I do not own anything here, nor am I making a profit from this. It is purely to pass my time, and hopefully, interest other people. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.

A big big thankyou for all my reviewers! I've tried to write this chapter several times, I had such writers block - no matter how many times I re-write it, I'm not happy with it lol. I've wasted enough time trying to get it right though, so here it is. I hope it's okay, sorry that it's late. :)

To answer some questions, "is Harry getting treatment?" - yes and no. He takes "the potion" (as he has dubbed it) every Tuesday, but it's kind of like a magical scan over his body. It examines every miniture cell to find any impurities or oddities that may be because of the disease. It worsens as it progresses, so this is going to be important that they get the information this invasive potion gets. He takes magical stabilizers through the day, to try to retain his magic, and he takes an internal healer in case the disease has damaged him at all throughout the week, and he takes a pain reliever sometimes. There is no actual treatment of this disease, only measures to try to stabilize or prevent or deal with it. Hope this explaines it :)

Chapter Nine - A Mere a Physical infatuation

Hermione frowned to herself as Malfoy entered the great hall. Usually the one for dramatics, even when, or should she say especially when, the rest of Slytherin house was trying to keep a low profile, today he sat without a word to his housemates. He didn't even pick up a fork. The pureblood prince remained silent, and unmoving at the table. And whilst she generally would have pointed out his discontent to the rest of her friends, maybe even join in on some gossip, today it just felt…cruel.

Cruel is exactly what he deserved, the heartless Slytherin. After years of ridicule and torment and just pure prejudice, it was nice to know he was receiving a taste of his own medicine. After all, it was his fault that Harry barely gave them a glance anymore, much less an actual conversation. He was a horrible influence on Harry; her friend had started swearing left, right, and centre, he barely paid attention in class and was up only God knows where, trailing around the school every night. Her friend was changing, and she didn't like it one bit. The only new factor was the blonde Slytherin, as surprising as that was, and that needed to change.

Malfoy destroyed everything he laid his hands on, and he was destroying Harry. And furthermore, he had effectively destroyed their friendship.

And yet, despite being Malfoy, Hermione felt sorry for him.

He had large purple rings under his eyes, a clear sign of lack of sleep. He just stared at his plate, making no move to touch any of the food; stress, maybe? And furthermore his hair, always immaculate, was in a state of disarray; if Malfoy was functioning normally he would never let that happen.

He barely noticed when the post arrived, and seemed oblivious to his fellow house in green attempting to speak with him. He didn't see any of their blank, worried faces, just continued staring with a slight frown at his uneaten meal.

Hermione made her decision. Despite being a complete brat that deserved no more of her sympathy than Voldemort would have received, he needed a break. He looked as if he was on his last legs, about to collapse via exhaustion. No one deserved to be hounded when they were that emotionally exhausted.

Hermione was going to tell the Gryffindors to lay off Malfoy for a few days, that enough was enough with the ridicule or jinxes. Malfoy would see that Gryffindor was capable of compassion.

Nodding to herself, the brightest witch of her grade gathered her books and headed to her study period.

She didn't notice Malfoy's small glances to the boy two seats down from her. She didn't see the Slytherin frowning as he took in the brunette's shaking hands or pale face. She didn't see Harry, his bloodshot eyes squeezed shut as a hand clutched at his stomach desperately. She didn't see the tear escape to dribble down his face.

.

.

.

Harry glanced up at the shadow of his niche, a barely controlled sigh escaping his parched lips. One day without his stalker was all he wanted. One. Fucking. Day.

"What do you want?" Harry groaned against his knees, not even attempting at keeping his annoyance from his voice. He had effectively avoided Malfoy for an entire six hours. Six hours and his new hiding spot had already been discovered; and the clincher! It wasn't even first period yet. "Go away."

"Ask nicely."

"Fuck off."

"Plebeian."

Harry sighed again, raising his head enough to glare over his knees at the aristocratic git. He didn't mind being plebeian, if it meant he wasn't even considered in the same genre as Malfoy.

"Alright. Bon jou, monsieur Malfoy."

"Vous avez ruiné la langue française pour moi."

Of coursehe spoke French. Naturally.

Harry pretended not to see the smug little smirk Malfoy gave him; instead he lowered his head back to hide behind his knees. He didn't want Malfoy to see how red his eyes were, not if he had some eye-exploding disease that only the blonde twat could somehow miraculously heal; Harry would rather his eyes burst than submit himself to more humiliation in front of Malfoy. He already had too much ammo. True, he hadn't used any of it yet, but he held the full deck all the same.

He tightened his hand on his waist, willing it to stop. His stomach hadn't stopped churning and twisting since last night. He felt as if every movement was going to make him throw up, and yet sitting still made him feel so sick that he felt as if he had to move. To the nearest bathroom, at least. Harry had opportunistically headed down to breakfast, to gag at the sight of his bacon. He couldn't even sip on some water without feeling as though he was going to heave up what little he had eaten in the past few weeks. It was a horrible feeling.

And Malfoy couldn't know. Lest Harry redecorate his lovely uniform.

"So why are you cowering in a shadowy corner of the castle?" He seemed as interested as he did last night…oh fuck. Harry had blissfully forgotten about that particular humiliation. "Breakfast not to your liking, my little peasant?"

Harry jerked his head up, wincing as he twisted his neck. Wait a bloody moment! One, "I'm not a peasant," and two, "I'm not 'yours'! There is no 'my' in relation to us ever, Malfoy!"

"Tell that to the prophet, dear." Malfoy's smirk didn't waver at the filthy glare Harry threw him. No, the drama queen bloody flourished under the attention. "No 'my's' anymore? So I can't speak about my relationship with Potter? My history with him? Not romantically, before your filthy mind leaps ahead, but my-"

"Shove off Malfoy! I'm not bloody joking here!"

"Fine." It couldn't be that easy. Nothing concerning the blonde git was ever this-

"I'll have to refer to it as our relationship. More intimate. Much better, don't you agree? Our. Our." Did he have to repeat it like that? It wasn't as if he was contemplating it in seriousness.

"Malfoy, you can't be-"

"Too late," And there was that bloody impeccable grin again. Slytherin Prince? Not likely, smiling like that. "We're committed."

No wonder half the school and most of the wizarding world thought they were dating; Malfoy wasn't exactly trying to rectify the rumours, was he? It really should have bothered Harry more than it was.

"Now, my little Scar-head, care to explain why you're cowering in a shadowy corner of the castle?" Damn. "You don't need to look so shocked that I have a memory span of over thirty seconds; it's called multitasking, Potty."

Right. That's it. If Malfoy was going to be twat of the year, Harry could be runner-up.

Harry reached for his bag, grimacing as his stomach lurched again. Hopefully Malfoy would take it for Harry's unease at being watched, not the fact that something was wrong…again.

"Don't you have class to get to?" Harry didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his tone. Why bother? When one had to take on a Malfoy, they had to give it their all and have fifty plan "b's" before even contemplating a confrontation. Sitting on the floor in an abandoned corridor whilst trying not to be sick wasn't a desirable launch of a plan.

"Stop failing at avoiding the question." Malfoy smirked as Harry's eyebrow twitched. "We have study. Now, the answer?"

Harry didn't reply. He didn't have to. He just had to sit and collect his runner-up trophy.

The effect was instantaneous.

The blonde replaced his grin with a sneer, his eyes dropping dangerously to slits as he glared daggers at the little cube in Harry's hands. He looked coiled like a snake, about to lunge at Harry's throat. Harry didn't doubt the thought was streaking repeatedly across his mind.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to succeed in avoiding the question."

Harry allowed himself a grin. He turned the rubik's cube in his hands, deciding whoever the maker was, was a genius, and about to get a hefty anonymous donation. Effective Malfoy repellent was difficult to come by these-

The cube was flung from his hands savagely, Malfoy's foot replacing the small toy. Yes, he kicked it across the room. Along with at least three of Harry's fingers, but, hey, who was counting?

"That better not be broken, Malfoy."

"Or what? You'll hex me?" Harry swallowed tightly as the snakey bastard disregarded him, hand clenching on his gut. Maybe he didn't mind being sick all over Malfoy's robes after all? "Just answer the question."

"Just bugger off?" Harry suggested instead, focusing on those grey daggers instead of the rolling in his stomach. Why was it heaving now? Emotion didn't have a thing to do with stomach bugs, did it? "I fail to see why you care."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't care about your wellbeing?"

"Malfoy, I would rather shave my entire head, eyebrows and all, and walk into potions with my head held high than want you to care about my wellbeing."

"Doubtful, Potter." Oh, shit…why did the gleam return to his eyes? The gleam was never good. "Very doubtful."

Harry groaned again, resting his head back on his knees. His stomach was still twisting, getting to the point of being painful. It felt as if it was burning, and not about to discontinue anytime soon. "I'm not moving, so you might as well leave. Gryffindor stubbornness and all that jazz..."

Harry didn't understand his newfound stalker tendencies. He had made it quite clear that he didn't want the attention, despite the fact it was nice sometimes to have someone there other than the professors. Well, to be completely honest, more so than the professors. Malfoy was the closest thing to a friend at the moment, as utterly crazy as that sounded, and it was confusing the hell out of Harry that he didn't mind. But then again, it wasn't as if their 'friendship' could flourish into some incredible partnership.

Harry was sick.

Malfoy was wasting his time.

Shuffling made Harry open his eyes again, blinking in surprise. Malfoy had joined him in the alcove. Sitting on the floor. With a sneer and a look of utter disgust at being on the floor, of course, but sitting nevertheless. And Harry had thought him vain.

"What are you doing?"

"It would appear I'm sitting. Correct me if I'm wrong, of course, I have a tendency to not comprehend simple actions. I could be running for all I know-"

"Just shut up." And he had the nerve to look affronted. "I meant why are you sitting there?"

"Interesting, that," Malfoy cocked his head to the side, regarding Harry seriously. That bloody mask was impenetrable. "You ask what I am doing but instead meant why; did that scar ruin your capability in thinking? Obviously the lucidity is lost in transition through thought to mouth-"

"Stop it-"

"Stop what exactly?"

"This!" Harry gestured between them savagely, regretting the action as soon as his gut cramped up savagely. He continued in a slightly milder tone. "The sitting and the chatting and the stalking…I can't be your friend, Malfoy."

The scoff wasn't entirely anticipated. "Friend?" Why was he chuckling? There was nothing funny about this! "Whoever said anything about friendship? Did I ask to be your friend, my deluded little Potty? Did I ever imply it?"

Harry swallowed tightly, ignoring the sinking in his chest. And there went the only person left.

"Whatwould you call it, then?"

"Pity?"

"And I told you that if it was pity you should go fuck off!" Harry snarled at him furiously; his emotions were on a bloody rollercoaster today. He hadn't slept well all week, hadn't eaten anything in days, and it was taxing. And, just to make it worse, Malfoy's confusing plethora of masks was just another issue that Harry didn't need to puzzle out right now. "I would rather be alone!"

"If that was true, you would have left Hogwarts already." He didn't even look perturbed. The utter bastard.

"Same for you." Harry shot back at him, frowning as he considered the blonde. "Why are you still here? It's not pity; you're too fucking above pity. So, what is it?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you-"

"Yes, actually, you do. I was here first." Harry tried to ignore the smirk at that, no matter how he could feel himself turning red at the childishness of it all. "This is my alcove. I can't – won't move." Grey eyes narrowed a bit at that; of course he heard the slip. "It's not pity, it's not loneliness; you still have all your cronies in Slytherin sprinting at your every whim." Malfoy actually looked smug. "If it's not friendship, why would you care-?"

"Don't misinterpret my company for caring."

Harry blinked at the sudden venom in his tone, frowning at what had been so insulting. He had only implied that Malfoy was concerned about…no. It couldn't be.

Harry glanced at the usually impassible blonde, incredibility overcoming the pain in his stomach. Malfoy was blushing. There was a definite pink hue on his cheeks, as he steadily glared at Harry. If only looks could kill. Torture, humiliate and kill excruciatingly slowly.

Holy shit; Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Ice Prince and Royal Heartless Prat, instigator of every fight or insult within Hogwarts…cared about Harry? Obviously not romantically, but even for a friendship that was completely…strange. Malfoy cared about Malfoy, and that was it. But nevertheless, here he was, blushing softly, about to murder Harry if he did anything to embarrass him further.

Harry couldn't help it.

He laughed.

"Shut up!" The blonde was immediately on the defensive, hand twitching for his wand. He looked a second away from using it. Harry ignored this fact.

"You're blushing Malfoy!" Harry laughed, both arms clutching at his stomach now. "Blushing!" This, of course, only made him flush a deeper pink, and caused Harry to laugh louder.

"Shut the fuck up, Potter!"

"Afraid someone will hear us?" Harry chortled, grinning at the fact Malfoy's eyes were growing steadily darker. He didn't doubt that the blonde would be more than willing to curse Harry just to shut him up. Hell, he would probably find humor in that instead! "Afraid someone will find out the big bad Slytherin has a heart?"

"Tch, who implied I had a heart?" Harry was still chuckling as Malfoy tried to compose himself, rolling his eyes as if this entire conversation didn't have him utterly mortified. "You're over exaggerating, Potty."

"You'd be one to know."

"If, and I mean in every single hypothetical way you're limited brain can conjure, if I had a slightestinkling, a fucking speck of…restricted concern in relation to you, be rest assured, it's nothing to do will your emotional wellbeing in the least."

Harry just nodded, holding back the mirth in his chest. His stomach was on fire, but his chest was running on fucking clouds. "Okay." He responded quite minimally, only irritating Malfoy further. Harry had never seen him struggling to find the right words before; it was almost as amusing as seeing him flush pink. "What does it have to do with, then?"

Malfoy looked pissed, underneath that mask of his. Eyes glinting dangerously, he could have been contemplating Harry's murder without blinking. That being said, Harry didn't expect him to sigh dramatically and roll his eyes again. He definitely didn't expect Malfoy to grin at him, the much softer version of himself finally coming through. A stab in the neck with his wand was more likely than this.

"It's a mere physical infatuation, Potty." Malfoy grinned, running a hand through his perfect hair. He looked almost…normal. "How are we supposed to consummate our marriage with such…limitations on your side?"

Harry just laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. Trust the blonde git to turn this around again. "Whatever, you still care about me."

"Fuck off, my little scarhead."

"Doesn't that make your point rather futile, Draco?"

Harry was busy marveling at the fact he had made Malfoy laugh, laugh, for Christ's sake!, when a squeak of surprise made them both spin their heads around.

Neville was standing a few meters away, mouth gaping and eyes wide as he stared at the two of them. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, confusion practically oozing from him before he spun around and sprinted off, tripping on his trousers once as he did. He looked so much more like the bumbling, quiet student from first year, and not the Gryffindor leader of present, that had Harry stare blankly for a few moments.

From the look of his face, he had heard everything. Great.

Harry jerked as Malfoy leapt to his feet, eyes promising murder. Harry had thought he was embarrassed when he was flushing pink…now, his face was vivid red. Hands clenched, he started off after Neville, muttering potential curses under his breath as he went. He looked as if he was about to pop a bloody vein.

"Thanks, Neville."Harry said quietly, wondering how Malfoy was going to mutilate him. Threatening was out of the question, of course; Nev had seen the blonde smile, for fucks sake. He was going to be lucky if Draco let him get to class this week. "I owe you one."

Harry sat quietly in his alcove, wondering if it had always been so uncomfortable.

.

.

.

Well, Harry had made it successfully through a second day without as much as a glare thrown his way. No exploding inkwells. No mysteriously missing homework. The week was looking up, as if he could finally relax without the insistent anxiousness that had forced its way into his life. Harry was finally content.

…

With the small exception being his stomach was resisting any solid effort to retain normalcy. Two fucking days, and it was still squirming and twisting uncomfortably. Any attempt to even glance at food had him feeling as though he was about to throw up, and god forbid if he tried to eat. Maybe that was why his schoolmates had given him a break with the taunting and jinxing. They were still irritated about his newfound friendship with Malfoy, despite the fact they hadn't spoken since that odd occurrence yesterday morning, and the fact Malfoy had quite clearly stated that they were not friends, but maybe they thought that his stomach problems were a fine punishment for the time being.

The bastards.

Harry shuffled through the library doors, eyes searching for an abandoned table. If he was given a break, despite the reasons why, he was going to utilize it to the best of his ability; he was going to learn some more languages today. He had already scribbled a few down, but it was hell to despite the fact it was almost as difficult as staying awake in Professor Bin's classes was, he had decided to struggle through anyway. He needed a distraction, and this was a welcomed one. Unlike his stalker Slytherin. Who was sitting at a table all to himself, a frown marring his face as he glared at a particularly thick book before him. He must have felt Harry's stare, for he shifted in his seat, but steadily refused to look up. He did, however, flip Harry off.

Harry smirked to himself, wondering why such as blatantly rude action had just made his entire day all that much better.

The entire library was full.

Tables of eighth years filled the large space, each one searching through books almost frantically, passing notes or pulling their hair out. Madam Pince was standing over them all moodily, pointing to the door as soon as someone opened their mouths to speak. Well, it was what they deserved.

Harry smirked to himself, his smug smile sliding off his face immediately. What had he done to deserve Neville practically sprinting towards him? A confrontation in the library? Really?

"Harry, don't go." Neville spoke as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He hurried the last few steps. "I just want to talk, honestly."

Resigning himself for the jinxes to return by the end of this conversation, Harry sighed and stayed where he was. Bloody hell, the glares were already trained on his back. Why didn't Neville just paint a target on his shoulders?

"It's…uh…I'm sorry for overhearing yesterday…" Neville blurted out, blushing as he studied his shoes. Oh, great. This was going to be hell on earth…well, amplified anyway. "I didn't mean to, it's just I heard shouting, and thought Malfoy was attacking you…"If anything Neville turned bright red at that, both embarrassing himself and utterly mortifying Harry. Shit, he believed the rumors.

"Neville, nothing's going on between-"

"It's alright, Harry, you don't have to pretend. I…get it." Harry watched in a morbid fascination as Neville lifted his head, finally meeting his eyes. Suddenly, the leader of Gyffindor was back, ready to take charge and face a problem head on. "I thought…well, we all thought, that you were just doing it to get back at us. To try to start fights and stuff. And, well, after seeing you two yesterday…I know that's not the case. If he makes you happy-"

"Oh dear god, please stop-"

"Then that's fine by me. You have my complete support, Harry." Neville smiled at the end, laughing as he analyzed Harry's completely horrified face. Malfoy lied; the bloody school still believed that they were a couple. Harry was going to murder that prick. "I'll even try to make Gryffindor turn around-"

"Please, don't." Harry swallowed tightly, glancing around at the murder being glared his way. There was no fucking way in hell that they were going to see sense. Especially if Neville wasn't in the first place! And he was the fucking most lucid of them all! "Just…its fine if you understand." Harry wanted to shoot himself. "They'll…come around…" Doubtful. Very, very doubtful.

They both stood awkwardly for a few moments, Harry wanting to hide his face and never be seen again, Neville standing in a sort of self satisfied way, believing he had done some good. God, Harry had never been more humiliated than at this moment. They had Neville's approval?

"Well…I have to finish my potions homework." Neville said suddenly, laughing at himself as he did. "I can't the answers anywhere."

"Try 'Useless Herbs of the Twelfth Century'…I found it in there." Harry glanced around again, trying to find a table that didn't have someone glaring at him. Great. He could always go sit on the floor behind some shelves.

"Ta, thanks Harry…oh, um…just so you know…the potion mishap with Malfoy…" Harry blinked in shock, turning to frown at Neville. He couldn't be snitching on a fellow Gryffindor…could he? That…it went against every code they lived by in the tower…and he was doing it for Harry? "Um…it wasn't any of the girls…and it wasn't Ron or Seamus either." He frowned here, looking almost as embarrassed as Harry did moment ago. "I've had a talk with him, and he didn't know what it would do. He was just chucking random ingredients into cauldrons when he could…and obviously it went very wrong. He won't do it again, I promise…just…tell Mal -uh, Draco, that I've dealt with it."

Holy shit, Neville would be murdered if Malfoy heard him call him by his given name. He would be tortured if he ever found out Neville was trying to help him.

"Yeah…uh, thanks…" Harry nodded clumsily as his friend, Merlin, he still had a friend!, went back to his desk to be hounded by Gryffindors. What the hell was that?

Harry stood there blankly for a few moments, not sure what to think. Dean. It was Dean that had tried to melt Malfoy's face. Accidently, of course, but the cruel intent was there nevertheless. Who the hell threw random ingredients into a cauldron, for fucks sake?! Were they still bloody twelve?

…

Should he tell Malfoy?

Harry's feet were moving before his mind had caught up, still steadily ignoring the painful clenching of his stomach. If he ignored it, it wasn't there. The same philosophy for his…illness.

"What did Toad-Wonder want, Potty?"

Harry swallowed as he stared at the blonde head, frowning slightly as he didn't even look up. How the hell had he known it would be Harry that approached? He was getting more stalker-ish by the day.

"He gave our relationship his blessing." Harry said dryly, smirking as Malfoy's hand paused slightly before turning the page. That was his entire indication he had heard, a light hesitation. Did nothing faze him?

"I'll have to break up with you then. Shame." He sounded as if he was speaking about the weather. "I'm assuming that's the reason behind their change of heart?"

"What do you mean?" Change of heart? The Gryffindors hadn't changed an inch; they were still glaring and muttering as they usually did, only without the curses. Malfoy seemed to agree.

"They've stopped jinxing me this week. Probably for the best; they were losing too many members as it was."

Harry frowned. "They were jinxing you?"

"Merlin, Potty, do you live under a rock?" Malfoy finally glanced up, his mask already in place. "The school isn't too happy with Slytherin at the moment, and they've been blatantly obvious in alerting us to this fact. Nothing we can't handle, of course; I don't want to activate that annoying hero complex. Slytherin may not forgive me if I do."

"I don't have a hero complex...what the hell are you reading?" Harry had finally caught a glimpse at the book Malfoy had been studying; one word caught his eye and set off the alarm bells. And Malfoy had the audacity to look innocent.

"Just some light reading. Nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit it doesn't have to do with me!" Harry went to snatch the book away; blinking as one of Malfoy's hands came slamming down to hold it in place. The mask was still firmly in place, but his eyes were glinting. Harry couldn't tell if it was anger or amusement; whichever one it was, it still sent a chill down Harry's spine. "Give me the book, Malfoy."

"Don't think I will, actually." He replied dryly, raising his eyebrows. "I'm just doing some extracurricular study."

"This isn't funny-!"

"I never implied it was."

Harry swallowed tightly, flicking his eyes at the word again before jerking his entire hand away. It felt as if it could burn him. "Put it back. Put it back now!"

"Controlling husband, are you? I didn't bet on that…well, yes, I did actually…"

"Put it back!"

"No." Malfoy actually sounded smug. "I can read whatever I wish, without your permission."

"Not when it has to do with me!" Harry cursed as his voice trembled, but resolutely held onto Malfoy's bloody evaluating gaze. He could practically feel the judgement rolling off in waves. "If someone sees you reading this they can guess-!"

"No one is interested in whatever I read, Potty. No one cares."

"You can't be sure about that!"

"Well, no one was interested before you got here. The only one making it suspicious is you."

Harry jerked his head around, almost groaning as he caught most of the students glancing their way. True to Malfoy's word, they all looked very interested now. Moments ago it seemed no one even knew Malfoy in the room. Shit.

Harry's stomach twisted roughly with his fear, thriving on the new emotion. He gasped slightly, a hand clenching anxiously at his gut. This stomach bug was the worse; the fear fed its viciousness, and its viciousness made Harry's terror increase tenfold. It was a brutal cycle, one he needed to rectify soon. As soon as he dealt with Malfoy's snooping qualities.

"It's not as if they can hear what we're talking about, anyway. Did you know that three in five people that have been recorded with succ-"

"Shut up!"

"-have gone insane?"

Harry snarled furiously, snatching his wand from his sleeve. Not his fake wand, his actual wand. Who the hell cared if the illness hurt him now? If it managed to shut the pratty bastard up, Harry didn't give two fucks. In fact, he would welcome it.

How dare he go and read about this? What the fuck was he trying to do? Get more ammunition? Why would anyone want to read about that? It wasn't as if he held the advantage already!

Unadulterated anger coursed through Harry, flooding to the brim. He wanted Malfoy to hurt. He wanted him to back off and leave Harry to his own devices; not to try to jam useless information about a useless illness down his fucking throat!

Malfoy was threatening the already unstable platform Harry was waiting on. No, he was fucking obliterating it!

"Give me the book, or I'll curse you. Don't think I won't."

But the twit didn't even look surprised. "Did I cross some imaginary line?" He drawled, completely at ease with Harry's wand jammed against his head. It only made him want to utter the spell. One. Spell.

Harry's stomach grumbled to itself, tensing and squeezing as Harry tried to calm the torrent of anger. He needed to not blast Malfoy's head off…after all, Madam Pince was blatantly edging closer to intervene. He couldn't let decapitation join his record, now could he? His gut wasn't helping…it was twisting and giggling with fucking amusement at the fear and ferocity that was overwhelming Harry's… fuck.

Harry's insides went cold, almost numb. His stomach had been acting up since Tuesday, it was…It. It felt like the potion, the fucking thing that was obliterating Harry's life. It was still inside Harry.

Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!

Harry's mind began screaming at him, begging him to run to the hospital wing and strap himself into the bed and turn on the bloody torture himself…and yet he couldn't so much as move. Harry didn't even know if he could speak at this moment; facing Voldemort had left him with more courage than this moment did. He didn't know if he could do the 'treatment' again so soon…he didn't know if he could handle it.

So Harry stood there, mind screaming at him, face blank, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. He felt dirty, soiled, having this thing inside him still. What if it couldn't be taken out? What if he was going to be stuck with this fucking parasite for the rest of his-

"Answer me."

Oh, double fuck. Harry had forgotten about the blonde prat from Slytherin, who had apparently been speaking this entire time. Great. Fantastic. He was frowning at Harry, irritation fairly visible across his mask now.

Harry's wand was limp in his hand, not even pointing at Malfoy's face anymore. He had been standing there like an imbecile, eyes glazed and in all probability muttering to himself. Nothing like maintaining a good image.

"…I…" Harry cursed himself to the bottoms of wizarding hell as he only managed a small croak of a word. How had he managed to kill a man, but wasn't able to ask for help? How messed up had his mind become? "…I think I need the hospital wing."

Let the apocalypse officially begin; Harry had asked for help from Draco Malfoy.

"Fine. Come on."

There was no hesitation.

.

.

.

Harry cringed on the bed, biting his lip until it bled. He had been right. Pomfrey had paled and immediately strapped him back into the bed, turning on the machines and trying to extract as much of the potion as possible. It had managed to retain in his stomach, possibly due to the amount of fear in the last round of treatments. This time, he was going to be restrained for an extra half an hour, to ensure it was all collected.

If left any longer, it would have become toxic. Harry was lucky, apparently.

Malfoy didn't say a word, but he didn't leave either.

He didn't mention the book again.

However Harry did notice it slip into his bag.

He pretended not to.

Just like his philosophy; if it was ignored, it didn't exist.