Just Breathe

Chapter Thirty

Draco laid his head on his desk and yawned. It had been five days since Harry had been hit with Rabastan's curse. The poultice that Blaise and Neville had started with had seemed to work for a day, but it was quickly spreading over his abdomen and up his neck. It was spreading much faster than Mr. Thompson's or Ms. Robbins' had. He figured it had something to do with how angry Rabastan was getting.

He picked his head up and rested his chin in his hand as he watched Harry sleeping. Robards had given him time off from work to heal and every moment they had, Draco made sure his eye was on him. He wasn't going to give the damned curse any extra time to get ahead of them. He hadn't slept in nearly... he checked his watch; it had been twenty-seven hours since he'd slept, and even then it had only been three hours of fitful rest. Harry on the other hand was physically exhausted. He had fallen asleep at dinner the night before, too tired to even lift his fork. He'd carried him to bed and had watched him sleep, all night long. He had lit a soft flame and put it in a jar over the head of the bed and watched Harry's face as he'd slept. He watched his neck as the dark curse crept ever slowly upwards, threatening to take him from him at any moment.

He put his forehead back on the desk and blinked away the hot, angry tears. It shouldn't be this way. Harry's life was so beautiful and precious, so perfect and full of everything good the world had, if not better.

 It wasn't fair that they'd had so little time together before faced with this mountain. They should be climbing mountains together, not bleakly looking down from the top while the other slid helplessly down to whatever lay in wait at the bottom. He stood up and went to the sofa where Harry lay sleeping. He sat on the floor and rested his head next to Harry's hand. This sofa was where their relationship had taken off. He had grabbed Harry's hand and Harry hadn't taken it back. He could still feel that rush of affection, the thrill that had coursed through him as Harry's warm, strong hand had taken him in. And though he had had to let go too quickly, Harry had felt it and had known.

And he was going to fight with all that was in him to heal him. He grabbed Harry's hand and pressed a small kiss to his knuckles. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed before a knock on his door startled him awake. He looked at Harry who sighed in his sleep, and he stood up and stretched his arms. He slapped his cheeks, hoping to make it seem as if he hadn't been sleeping.

He pulled open the door to Ron who was standing there, his brows drawn together.

"Is he any better?"

"He's... he's getting rest, which is good." Ron nodded and Draco stepped back so he could come in. Ron had been to their apartment every day. He was worried sick over Harry, almost as much as he was himself. He would cook meals for them or just sit with Harry and they'd laugh over old stories from their schooldays. As much as it seemed to comfort the two of them, it made him sad. It seemed as though they had both resigned to Harry... dying... But he wasn't at that point. He would sit back and watch them, but he couldn't find it in him to act the way there were.

"Want me to come over tonight?"

"Ron, you're always welcome at our place."

"I know. I just don't want to intrude on your time with him." He sat down on the floor and looked at Harry the way he had just been. He was about to put his hand on his shoulder when another, louder, more urgent knock on the door scared them both. The door was pushed open before he could get to it and Blaise burst in.

"Draco, he's been sighted! Down near the morgue where you went for that middle patient."

"Rabastan?"