When the Snow Melts

Recovery

Draco shook his head in disbelief at the mountain of sweets, cards, and other well-wishes the Potter Fan Club had dropped off. On those rare moments when Harry was awake and aware, he saw the boy eyeing his loot in disgust. It was not at all what he expected to be seeing from the boy. If their roles were reversed, Draco would have been basking in all that attention.

Pansy studied him curiously. She had shown up to see how her 'dear friend' was doing, but spent most of her time watching Harry. He didn't like that she had suddenly turned her attention on him.

"I hear you're getting discharged today," she prodded, trying to start a conversation. "What was it like spending a whole week with Potter and Weasley? I bet it was terribly boring."

Draco didn't bother responding. It wasn't like she was actually cared, she was just using him as an excuse to sniff out information on Harry's condition.

Pansy's eyes followed his, scrutinizing Potter's ghastly appearance. "Think he's going to make it?"

"Hopefully," Draco replied without thinking. Pansy's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she turned to look at him. He quickly moved to cover his mistake. "I mean, it would be pretty embarrassing if You-Know-Who's mortal enemy was taken out by some common muggle illness."

A week with these Gryffindors was compromising his good judgement. He'd almost given Pansy her next big story – Malfoy Saves Potter, Then Dotes at His Bedside.

She appeared to accept his explanation and he let out an internal sigh of relief.

"So, why'd you do it?" she asked after a while, sharp eyes studying his face.

"Do what?" he grumbled, confused by the abrupt change in topic.

"Save him," she replied, gesturing across the room.

He paled considerably – she had him by the balls on this one. There wasn't a suitable explanation for it – at least not one that would work on her. His only recourse was to pull rank.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he spat disdainfully.

She smiled like a cat toying with a mouse, unfazed by the loosely veiled threat in his statement. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, realization dawning on him in that instant – she had been the saboteur all along; it was written plain as day on her face.

<<<<<   >>>>>

"You have to eat," Hermione scolded as Harry absentmindedly played with the food on his tray. "The healers at St. Mungo's want you to put on a bit more weight before they finish repairing the damage to your heart. Unless you enjoy being practically bedridden?"

"I know," Harry sighed, bringing another forkful of chicken to his mouth. It was dry and bland and made him terribly thirsty. He grimaced around it as his jaw worked at breaking it down so that he could swallow it.

Three weeks had passed since he first fell ill and while his strength was improving, his appetite was not. Thanks to the first surgery, he no longer required assistance with every mundane task. Unfortunately, they hadn't finished the job, fearing the strain on his already weakened body would kill him. Healing placed a lot of demands on a person.

"What are your plans for Winter Break?" Ron asked suddenly, interrupting Harry's train of thought.

Harry studied the two of them thoughtfully, choosing his words with care. "I'm thinking I might stay here at Hogwarts. You know...in case something happens," he stated, patting his chest meaningfully.

They both breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's a great idea," Hermione replied.

Ron chimed in, "Honestly, I was worried about how you would handle all those stairs at our place."