Just Stay There {Drarry}

Chapter thirty

It was safe to say Draco was panicking. Who wouldn't? When watching your boyfriend of two days collapse on the floor in front of you, panicking is a perfectly reasonable reaction.

Draco's legs were moving before he even told them to. Harry had seemed fine, if not a little irate. It wasn't like him, for his body to just fail like that. Draco dropped to his knees beside Harry's head. With fumbling fingers, he tried to find his pulse. He found it, thank Salazar, but it was racing.

Draco flipped him over, so Harry was facing the ceiling. He took off the boy's glasses. They didn't even have a scratch. He would have to admire the workmanship properly sometime, but right now was not that time. A bruise was blooming on his elbow and upper arm. Other than that and a small egg forming on his forehead nothing else seemed injured.

Harry's book bag still sat by the sink, and Draco stretched to grab it. He quickly routed through it. Neatly pressed trousers and a dress shirt, along with his ridiculous Gryffindor tie, was all he found at first glance. Declaring everything in the bag utterly useless, he instead used it for a makeshift pillow. Carefully, he lifted up Harry's head, finding it damp with sweat. After placing it under Harry's head, Draco picked up the folded glasses and put them in his own robe pocket. He didn't want (somewhat) illegally inscribed rune glasses to be traced back to Harry, lest they get lost.

Then Draco sat there, on the bathroom floor, watching the rapid fall and rise of his boyfriend's chest.

"Shite," he muttered. What was he to do now? He couldn't just leave him here. Then again, what else could he do? He was a prefect. Pansy was waiting for him outside to continue their rounds. If someone caught him kneeling next to Harry's prone body like this, they'd assume he'd done it. Hell! For all Draco knew, he had!

"Shite." he whispered again.

When Draco had left two days prior, Harry had been protesting about getting a haircut. Saying that no matter what they did to shorten it, the only way it would stay short was if they buzzed it all off. It appeared they had. They used longer clipper extensions, so it did have a little volume. When he had glimpsed it for the first time, back on the station. Draco had found it slightly charming. Now, running his hands over it, powerless and frankly afraid, Draco took in what little comfort he had.

Harry's face wasn't pained exactly. His entire face was scrunched, like he had just eaten something sour. Draco looked around the bathroom. A lot of the other students came here to change into their uniforms, and it was only a matter of time before one of them came in here. Neither one of them could be here when that happened.

"Oh, you idiot," Draco leaned down to kiss his forehead, salty due to sweat. He took out his pocket handkerchief, to wipe some of it away. He had already changed, and his Mum always insisted he carry one on his person. He sent a silent thanks to her.

"Dray!" Pansy impatiently hollered from outside. "If you're not coming out, I'm leaving."

"Wait a minute will you?" he called back. "There's... uh, an issue."

"An issue? Don't tell me you wet yourself."

"I didn't!" he yelled, indignant. "It's nothing like that. Not at all!"

"Mhm," Pansy hummed loudly. "I'm sure it isn't. Now hurry your arse up, we don't have all day."

"I can't-"

"Right then," she said, "I'm leaving, good luck or whatever."

Draco was up in a flash, leaving Potter on the floor. He opened the door, grabbed Pansy, and dragged her into the bathroom. "Dray- what the hell!" He closed the door behind them. "What's all this about-"