Malfoys don’t get sick 🤒
“I am not sick. Malfoys do not get sick!”
Harry gave Draco a skeptical look as the blond blew his nose for the seventh time since he had entered the room five minutes ago.
“Right,” Harry said, clicking his tongue.
“I am not sick,” Draco growled. He turned his back to Harry and made his way to the sofa, plopping down on it.
“Draco, there is no shame in being sick.”
“I am not- not- Achoo!”
Harry handed Draco another tissue before sitting down next to him. He lifted his hand and gently put it on Draco’s forehead.
“Oh, you’re burning up.”
“I’m not,” Draco said, pushing Harry’s hand away. “Besides, I feel cold.”
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re obviously running a fever. Maybe I should call Hermione. I’m sure she could cure you of-”
“I don’t need her. I don’t need anything,” Draco interrupted him. “I am perfectly fi- fi- Achoo!”
Harry let out a sigh and shook his head.
“At least lie down and rest for a bit?”
Draco gave him a dark look that didn’t last for long.
“Well… I am a little tired.”
“Alright then,” Harry said, making room for Draco to lie down. He summoned two blankets from their bedroom and tucked his boyfriend in.
“There,” Harry said soothingly. “Sleep it off, okay?” He stroked Draco’s hair who nodded weakly before his eyelids fluttered shut.
After making sure Draco was fast asleep, Harry went into the kitchen to prepare something for Draco to eat when he woke up. He knew just what to do.
Two hours later, when Harry went back to the living room, a vase and several books were floating in mid-air, right above Draco’s head. Harry quickly set the tray of steaming porridge he was holding down on the table and got out his wand. He sent the vase and the books back to the shelf and kneeled down beside Draco.
“I think you’re magic is going a bit bonkers,” he murmured. Draco cracked open an eye and smiled dazedly at Harry.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Hey.” Harry stroked his hair again and seated himself on the edge of the couch. “Are you hungry?”
“Ugh!” Draco weakly shook his head and scrunched up his nose.
“Come on, it’s Molly’s secret porridge recipe. Here.” Harry summoned the tray and placed it on his lap. “I’ll feed you.”
“I’m not letting you feed me porridge,” Draco said, his face twisting in disgust.
“Is it the porridge you’re opposed to or me feeding it to you?”
Draco didn’t answer but clutched the corners of the blankets tighter around him.
“Come on, you have to eat something. And you’re shivering so much, I think you will drop the spoon as soon as I hand it to you. Let me feed you.” Harry held out the spoon in front of Draco’s mouth with no sign of cooperation from his boyfriend. “Draco, come on. Just let me feed you. You know, it would be kind of cute, too.”
“Cute,” Draco repeated, a disgusted look on his face.
“Yeah. Now that I think about it, it’s nice to have someone I can take care of.”
Draco seemed to ponder this for a moment before hesitantly opening his mouth and accepting the spoonful of porridge.
“What else would that entail? You taking care of… me?”
Harry’s face split into a grin as he offered Draco more porridge.
“Well, I guess that would depend.”
“Depend on what?” Draco asked, slowly taking another bite.
“On the circumstances. For example, if you were sick, I’d definitely want to keep cooking for you. And after you finished eating we could go upstairs and I could hold you and warm you until you stopped shivering. We could take a hot bath together. I’d make you some tea, get your favourite biscuits and I could give you a massage if you feel like it. But since you’re not sick…” Harry peered at his boyfriend from under his lashes and held back a snicker.
“Well,” Draco began quietly. “Maybe… Maybe I am a little sick.”
“Sure, just a little,” Harry laughed, putting the porridge aside and gently pulled Draco into his arms.