Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not making any money writing this.
This is a Harry/Draco story, and it will be pure fluff. It is an AU since I do not acknowledge book six. When this story begins, the boys are in their seventh year.
Also, this story has not been Beta-read yet. If you find anything wrong, please tell me and I'll fix it. Although, you don't have to work that hard on finding the errors, lol.
Harry walked into the Great Hall to grab some breakfast. He so did not want to be here, but, unfortunately, he didn't have much choice. So what else is bloody new? Thank Merlin I only have a few more months left before I can kiss this rubble of stones good-bye! Harry thought morosely, sitting down next to Ron.
"There you are, I was beginning to think that you'd never come down here. Didn't you sleep well last night? Did you have another nightmare?" Hermione asked, only seconds away from turning into full mother-hen mode.
"Nah, I've just gotten used to sleeping in," Harry said easily, doing a fine job of hiding his resentment. And it wasn't as if he was lying. Christmas break had just ended, and Harry had gotten used to keeping his own hours.
"Oh," Hermione said, deflating slightly when there was no emergency to deal with. "Well, I hope you will head to bed early from now on, the N.E.W.T.s are only months away. I can't believe that we are finally here. Voldemort is dead, and we actually lived to graduate!" she added, perking right back up again.
Those sitting around her nodded their heads in agreement. Life was indeed grand, and they all intended to live it to the fullest. Harry nodded along with the others, but he couldn't help glance over to the Slytherin table. Seeing a glimpse of blond hair and a laughing mouth caused his heart to clinch painfully. Suppressing a sigh Harry turned back to his breakfast and did his best to eat something, if only to avoid getting Hermione on his back again.
Who would have thought his life would come to this? He had finally killed off old Voldemort the previous Halloween, somehow bringing his life full circle. The battle had been vicious, but thankfully rather brief. Harry had used a combination of healing potions and spells to deadly effect, and Voldemort went bye bye never to come back.
For the first week it had felt wonderful not having to worry about that crazy coot anymore. Then he had gotten annoyed at the attention and the insistence that he attend parties launched by the Ministry and the members of the upper class, just so they could publicly show their support of the Boy Who Lived.
Then there was the demands for interviews, and everyone wanted a blow by blow account of The Duel. Harry had endured the carousel for as long as he could, and then he had hexed the next imbecile approaching him. And the next. And the next. In the end, they learned to leave him alone, which in the mind of the press was even better, since they could now make up whatever idiocy they wanted and the masses ate it up.
Dumbledore, along with Harry's friends, disapproved of his actions of course, but Harry found that he didn't care. Instead he sat down one night and evaluated his life. For so long, the only thing he could focus on was the war and finding a way to do away with Voldemort. But now that he had done away with Riddle, now that he had brought piece back to the wizarding world, what was he to do now?
It wasn't a big shock to realise that he didn't want to become an Auror. He had fought all his life, why would he want to continue doing that? Especially since it meant taking orders from idiots like Fudge.
Harry was, however, a little surprised to realise that he didn't want to become a professional Quidditch player either. He loved flying, and he had always gotten a thrill from capturing the Snitch before anyone else, but to do that full time? To actually live for that moment? No, that life wasn't was for him.
It did, however, come as a shock to him when Harry realised that all he wanted was to settle down somewhere and just live peacefully and raise a family. All he truly wanted was the one thing that had been denied him all his life. Love. Love and a family.
It had been an even greater shock to realise just who he wanted to settle down with.
Because, without realising it, Harry Potter had fallen in love. With none other than Mr. Slytherin himself, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy who had somehow managed to stay away from Voldemort's clutches. Malfoy who had somehow managed to keep most of his Housemates away from Voldemort's clutches as well. Malfoy who would never as much as look at Harry Potter with anything other than scorn and disdain.
It had broken Harry's heart, but he had forged on the best he knew how, and now he was counting down the days to when he could leave Hogwarts and the wizarding world behind him. Oh, he wasn't about to live like a Muggle, far from it, but he wasn't about to be part of a world who had treated him so cruelly either. Not to mention that he would risk running into Malfoy if he stayed, or at the very least, run into his picture on the tabloids.
A burst of laughter returned Harry to the here and now, and he suppressed yet another sigh, ignoring with ease the painful lurch from his heart as he ruthlessly pushed all thoughts of Malfoy away from himself.
Then he started as a rain of balloons fell from the enchanted ceiling. As did everyone else in the Great Hall. Blinking his eyes Harry shook his head and pushed his half-eaten plate away. This had clearly been a bad idea. "I'll see you in Potions, Hermione, I want to ask Professor Snape something," Harry said getting to his feet. Hermione just waved him off, too busy listening to the no doubt sweet nothings Ron was whispering in her ear while presenting her with a few of the balloons.
Suppressing another sigh, Harry grabbed his book bag and left. He was happy the two of them had finally gotten their act together, but it only made the ache in his own heart harder to bear as he was constantly reminded of the things he could not have.
The days trudge slowly by, and each day the school population was subjected to strange outbursts of magic. There were the balloons in the Great Hall. The Transfiguration class was swamped with yellow roses. The number had been so great that the students had to fight their way out of the class room, since the flowers refused to be vanished. Those students sitting in the front resembled what the heroes trying to rescue Sleeping Beauty must have looked like as they battled the wall of thorny bushes.
The next incident happened in Charms, when the rocks they were supposed to levitate turned into Hippogriffs. Professor Sprout was not happy when one of her greenhouses was filled with a large number of slugs, and Professor Snape was livid when his classroom was disrupted by a rain of firecrackers.
The students were gossiping, trying to figure out what it all meant, their theories growing more and more outrageous for each outburst of magic, while the teachers grew more and more grim. They hadn't wanted to believe it at first, but it was now clear that they had a bad case of Love Fever on their hands. They just could not pin point who the affected student was.
Not until on Saturday morning when Hermione, for once not buried in a book -- or preoccupied with her boyfriend -- took a good look at Harry and asked, "Are you alright? You look flushed, do you have a fever?"
Harry scoffed, though truth to tell, he felt dreadful. "Of course not, Hermione, why do you ask?"
"Because, like I said, you look flushed, and your eyes are too bright," Hermione scolded, leaning forward to feel Harry's forehead.
Harry batted the hand away, closing his eyes in despair with the knowledge that Draco would never ask him how he was feeling. Then he yelped, and his eyes shot open in shock. He had been hit in the head with a box of chocolates. A large, heart shaped box of chocolates. Furthermore, he wasn't the only one to be hit by the sudden rain of the things.
"Harry! You are burning up!" Hermione screeched, coming out of her stupor as Harry's temperature spiked.
Harry was unable to reply as he was too busy falling off his chair, having finally lost the fight to stay conscious.
"Albus, we must do something!"
"What would you have me do, Minerva? We've talked to all of his friends, and none of them are aware of Harry having any warm feelings for anyone."
"Warm feelings," McGonagall snorted. "The boy is heads over heels in love!"
"Mmmm, what happened?" Harry asked, not particularly happy with the fact that someone was arguing practically in his ear.
"Harry? How are you feeling, child?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Tired. Hot. Want to sleep," Harry complained, curling up in a ball.
"I know, Harry, but you can't go to sleep just yet. We need to know who it is you have feelings for," Dumbledore said, reaching out and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Why?" Harry asked petulantly, shaking the hand off.
"Mr. Potter, it might have escaped your notice, but you are ill. Desperately ill, and the only thing that will cure you is the one who you love," McGonagall said primly, as if they were discussing an aspect of Transfigurations.
"Doesn't matter," Harry mumbled, trying to go back to sleep.
"Why ever not?" McGonagall asked.
"Because they don't love me," Harry said with a longsuffering sigh.
"So you have already approached them? Who is it, Harry? Maybe if we were to talk to her," Albus said eagerly, trying to figure out who would turn Harry Potter down.
Harry snorted but didn't say anything. He'd be damned if he got the one his heart desired through coercion, or worse, because he pitied him.
"Potter, who is it you love?" Snape barked, hoping to cause him to blurt the answer out automatically.
Harry merely pulled the covers up over his head.
"Why you little!" Snape growled, reaching forward to yank the covers down. A shield of pure magic prevented him from even getting close to the bed, and he pulled his hand back, shaking it in an attempt to remove the stinging sensation.
"Alas, the fever has progressed further than I had thought. We only have a few days left to find the one holding Harry's heart, or he will die."
Snape sighed, pinching his nose, while McGonagall gasped, wringing her hands in despair. "But, how are we going to figure out who it is!"
"Harry has inadvertedly given us a few clues. We just need to put them together and try to figure out to whom they lead," Albus said with more cheer than he felt. Time was running out, and if they failed the saviour of the wizarding world would die.
Draco Malfoy ambled through the corridors of Hogwarts, deep in thought. Ostensibly, he was a Prefect on patrol, looking for misbehaving children. However, he couldn't care less about any miscreants tonight.
Harry Potter lay in the hospital wing -- yet again! -- only this time he was dying. Who would have thought that the boy wonder would come down with Love Fever? Who would turn down the Boy Who Lived? The Golden Boy of Gryffindor? He hadn't believed his ears when Dumbledore had made the plea to the student body during lunch, after explaining the situation.
Harry Potter was in the last stage of Love Fever, and if his heart's desire didn't approach him soon, then he would die. How utterly ironic that the one thing that had kept the boy alive, was now slowly killing him.
Draco snorted, it would explain the mysterious bursts of magic though.
So, who was it?
Draco sighed softly to himself, too bad it wasn't him, or he would have been up in the hospital wing faster than you can say Avada Kedavra. He had no idea when he had fallen in love with the insufferable brat, but fallen in love he had. What wasn't there to love? His looks -- although the boy seriously needed someone to take him in hand! -- his wit, his charms, his... Draco didn't think there wasn't anything about the other boy that he didn't find adorable.
Draco sighed again, resolutely turning his thoughts away from that train of thought. Potter didn't love him and that was that. Draco had thought about wooing the boy now that the war was over and the hysteria had died down somewhat, unfortunately, he was too late.
The blond boy firmed his spine. Very well, if he couldn't have him, he would make damned sure that Harry got the one he loved. So... who was it? The balloons wasn't much of a clue other than it was a classic start of the manifestations of Love Fever.
Roses was also a classic symptom of the fever, but normally the roses were a deep red, a symbol of their love. But the roses that had filled the classroom had been yellow. Yellow roses... that meant friendship. Did this mean that Potter wanted to have his love's friendship as well as their love? Did this mean that the one Potter desired wasn't a friend? Draco reached up and rubbed a temple, this was harder than he'd thought.
Then came the blasted Hippogriffs! The blond teenager shuddered, he still could feel the terror as Hagrid's beast came bearing down on him. Reaching up he couldn't help but rub the arm that had been torn open. No, Hippogriffs would never be one of his favourite animals. Go figure that Potter loved them. He had looked good though, riding that thing. As if boy and beast had been one.
Draco sighed blissfully, lost in his memory for a moment.
Shaking his head, the teen trudged on. The one thing that truly puzzled him was the slugs. Who found slugs romantic? Something was tugging at the back of his mind, a forgotten memory trying to emerge, but for the life of him, Draco couldn't figure out what.
Then there were the fire crackers. Draco sniggered as he recalled the look on Severus' face when every last cauldron exploded. Draco had had some success with sabotaging the Gryff's work over the years, but never had he managed to do things to such an extent. Besides, he wasn't about to sabotage his own brew, or that of his fellow House mates, he wasn't suicidal, thank you very much. Still, the look on the professor's face had been worth ending up drenched with the cold remedy they had been working on that day.
Chuckling softly, Draco turned his mind away from the dungeons and Snape. The last real clue had been the boxes of chocolate. They had been heavy too! Draco reached up and tenderly rubbed the spot on the top of his head where one of the blasted things had hit him. He had rescued as many of them as he could from Crabbe and Goyle's greedy hands, shrinking them and putting them in his bag. He was glad he'd done it too, since the chocolate had turned out to be absolutely delicious. The best treats he had ever tasted in his life...
Draco came to a sudden stop. Studies had proved that sweets produced by Love Fever tasted good to anyone eating them, but if they were eaten by the one who held the sick person's heart, they tasted extraordinary. And the boxes had been a deep green, tied with a silvery bow. Not red as was custom.
Yellow roses, Hippogriffs, green boxes filled with exquisite chocolate... No, it couldn't be him. Could it? Draco staggered and was forced to lean against a handy wall to stay upright. Did this mean that Harry blasted Potter loved him?
His mind was reeling with this unexpected possibility, and then the elusive memory suddenly popped up. In second year, the fight with the Golden Trio, when Weasley had tried to hex him to spew up slugs. The hex had backfired -- and thank Merlin for that small mercy -- but it was another clue that firmly tied him to Potter's heart.
Pushing away from the wall, Draco took off running. If he was lucky, he just might get his heart's desire after all!
Sneaking into the infirmary turned out to be ridiculously easy. Then again, Dumbledore probably hoped that Potter's love would try and sneak in to see if they were it. Along with what looked like half the bloody school!
Draco was extremely happy he had thought of spelling himself invisible. No way was he going to risk his reputation by being seen by anyone while he tried to figure out if Potter loved him or not. He wasn't some sentimental Hufflepuff who wore their heart on their sleeve. He was a Slytherin and damned proud of it too! Waiting for the group of fifth years to grow tired of being rejected by the barrier around Potter's bed, Draco leaned against the wall and watched.
It had been amusing at first, but soon it grew tedious. Didn't Ravenclaws know when to give up? And hadn't they researched the illness enough to know that no matter what you cast on the protective shield, it wouldn't go down until the patient was either dead, or joined by his true love.
Sighing in annoyance, Draco cast a few stinging hexes, grinning with delight as the fools yelped and hastily departed the area. Casting a few privacy screens and putting up several silencing charms, Draco approached the bed and just looked down at the boy resting in it.
Harry looked wonderful. His face was flushed with the fever, and his hair was tussled even more than usual. Come to think of it, Harry looked just like Draco had imagined he would after they had made wild, mad, and passionate love together.
Closing his eyes and doing his best to reign in on his raging libido, Draco approached the bed. Staring intently at the raven haired teen, he reached out a hand, bracing himself for the barrier to push him away. It never did.
Green eyes blinked open when Draco brushed the back of his fingers along Harry's cheekbone. "Hi," Draco whispered with a gentle smile, settling on the edge of the mattress.
"Angel," Harry whispered, closing his eyes again, the better to savour the feel of those cool fingers against his hot skin.
Draco's eyebrows shot up. Angel? Shaking his head, deciding it was the fever talking, the blond moved his hand up into the messy hair, revelling in the soft, silky feel of the black hair.
"Mmmm, knew you'd come. I never thought you'd look like him though," Harry said, sighing contentedly.
Draco frowned, pausing with his petting until a soft meowing sound from the other boy caused him to start it up again. "Harry... Who do you think I am?" Draco asked in the end.
"The angel of Death. Have you come to take me to my parents?" Harry asked, his eyes opening at half mast.
"I'm not Death, you moron!" Draco cried out in shock and anger. Just how sick was Potter?
"Your not? But...?" Harry said, clearly bewildered.
Sighing deeply, this was apparently going to take some time, Draco toed off his boots and removed his robe. Climbing into the bed, Draco pulled Harry's unresisting body into his arms. "Now listen here, Potter. I don't know what delusional world you are currently residing in, but you are to come back to the real world and you are going to listen to me, got it?" Draco said sternly, waiting not so patiently for Potter to agree.
"I am no angel, love. I am Draco Malfoy, the boy who fell in love with you. And apparently, you have fallen in love with me as well. Aren't we fortunate? So snap out of this fever thing and get well so that I can snog you senseless, okay?"
"'Kay," Harry murmured, snuggling deeper into Draco's embrace and fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.
Draco snorted but made himself comfortable as well. There was no way in hell that he moved from this bed until Harry knew beyond doubt that Draco loved him.
Harry slowly woke up. He didn't want to, considering the wonderful dream he'd had. He had dreamed that Draco Malfoy had climbed into bed with him, professing his love. Too bad that never would happen in the real world.
Sighing sadly, Harry opened his eyes, and started badly when he came face to face with none other than the boy of his dreams. "Draco?" he asked, hating the fact that his voice was trembling.
Draco blinked his eyes open, breaking into a soft smile when he noted that Harry was awake. "Hi there, love, feeling better?"
"Um, yeah, I do. But... But you... Oh, this is just another of those dreams," Harry said dejectedly, breaking Draco's heart.
"Harry, this is no dream. I am real. Feel my heart beating just for you," Draco said, taking Harry's hand and placing it above his heart. It was cheesy as hell, but he couldn't take his words back now. Besides, it was nothing but the truth.
Harry stared with wide eyes at Draco, happily drowning in the warm, silvery eyes. Then he shook himself and, reluctantly, pulled his hand away. "No. This isn't real .You don't love me. You can't love me. If Dumbledore of Snape put you up to this... I... Thank you, but I don't want your pity," Harry said, turning his head away.
He would have turned completely away if it wasn't for the fact that Draco was holding him tightly, and was not showing any inclination of letting him go anytime soon.
"Oh for Merlin's sake! I'm not pitying you, Potter! Snap out of your pity party and feel. I don't know what tripe the Headmaster has filled your head with, but Love Fever can't be broken unless both persons love each other. Yes, you Gryffindor idiot, I love you, though Salazar alone knows why!" Draco huffed, all his intentions of being kind and loving flying out the window when met with Harry's stubbornness.
Harry whipped his head around to look at the Slytherin. "You really are here, aren't you? And you do love me?"
"Yes, Potter, I really do. If you washed your ears once in a while, maybe you would actually hear what people were saying to you."
Harry dropped his head down onto Draco's chest and began to snigger. "I always knew you were a romantic at heart, Draco Malfoy."
Draco considered taking offence, but Harry's giggles were far too contagious, and soon they were both laughing, sharing in the joy of finally being together.
"So... You really love me?" Harry asked a while later, absentmindedly wondering why Pomfrey hadn't been by to bother them yet.
"Yes, I really and truly do."
"But... Why? I mean..." Harry broke off, frustrated at his inability to find the words he was looking for. "Look at you and then look at me. You are everything I am not. Cool, witty, snarky as hell, charming, good looking, wonderful... How can you love me?" Harry asked, staring down at Draco's chest, furiously blinking back the tears that were suddenly welling up in his eyes.
"Oh, Harry. It is I who should ask that very question of you," Draco sighed, pulling Harry closer, wanting to comfort the other teen.
Harry frowned, not understanding how Draco could even think that, and said as much.
"Harry, I know that you aren't stupid," Draco chided gently. "I am a Slytherin. Not to mention a Malfoy. All our years here at Hogwarts I've been nothing but cutting and cruel towards you, how can you...?"
"Oh, Draco. That is not who you are. Once I got my head out of my ass enough to truly look at people, I quickly found out that the Draco Malfoy I thought I knew was nothing but a mask. I saw, Draco. Admittedly, it took me a while, but I saw how hard you and Professor Snape worked to keep the Slytherins away from Voldemort.
"It made me want to help you, and I tried to come up with ways to make your life easier. You didn't need the school on your back, not when you had enough burdens as it was."
"So that is why you opened up the DA for the entire school!" Draco exclaimed, finally having the answer to one of the questions that had been driving him crazy since sixth year.
Harry smiled shyly. "Yeah. Ron and Hermione thought I was insane, and then they figured it was to unite the school the way the Sorting Hat had been singing about. I never bothered to correct them." Harry shrugged. "The more I saw of you, the real you, the more I liked. But we were at war, so I buried my feelings and doubled my efforts in finding a way to finish off the bastard. I even volunteered to be nice to Severus Snape!" Harry said with a mock shudder.
"Is that why he asked me to land you in trouble every few weeks?" Draco asked suspiciously.
Harry chuckled and nodded his head. "No one knew that we were actually learning to get along. Not even Dumbledore."
"Humph! Well I certainly didn't know, and I'm his godson!" Draco said, pouting prettily.
"Anyway, that is how I came to fall in love with you," Harry said, abruptly returning to the subject at hand.
"And that is why I fell in love with you," Draco admitted, earning himself a startled look. "What? We were working our butts off in the DA. I saw you, Harry, I saw all that passion, all that compassion. I saw how you truly and deeply cared for the students in the DA, how could I not fall for you? But, like you said, we were at war. And then the world went crazy. I wanted things to become more normal before I..."
Harry watched with astonishment how the cool, collected Draco Malfoy broke into the most delicious blush. "Before you?" Harry prompted gently, reaching up to trail his fingers across the blond's cheekbones, much as Draco had done to Harry earlier.
"Before I tried to woo you," Draco admitted, daring to glance at the one who had stolen his heart.
"You were going to court me?" Harry asked, breaking into a delightful smile.
"Yes. I still plan to as a matter of fact," Draco admitted, regaining his composure when Harry wasn't laughing at him.
"But... I thought...?"
"That because we know that we love each other it was a done deal? In a way it is. Then again, the wooing, the courting procedure, is a way for two people to get to know each other, and I don't want us to miss that. Besides, I want the world to know that you are mine," Draco stated smugly.
Harry threw his head back and laughed.