A/N: Inspiration for this story was taken from the Berenstain Bears. You know, those picture books about the big fuzzy bears, by Jan and Stan Berenstain? I used to love those. :D Anyway, so this is based off of The Berenstain Bears Go to the Doctor. Luci is more like Papa Bear than he shall ever know. -lurves-

"Good evening, darling," Lucius murmured, as he peered in through his fiancée's bedroom door, towards where she lay upon her bed.

Andromeda had been staring listlessly at the wall, but at the sound of his voice, her head lolled weakly to the other side. When she spotted him, her eyes went wide. She made a half-attempt to get out of bed, but too fatigued to do even that simple action, fell back against her pillows. "Lucius!" she gasped hoarsely, her vocal chords rasping and wheezing even on the simple syllables. "What – Lucius, I'm ill – didn't Mother and Father – didn't they notify you – "

"Of course, your parents are very efficient about this sort of thing. I was owled about your illness this morning, minutes after you announced it to them," said Lucius calmly, shutting the door softly behind him and striding confidently into the room until he stood over her. She looked up at him through eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "But I'll be damned if I'm going to ring in the New Year without you, Andy."

"I'll ill," she coughed out. "I took a potion this afternoon – the sickness should be gone within the next forty-eight hours – but for now – I'm not feeling well enough to do anything – "

"I'm quite fine with not doing anything," Lucius replied matter-of-factly, and took a seat on the edge of her bed.

Andromeda managed a scowl, scooting her body nearer to the opposite end of the bed from where he sat. "Believe me, your evening would be – would be much more enjoyable without me – I'm not going to be any fun just lying here – "

"I want to spend the New Year with you, Andy." He reached out an arm, cupping her cheek against his palm. She closed her eyes contentedly at his touch. "Why is that such a crime?"

"I'm ill," she repeated raspily, opening her eyes and tilting her head away from his fingers.

"So I've heard."

"And this just – this just isn't proper, this situation – "

"Since when have you been concerned with being proper?" he chortled.

She ignored this jab. "You, being here in my room – my parents would never allow it – "

"Actually, under the circumstances, they found it perfectly acceptable. It was them that allowed me to come up here – it's not as though I could have snuck into your house without their knowledge. Now," he continued, placing two fingers over her lips when she made to interrupt, "there are no other arguments that you could possibly come up with, so if you please – "

"You're going to get sick too," Andromeda cut in. "And there is no way you can – argue around that one."

"I? Get sick?" Lucius scoffed. "I never get sick."

Andromeda laughed at that, though it quickly turned into a hacking cough. He offered her the glass of water sitting on her nightstand, and, after swallowing several large gulps, she wheezed, "Don't be stupid, Lucius. Everyone gets sick."

"And since when have I been everyone?" Lucius responded, grinning at her cockily. "Haven't I proven to you by now that I am vastly different from most men?"

She rolled her eyes. "That – doesn't make your immune system any different."

"Oh, hush, Andy. I'm not going to leave, so you have no choice but to put up with me for the entire evening, just as was originally planned."

"It was originally planned – that we would go – to a restaurant. The plan did not take place – in my bedroom."

"Plans must sometimes be changed." Lucius brought the white box that had been sitting on his knees closer, and opened it. A scent of chocolate wafted out from the box, strong and delicious, and Lucius smiled wickedly when he saw how Andromeda bit her lip, obviously tempted by the smell, but refusing to reach for any of the dessert he had brought. Well, he would just have to give her a little persuasion.

"Hungry, dear?" he goaded, lifting the box into his palms and moving it towards her head.

Andromeda's face scrunched up: her brow creased, her mouth became extraordinarily thin, her nose wrinkled, and her eyes squeezed close. "No . . ." she groaned faintly. "I feel too terrible to even think about food . . ."

"Wine, then?" he offered, producing a bottle.

So, they spent the remainder of the evening eating, drinking, talking (on Lucius' side mostly, as Andromeda's vocal chords were weary), and just generally being in one another's company. And though Andromeda was loathe to admit it – since she had been so adamant that Lucius leave initially – it was the best New Year's Eve she'd ever had. Even despite the fact that she was ill.


"Good afternoon, Andromeda. Are you feeling better than you were two days ago?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," said Andromeda cordially. "Yes, I am feeling much better, thank you. I just wanted to stop in briefly and thank Lucius for spending New Year's with me, even despite my sickness. Is he around?"

Abraxas Malfoy smiled rather mischievously. "Oh, yes, my son is around. Come in, come in." He pulled the door open wider, and Andromeda stepped inside. "Lucius is upstairs in his room," the elder Malfoy went on. "I'm sure I can trust you to behave responsibly up there in your few minutes here?"

"Yes, of course, sir," she responded, doing her best not to blush, and hurried up the staircase to her fiancé's bedroom. She knocked on the door, and after hearing a quiet 'yes, enter', she did just that.

"Hello, Lucius," she said, closing the door behind her and turning to face him, "I just wanted to – "

She stopped short when she caught sight of him.

Lucius was lying limply upon his bed, his skin pasty, his hair in disarray, the bedcovers pulled all the way to his chin.

"Oh," said Andromeda, biting back a smile.

"Not a word," Lucius told her. It seemed as though he was trying to sound firm and menacing, but his words were so gravelly and rough against his throat that the effect was ruined. "Not – a – word."

But of course, Andromeda was going to say another word. Several more words, to be precise. This was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Why, darling," she crooned. "You don't look well. Are you ill?"

He glowered at her.

"No, that can't be," she reasoned with herself. "I heard straight from your mouth directly that you never get sick. Oh no, not the great Lucius Malfoy. He is far too superior to catch the flu or a cold. Germs would never think of touching him. So this obviously cannot be sickness that I see before me!"

"You're pushing it," he growled.

She laughed, and moved closer to him, bending over so they were on eye-level. "What are you going to do, cough on me?" she chuckled. "I've already had this virus, it won't affect me anyhow."

Lucius grumbled something unintelligible into his pillow.

She giggled again. "I'm sorry, Lucius. But you should have known I would torment you about this."

"I did know that. To be honest – I hoped you wouldn't find out," he rasped. "But I suppose you would have eventually, with how you meddle in my business so.

Andromeda smiled, and leaned a little closer to gently kiss his forehead. "Get better soon," she whispered.