The Curse

Chapter One

*******

Harry tried not to grind his teeth too hard as he trudged down the empty streets of Hogsmeade. He just wanted to get back to his London flat as soon as possible. The meeting Ginny and he had tonight did not go well at all. Harry had honestly hoped things would've gone differently.

But nothing was further from the truth.

They were to meet at the Three Broomsticks before Ginny left in the morning. She had joined the Cannons as their new Beater, and she would be gone for at least a season. It had been supposed to be an enjoyable farewell dinner with a strong possibility of it ending with a farewell love session, but instead it had been filled with harsh accusations from Ginny.

Harry shoved his fists into his trousers harder than he expected as he replayed their conversation over and over in his mind…

*******

“That’s not true!”

Ginny looked at Harry sadly and reached across the table to hold his hand that was bunched together in a tight fist. Harry pulled away angrily.

“Harry,” she began softly. “I know how much you want a family of your own, and that - ”

“You think that I want you to stay?” Harry blurted out, interrupting her. “Just so we can start a family?”

Ginny sighed. “I think that’s part of it, yes.”

“But that’s not true! I don’t care that you're leaving!” Harry shouted, but then stopped short when he realised how that sounded. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I meant that it doesn’t bother me that you're leaving me…” Harry stopped again. He knew that the words just weren’t coming out right. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Look. I understand why you’re leaving. It’s a great opportunity for you and that - ”

“I knew what you meant, Harry,” Ginny said quietly. “And it’s OK.” She smiled gently, and then leaned slightly towards him. “But, Harry, I’ll be gone for a whole year. Maybe longer.”

“And you don’t think I’ll wait, is that it?” Harry snapped.

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Ginny paused, trying to find the right words. She softly sighed. “What I’m trying to say, Harry, is that if something happens while I’m gone, I’ll understand.”

“Oh, I see,” Harry drawled sarcastically. “You’re giving me permission to see other women because in reality it’s you who wants to date other people! And you just don’t want to feel guilty about it!”

“No, I don’t!” she said defensively. “Romance will be the last thing on my mind! Harry, I love you.”

Harry snorted. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Ginny looked down at the table, and tears formed in her eyes. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“Harry,” she whispered, voice trembling. “There’s something I need to know.” She took a deep, cleansing breath, then looked directly into his eyes. “What is it that you really want? What will make you truly happy?”

“What kind of question is that? I’ve already told you!” Harry snapped. “You! A home! Kids!”

Ginny sat back and gently folded her hands in her lap.

“Well, at least I came first.”

“Ginny, I didn’t mean…”

Ginny shook her head. “It’s all right, Harry. You don’t have to explain anything. I already told you that I understand. You want a family, and so do I. It’s just that…” Ginny paused briefly. “Harry, I do want to have children someday, but not right now. Mum and Dad had kids straightaway. So did Bill and Fleur. Even Ron and Hermione can't wait. But I…” Ginny stopped and glanced away. Closing her eyes, Ginny inhaled deeply. She looked back at her boyfriend. “Harry, we’ve only been out of school for two years and... Well, I want to do things before settling down.”

“That sounds pretty selfish, don’t you think?”

Ginny’s eyes teared up again. “Is that what you think?” she whispered. “You think I’m selfish because I want to wait to have kids?”

Ginny slowly rose to her feet.

“No. No, wait! I didn’t mean - ”

Ginny lowered her head and stifled a sob. After getting her composure, she looked up at him sadly. “You may not believe me, Harry, but I love you. I love you and I’ll always love you. But I need to do this first, and I had hoped that you would have understood.” Ginny inhaled deeply and then straightened her shoulders. She managed a small smile. “I promise I’ll write to you soon and let you know how things are going.”

Ginny headed to the door, but then halfway there, she stopped. She looked over her shoulder. Harry was staring at her.

“I really will understand, Harry,” she said softly. “Whatever you decide to do.” Then she smiled genuinely at him. “Goodbye, Harry. Just remember I love you.”

*******

Ginny was wrong. Starting a family wasn’t the most important thing to Harry, and it wasn’t the first thing that Harry wanted. He wanted Ginny. He wanted to be with her forever and to live a normal life. Just like his parents had - or would have had if they had lived. Harry longed for that dream, and he knew that it would become a reality with Ginny Weasley.

After Voldemort had been destroyed two years ago, they had become a couple again, and had been inseparable ever since. In Harry's eyes, they were perfect for each other. They loved the same things, had the exact same sense of humour, and enjoyed doing everything together. Harry couldn’t think of anyone else that he would rather spend his entire life with. Ginny was his best friend.

But what Harry really loved about their relationship was the fact that they never argued. Naturally, they would have mild disagreements now and then, but those were nothing in comparison to Ron and Hermione’s intense arguments. It seemed as if they were constantly fighting. Of course Hermione usually won in the end. Harry suddenly smiled, thinking of the two of them and how they always bantered back and forth. Sometimes they were so amusing that Harry had to leave the room so they wouldn’t see him snigger under his breath.

Harry often wondered how they managed to stay together for so long because they were complete opposites. Opposites just like Mr and Mrs Weasley who, even after years and years of marriage, continued to keep their passion alive. Harry thought it might be because she was so outspoken and opinionated, whereas Mr Weasley was quiet and thoughtful. Whatever it was, it was obvious that they had a certain spark between the two of them.

Harry sighed. Both couples seemed to make life so exciting for each other.

But Ginny and Harry had an exciting life together, didn’t they? Maybe it wasn’t as fiery as Ron and Hermione’s relationship or even like that of Mr and Mrs Weasley’s, but it was exciting. Well, maybe the word wasn’t exactly ‘exciting’, but it was normal. It was calm and peaceful just like his life had become after Voldemort. Harry no longer had to worry about being the saviour. There were no more burdens placed on his shoulders. He could just live his life and be … normal. Harry loved that most of all.

Didn’t he?

Harry nodded mentally. Of course, he did. He had had enough excitement to last him a lifetime. Now he was able to relax and allow life just to happen. He was in love with Ginny, and he knew that she loved him. And when Ginny returned, Harry would finally be able to start a family of his own. That’s what Harry truly wanted, and he couldn’t wait to fulfil his dream. Everything would then be…

Perfect.

Harry stopped, hung his head, and sighed. He suddenly realised that Ginny had been right. Harry had wanted her to stay, and it was for his own selfish reasons.

*******

Suddenly, a strange noise to Harry's left caught his attention, and he quickly spun around. He squinted, thinking that would better improve his vision, but the grassy alleyway was dimly lit. Cautiously, Harry crept closer, ready for anything. Since Harry was unable to see anything distinctive, he closed his eyes and strained to hear even the slightest sound. After a moment of silence, he figured that it must have either been a small animal or the wind rustling through the grass. Harry straightened up and shifted slightly on his feet, but then he heard the odd noise again.

This time, Harry instinctively pulled out his wand, preparing to hex the first thing that moved. He knew he should've cried out, “Lumos!” or even “Show yourself or I’ll blast you into next year!”, but instead Harry's instincts told him that he wasn’t the one in danger. He was sure that whatever was making the pitiful sound was the one in danger.

When his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, Harry lowered himself to his hands and knees and slowly moved in the direction where the noise had come from. Finally, Harry could see an outline of a figure dressed head to toe in dark clothing, lying within the thatch of weeds. Harry inched cautiously forward, and it was then that he could hear muffled groaning. The low tone told Harry that this was a man. When Harry circled around him to determine where the man’s head was, he caught a glimpse of pale flesh and gasped. He realised it was a bare rump - and that there were patches of blood where it met the back of the thighs.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry whispered.

Without a second thought, Harry rushed forward and knelt down beside whoever it was.

“Shh. It’ll be all right. I’ll take you somewhere to get help,” Harry said just under a whisper, gently touching the man’s shoulder.

“No,” the figure growled. The voice was so low and unnatural that Harry didn’t recognise the voice.

“But you need help. You can't stay here,” Harry insisted, his voice growing a little louder.

“Merlin’s blood,” the man groaned. “It had to be you of all people, didn’t it, Potter?” Apparently, the man had recognised his voice.

Now curious, Harry raised his wand and whispered, “Lumos.” Harry slowly reached down and peeled back the top of his cloak. He inhaled sharply when white-blond hair materialised.

“M-Malfoy?”

“Yes, it’s me, Potter,” Malfoy said, voice cracking. “Now go away. I can bloody well take care of myself.” Malfoy's arm twitched only slightly, and then it stilled. Malfoy groaned. It seemed as if he was unable to move on his own.

“Come on, Malfoy. I’m taking you to St Mungo’s,” Harry said as he courteously covered Malfoy's backside.

Malfoy looked up at Harry through his messy fringe. Angry grey eyes glared at him. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” he growled in a rough voice.

‘Oh yes I am,’ Harry thought. He refused to let Malfoy bully him – no matter if he was hurt or not. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Harry slowly rolled Malfoy on his back.

“OW!” Malfoy cried. “Don’t touch me!”

Harry scoffed and pulled himself up to his feet. “So what are you going to do, Malfoy? Just stay out here all bloody night?”

“Bugger off, Potter,” Malfoy hissed.

“Fine! You can just lie there and rot for all I care!”

With that, Harry spun around and stormed back to the dimly lit street. But then unexpectedly …

He stopped.

Harry glimpsed back at Malfoy. He was making that same pitiful moaning sound he had made earlier. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and then re-opened them. Malfoy was still there. Damn. Muttering under his breath, Harry quickly Disapparated, and then reappeared a moment later.

Malfoy saw Harry coming towards him and groaned. “Back again, are you? Thought you would have got the message,” he said tonelessly.

Harry couldn’t tell if Malfoy was relieved to see him, or if he was irritated that he was back, but at this point, it didn’t matter to Harry. Malfoy was coming with him, and that’s all there was to it. Harry squatted near the top of Malfoy's head and reached under his arms to raise him high enough to place his head and shoulders on Harry's kneeling legs.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Malfoy half-screamed.

“Just shut it, Malfoy,” Harry said impatiently.

Unable to fight back, Malfoy's head dropped down into Harry's lap, nearly striking Harry’s balls. Harry choked at the near miss and then flushed slightly.

Malfoy's eyes opened, and he blearily stared up at Harry. “Not St Mungo’s, Potter. Not St Mun-”

“Shut up!” Harry snapped, cutting Malfoy off. “I heard you!”

If it wasn’t going to be St Mungo’s, then there was only one other option. Harry’s arms enclosed around Malfoy firmly and pulled him up so that his back rested against Harry's chest. Within seconds, they Apparated into Harry's sitting room, and Harry gently manoeuvred Malfoy onto the floor, ignoring the soft groaning noises coming out of Malfoy. As Malfoy's head rolled to one side, Harry realised why his voice had been so rough. There was a set of four dark purple marks on each side of his throat. Malfoy had been strangled.

Harry gasped and his mouth fell open. He stood up brusquely, then levitated Malfoy with a wave of his wand. He followed close behind until they reached the loo, and then he carefully lowered Malfoy to the cold tile floor. Harry knelt down and started to remove Malfoy's cloak.

“No! I told you not to touch me!” Malfoy protested loudly.

Harry narrowed his eyes and sneered at him. He immediately let go of Malfoy and rose to his feet. Harry angrily flicked his wand again and guided Malfoy carelessly down the hall and into his bedroom. Harry pretended not to hear the shouts of protests coming from Malfoy as he tossed him onto his bed.

“There. Now you can whinge all you want to. I, however, am going to go sit down and enjoy a tall glass of Firewhisky,” Harry said smugly. He looked Malfoy up and down. “You really should take off your clothes,” Harry said, then added mockingly, “Or do you need help?” As he expected, Malfoy had a few choice words for him.

Harry smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

Harry walked into his small kitchenette and pulled out his bottle of half-full Firewhisky from his freezer. He twisted the cap off so fast with his palm that it flew across the room. Harry didn’t even bother with a glass. He just tipped the bottle up and took a huge gulp. Instantly, he pulled it away and started coughing from the potent strength of the alcohol.

“Serves you right, Potter,” came a distant voice.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled to himself as he walked back into the sitting room.

Harry plopped down onto his sofa and laid his head against the backrest, closing his eyes. He tried to block out everything that had happened so far tonight, but, unfortunately, it was simply impossible. The accusations that Ginny had made were still fresh in his mind. Harry swallowed more Firewhisky. Then there was Malfoy. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do with him? Was it now Harry's responsibility to help him just because he found Malfoy before anyone else did? Harry took another swig of Firewhisky.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream of pain came from within his bedroom. Harry sprang to his feet, jumped over the back of the sofa and burst into the room. Malfoy was curled up in a ball, and his eyes were closed tightly. One hand was clenching his stomach and the other was clamped over his mouth. Malfoy was about to chuck up.

“No!” was the first thing out of Harry's mouth, and he rushed to get Malfoy his waste bin. “Here! Use this!”

Malfoy immediately buried his face in it. Harry held out the bin at arm’s length and wrinkled his nose at the smell. Harry didn’t want to feel any sympathy for him, but he sadly knew exactly how Malfoy was feeling at this moment: it was as if your stomach was being ripped out of you.

Harry stood next to Malfoy, unsure of what he should do. Offer comfort? If this were anyone else but Malfoy, that would be precisely what Harry would be doing. Instead, he waited until Malfoy finished spitting out the leftover vomit, and then sat the waste bin on the floor beside the bed. Harry noticed that Malfoy hadn't removed his clothes yet. He would've thought that that would’ve been the first thing Malfoy would have done. Malfoy cried out again, and his body started falling forward. He was about to roll off the bed. Harry quickly caught him with expert speed and pushed him on to his back.

“I need…” Malfoy began, gasping. He unconsciously curled up on his side.

“What you need, Malfoy, is to go to St Mungo’s,” Harry said matter-of-factly. He was tired of repeating himself.

Malfoy’s eyes met his. “Can't… can't help me,” Malfoy said wheezing. It was clear that he was having trouble breathing.

“Of course, they can! They have the best -”

“P-Professor Snape,” Malfoy whispered, closing his eyes. “G-get Professor Snape.”

Harry opened his mouth in shock. Didn’t Malfoy remember that Snape had died? He gently knelt down beside the bed.

“Malfoy,” Harry said softly. “Professor Snape is… gone.”

Malfoy’s darkened eyes flashed dangerously. “I know that!” he spat. Then suddenly, he screamed, and went into a violent coughing attack. He bent his head over the side of the bed, and Harry quickly brought the waste bin up to his face. Malfoy vomited again.

“Damn it, Malfoy! You need help!”

“Get… Pomfrey,” Malfoy whispered, so quietly that Harry almost didn’t hear him.

“Pomfrey?” Harry asked, completely bewildered. “Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts?”

Malfoy nodded wearily. He was pale, and there was sweat running down his face. Harry’s heart and mind began racing. Pomfrey wouldn’t come here, would she? No, of course not. She had an entire school to look after.

“Please, Potter,” Malfoy said softly.

Harry's eyes widened. Malfoy? Begging? Unheard of! Was Malfoy in that much pain that it would cause him to lose all of his rational thinking and reduce himself to begging? He had to be.

Harry sighed. Unfortunately, Harry knew Malfoy was right. Madam Pomfrey would be the next logical choice. He stood and left the room, then came back with a bowl of warm water and a flannel. He sat it down on his bedside table.

“Here. Use this while I’m gone,” Harry said, and Malfoy nodded, barely acknowledging him.

Harry marched over to the fireplace, cursing under his breath. He hated having the responsibility of helping Malfoy. What’s more, he didn’t want to feel any pity for him. The man was a prat. True, there had never been any animosity between them after the war, but it always had been an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s lives.

But here he was. Helping Draco Malfoy. Great. Just what he needed.

Harry took down the wards surrounding his flat, grabbed the Floo powder, and fire-called Madam Pomfrey. After Harry explained the seriousness of Malfoy’s condition to her, and Malfoy's outright refusal to go to St Mungo’s, she reluctantly agreed to see Malfoy. For five minutes.

“Where is he?” she snapped as soon as she cleared Harry’s hearth.

Harry cringed. He knew that unmistakable tone of hers. He also knew enough not to give her a reason to yell at him, so instead of answering her, he pointed to his bedroom. She huffed and spun on her heels. His bedroom door vibrated as she slammed it shut. Harry held his breath for a moment and closed his eyes in an attempt to convince himself that all of this was a dream and that Pomfrey wasn’t really here and neither was Malfoy and everything would be back to…

Suddenly, the sounds of shouting coming from Harry's room brought him back to reality. He sighed. It was a nice thought while it had lasted. Harry took comfort knowing that now Madam Pomfrey would definitely see to it that Malfoy would go to St Mungo’s.

The yelling started to get louder. Harry wondered why they hadn’t put up a Silencing Charm. He plopped down on the sofa and covered his ears with his arms in a lame attempt to block them out.

It didn’t work.

*******

“I said don’t touch me, woman!”

“Mr Malfoy, may I remind you that you requested me? I have better things to do with my time, so be quiet whilst I remove your clothes!”

Harry really didn’t need to hear that. He hugged his head tighter. At first he thought it had worked because there was a long moment of silence, but to his distress, he heard faint mumbling. Then the voices rose dramatically.

Why the hell hadn't they put up a Silencing Charm yet?

“I’m tired of telling you to hold still!” There was slight pause, and then a loud, frustrated sigh was heard. “Yes, it’s just what I thought.”

“Well, do something then!”

“You know as well as I do, Mr Malfoy, that I cannot. Once it has begun, there is no way to stop it.”

“There has to be a way!”

Pomfrey scoffed loudly. “If you think that you can think of something that your ancestors and their ancestors and their ancestors couldn’t think of, Mr Malfoy - ”

“I can and I will!”

“Mr Malfoy, I will not tell you again! You are not going anywhere!”

At those words, Harry jumped up. “What?” he screamed. Surely she wasn’t serious. Malfoy had to stay… here?

There was a tense moment of silence. Finally, “You haven't told him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“He has to know.”

“No, he doesn’t, and you will not tell him!”

“Mr Malfoy…”

“NO!”

Harry stumbled backwards when the door bolted open.

“I mean it, woman,” Malfoy called out from behind her.

Madam Pomfrey shut the door quickly and stared at Harry with her usual scornful expression. It stayed that way for an uncomfortable length of time. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Pomfrey interrupted.

“What exactly has he told you, Potter?”

“Nothing.”

Pomfrey sighed heavily. “I thought not. Potter, as you might have guessed already, Mr Malfoy was attacked tonight and there was some …damage. Nothing life-threatening, of course, but he will go through certain…” She stopped short, then cleared her throat to regain her composure. “It is imperative that he remains immobile. Unfortunately for you, that means that you will have a flatmate for the next few days.”

“No! Why can't he just go to -”

“Because he is not fit to travel!” Pomfrey snapped. She glared at Harry impatiently, but then forced herself to calm down. “I have left some things that will be safe for him to use. In the meantime, it is crucial that Mr Malfoy gets plenty of rest and something to eat.” She gave Harry a stern look. “One more thing. He is in desperate need of a cleaning.”

Harry swallowed hard. Cleaning? “But you said he has to remain immobile. How will I be able to get him to the bath?”

Her eyes hardened. “You won't,” Pomfrey said shortly. “He will remain exactly where he is, and so it will be your responsibility to do it for him.”

“W-what?” Harry sputtered.

“Potter, Mr Malfoy is incapable of using his limbs right now, so -”

“Oh, yes, he can! He was able to grab his stomach earlier!”

“That was done involuntary, Potter, so of course he was able to so. But his voluntary muscles are not functioning properly, and they won't be for the next hour or so.”

“He can shower then!” Harry insisted.

“As I have already told you, Potter,” Pomfrey said, advancing deliberately slowly and dangerously. “Mr Malfoy needs to be cleaned now because there is the risk of an infection!”

Harry felt his face redden. He knew exactly where the infection would be.

Madam Pomfrey walked over to the fireplace. “One last thing, Potter. He needs to be monitored continuously and under no circumstances is there to be any magic used on him or near him.”

Harry paled. “Erm… exactly what do you mean when you say ‘near’ him?”

“That means no magic within ten feet of him,” she stated simply. Pomfrey frowned and stared at Harry curiously for a moment. Seeing the slight blush on his face, Pomfrey’s eyes widened. “You already have, haven't you?” she asked, voice rising. “Did you use magic on him as well?”

“I didn’t know that I couldn’t!” Harry shot back. “How was I to know?”

A flash of anger crossed Pomfrey's face. She marched briskly back past him and into his room, slamming the door behind her. After a few loud protests from Malfoy, she stormed back into the sitting room and stood before Harry, leering.

“Fortunately for you, it is too soon to tell if any damage was done,” she said crisply. “I will return tomorrow to check on him. Remember what I said, Potter: no magic whatsoever.”

As she grabbed a large bit of Floo powder, panic rose in Harry's chest.

“Wait! At least tell me what's wrong with him!”

Pomfrey looked at him, and for the first time that night, she showed signs of empathy. “That will be up to Mr Malfoy to say, Potter.” When Harry opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him by holding up her hand. “I can tell you this much…” She hesitated for a moment as if she was trying to decide whether she should say anything or not. She quickly glanced at the closed bedroom door and then back at Harry. Under her breath, she said, “Watch him, Potter. Watch him carefully.”

Harry frowned. “Why? What's going to happen?”

Pomfrey threw the Floo powder down around her. “Fire-call me immediately if anything … unusual happens. Good night.”

Harry stared at the fireplace, unable to move and trying hard to grasp the situation. What the hell did she mean ‘watch him’? What was he going to do – grow wings? Was Malfoy cursed and going to turn into a Veela or something? Harry laughed out loud. Just what the world needed. A Malfoy Veela. He was arrogant enough as he was.

Shaking his head at that ridiculous image, Harry glanced over to his closed bedroom door, and then reality hit him. Draco Malfoy was staying with him. Worse yet was that he couldn’t be moved, nor any magic used on him or near him, and he had to… to…

Feed and BATHE him?

No bloody way in hell!

Was Madam Pomfrey mad?

After another minute of staring at the empty fireplace, Harry finally got his legs to move, though they felt like they were made of lead. He slowly turned the doorknob and sighed audibly in relief when he saw that Malfoy was already undressed and thankfully covered up. He didn’t want a naked Malfoy arse to be the first thing he’d have to see when he entered his room. He’d see all of him soon enough. He visibly shuddered at that image.

“Get out, Potter,” Malfoy mumbled.

“Look, Malfoy, like it or not, you have to stay here. Believe me, if I had my way about it, your arse would be at St Mungo’s already.” Malfoy groaned. “And remember this, you prat. This is my place, and you are not in any position to be making any demands whatsoever. Got that, Malfoy?”

Silence.

“Did you hear me?” Harry snapped.

Still no answer.

Harry moved closer and bent over the bed. He nudged Malfoy's shoulder. “Malfoy? Malfoy! Malfoy, I don’t have time for this!” Harry yelled in his ears.

Malfoy cringed. “I’m not deaf, Potter; I’m just ignoring you.”

“Well, knock it off. Now then,” Harry started, but then paused for a moment to swallow hard. Malfoy was definitely going to respond badly to this. “I need to… clean you,” he finished quietly.

Malfoy opened his eyes and glared at him. “I know,” he said, sneering. “Just get on with it so I can go back to sleep.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Malfoy wasn’t going to put up a fuss? If their roles were reversed, Harry knew that he would. He left and went to the kitchen, and then brought back a few flannels, soap, and a bowl of hot water. Harry sat the items down on the floor and then rolled his eyes at himself when he noticed the bowl and flannels that he had left previously. No worries on that though. He’d just use the other set for rinsing.

Harry pulled out his wand so he could heat up the water.

“What are you doing, you imbecile?” Malfoy screamed. “Didn’t you hear anything that that daft old woman said?”

Harry immediately got defensive. “I forgot, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right! Do you know what you almost did?”

“No, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me?” Harry shouted back. Malfoy clenched his teeth and said nothing. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

Malfoy looked past Harry and stared into space.

“Malfoy, the least you can do is tell me what the hell happened to you.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” Malfoy snapped.

“Fine!”

Temper rising, Harry grabbed the bowl, spilling most of the water, and marched into the bathroom. ‘Arsehole,’ he grumbled.

When Harry returned with the warm water, he was surprised to see that Malfoy was still on his stomach, and that he was still covered. Then he remembered what Madam Pomfrey had said. He wouldn’t be able to move any of his limbs. Harry sighed and took some small comfort in knowing that Malfoy wouldn’t be able to fight him.

“Erm, since you’re already on your stomach, I’ll start with your back,” Harry said nervously.

“Fine,” Malfoy said tiredly.

Harry peeled back the duvet with shaky hands and stopped just below the small of Malfoy's lower back. Harry’s breath hitched when he saw the purple bruises on each side of Malfoy's hips. They were the same type of markings that he had seen on Malfoy's throat. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Harry sat down beside the bed, dipped a cloth into the water, then lathered it up with soap. He slowly rose to his knees and gently touched Malfoy's skin with the warm flannel. The moment he did, Malfoy’s body spasmed, and he cried out sharply. Harry immediately jerked his hand away in confusion. Did that simple touch cause Malfoy pain? Harry watched his face closely to see whether he was hurting him or not, but it didn’t appear as if he was. Malfoy seemed to be relaxed because his eyes were closed, his mouth was half-open, and he was breathing heavily.

Harry timidly reached out and placed the flannel back upon Malfoy's skin, but when he heard Malfoy groan, he flinched slightly. Harry waited a few seconds before starting again, then carefully began rubbing the cloth in small circles. Finally certain that Malfoy wasn’t in any type of pain, Harry continued cleaning Malfoy’s back in earnest, altering back and forth between washing and rinsing. Harry never noticed the wave of gooseflesh that erupted over Malfoy's skin, nor did he notice when it happened to him.

Within a few minutes of cleaning, Harry’s body shuddered, causing him to sway on his knees. He leaned against the bed to maintain his balance and then blinked several times to try to get his eyes to focus properly. When it became clear that he couldn’t, Harry shut his eyes and took in several deep breaths. It was then that a familiar scent filled his nostrils. It was one that Harry recognised instantly, but yet couldn’t place where he had smelled it before. It was a pleasant scent, and Harry unconsciously smiled, and let the wonderful aroma fill his senses.

A loud moan from Malfoy caused Harry to come out of his unknowing trance. His eyes snapped open and looked down at what he was doing. Harry scrambled to the opposite wall, panting hard in confusion.

What the hell was going on?

Harry sat there staring at Malfoy, trying to figure out why a simple bed bath had caused him to lose control. And why did Malfoy suddenly moan? What was that about? But there was one thing that Harry did know for sure: the temperature in the room had increased dramatically. He was sweating profusely. Maybe that’s why he had behaved the way that he had. It was hot in the room, causing Harry to relax, and his mind had gone into a calm bliss. Yes, that would explain everything.

Right?

Convincing himself that that was the reason, Harry crawled back over to Malfoy, quickly covered up his back, and then scooted down to the end of the bed. He lifted the bottom of the duvet and pulled it up to the top of Malfoy's thighs.

Harry gently placed the moist flannel on the back of Malfoy's right leg, and instantly Malfoy responded with a soft moan. Instead of pulling away – he wanted to get this over as soon as possible - Harry closed his eyes and began methodically cleaning Malfoy. Harry's brows pinched together in concentration and brought up his other hand. Soon, he started kneading the tightening muscles beneath the skin. When Harry lowered one of his hands to stroke the inside of Malfoy's right thigh, he felt Malfoy trembling uncontrollably.

Instantly, Harry’s eyes popped open. He suddenly realised that not only was Malfoy trembling, but Harry was as well! His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and his breathing was coming out in erratic gasps. The worst part was that Harry had responded in a very different way. Harry had an erection! An extremely hard one at that. He didn’t want to think about what that meant. If it meant anything at all. Harry mentally shook his head. Of course, it didn’t mean anything save the fact that Harry was a healthy nineteen year old who had tendencies to have erections – even if it did happen at the most inopportune moments. So, ignoring his physical state, Harry rose up to his knees, determined to finish up this bloody bed bath!

As Harry dipped the cloth back into the bowl of water, it occurred to him what had to be cleaned next. His face flushed red with embarrassment. If Harry had reacted so strongly with just Malfoy's legs, how would he respond with something as private as Malfoy’s… privates? Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew there was no getting around it. He would have to continue, and he also knew that the cleaning had to be thorough. Malfoy might be an arrogant git, but Harry wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Malfoy got an infection because of his negligence.

Well, that and Madam Pomfrey would kill him.

Harry nervously looked up and down Malfoy's legs, wondering how to approach this awkward situation. Should he just nudge the insides of Malfoy's legs? Should he ask Malfoy to spread them? Oh yes. That would go over well with Malfoy, wouldn’t it? ‘Hey, Malfoy. I know you were just attacked tonight, but I need you to spread your legs for me.’

Harry shuddered at that thought.

Of course, Harry knew he could always rephrase the question so it wouldn’t embarrass either of them, but truthfully, he didn’t want to say anything – it would break the almost comfortable silence that was resting between the two of them. Harry chewed on his lower lip, unable to decide on how to go about accessing Malfoy's… area.

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy's legs spread of their own accord. He stared at him and his lips parted in surprise. He quickly glanced up at Malfoy. Thankfully, he had his eyes closed. That’s all Harry needed. Malfoy witnessing Harry blushing. Harry hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently placing his hands on Malfoy's bum. The reaction was instantaneous. Malfoy’s hips bucked, and Harry jerked his hands away at once. The heat coming off Malfoy's skin was absolutely phenomenal. It was almost as if it was on fire. It reminded Harry of the rare times he had been ill with a high fever.

Now Harry was worried. What if in this short time of indecision, an infection had begun? He plunged one of the flannels into the water straightaway and thanked all the Gods above when he found out that the water had cooled down a bit. It would be perfect for Malfoy's hot skin.

*******