"Mister Malfoy?"
"Good evening, Madame," Draco pants. He realizes his hair is all over the place and he straightens up, smoothing his hair down.
"What can I help you with?"
Draco looks around her, and he breathes in relief when he sees Harry still on the bed, in the same position he was yesterday. "I just...came to check on Potter."
"Oh," Madame Pomfrey's eyes light up. "Right you are. I actually have something to show you."
She leads him around the beds until they're next to Harry, and she positions her hands over his sleeping form, chanting spells and waving her wand.
And then Draco is looking at intricate patterns of magic weaving in and out of each other, all different colors and different densities.
"This," Madame Pomfrey says. She lifts her wand and a level of woven lines of red light rise with it, separating itself from the rest. "Is Harry's magical reserve. It's currently not as healthy as we want it to be, but it is stronger than the last couple of hours."
"How much stronger?"
"Significantly," she answers. Then she frowns. "It's like something came to charge him. Yesterday he had close to nothing, he was barely functioning."
Draco chooses to not mention the trip Harry took all the way to the Tower to talk to him a couple nights ago.
"What else did you find?"
Madame Pomfrey moves his magical reserve up and lifts another plane of swirling magic. This one is purple. "This is his mental energy. You see how it's moving slowly?"
Draco nods. "Because he is dormant."
"Correct. But, it's still moving at a faster pace than it should be. Which means he's either dreaming...or he's active in another dimension."
"A spiritual plane," Draco nods again. "It is possible."
"Right then. Another thing is this," she lifts her wand and sends the purple up, lifting a plane of frantic, blue jagged lines. "This is his natural reserve."
Draco frowns. He's never heard of that. "What is that?"
"This is...it acts as a physical reserve. Tells us how healthy he eats, how much strength he's supposed to have."
He can see the doubt on her face. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Harry isn't supposed to have one," she whispers quietly, admiring the active lines. "And not only that, it's not supposed to be this prominent. We all know he's powerful. This takes him off the charts, he's on another level with this strength."
"Is it harming him? Is there anyway it can be removed?"
Madame Pomfrey shakes her head. "It's embedded into his core. But it's not harming him, it's actually aiding in healing him. I've never seen anything like it, though."
"Is it supposed to look like that," Draco moves closer to inspect the frantically moving ribbons, zooming back and forth.
"This one is different than the ones I have examined. But nonetheless, it's functional. Very strong, stronger than Harry is supposed to be. And very active."
"Show me his core," Draco says suddenly. He watches she sends the plane up along with the others. And then she's pulling up a bright ball of white light. It looks like a star, rotating with rings around it.
"Everything looks normal," she hums. "His core is perfectly balanced, getting stronger by the minute. All his levels are fluctuating perfectly, like they should. Of course, they're still a little low, but once he fully recovers he'll be fine."
He sits on the chair next to the bed and watches as she carefully arranges everything back how it's supposed to be, and then it all disappears into Harry's hospital gown.
Madame Pomfrey runs some regular tests on Harry and when she's satisified, she gives him a smile and goes to turn around.
"Madame Pomfrey," Draco says suddenly. "Could I ask you something?"
"Of course, dear. What is it?"
"Yesterday, when you came to get me in the Great Hall during breakfast," Draco watches her eyes shine in apprehension. "What did you need me for?"
"I needed to know which potion you'd rather me administer to Harry, seeing as you're the one that's supposed to be here with him until he heals," she leans in over the bed and whispers. "And I don't trust that old Slughorn. Drives me mad!"
Draco's face breaks out into a smile. She wanted his advice and not his professor's. "Oh."
"Why?"
"I must have fallen into a deep sleep. I could not remember half of my day for whatever reason."
"Did you need anything? Sleeping Draught?"
"No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure I had not done anything...out of my element."
The Medi-Witch nods. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll be in my quarters."
Draco watches her flick her wrist left and right, throwing charms and spells, no doubtingly alarms for when her patients need help.
And when she finally crosses the doorway, Draco stands and walks to the window. He sees the Quidditch pitch decorated in team colors, looks like it was Hufflepuff against Gryffindor.
Piece of cake, Draco smiles to himself. He knows Hufflepuff always puts up a good fight, but they're not as impulsive as Gryffindors.
Gryffindors will do anything to get to the cup, they're desperate for it, and their last second moves spice up an otherwise easy match.
That's one thing that Draco misses. Playing Quidditch, the rivalry between Houses. Sure, everyone is friends, now, especially with the lack of returning Slytherin eighth years, but it's just so boring.
Even without thinking about the impending doom of his fate, Draco had fun being a kid--a mean one, yes. But he still had friends, he still had homework and holidays and fun.
Draco hasn't had fun in a long while.
*******
The blond ends up sleeping in the uncomfortable chair next to Harry's bed.
When he wakes up it's Thursday morning, and there's a silver platter with a plate of food, a cuppa next to it. And he sees a folded note behind it all.
You don't need to attend classes, but you are welcomed to. I excused you either way so you can rest, as you have done more than anyone can ask for.
Headmistress McGonagall
Draco sighs. He's not weak. He can go to classes, and he can do his classwork, and he can socialize and make potions and decipher his Arithmancy book.
Or he can stay here and watch Harry's chest rise and fall with every breath rhythmically, watch his eyelids flutter every time the sun hits his face when he moves. And he can watch his throat bob whenever he swallows in his sleep.
He doesn't know why Harry Potter is his means of meditation all of a sudden, but he finds he doesn't really care. So he puts the folded note back on the tray and lifts the cuppa.
"You're awfully quiet."
Draco spits out the sip he had in his mouth and looks up to see a very green pair of eyes. "Potter."
Harry just smiles small. "Harry."
"Harry," Draco says. "Pardon."
"No worries."
"You are awake."
"I have been. Since early morning."
"Oh," Draco breathes. He reaches to pick up a cloth and wipes his chin. "You surprised me."
"I see that," Harry grins.
And then the strangest thing happens. Harry pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them, lets his head fall back and lets the sun touch his skin through the window.
It's breathtaking.
The way his skin glistens, but that's absurd because he's dry. But he is glowing, with the sun hitting the melanin of his face, Draco just thinks wow over and over again.
"What," he swallows, but it doesn't help because his throat has no moisture. "What are you doing?"
"It's been months," Harry murmurs. "I haven't seen the sun in months."
"You remember?"
Harry gives him a questioning side look.
"You seemed to not remember...last time you were awake."
"I had a dream about it," he chuckles. "I guess it wasn't a dream. A memory. You were there."
Draco scowls. "I found you."
"And then you tried to run away from me."
"You were not the same person," Draco says. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "You were acting different."
"I know. I wasn't me."
"Was there something...in you?"
"I don't think so," Harry shrugs. "It wasn't harming me. I think it was like, a subconscious. I wasn't possessed or anything. I might have gone mad."
"You might have...gone," Draco breathes. "You are well, though? You feel normal?"
"Define normal," Harry laughs. "I woke up and the first thing I saw was you, sitting by my bedside. So I don't know if I'm hallucinating or not."
Now Draco feels offended. "The least you could have done is prove that I am not."
Harry stares at him for a very long time, it seems.
All of a sudden he rushes off the bed and takes Draco's face in his hands, not even stopping to let him gasp before he plants his lips right over the blond's.
And he's kissing him.
Draco doesn't even get to react before Harry is pulling away with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"Bloody hell," Harry rubs his lips. "You're actually here."
"Of course I am," Draco's snaps, reaching up to touch his own burning lips.
"I'm...I'm sorry," Harry stutters. "I didn't...I wanted to know if you were real."
"And your preferred method of interrogation is snogging," Draco stands up. "Maybe you have gone mad."
The Slytherin is two feet away when Harry speaks up again.
"You're in my dreams."
"I am not sure if you know, but sweet talking me will not save you on this one."
"No," Harry shakes his head. Draco turns just in time to see him grip his messy hair. "You keep appearing in my dreams. Every night. Even before I went missing. And I wake up and you're still there and you talk to me about...us being together.
"So I needed to make sure I wasn't talking to the other you."
Draco doesn't want to turn around. Because turning around means forgiving and second chances and Draco hasn't recieved any of that so why should he give that to someone else?
Especially Harry Potter, who already has everything he could ever ask for?
And he also does not want to mention that he's had dreams about Harry as well. That he knows exactly where the beauty marks are on each side of his face. That he knows precisely what shade of green his eyes are depending on the time of day. That he knows exactly which facial expression Harry pins to his emotions.
He doesn't want Harry Potter to know any of that. Because the moment he does is the moment he has something over him, and that is the day Draco Malfoy's reputation perishes.
And he will not let that happen.
"I will let Weasley and Granger know you have awoken."