Taming the Dragon - H.S. - Harry Styles (AU)

Chapter 6

She wouldn't let him die. She wouldn't leave his side either. As soon as she was awakened by the sounds of retching coming from Harry's bedroom, she jumped out of bed to rush to his aid. She didn't care if it was looked upon as appropriate or not. Harry needed her help and he was going to get it.

She put on her robe and went into his room, finding him sprawled out on his stomach on top of the covers. He was stark naked. She tried not to notice. Harry had opened the windows and the room was so cold she could see her breath. Cold wind and rain from the night's storm was blowing into the room.

"Dear God, Harry! Are you trying to kill yourself?" she asked as she hurried to shut the windows.

He didn't answer her. Once the windows were firmly closed, she turned back to the bed. Only one side of Harry's face was visible for her, but it was enough for her to see his tortured expression confirming how miserable he felt.

It was a struggle, but she finally managed to tug the covers out from under him. She covered him up and he mumbled for her to leave him the hell alone. Darya ignored him, placed her hand on his forehead feeling the evidence of his raging fever. She set off to get cold water and a cloth.

Harry was too weak to fight her. She spent the rest of the night with him, mopping his brow every five minutes or so and holding the chamber pot for him as he dry-heaved again and again. There was nothing left in his stomach, but it was as if his body didn't care in its desperate attempt to rid itself of the nasty virus.

He couldn't keep even the smallest sip of water down and she removed the cup from his reach, placing it on the mantle on the opposite side of the room. He demanded she bring it back to him. She refused, trying to reason with him but he wasn't in the mood to listen. Thankfully, he was too weak and exhausted to get it himself.

"Everything you swallow comes right back up. I've had this illness, Harry. I know what I'm talking about. Now close your eyes and try to get some rest. You're going to feel better tomorrow."

This was a deliberate lie, but she wanted to give him a bit of hope. Judging by how the illness had affected everyone else, Harry was going to miserable for a good week.

This proved to be an accurate prediction. He wasn't feeling any better the following day, or the day after that. Darya personally nursed him. She wouldn't let Niall or Elira into his bedroom, fearing they would also catch the virus if they got too close to Harry. Niall tried to argue with her. Harry was his responsibility, and he should be the one to tend to him. It was his duty, he explained, to put himself at risk.

Darya countered that she had already suffered from the same illness and it was highly doubtful she would get sick again. She was thus the only one suited to tend to Harry. She added that if Niall were to become ill, how would they all manage if he became sick and couldn't take care of them?

Niall was finally convinced. He kept busy running the household and took on the added duty of answering all of Darya's correspondence. The town house was off-limits to all callers. The physician, Sir Summers, returned to look at Damon's wound, and while he was there, Darya consulted him about Harry's condition. He didn't enter Harry's room as he had no wish to contract the illness, but he left a tonic he thought might settle the patient's irritable stomach and suggested sponge baths to help reduce his fever.

Harry was a difficult patient. Darya tried to follow the physician's advice by giving Harry a sponge bath late that night when his fever raged. She gently washed his arms and chest with the cool cloth, then turned to his legs. He seemed to be sleeping, but when she touched his scarred leg, he almost came off the bed.

"I would like to die in peace, Darya. Now get the hell out of here."

His hoarse yell didn't affect her because she was still reeling from the sight of his injured leg. The calf was a mass of scars from the back of his knee to the edge of his heel. Darya didn't know how he'd been injured, but the agony he must have endured tore at her heart.