Formidable

Chapter 4

authors note: GUYS!! I got the chapter backkk! I managed to recover it so here you go! I'm so glad I got it back as this is a really vital part of the story :) anyways enjoy!!

Three weeks had passed and Draco's bouts of vomiting in the morning hadn't stopped. In fact, they had only gotten worse. Sometimes, when Harry left for work in the morning, Draco wouldn't get out of bed. And wouldn't eat. But he'd never tell Harry that, because an hour before Harry got home, he would get up and get dressed, pretending like nothing ever happened. Draco had always been taught that showing weakness was the worst thing you could do, if you were sick, deal with it. If you were upset, deal with it. There were no two ways about it. Draco had learnt how to ignore the latter much more than the former, and even though his father was in Azkaban and his mother had drastically changed her lifestyle for the better, he still held onto the first teaching. Being sick, was not an option.

So that's what he went by. He told himself that under no circumstances was Harry to see him ill. And he knew Harry wouldn't care, he'd still love him all the same but that wasn't the point. Draco's as stubborn, and you couldn't change that.

Yet, one day, after Harry returned from work, that wasn't the case.

"Draco?" He called, expecting to find him in the kitchen. No answer
"Draco?" He called again. Still, no answer.
He strolled into the kitchen to find it empty, and exactly how he'd left it this morning. The emerald green mug he'd left in the sink, the plate he'd had his toast on that morning, and the jar of jam was still on the dining table. Exactly as he'd left it.
That's odd he thought to himself and carded his fingers through his hair once or twice.

He then poked his head into the living room. Still, no sign of Draco.
He untied the laces of his industrial, steel-capped boots, well worn by now and pulled them off his sweat-clad feet, as well as his socks, which he then tossed into the laundry basket sat by the kitchen door, having to walk back to where he originally started, huffing.

He tip-toed up the stairs and instantly noticed the bedroom door was partially open. Again, exactly the way he'd left it. He raised his hand and tapped his knuckle on the door, before softly pushing the door fully open. He peered inside and found himself a mound of blankets, pillows and multiple duvets, of which were piled on top of a still body. Only a head of fine, platinum blonde hair could be seen sticking out the top, from Harry's angle.

The sight tugged on Harry's heart and he coveted his mouth with his hand as he carefully walked up to Draco, trying not to wake him up. He crouched down in front of him and gently stroked the stray hairs that fell across Draco's face, pushing them behind his ears. The gentle touch was enough to wake Draco, cracking out a few confused mumbles as he wearily opened his eyes. His lips were chapped and dry, his forehead smothered in sweat, usually bright blue eyes now dull and tired, complimenting the dark circles surrounding his eye-sockets. He was also paler than usual.

"Hi, baby." Harry whispered, "What's wrong? What's going on?" He inquired, holding Draco's hand that was limp over the edge of the bed, slowly tracing slow circles with his thumb.
"'M not sick... just t-tired" Draco attempted, his voice groggy and cracked. Harry chuckled at Draco's excuse. "Why didn't you call me?" He asked, grabbing a pair of his tracksuits and one of his bed-shirts. "Didn't wanna bother you" he replied sleepily, now starting to shiver, tightening the covers around himself and curling up, trying to retain as much body heat as possible. Harry rested his hand on top of Draco's head, causing him to flinch and pull back, "God! Baby you're burning up!" He exclaimed and Draco grunted.

"I'll get you a damp cloth and then we need to get you changed" He whispered and totted to the bathroom, retrieving a damp cloth and bringing it back to pat on Draco's head.