Harry went straight to Malfoy's room.

Malfoy was flushed an unpleasant looking red, sweat beading on his skin. Every breath he took was a little too laboured for comfort. His eyes flicked back and forth under his eyelids, caught in a turbulent dream.

Harry found the damp cloth, mostly dried out on the floor beside the bed, and wet it again, ringing it out thoroughly before returning to the chair. He put a mild cooling charm on it and carefully lay it on Malfoy's forehead.

Malfoy twitched, his breathing hitching for a moment then he seemed to relax ever so slightly, his dreams easing.

And Harry wondered what he should do.

Malfoy had drunk a vial of pepper-up, and the water glass was empty once again. He had eaten. Malfoy had taken every potion that might help and had plenty of liquids. He was resting, as much as he could, and sleeping, however uneasy.

There was nothing he could do.

Except wait. And Harry wasn't good at waiting.

He didn't like- It made him feel... powerless.

He hated feeling powerless.

More than anything.

Harry sighed and considered trying to study before discarding the idea out of hand. He picked up books from the piles on the floor, most of them for assignments Harry was expected to turn in. Malfoy could avoid turning in any schoolwork until his fevers were over with, but he was doing them anyway. He had almost seemed furious when Harry had suggested the idea.

He recognized one of the books of fairy tales he had brought Malfoy, all about magical creatures and flipped it open. He read stories about nymphs and sirens, and about a selkie. Selkies were shapechangers, seals that can take off their skin and turn into a human, or something quite like it.

One night a beautiful selkie came to the shore, perhaps to enjoy the full moon or the stars, it didn't say, because the story was written from a man's point of view, a man who stole the selkie's skin and locked it away so he could trap her. He married the selkie, had children by her, even as she sat by the window all day starring at the sea and weeping. Until one of her children found the hidden skin and showed it to their mother, who took it and ran back to the sea, never to be seen again.

Harry closed the book with a scowl, throwing it back onto the floor. He massaged his temples with his thumbs, hating the book and its stories and the poisonous bile inside them. Every single one of them acted like the women, the creatures, were the ones to blame, when it was the men who lusted after their beauty and then punished them for refusing, or giving in, or just existing.

Harry looked up at Malfoy. The towel had slipped from his brow, and Harry carefully put it back, turning it over to the cooler side.

Malfoy needed him. Harry wasn't going to push anything. Not when Malfoy might not be able to refuse.

He wasn't going to be like them, Harry saw the book out of the corner of his eye and kicked it out of sight under the bed, he wasn't going to take advantage.

Maybe when Malfoy was better...

But not now.

-

An hour passed, maybe two. It had been winter dark since dinner, and there were no clocks in the tower so Harry couldn't be sure of the time, except to know that it was late. Harry wished he brought his watch, though it wouldn't have helped with the waiting.

He read through his latest Quidittich Weekly, checking in on Malfoy every time he turned a page to refresh the cooling charms on the damp cloth or turn it over. He had to get up once and wet it again when it started to dry out from the heat radiating off Malfoy's skin before going back to what he was beginning to think of as his chair.

Malfoy made a noise, his face scrunching up with a frown as he woke and shoved the blankets down.

Harry sat up, "Here, let me-"

Malfoy slipped his legs out the side of the bed until his feet found the floor, and he slowly pushed himself up.

Harry helped Malfoy to his feet and was shaken off as soon as he could stand.

"Where are you-"

"Loo," Malfoy muttered, walking unsteadily to the bathroom.

Harry stood frozen in indecision. Should he wait, should he go to the door in case Malfoy needed help, should he-

There was a flush and a few seconds later the sound of the tap being turned on.

Harry fumbled out his wand, and after a couple tries managed to cast the spell Pomfrey had taught him to dry and freshen the sheets.

The door creaked open, and Malfoy leaned against the frame with his eyes closed, taking a few heavy breaths before making his way back to bed. He sat down heavily, pulling open the buttons on his shirt one by one. The pale blue of his sleep shirt was darkened with sweat on his chest and down his back.

"Do you want to change?" Harry asked.

Malfoy got half the top buttons undone and decided that was enough, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging it over his head. He dropped it unceremoniously on the floor and grabbed the glass from the table, bringing it to his lips before he realised it was empty.

"Sorry, I'll-"

Malfoy shoved the glass at him with a frown that was too exhausted to hold any real malice.

Harry refilled the glass.

Malfoy drank the water slowly, cradling the glass in both hands.

"Do you want a fresh shirt?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded.

Harry went to Malfoy's wardrobe. He expected it to be magically expanded and utterly stuffed with more clothes than was reasonable. But wasn't even full. Malfoy had four sets of school robes with matching white button-ups and black trousers, a week's worth of underclothes, all black, and a few sets of silk sleepwear, no other cotton ones, much less anything Harry would consider comfortable.

"Water," Malfoy said, holding out his glass.

Harry walked back over and refilled the cup again. He picked up Malfoy discarded sleep shirt, "I could freshen this up?"

Malfoy crinkled his nose in disgust, "No."

"Alright," Harry sighed. He went downstairs and collected the t-shirt and shorts he was going to wear himself. He expected the same crinkled nose when he offered them out, but Malfoy took them without complaint.

The t-shirts Harry used for sleeping were all Dudley's old ones, so they were always too big, but the shirt was closer to a smock on Malfoy. It almost reached Malfoy's knees, which was good, as Harry saw quite a bit of leg as Malfoy kicked off his sleep pants with no regard for Harry's presence. He turned away as Malfoy pulled up the boxer shorts, only turning back around when he heard the bed creak as Malfoy got in.

Malfoy pulled the blankets halfway up, and Harry's pillow down, hugging it to his chest. He frowned at it, "what'd you do?"

"I freshened the sheets," Harry said.

Malfoy shoved the pillow down, "you ruined it."

"It's a pillow," Harry said, sitting in the armchair.

Malfoy frowned at him, "idiot."

"Why don't you go back to sleep? You'll feel better in the morning," Harry said.

"I won't," Malfoy said, pulling the sheets higher.

"You'll still have a fever?" Harry asked.

"Probly not," Malfoy shook his head, "but it hurt after, last time."

"Oh," Harry said, "that... sucks."

Malfoy smiled faintly, "idiot."

"Is this fever the worst one so far?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged the shoulder he wasn't laying on.

"How do you not know?" Harry asked.

Malfoy blinked and only managed to half reopen them, sleep starting to relax his face, "only been two and...before I wasn't eating enough... And wasn't sleeping well and it was... harder." he let his eyes close, "feel stronger this time..."

Harry watched him sleep for a while before sitting back. He was helping. Good. That was good.

-

Draco opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut. He no longer felt desperately unbearably hot, but there was a deep and uncomfortable feeling left in the fevers wake. He flexed a hand and winced; his bones hurt. The joints were the worst, with a sharp stabbing pain that faded to a dull ache after every tiny movement he made.

The first fever had been the most draining, but nothing had hurt afterwards. Draco was starting to think that had changed his magic because afterwards he could feel people when they came close. And when they used their magic on him, he could feel how they felt about him. So far, most of them had been annoyed. Except Potter.

The second fever had left his muscles hurting so badly he had wanted to curl up in a ball and never move again. Now, it seemed like it was his bones. Draco couldn't even fathom what the point of changing them would be.

Draco grit his teeth and raised a shaking hand over to the table and the waiting glass of water. It was like drinking out of a mountain stream, always cold, no matter how long ago Potter had cast the aguamenti, and the sort of refreshing you only got after spending a day out under a hot sun. It was the best water Draco had ever tasted. He couldn't tell if the water actually tasted that way or if it was a reflection of Potter's magic or both. Draco did know that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to explain to Potter that he had somehow managed to utterly ruin all other water for him. It was so typically, frustratingly, like Potter to be effortlessly good at something like water.

Draco carefully, carefully put the glass back, going slow to avoid dropping it. He could see the back of the armchair, dimly lit by the first light of dawn slipping through the small windows, and there was no Potter in it.

Of course, it made sense that Potter would go back downstairs to sleep. It was the sensible thing to do.

And it made his chest ache. Draco scolded himself for being so stupid.

There was a soft huff of that made Draco hold his breath. He looked down to the edge of the bed and saw that Potter hadn't left after all. He was still in the chair, leaning over and resting his head and shoulders on the edge of the bed. Potter was using the pillow Draco had pushed away, with his arms curled underneath. His hair was an utter mess, scattered across the sheets, with likely another hair tie gone missing thanks to Potter's carelessness.

Draco's chest ached again but for an entirely different sort of reason. He guessed that Potter hadn't meant to fall asleep because his glasses had mostly fallen off his face, one arm still trapped under his cheek. Draco reached down, pulling Potter's glasses free.

He wasn't worried about waking Potter, he had a feeling that he wouldn't, with a sort of easy certainty that would bother him later in the full light of day. He grimaced at the persistent twinges of pain from his arm but did his best to ignore them as he set the glasses on the table where they wouldn't get lost. He let his arm fall back onto the bed, stretching it out so his fingers could brush a few long curling strands of Potter's hair.

He meant just to touch, but once he did, he found himself carefully, slowly, combing through Potter's hair, untangling and smoothing the thick black strands through his fingers.

Draco didn't know if Potter's kindness was pity or guilt or his stupid hero complex or a combination of all three. He did know that since he was eleven, he wanted Potter's attention, even if it was the worst kind. He wanted to be seen by Potter. He wanted to be acknowledged... This was... This wasn't what he wanted.  But it was still better than anything he had gotten before.

He knew he should just accept his situation and enjoy what he could of it. But it left a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn't quite stomach.

-

Harry jerked awake, blinking and uncertain where he was or what had woke him up. An unfamiliar blanket fell off his shoulders as he sat up with a groan, his neck and back protesting at the uncomfortable way he had fallen asleep. Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair back, looking for his glasses and finding them on the bedside table. He didn't remember setting them there or taking them off, his eyes had been so tired they hurt, and he had only meant to close them for a second.

Harry looked at his glasses for a moment before putting them on and then back at the blanket he was sure hadn't had before. He stared at the empty bed, then got up. He used the loo, and borrowed Malfoy's brush to comb out his hair, spelling his clothes clean until he could stop by Gryffindor tower and change.

Downstairs, Malfoy was sitting on the couch his comforter still cocooned around him, so only his face and one hand was sticking out as he finished eating his massive breakfast.

"Fever broke?" Harry asked, fighting through a yawn.

"Uhuh," Malfoy said quietly.

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged.

Harry looked out the window with a sigh. It was the weekend, but if he wanted to talk with Hagrid it would be better to do it while it was still light outside.

"Potter."

"Wha- yeah?"

Malfoy gestured for him to come over.

Harry walked to the other side of the table.

"Before you go," Malfoy held out two pieces of dry toast stacked atop one another, "You missed breakfast."

"...thanks," Harry said, taking the toast, "Did you cover me with that blanket?"

"Was I supposed to leave you to freeze to death?" Malfoy said carefully wiping crumbs off his fingers.

Harry grinned, "I don't think it was quite that cold."

Malfoy frowned, a faint flush colouring his face pink.

Harry's smile grew.

"Would you..." Malfoy hesitated, looking stubbornly at his food rather than at Harry, "...ask the house elves to send up more food-"

"More food?"

"-just for a few days," Malfoy said, "and I need- I'd like a pain potion."

"Oh, that's right, you said it would hurt," Harry said, "Are you okay? Do you need anything else?"

"No, that's it."

"Should I stay?" Harry asked.

Malfoy flushed even pinker, "I-That's- no. I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Very sure," Malfoy said.

Harry set his toast down on an empty plate for a second to throw a few fresh logs on the fire. Brushing his hands off onto his pants before grabbing his breakfast again. "I have to meet up with Ron and Hermione, but I'll be back later, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded.

Harry headed towards the stairs lifting the two pieces of sandwiched toast up to his mouth-

"Why are you doing this?"

Harry turned around at the top of the stairs, "Doing-?"

"Helping me," Malfoy said, pulling his comforter tighter around himself.

Harry sighed. That was...complicated, and he didn't really have the time or interest in explaining. "Because I want to," he said simply and headed down the stairs.

Harry took a bite of toast. In-between the two slices Malfoy had spread butter and strawberry jam. It made a rather dismal meal surprisingly sweet.

-

"Merlin it's cold!" Ron said, rubbing his hands together briskly before tucking them in his armpits.

Hermione rolled her eyes and unwound her scarf from around her neck, "Bend down."

They stopped, and Ron leaned down, letting Hermione wrap her chunky knit scarf around his neck.

"There," Hermione said, "I told you to wrap up."

The grass of the grounds was shining silver with frost as they walked down to the Hagrid's cabin.

Ron shrugged, "I forgot."

Harry cast a warming charm over the three of them, "There, problem solved."

"Thanks, mate," Ron said.

"I keep expecting it to snow," Hermione said, "There was so much rain during the fall, but all the precipitation seemed to dry up when it started freezing."

"I'd rather not be walking through snow, so no complaints from me," Harry said.

They checked Hagrid's hut but it was empty, so they headed towards the edge of the forest and the stables that had been set up there after the war. Most of the magical creatures in Hagrid's lessons lived there, each stable enlarged and adapted for each animal's needs.

They stepped inside the slightly warmer building and quickly closed the door behind them.
"Hello? Hagrid?" Harry called.
There was a loud creak, and Hagrid poked his head out of one of the stable doors lining the walls and waved them over.

They all were quiet as they got close, hearing the laboured breathing from inside the stable. Standing in the doorway, Harry could see that the room's occupant was a thestral.

Her wings had been pinned to her side by cloth straps so she wouldn't bang them on the walls and ceiling. There was a smell of potions and salves in the air, the empty vials and jars sitting beside Hagrid's feet, but the wound on the thestral's front leg wasn't healed. Hagrid was wrapping bandages around the thin black limb, blood seeping through the white cotton.

"Fer some reason nothin seems to be helpin," Hagrid said.

The thestral was panting as her whole body shivered uncontrollably.

Hagrid pinned the bandage down and pushed himself up to his feet, his head brushing the ceiling. He ran a gentle hand over her flank, "There yeh are lass."

The thestral wobbled, her hooves shifting uneasily under her as she tried putting her weight on the injured leg.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

Hagrid tugged on his beard, watching the thestral, "Somethin' attacked the herd last night. She was tryin to protect her yearling near as I can tell."

"And the yearling?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shook his head, "Didn't make it. ...Was an awful thing to see, blood all over the place, didn' even eat the poor thing."

Harry caught Ron and Hermione's eye.

"Hermione... what heals a werewolf bite?" Harry asked.

"Powdered silver and dittany," Hermione said after a moment's hesitation.

Hagrid raised his eyebrows, "Yeh don' think-?"

Harry nodded.

"It couldn't hurt to try," Ron said.

"I ought to have a bit o' that in my kit," Hagrid said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped out of the way as Hagrid went down the hallway to the storeroom.

"A werewolf after all then?" Ron whispered.

"It does have a wound that won't heal," Harry said.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, watching the thestral intently as it walked in a slow, unsteady circle in the small enclosure, "...the full moon was four days ago."

"Here we are," Hagrid said, as he came back and ducked through the door again, two small bottles cradled in his palm. He eased the thestral back to the centre of the room, murmuring gently to her as her tail flicked uneasily.

Hagrid mixed the silvery powder with the dittany into a shimmering paste. He removed the bandages and used his fingers to smear the mixture into the gouges on the thestral's leg. The thestral made a weak cry and tried to back away but couldn't budge from Hagrid's firm grip. The wounds bubbled and curled inward, blood and viscera slowly being replaced with shiny pale scar tissue. The thestral tried to pull away again, her hooves sliding on the straw-covered floor and snapped weakly at Hagrid with her beak-like mouth.

Hagrid easily shifted out of range, holding onto her leg for a few seconds more until he was certain she would finish healing, then let her retreat to the corner of the room. He gathered up all the potions and medical supplies off the floor, slipping them into his pockets as he rose, and joined them by the door.

"McGonagall did give us somethin' of a stern warning abou' dangerous beasts in the forest," Hagrid said, "Never did occur to me it was werewolves... Didn' think they attacked animals, only other folks."

"It might be," Harry said, "But just to rule out it being anything else- there's a pack of werewolves that were born wolves in the forest, right?"

"Ya don't think- Not ol' Borf..." Hagrid shook his head.

"Well, can werewolf...wolves, can they infect people like a regular werewolf?" Ron asked.

Hagrid frowned uncertainly, and they all turned to look at Hermione.

"Wh- I- Really?" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.

"Well if anyone's gonna know it'd be you," Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Two werewolves having pups is enormously rare, and I think Hagrid's the only one who ever raised them. Usually, they're abandoned and die from exposure."

"That's right terrible, that is," Hagrid said.

"The point being there's no evidence either way," Hermione said.

Hagrid shook his head, "Ol Borf couldna. He's proper old. Regular wolves only live ter maybe eight or ten years, he's going on... somat twenty odd years now. Only him and his sister left now out of the five of em. I brings em food every couple days cause they have trouble huntin themselves now. Sides, thestrals aren't good eatin, too bony."

Harry nodded. So it wasn't a regular wolf or a transfigured dog, and the wound only healing with silver and dittany proved it was a werewolf-

Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.

"-Sorry, Hagrid, we've really got to get back to our studies," Hermione said.

"I understand," Hagrid nodded, looking disappointed, "Yeh've gotta be ready for yer NEWTs. It's important for yer futures."

"I'd be happy to have a cuppa," Ron said, and quickly corrected after seeing Hermione's glare, "But some other time though, yeah?"

Hagrid nodded, "I'll be glad ter see you when you do."

Hermione and Ron led the way out of the stables and back into the bitter cold, Harry following a step behind already deep in thought.

"So Malfoy's doing better?" Hermione asked.

"...yeah," Harry said absently.

"I'm sure both you and him will be wanting to catch up on the classwork you've missed the last few days," Hermione went on, "Ron and I can walk you through it so you can help Malfoy-"

"Why are you always talking about Malfoy?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing, "It's all you ever ask about anymore."

"Well, you do live with him, and fancy him, and rather a lot of time is taken up by him," Ron said.

"We're being supportive," Hermione said.

"That's nice of you, I suppose," Harry said, unable to hide the lingering suspicion from his voice. "But right now, we need to talk to McGonagall and sort out our next course of action."

Both Hermione and Ron hesitated and looked at one another in that way that raised Harry's hackles.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't tell McGonagall," Hermione said, her words carefully measured, "but she's already told the professors and prefects, and the aurors and people at Hogsmeade. The forbidden forest is massive, finding something that doesn't want to be found would be nearly impossible. I don't think there's anything else to be done."

"There is no next course of action," Ron said with a faint shrug, "The world's been saved, mate. It's done."

Harry stopped walking. The wind whipped past them, carrying tiny pinpricks of snow.

"We're going to be starting auror training in the summer-"

Ron kicked at the frozen grass, "But you aren't an auror now."

Harry frowned, "What do you mean you, it's us, we're going to-"

Ron winced, "I dunno, Harry, I was thinking of working with George at the shop. He could use a bit of help, and then maybe going the mind-healer Mione's been seeing..."

"But we were gonna be Aurors together... partners," Harry said.

Ron shrugged again, "The job isn't going anywhere. I can always join later, right?"

"You could always take a break as well," Hermione suggested, "Just for a while. My mind-healer is very good, I could-"

"I don't need a break!" Harry snapped, "Where'd all this come from!? Healers and breaks!? You've just decided these things on your own-!"

"We didn't just decide!" Hermione shouted over him, "We've been talking about it for ages! But you never listen and when you do you get angry and storm off-!"

"I'm listening now, aren't I!" Harry shouted back.

"We're worried about you!" Hermione yelled.

A heavy gust filled with snow blew through them, making Harry step back and Hermione stumble as it pushed at her back.

Ron put a steadying arm around Hermione.

"I said I'm listening," Harry said stiffly.

"...It's like this, mate," Ron said, "All summer you were helping the aurors round-up death eaters, and as soon as you come back to school you're trying to put a stop to all the bullying and then this werewolf thing-" he shook his head, "-to be honest it's too much. You never stop. And I know you've got it as bad as me when it comes to the nightmares and jumpiness and maybe not being quite as right in the head."

"We were hoping that maybe being with Malfoy could help you focus on more normal things," Hermione said, "kid things, growing up things-"

"Happy things," Ron said.

Harry clenched his jaw.

"Not that NEWT's are easy or anything, but it's a chance for us to be normal for a bit," Ron said.

"Not hunt a werewolf," Hermione said softly.

"It's dangerous-" Harry said.

"Which is precisely why we shouldn't be involved!" Hermione said fiercely, "Something is wrong with this whole thing!"

"If we can stop Voldemort, we can-" Harry said.

"They were wizards, people who think logically and make plans! A vicious animal that's as strong as Hagrid and resistant to magic and can kill you in a heartbeat is-" Hermione's breath caught, and she pressed her lips together as she blinked back tears.

Ron pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. His voice was quiet over her shoulder, "We just don't want you to get hurt, cause we care about you. You're our best friend, you know?"

Harry nodded stiffly, "Yeah, I know."

Ron held out an arm to pull Harry into the hug.

Harry took a step towards the castle, "I'm going to tell McGonagall..."

"Harry!" Hermione said in dismay.

"I promise I won't do anything on my own, but if something does happen, I am going to help," Harry said and turned, walking back up to Hogwarts alone.

(see attached comment for link to a picture drawn by Avaryn on tumblr of Harry and Draco sleeping side by side)