Rivaling Affections

Authors Note: I often do a little jig when I get back the chapter notes from my brilliant beta, Robert. He's wonderful, clap for him, please. As always I can be found in all sorts of places if ever anyone wanted to chat or had a more specific question about a story/chapter (more about that on my profile)

Chapter 15 Plagued

Draco woke with a headache that seemed to split his skull down the center and shatter it into a million pieces. His face felt flushed and swollen and his eyes were dry and scratchy, though not as much as his throat, which felt like someone had scrubbed it with sandpaper. He tried to summon his wand, but the infernal stick just clattered against his nightstand and remained stubbornly out of reach.

He was able to make out the familiar guest room he’d been sleeping in for several weeks now, but couldn’t remember going to bed.

His voice didn’t work well enough to enunciate the spell properly, which meant it was going to be a long day to say the least. He certainly didn’t feel well enough to brew himself a remedy potion, as he hardly had the energy to ply the covers from his sweat-soaked skin.

He groaned to himself, not understanding how he could wake up so suddenly sick. Draco tried to recall what he had done the previous night, if he had eaten anything foul or seen anyone else that had been feeling unwell, but there was an inconvenient blank space where the previous night’s memory should have been.

That fact made him wary and he tried to call for Harry, but quickly realized that Harry was the very last person he wished to see him in his current state. He knew he must look a horrid mess, and if he wanted any chance of winning the Gryffindor professor over it was not through bogey laden kisses or sniffled declarations of love.

Then the part of the evening he did remember flooded back to him, and he recalled Harry storming out of his office. The exact details were hazy, but he was fairly certain Harry had been in a snit over misunderstanding the reason Draco wanted to use one potion or another; he began to wonder if it wasn’t, in fact, Harry who had left him in his current state.

However, he quickly banished that thought as it seemed vastly out of character for the Gryffindor professor; no matter how angry he may have been, Draco was sure that Harry wouldn’t intentionally hurt him.

The door opened a moment later and Andromeda glided in with a grim smile. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked as soon as the door clicked shut behind her.

“Peachy,” Draco rasped, but even the delicious sarcasm he so loved to take part in was lost to him as he could barely mutter even that simple word without it sounding broken.

“I see your illness has not reduced your impertinence,” his Aunt replied with narrowed eyes.

“I need a pepper-up potion,” Draco complained, but Andromeda simply shook her head.

“It’s a common muggle flu, Draco. Potions will do no good for it, best not to waste them,” she explained as if to a small child.

“Rubbish,” Draco disputed, his voice low and gravelly from the illness. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m an old wife, so you’ll abide by what I say,” she countered with crossed arms and a very ‘don’t bother trying to argue’ glare. ‘Unless, of course, you feel well enough to take care of yourself today,” she dared.

“I’m not a child,” he growled, or at least attempted to: instead it came out as a sort of strangled gasp.

Andromeda ignored him and instead waved her wand, opening the doors and levitating a glass and pitcher into the room. Within moments, Draco had a glass of pumpkin juice hovering over him, waiting patiently for him to accept it. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of not taking the goblet just to strain his obstinate Aunt’s magic. In the end, however, it was a gamble that he wasn’t willing to take because he’d rather drink the liquid instead of wearing it.

He took the offered drink and sipped from it gingerly, the slightly spicy fluid tingling along his throat and somewhat soothing it. “Where’s Harry?” he asked, hoping that the man wouldn’t just pop in unexpectedly.

“At work of course, though if you were more clever he would be the one doting over you and not me,” the older woman groused.

“Is that what you’re doing?” Draco replied snidely but she ignored him yet again.

Instead she opted to conjure a tiny brass bell which she placed on his nightstand. “If you need anything, just ring,” she instructed and left the room in a huff, invisible storm clouds chasing after her.

Draco loved his Aunt, but he had always found her a bit gruff for his taste. She was nearly the polar opposite of his mother, who was as feminine, sweet and kind as they came and always polite to everyone – even if she secretly loathed them. His Aunt was nowhere near as ghastly as his Aunt Bella though, but he saw Andromeda as a mixture of the two, as if Bellatrix and Narcissa were just a concentrated version of the traits Andromeda portrayed.

He could tell that his Aunt had a soft spot for Harry though, as she often – if not always – took his side in any argument and had been growing increasingly rude to him as Harry grew more and more distant. She seemed to blame Draco alone for their current state of distress.

Clearly it was going to be a very long day.

He felt pitiful, but as the glimmer of the brass bell caught his eye, he reckoned that it wouldn’t be just a long day for him. A hint of smirk shadowed across his lips as he reached across and lifted the bell in order to give it a test.

Andromeda bustled in looking slightly concerned and Draco tried to stifle his grin. “I was just checking to be sure it worked,” he explained as, with narrowed eyes, his Aunt turned and left looking like she was on the verge of a tantrum, slamming the door behind her.

------------------------------------------

Harry’s nerves were fried.

He had waited for Draco in his study for nearly half an hour to no avail. At last, he was forced to assume that Draco had gone to Hogwarts without him and make the journey back to work alone. He noted it as odd when Draco didn’t show up for lunch, but thought perhaps that he was just grading parchments through the break or taking it in his office for a change. Still, it was not like Draco to completely avoid him so blatantly.

Then when it came time to leave, Harry again waited for the blonde professor but was left to take the floo back home by himself once more.

He barely made it downstairs before a very furious looking Andromeda accosted him. “I’ve had enough!” she shouted, flailing her hands into the air dramatically.

“Enough of what?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused. “Oh, by the way, have you seen Draco?”

She laughed harshly and narrowed her eyes. “Seen him? I’ve seen enough of that whiny brat to last me an entire lifetime! He’s been ringing that bell nonstop begging for food or liquids or a backrub and moaning the whole time about how miserable he is. My sister coddled that boy far too much,” she grumbled and shoved the tray she’d been carrying into Harry’s arms.

“He’s sick?” Harry asked as the pieces finally began sliding into place.

“Very observant,” Andromeda fumed as she started for the front door. “He’s your problem now. I’m staying at the Manor tonight,” she told him, eyes daring him to challenge her. “Good luck,” she added ominously, and then she was gone.

Harry heard the faint tinkling of a bell and smiled softly to himself as he made his way to the back of the house. “I hear you’re in need of a backrub,” he teased, opening the door to Draco’s room. Draco looked as though he had a moment of disorientation before having enough self-awareness to look mortified.

One look and Harry could easily see how sick the man was. Draco reminded him of Teddy when he was ill because of their shared sharp features and pale skin. The blonde was even paler than usual though, and he was bundled up under the bedspread, his cheeks slightly flushed and his lips pallid and thin.

“Where’s my Aunt?” Draco demanded, sounding gruff and scratchy.

“You’ve apparently driven her batty, so now it’s my turn to take care of you,” Harry replied with a wicked smirk.

Draco groaned and looked hurriedly away at that news. “Well, I’m fine, just a bit of a cold; you can go about your business. No need to worry about me.”

“Nonsense, Andromeda says you’ve been feeling miserable all day,” Harry rebuked as he made his way over to the bed, placing the empty tray Andromeda had passed to him on the nightstand. “What was it you needed?”

“I might have been exaggerating a smidge,” Draco admitted sheepishly. “She’s rather amusing when she’s mad.”

Harry tried to suppress a chuckle and stared down at Draco like he would if Teddy had said the same thing. Clearly Draco reverted to a small child when ill. “That’s not very kind, Draco. I’ve never seen her so frazzled.”

“The bell was her idea,” Draco countered. “I merely used it when I needed something.”

“Which was how often?” Harry asked with mockingly narrowed eyes.

Draco chewed on his bottom lip – a habit he had picked up from spending too much time around the Gryffindor – and stared at the faint scrolling pattern on his bedspread. “I might have used it a few times,” he admitted.

“A few as in what? Five, ten, twenty?” Harry asked.

“Higher,” Draco replied, a tiny grin curling at the edge of his lips.

Harry shook his head in dismay and promptly removed the bell from his nightstand. “Why Andromeda didn’t do this sooner I’ll never understand,” he muttered.

“She tried. The only spell I managed today was a complex sticking spell so that she couldn’t take it away,” Draco chuckled lowly, his voice still scratchy from being sick.

“You’re incorrigible,” Harry replied softly, a smile of his own touching his lips. “So what do you need; juice, soup something to read?”

“Really, Harry, I don’t want to pester you,” Draco replied.

“Fine: have it your way,” Harry noted imperiously and trotted off, leaving Draco staring after him.

-----------------------------------------------------

Draco wasn’t sure what to make of Harry’s hasty exit; he had thought for sure the care-taking Gryffindor would argue with him and insist on tending to him in his sickened state. He didn’t have to wonder for long, though, because Harry returned with a tray laden with various bottles and jars.

The sick man eyed them all warily as Harry set the tray down on his nightstand and uncorked the first one. “A pepper-up potion,” Harry told Draco unnecessarily. The blonde had – of course – recognized it right away and downed the liquid in one gulp.

“I asked my Aunt for that potion this morning and she claimed it wouldn’t work, but I’ve been taking it to help colds for ages now. It’s almost as if she wanted me to stay sick,” Draco mused.

“I’m sure she just thinks there are better ways of healing from a cold,” Harry replied with a gentle smile. “Madame Pomfrey always says that it doesn’t cure the cold, simply keeps you from feeling the symptoms quite so deeply.

The next was just a glass of burgundy liquid, which Draco had at first taken to be a thin wine – cranberry juice. Three other juices were placed within his reach – orange, apple and pumpkin – as well as a cup of hot peppermint tea.

After emptying most of the tray, Harry cast a few cleaning spells on Draco and the bed linens, making the other man feel much fresher but brining a heated blush to his cheeks. The entire time Draco just remained still and watched Harry at work, marveling at how efficient and thorough the man was. It wasn’t until Harry made a move toward his robe, spreading the silken folds wide to expose his pale chest that he began to protest.

“Really, Harry, this is all too much,” he groaned, eyes wide from the ebony-haired man’s hands warm hands hovering above his naked flesh.

Harry pursed his lips, eyes twinkling merrily. “Maybe next time you’ll be clever enough to tell me what you require, then. Otherwise, I’m forced to guess and I’ll bring the entire wellness regime.”

“So I see,” Draco muttered amusedly as Harry reached for a short jar sitting on his tray.

“Don’t you have other things to do though,” Draco bargained, but Harry merely shook his head.

“You’re my only patient tonight, Draco. I’ve got some homemade chicken soup on the stove, but it won’t be ready for a bit, so you’re stuck with me until then,” he announced.

Draco sighed and watched as Harry sat down on the bed next to him and scooped out a thick glob of some greasy looking gel and gasped as that gel was applied liberally to his chest. Eucalyptus and mint fragrances accosted his nose and made it at first hard to breathe, but he slowly became used to the smell and – eventually – it started helping his nose clear.

He blinked back watered eyes and then jumped as Harry grazed one of his nipples while rubbing the greasy substance into his skin.

“Sorry,” Harry replied, a faint flush coming to his cheeks as he pulled his hand away.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hands and placed them back onto his glowing skin. “No, it’s helping,” he told Harry and attempted to smile in a way that wouldn’t make the other man feel more uncomfortable. In truth Draco just liked the fact that the brunette was touching him.

Harry worked the ointment into Draco’s chest, rubbing in slow, circular movements. Draco was trying to not moan as the feeling of Harry’s fingertips coupled with the intoxicating vapors from the medicine began to make his head swim. He was just happy that Harry was sitting far enough away to be unable to feel his growing erection.

Harry paused slightly, and Draco thought for a moment that he might have been mistaken about that fact, but then Harry just shifted slightly and got up. “Your soup smells ready. You hungry or should I let it keep simmering?”

“Hungry,” Draco replied, not entirely talking about Harry’s soup.

Harry shot him a warm smile and then rushed off leaving Draco alone with his feelings.

It was official; Draco was in love with the sweet and stubborn Gryffindor. The fact that he had dropped all anger and resentment from the day before at the idea of Draco being sick and did so much to help him get well made Draco curse himself for not having given into Harry before now.

The man was everything one could want in a partner, and Draco wasn’t going to let him go. As soon as Harry came back holding a bowl of steaming liquid, his words failed him once again, however. The brunette professor was poised in the doorway, still wearing his billowing black professor’s robes with tight black trousers and a deep burgundy knitted top underneath. He just stared at Draco for a moment, his green eyes seeming to search for something, before he moved forward and handed the bowl over to Draco.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned.

The fragrant herbed broth competed with the aroma of the medicinal ointment but didn’t manage to overpower it. It smelled heavenly though, and Draco realized that it had been some time since Harry had cooked for him. He savored the first bite, letting the hot liquid chase away his sore throat and basking in the flavors of butter chicken, herbs and vegetables. It was all perfectly done, as it always was when Harry was the cook.

“Is it okay?” Harry asked and Draco nodded enthusiastically.

“The best soup I’ve ever eaten,” he admitted.

Harry chuckled and smoothed the blankets where he had been sitting before. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked. “Because if not I have a dinner date.”

Oh!” Draco nearly shouted, surprise coloring his voice. “I hadn’t realized you had plans.”

Harry shrugged and fidgeted slightly in place. “It just came up… I could cancel if you think you need me to stay,” he offered.

“No!” Draco actually did shout this time – the sound slightly strangled by his sickness – before he realized how desperate it made him look and quieted himself. “No, that’s quite alright, Harry. You’ve been kind enough. I’ll probably just go to sleep after I’m through eating,” he said, his tone much more even by the time he finished.

Harry sighed and nodded. “Okay, well feel better. I’ll check in on you when I get back home.”

Draco nodded back and watched Harry leave, his heart sinking into his stomach at the thought of Harry going out on a date with another man while he was stuck in bed unable to do anything about it. He cringed when he thought of Harry giving some other bloke a goodnight kiss on the doorstep and he nearly called the other man back to say that he’d changed his mind and did need him after all.

But that would be selfish.

Not that he was above being selfish, but he was trying to be a better person so that he might be worthy of Harry; he did not want to guilt the man into desiring him through sickly manipulation.

A few minutes later he heard the door shut and knew Harry had left to go on his date. He wondered what the other bloke might look like and how Harry had met him. Was he a visiting Ministry official that Harry had seen at Hogwarts? Was it someone he already knew, or was this their first meeting? Was this new man better looking than him? Doubtful, but still, it was fairly obvious that Harry didn’t bank all of his affection on looks. Maybe he had a winning personality and actually had the good sense to tell Harry that he fancied him, which would put him way ahead of Draco in a race for Harry’s heart.

Draco groaned and pulled himself out of bed, wobbling into the kitchen where he spent an hour brewing the strongest anti-flu potion he could think of and then dragging himself back to bed. When Harry got home he would tell him how he felt once and for all. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

--------------------------------------

Andromeda sat daintily on the tufted blue settee on her sister’s garden patio and tried to relax with her cup of tea after a harrowing day. It seemed everything had worked out as planned, but with those boys one never knew how they might manage to bungle it.

Narcissa sat across from her, wringing her hands slightly, while Minerva smiled weakly. They had sunken to drastic measures to get the boys to talk, and Andromeda had seen in Harry’s eyes how worried he was over Draco’s condition and knew instinctively that he would take care of her nephew.

Still, she could tell that Cissy was worried about her son. She hadn’t seen him since they administered the antidote and wiped his memory clear of the events from the night before. “I promise you sister, Draco is well and we were successful in our part.”

“I know… I just – poisoning my son, even though we knew the antidote would keep him from dying, well, it was harder than I imagined,” she whispered.

“I wish we could have traded places,” Andromeda muttered. “Your son tried my patience to no end today.”

“The very least we could do after nearly killing him is make sure he was taken care of,” Narcissa countered, her voice beginning to bristle.

“Draco was nowhere near death, Cissy. The antidote worked just as it was supposed to and kept him from being even remotely damaged, but allowed his body to feel the effects of the poison in other ways,” Minerva noted calmly, though she had spent the morning panicked that they had done something wrong until she heard from Andromeda that Draco was fine and just as surly as ever.

“I assure you, Draco felt as though he was experiencing the flu. He even asked me for a ‘Pepper Up’ potion, thinking it would help him,” Andromeda promised.

“You didn’t give it to him, did you?” Minerva asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.

“Merlin, no. I’m not daft. It was far too early and mixed with the antidote he would have been nearly recovered before Harry got home. I’m sure he talked the doting hero into fetching him one though. However – even if he did – that should still buy them a few hours together,” she informed her cohorts.

“Did you at least give him the bell?” Narcissa asked. “I always give him a bell when he’s sick.”

“Yes, I gave him the blasted bell just as you insisted and it’s all I heard the entire day. He should have been your chore,” Andromeda muttered. “I even pretended his sticking charm worked and left it there for him to ring again the moment I left.”

A hint of a smile curled Minerva’s lips and before a moment she was chuckling at the image of Andromeda acting as nursemaid for the day. She remembered the howling and blown out of proportion mess Draco would make of injuries as a teenager and imagined he wasn’t too far different from that as an adult.

“Oh yes, have a laugh. That boy is a downright brat when he’s ill and Harry will have his hands full, no doubt,” Andromeda grumbled.

“Well, at least it worked. They’re stuck together for tonight if nothing else,” Minerva reasoned.

“I hope it was worth it,” Narcissa added and gave her friends a tight smile. “We could use some good news for a change.”

Authors Note: I love the scheming ladies so much. I can't seem to get enough of them, even when they're screwing things up! lol