This story will be dedicated to the first reviewer, Non Innocent Angel. This is a Draco/Harry story that starts in the fourth year of the canon. It is AU from my other dmhp story and in no way related.
Also, it was written in bloody 2009, so for better writing, check out my more recent endeavors. Holy mother of OOC.
Slash warning, once more, which means two males in a non-platonic relationship...
Other warnings: OOC!main characters, ridiculousness for the sake of ridiculousness, insanity
DISCLAIMER: Own not the Harry Potter. Claim not the Harry Potter. Sue not the interloper. (puts pockets inside-out, moth flies out)
Spelling edit: 12/30/2012
Grammar edit: 12/04/2014
Harry's mouth gaped in a silent scream when he suddenly awoke. Sweat-drenched and still in pain, he took down the silencing charms and checked the time. 3 AM... Two hours before Oliver would come and wake me up if there was Quidditch this year- despite the fact that it's only the fourth day back... Harry smothered a moan in his pillow when a burst of pain arched through his spine. He knew the pain were increasing, but, for some reason, every other sensation was becoming distant. The feeling disturbed him and he decided it warranted a late night visit to Madam Pomphrey. Shakily, he made his way down the stairs.
Draco shot up into a sitting position. What the hell just- Looking around he saw green- everywhere- and relaxed. I'm safe, I'm in the Snake Pit, I'm fine. Draco raised a hand to brush the hair out of his face and paused. Something's still... Not right. Acting on a whim he wiggled his toes, then his fingers, except- Why- why can't I move my hand? Narrowing his eyes, as if concentration would make a difference, he tried again. The right hand worked, no problems there, but his left hand... Draco mentally groaned. It just lay there, as if it wasn't his hand. Cradling the limp appendage to his chest, Draco began up the stairs out of the Slytherin dorms, with a sinking feeling that the paralysis wasn't content to stay in his hand.
Harry leaned against the wall, Just a little further. The pain seemed to originate in his chest, but was slowly creeping outward. He attempted to push off the wall, but the answering throb of pain in his chest killed that idea swiftly.
"Need a hand?" A voice asked. Harry turned around as quickly as was possible for him, and was met with a view of Draco in his pajamas. "Oh. It's you." Draco looked over the brunette boy in front of him and decided that the pain he was going through was worse than the not-feeling Draco was currently experiencing. Draco shrugged, "The offer still stands- of the midnight maladies, you seem to have gotten the short stick, Potter."
Harry groaned and bashed his head against the wall, "Why you, Malfoy? By noon tomorrow the whole school will know, won't they?"
Draco would have some venomous comeback ready if the paralysis hadn't already made it just beneath his shoulder, "Potter, take it or leave it, I don't have the time to listen to you whine."
Harry glared, "I'm leavin' it." He pushed off from the wall with a minimum of winces and promptly collapsed to the floor.
Draco sighed and held out his good hand, allowing the other to flop listlessly at his side, "Here, Potter."
Harry had a flashback to first year but shook it away, reaching for the extended hand warily, as if afraid Draco would snatch it away at any second. "Thanks, Malfoy..." The instant Draco pulled him to his feet, the pain in Harry's chest ceased to exist. What the-
Draco froze, realizing the odd tingling sensation in his left hand was not something he should be able to feel. In the midst of all this, both forgot their repulsion for the other should have made their hands part company a few minutes ago. Instead, the two of them stood there, stone-like, before turning to the other.
"Er, you go first." Harry said weakly.
Draco cleared his throat, "Right, er, did whatever was ailing you sort of... Disappear just now?"
Harry nodded dazedly, "I think it has something to do with skin contact."
Draco frowned in concentration, "Perhaps we both need to have skin-to-skin contact with someone to cure us? Or at least hold whatever it is off? What is... was wrong with you?"
Harry replied, "I had a pain in my chest that was spreading outward. Everything else felt kind of distorted."
Draco's eyebrows rose, "So we obviously have different symptoms."
"Maybe we should get to Madam Pomphrey..." Suddenly the two of them looked at them joined hands and snarled in distaste. "Quickly. So she can fix this."
"Definitely," Draco snapped.
Madam Pomphrey was proud of her calm, no-nonsense attitude and her lack of squeamish tendencies. She often said that nothing that came into her Hospital Wing, no matter how horrid or how strange, would ever shock her. However, when Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy walked in holding hands- ...let's just say that for a few minutes, the normally brisk caretaker needed to be taken care of.
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