When the Snow Melts

Sick

Hagrid lowered the boy to a bed in the infirmary as Madam Pomfrey rushed to evaluate and treat him. Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness, shivering violently.

"Here, help me get him into dry clothes," Madam Pomfrey ordered with a stern expression.

She shifted her gaze to Draco who was watching nearby, shivering under his own wet clothes.

"I think you're quite capable of changing yourself," she informed, tossing him a pair of dry pajamas before returning to her previous task. Draco didn't have to be told twice, ducking behind a screen to change.

Hagrid almost had the boy completely disrobed when Draco returned. It was no wonder that Harry was so light, he was just skin and bones, every one of his ribs painfully evident. Draco glanced away with a blush, as they removed his boxers and pulled dry pajama bottoms on.

"I can't believe you just let them go off on their own into the Forbidden Forest," the woman scolded as she shoved Harry's arm into a sleeve. "I thought you would know better by now."

Draco snickered as the giant tried to explain his actions. He had been wondering the same thing all night. It was reassuring to hear that even the adults thought the giant was an incompetent idiot.

"I thought they was old enough ter take care of themselves. How was I ter know that the boy would have a sudden bout of clumsiness."

The healer continued her scolding. "They're just boys – you should have known better."

"It's s'not... his fault," Harry explained through chattering teeth, struggling to gain focus. "I was... already.... comin' .... down wif ....somefin'."

Draco shook his head with an incredulous snort. "I always knew that Gryffindors were idiots, but this...traipsing through the woods with a fever?"

"Malfoy is right, dear, you should have said something," Madam Pomfrey huffed in disapproval.

"No one....would...believe me," the Gryffindor explained, shivering violently as he burrowed deeper into the covers Madam Pomfrey was pulling over him.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her brow drawn tight in agitation.

"No one....ever....believes...," he replied weakly, drifting off before he finished speaking. Draco frowned at the revelation. This pessimistic attitude was not the Harry he was used to. Harry was bold, entitled, and full of himself... not this... not fragile and uncertain. Was all his bravado just a front?

"I would 'ave believed yeh," Hagrid challenged, a hurt look on his face, but Harry didn't hear him.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, and fixed Hagrid with a look that clearly said 'leave or else.'

Draco crept towards the door to make his escape, freezing in his tracks when Madam Pomfrey said without looking at him, "And where do you think you are going Mr. Malfoy? You'll be staying the night as well."

He spun around in surprise, complaining loudly. "I'm perfectly fine and prefer to be sleeping in my own bed, thank you very much."

"I think not," she countered sharply. "You were out in the cold, soaked to the bone for much longer than I would have liked. You will be sleeping here tonight, and I don't want to hear anything more on the subject."

Seeing that he was defeated, the blond huffed angrily, and crawled into a bed in the corner – far, far away from Harry and the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

"Now let's see what we can do about that fever," Madam Pomfrey stated aloud, walking to a shelf that was full top to bottom with different potion vials. She scanned the labels before picking out a small blue colored one. "This one should do the trick."