How Do "You" Like It?

Chapter Five: Please Merlin, NO!!!

By Thursday, and without missing any classes, Harry was doing better. He was over the cramps, felt less bloated and his flow seemed to be tapering off.
He opened the book, before going to breakfast, and casually flipped through the pages to assure himself that there were no more side effects.
His heart seamed to stop, his eyes were glued open and his mouth couldn’t begin to form words.
There on the page, in clear and beautiful script, were the words:
“Pass this book on to . . . .Draco Malfoy, fifth year, Slytherin.”
Harry passed out on the carpet near his bed and that is where his four roommates found him.
“I’ll do it, Harry. It’s the least I can to,” Neville stated, feeling bad for his friend.
“No, let me. I’m not afraid of that little git.” Dean said next.
“Not so little anymore,” Seamus added his hand in the air above him, displaying Malfoy’s height. “This does shoot Ron’s theory down. If it’s going to a Slytherin next.”
“I’ll take it to him, myself.” Harry said, reaching for the book they were all perusing. “It’s probably better coming from me. He already hates me, so nothing new, Right?”
“At least, this time it’s going to someone who deserves this,” Ron scoffed nad Harry turned on him.
“No one deserves this, especially the girls, but they didn’t even have a choice.” he said and he turned, leaving an unspoken statement between them.
Ron had the decency to look embarrassed.
Harry left the dorm and made his way through the common room, noting Hermione’s concerned look from where she sat with Pavarti and Padma Patil. He smiled weakly in her direction before exiting through the portrait and heading for the dungeons.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to find Malfoy, especially alone. But, he had a mission and he intended on fulfilling it.
Just passed the potions classroom, Harry came across Gregory Goyle, stuffing his face with what looked like a cake sandwich as he walked down the corridor. Malfoy’s flunky looked shocked by the sudden appearance of the Gryffindor and Harry quickly stuttered out.
“I n-need to see M-malfoy. G-go get him and tell him it’s urgent, a-a matter of life and death.”
Goyle looked suspicious so Harry added. “Yours first, if you don’t move!” and he punctuated it with a wave of his wand.
With his hands full of food, Goyle was unable to defend himself, so he turned around and ran down a hall.
Harry could only hope he hadn’t just decided to find a nice safe hole and hide for a bit.
He was leaning against the wall when he heard someone approaching.
“You great lug. You couldn’t have at least asked what was so bloody important! No, you have to drag me out here this close to curfew for Bloody Potter!” Malfoy seethed as he rounded the corner. “So, you have my attention, Potter. What is this life or death situation you’ve dreamt up?”
“Alone. Send them back.” Harry said to the blond, indicating Goyle and Crabbe, who had also followed their master into the halls. “Trust me, you don’t want to share this with them.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, then waved his hands once, dismissing his side-kicks.
The two goons disappeared down the hall.
“So, now we are alone. Are you ready to share, Harry?” Draco said with a mock seductive tone.
Harry took a deep breath.
“Remember when you asked me if I was sick?” he began and Malfoy rolled his eyes again. “Well, I was. Sort of. Not the usual kind of sickness . . .this is definitely special. Look, can we go somewhere and sit? I still feel a little queasy and you are gonna need to be sitting for this.”
Draco looked back down the hall before stepping aside and waving Harry forward. Just before the next turn he opened a door by calling out a password, “Spider claws” and followed Harry in.
The room was a sitting room with several large expensively upholstered chairs and old ornate tables. Harry looked back at the Slytherin in question.
“This is a special lounge for Slytherin Prefects. We won’t be disturbed here. Now, just get to the point, Potter.” he said sitting opposite Harry.
The dark-haired wizard reached into his robes and pulled out the book. “This all started last month with Ron. There have been nine cases, so far. The book says that you are next.” Harry said, passing it to Draco.
The blond Slytherin looked at the cover before flipping through it. He looked up at Harry every so often, then he would look back at the pages. Finally, he came to the page that stated his name, irrevocably.
“This is what you were sick with?” he asked.
“Still am, actually.” Harry admitted, blushing profusely.
“Right now? Has anyone cast a diagnostic?” Draco asked.
“A diagnostic? Malfoy, no one is going to go to hospital with this. Can you imagine?” Harry sputtered.
“Not Pomfrey. Merlin knows I’m not about to let her examine my personal equipment. I mean have any of you blighters tried it?” Draco sneered.
Harry shook his head, feeling slightly foolish and even more embarrassed. Of course, the only one in his circle of friends capable of that kind of magic was Hermione.
“Stretch out, Potter.” Malfoy said suddenly, shocking Harry out of his revelry. “I’m going to do one now. Stretch out and relax. I’m going to find out how this works before it strikes me.”


So, we are now crossing the final house boundary.
Care to find out what happens next?