Title: Pillow Talk: Itchy and Scratchy
Standard Disclaimer applies.
AN: I have finally finished my master's degree and I am finding myself with all this free time! Thanks for the great reviews. I enjoy the encouragement and if you have any prompts for me, please feel free to suggest!
"Granger! I'm home!" Draco opened the door to his flat and placed his wand on the glass table by the door. It was Saturday and Draco had just returned home from lunch with his parents, suffering an hour and a half of their urgings for him to marry soon. Particularly dropping hints at possible prospects in Astoria Greengrass or her sister, Daphne. Taking off his cloak, Draco surveyed the London flat. "Granger! Are you here?" Draco walked down the hall to Hermione's room and noticed her door still closed. Uncharacteristically, he knocked on the door. "Granger!" he said in a sing-song voice. He opened the door and took in the sight before him. Hermione was belly down on her bed with her left arm draped over the edge of her bed, her left leg tucked on top of the covers while the remaining parts of her body was left covered. Her brown, chestnut hair fanned over the pillow as well as the side of her face. Draco looked at his muggle watch, a gift from Hermione on their second Christmas together as flatmates. 1:38 pm.
Draco walked over to Hermione, "Geez, Granger. It's 1:30 pm and you're still in bed? Lazy much?"
Hermione mumbled something unintelligible.
"Granger, you know I can't understand you underneath that bushy hair."
"I'm not lazy, you ninny," Hermione wheezed out. "I'm sick."
Draco took a large step back. "Are you contagious?"
"Why? You afraid you're going to catch my muggleborn germs?" Hermione coughed.
"No. I'd just rather not get sick before my date tonight," he argued.
"I'm fine." Hermione over onto her back and brushed away her hair. It was only then when Draco noticed the full extent of Hermione's illness.
"Holy hell, Granger! Do you have Dragonpox?" Draco yelled. Her face and arms were covered in red pocks and rashes.
"Do I look like I have Dragonpox? My skin isn't green, is it?" Hermione countered.
"Then what's all over your body?" Draco craned his head closer.
"It's chickenpox," Hermione said, her eyes closed, still flat on her back.
"Why were you handling chickens?"
"You don't get chickenpox from chickens. It's an airborne sickness. It's a common muggle childhood illness. I never had it when I was a kid, though. I probably caught it from some kids at that birthday party a few days ago," Hermione moved her left arm to cover her eyes from the bright light shining into the room.
"You can't drink some potion or something?"
"It's a muggle illness, Draco. My best bet is to lay in bed, get rest, and try not to scratch my face off. They have some lotion to help with the itchiness."
"Is it itchy?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. It's taking all of my energy not to rub up against something right now."
"Oh really?" Draco raised his eyebrows.
"That wasn't an invitation," she moved her arm off her face and gave him an intense stare.
"How do you feel?" he finally asked.
"My throat is sore, I have a headache, and I'm nauseated."
"Where's that fiancé of yours? He should be here taking care of you," Draco replied.
"He had to take a portkey to Egypt for work for the Ministry. Plus he's never had chickenpox, so I wouldn't want him to catch it."
"What? It's contagious?" he screeched.
"Highly."
"Granger!"
"You're the one who barged in here!"
"Because I was worried about you!"
"Liar! You came in here to berate me about how you thought I was still lazy for being in bed!"
"Are you telling me that I'm going to look like you and get red marks all over my body?"
"Mhmm. Don't forget the itching. If you scratch, you leave scars."
Draco's eyes widened at the horror of possibly scaring his perfect, alabaster skin.
Hermione winced with a loud groan and kicked off her covers. "Oh Merlin! This is unbearable! I want to scratch so bad!" Hermione begin to rub her hands on her legs, still covered by her pajama pants.
"Hey! Stop that!" Draco automatically grabbed her hands to stop.
"Oh what do you care!" Hermione resisted.
"I'd rather my flatmate not be scarred horribly, thank you very much."
"Oh, no you don't. You could care less what I look like." Hermione stopped her actions and glared at Draco as he released his hold on her.
"Do you want to walk down the aisle in a few months with pock marks all over you face, and your pictures plastered all over Rita Skeeter's column? I could imagine the title now, "Pock Mark War Heroine Marries!" Draco triumphantly announced.
"Meanie." Hermione unconsciously begin to scratch her belly.
"You have no self control."
"I have plenty of self control!" Hermione pulled her covers over her head, in an attempt to hide the fact she was scratching the side of her neck.
"You couldn't last five minutes!"
"Well you'll never know, because you have a date tonight," came the muffled reply.
"I'll cancel," Draco said simply.
"What?" Hermione asked as she uncovered herself, her face flushed.
"I'll cancel. You need someone here to take care of you and make sure you don't scratch."
"You've never had chickenpox before. You're going to catch it."
"I already most likely caught it already when I walked in here. I might infect my date tonight and forever be known as "That guy that gave me that disease." I can't ruin my reputation. Besides, if I go, I might infect the entire Wizarding London with your muggle disease. Then we'll really have an epidemic."
"You don't have to stay with me," Hermione sighed.
"So what do you propose I do to make sure you don't scratch? Tie your hands to the bedposts? Kinky," Draco smirked at the thought.
"I don't think it would have to go that far," Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she sat herself up in bed.
"Body binding curse?" he suggested.
"Well that's just cruel."
"Tape your hands closed? I'm running out of ideas here, Granger. I can see it now. You walking down the aisle in the white dress, covered in horrible scars. You have a veil to wear right?" Draco suddenly slapped away Hermione's wandering hands over her arms and belly.
"Ow!" Hermione retaliated as she attempted to slap him.
"I had to resort to drastic measures," Draco defended himself as he jumped away.
"Okay, fine. You can make sure I don't scratch," Hermione conceded.
Hours later in the evening found Draco in Hermione's king sized bed, in his own pajamas, eating Chinese takeaway food as Hermione enjoyed her wonton soup. On the television was a muggle movie Draco had never seen before. Draco kept Hermione's mind off the scratching by talking throughout the various movies that they watched throughout the day.
"I don't get it. I mean, clearly there was enough room for both of them on the raft. She was just being selfish," Draco concluded as the movie ended.
"Says the man who ate the last eggroll," Hermione scoffed.
"It's an eggroll, Granger. Not a matter of life and death."
"It's romantic, Draco."
"It's selfish. She totally should have married that other guy."
"She didn't love him though," Hermione argued.
"He could have provided for her and given her a better life than the other guy."
"Draco Malfoy. Is that what you want for yourself? To marry someone you don't love just because it's good for your image and society? You don't want to marry for love?" she angrily asked him.
"We've been over this, Granger. My parents did it. Their parents did it and their parents before that did it. It's the pureblood way."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she finished off her soup. She set it on the nightstand and settled back into her bed on her back.
"How are you feeling?" Draco asked as he propped himself up against the headboard and reached for the remote. He noticed that her covers were still kicked off and instantly grabbed the top of the cover to bring up to Hermione's chin.
"Better," Hermione admitted as she watched Draco expertly change television channels, in awe of how attuned he had become to her needs. "Thanks for staying. You've kept my mind off the itching and scratching."
"Anytime, Granger," he smiled down at her. Her face was now covered in dots of pink lotion that Draco had been asked to buy for her. Still, with the pink lotion all over her face, she was able to look better than any other girl Draco had dated recently. The conversation was much better as well. She was actually kind of adorable, Draco admitted to himself.
Hermione smiled back and then frowned at noticing a small detail. "Uh oh."
"What uh oh?" Draco's smile disappeared.
"I think I see a mark on your face," Hermione said pointing up at the right side of his chin.
"What?" Draco furiously jumped out of her bed and ran to Hermione's bathroom to further inspect.
Hermione snickered as he began to inspect his skin, only to find nothing on his face. However, seeing wasn't believing as he checked his arms and lifted up his shirt to see his chest for any signs of red marks. "That's what you get for eating my eggroll!" she thought to herself.