrateful arse, Draco."

Draco could only stare unblinkingly at Potter. The other boy looked quizzically back at Draco. "What?"

"You-you just called me 'Draco,'" the blonde stuttered.

Potter's eyes widened in realisation. He suddenly seemed to notice the Slytherin seated on his lap. Quickly placing Draco next to him, but still close enough to touch, Potter backpedalled. "Well, I, um, er, just-"

The other could only look at Potter with amusement, a hint of fear, and another emotion he could not name. "Potter, stop rambling," Draco commanded. He had not heard another student utter his name in such a way-with such familiarity, He hated to admit it to himself, but Draco actually liked Potter saying his name, "If you feel the need to say my name, then please, do so," Draco stated, words dripping with sarcasm and he held the signature aristocratic tilt to head. Draco glanced out of the corner of his eye, gauging Potter's reaction. A small smile formed on the brunette's face.

"Are you feeling any better? Madam Pomfrey and I have been giving you healing potions. You'll probably have to stay here for another week or so, though. Plus, you know, the whole pain-"

"Yes, yes, Potter. Quite unusual. Now, have that crazy mediwitch have the houselves bring me food, since you insist on being so helpful."

"Only if you say the magic word," Potter teased with a cheeky grin.

"I swear to Merlin, Potter, if I do not have any food in five minutes, the Wizarding World will no longer have a Saviour," Draco said with an infuriated expression.

"Okay, okay. I'll go get you something. Just hold on."

"Finally, a bright idea. It's about time," Draco said with an eye roll.

Potter snapped his fingers, and a familiar house elf appeared. A pile of knitted hats sat atop his head. "Mr. Potter Sir requested Dobby!" the overexcited house elf exclaimed.

"Yes, Dobby. Could you please go and get us some food for breakfast?"

"Right away sir! Dobby knows just what to get the misters!"

A few seconds ticked by, and the house elf reappeared. "Here you go, Mr. Potter Sir. Dobby brought both misters their favourites!" Dobby said while handing the tray ladened with food to Potter.

After still contemplating where Draco had seen the house elf, he let go of the subject upon smelling the delicious aroma of waffles. When he reigned back into reality, the little house elf had vanished once more.

"I must admit, Potter, that the food looks delicious. Make sure to thank the house elves for me, will you?" Draco joked.

"Haha, very funny. Now Eat up, Malfoy. Better not let the food go to waste," Potter said while laying the tray gently on the Slytherin's lap.

Draco poured the bottle of syrup on his waffles till they floated in a lake of maple deliciousness. Stabbing a giant piece, the slighter boy hummed in delight as his mouth was flooded with the taste of the pastry. Taking another bite, Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. It felt wonderful to have a substance in his empty stomach. Sensing Potter staring at him, Draco stared back with the most ferocious glare he could muster. After a few seconds, Potter finally broke away laughing.

"What?" the Slytherin asked, confused.

"Ah...nothing. It's just...you're glaring at...me...with syrup...all over your...face..." Potter manage between bursts of laughter.

Draco blinked for a few seconds, then an intense blush coated his pale cheeks. The embarrassed blonde turned his head away so he did not have to look at Potter. "Stop laughing, Potter. I've seen you look much more ridiculous."

"Um...Draco?"

"What, Scarface?" Draco bit back in retort.

Harry's face hardened a bit at the insult from Draco. "Nothing, I was just going to tell you that there was syrup still on your face. It dripped onto your shirt. I'll go tell Madam Pomfrey you woke up and get you a fresh shirt."

Immediately, Draco regretted every calling Potter that. "Wait, Potter..." Draco called out, but the other had already left. Suddenly, an intense pain racked the blonde's body. A pain filled scream tore through, escaping from his throat. A crackling sound surrounded Draco as he twisted and writhed on the hospital bed from the pain. The muscles in his body stiffened and he couldn't move. Draco's silver eyes widened n shock and pain as he laid on the bed, panting, frozen. The blonde fought against his body, trying to move, trying to escape from the pain. One by one his senses were lost. Draco couldn't see the stone walls of the infirmary or the glistening sunlight from the large window beside the bed. Then he couldn't hear the birds singing or the whomping willow ungracefully swaying in the strong September breeze, or even his own muffled sobs of pain. A strange sensation overcame him, and the Slytherin felt as if he was floating in air. He couldn't feel the sweaty sheet fisted in his clenched hands, or the perspire covering his body. Draco also lost the his sense of smell. He was unable to detect the sweet aroma of the syrup from his breakfast, which had unceremoniously clattered to the ground during his fit. He couldn't even taste the dryness of his mouth. Draco just caved in upon himself internally, and begged to be released from this pain.

A/N: Oh wow. I'm a bit sadistic towards Draco, aren't I? Ending the chapter where he is in intense pain. Hmm...poor Draco. Review, mea amores! (Cookies to whoever can correctly translate that! Hint: It's not Italian. Well, it is, but not the language in which I am using it.)