Part Four
In Sickness...

“Move in with me.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his robes half-way buttoned. He stared wide-eyed at Draco. “What?”

Draco fidgeted, but repeated, “Move in with me.”

Harry tried to form words, but found he couldn’t, so his mouth was left slightly open as he continued to stare at his boyfriend. Finally, he managed a word; “Why?”

Draco looked down. “Because it makes sense,” he said and talked quickly, as though he was afraid that Harry might interrupt him. “I have the whole Manor, you don’t have anywhere to go now that school is ending since you don’t want to go back to the Dursleys, and it would be a good place as any to hide from the press and besides, there’s no danger in you staying at the Manor anyway – my dad’s— dead and so is Voldemort and my mum’s— gone.”

Draco hesitated on the last word. Harry knew he didn’t want to believe that his mother was also dead, though the likelihood of that being the case grew bigger with every day that passed and the Ministry didn’t find her. Draco hoped she was hiding somewhere in France, perhaps with some of his distant relatives.

“Please?” Draco added the word he used so rarely and looked pleadingly at Harry. Harry realised that this wasn’t only about Harry moving in with Draco; it was about Draco not having to live alone.

Getting his hands to work on the robe’s buttons again, Harry said softly, “Let me think about it for a little while, all right?”

Draco nodded. “Not too long, though – we’re leaving here the day after tomorrow.”

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget that,” Harry said.

Two days later, Harry sat in the Great Hall, eating breakfast for the last time. All of his things were packed and ready to be shipped off to Malfoy Manor, where he would spend the summer. He and Draco had agreed on this – they had to try and see if they were ready to live together and the summer months seemed as a good time as any to try it. It would, as Draco had pointed out, give them some shelter against the press. Most of all, though, it would give them time to be together. They hadn’t exactly been spoiled with time during their time at Hogwarts; all moments were stolen in broom closets and dusty, unused classrooms.

“It feels strange doesn’t it?” Hermione asked, looking between Harry and Ron. “That this is the last time we’ll ever eat breakfast here as students, I mean.”

Ron nodded, his mouth full of cereal. “It’s going to be weird living some place else – in my own apartment in London, can you imagine? My own place. Sleeping without Neville’s snores.”

“Yes, that is going to be nice,” Harry said, chuckling slightly. At Neville’s look, Harry added, “We’re just kidding with you, Nev’.”

“Oh sure,” Neville said, shaking his head and smiling.

Hermione turned to Neville. “So what are you going to do now? Are you going to live with your grandma?”

Neville smiled, but shook his head. “I love grams, but I couldn’t live with her any longer. A cousin of mine has found me an apartment in London and since I’m going to study Healing at St Mungo’s, that fits me just fine.”

“Medicine, huh?” Hermione said and started talking more in depth with him, while Harry turned to Ron instead. Things had been a bit odd between them since graduation, though it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Harry had feared it would be.

“So where are you going, Harry?” Ron asked. “Not back to the Dursleys’, I hope?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Harry said. “They fall under the category of ‘if I don’t ever see them again, it will be too soon’.”

“So where to, then?”

“I— Draco asked me to move in with him,” Harry said quietly. “I’m going to live at Malfoy Manor for two months.”

Ron shook his head. “I know he’s proven himself to be on our side, Harry – but living with him? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“No, Ron, I’m not sure of anything,” Harry said. “But I want to try it. Like it or not, I love him. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before and I want to see if we can have a relationship that is more than just meeting in broom closets and—”

“Too much information,” Ron interrupted, covering his ears. “I didn’t need to hear that.”

Harry grinned at him. Then he added, more seriously, “I’m so glad that you weren’t completely freaked out about everything. I was afraid you’d go completely bonkers.”

“Let me tell you, if Hermione hadn’t warned me that there might be something going on between the two of you, I would have been a lot more upset than I am. But thanks to Hermione, I had time to get used to the thought.” Ron grimaced at Harry. “But please, don’t tell me about your excursions to the broom closets.”

“Well, it wasn’t all broom closets, once we actually—”

“My ears, my ears! Aah!” Ron yelled and Harry started laughing.

Still chuckling a few minutes later, Harry looked up to see Draco watching him from the Slytherin table with a small smile.

After saying a tearful goodbye at Platform 9 ¾, Harry and Draco boarded another train, a very small train, at Platform 8 ½. It was black and green and Harry wondered if the Malfoys actually owned the train.

“My great grandfather bought this train and forced the Ministry to make a special line from London to our Manor a century ago,” Draco said, looking wholly unimpressed by the train. Then he looked at Harry and added, his tone much more fond, “The Malfoys have always gotten what they want.”

They made themselves comfortable in the spacious compartment; there were large cushioned chairs and couches. Draco sat down on one of the couches and Harry followed suit. Draco leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder, relaxing. Harry had noticed that it was something Draco rarely did and he was always happy to be the one who was able to make him do so.

As soon as the train started moving, a lady came and asked if there was anything she could get them. Both opted for pumpkin juice and the lady arrived back moments later with two large glasses.

Eventually, Draco lay down, his head on Harry’s lap and his body curled up in foetal position, and he fell asleep. Harry sat calmly, petting Draco’s hair and watching the landscape change outside the train.

Malfoy Manor was huge; there was no other word for it. It looked like a castle out of a fairytale, with large windows and towers reaching for the sky. The fields surrounding the Manor were bigger than the ones around Hogwarts, Harry thought.

Harry and Draco sat in the carriage that would take them to the Manor. Draco was still resting against Harry, looking just as unimpressed with the Manor as he had been with the train. Harry could feel him tensing up, however, at the sight of the Manor.

The press was standing outside the gates, waiting to get pictures of the couple as they arrived to their home. Home. This was Harry’s home now. He shook his head and moved to get Draco’s attention.

“What do we do about the press?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Draco said, though his tone was suddenly tense again. “The carriage has a Repellent Charm on it that will force them out of the way as we pass through the gates and then the gates will close as soon as we pass through, leaving us safely inside and them very much outside. All they’ll get pictures of is the carriage, since the glasses are all charmed with a Blinding Charm – nothing beyond them will show up as anything other than white in a photo.”

“Oh,” Harry said and watched as the Repellent Charm started working. The reporters and photographers were pushed back nearly thirty feet by an unseen force. This didn’t seem to make them happy at all. The photographers fought to get closer, but were all unsuccessful.

Well on the Manor’s grounds, Draco leaned into Harry again, though he wasn’t as relaxed as he had been before. Something was making Draco stress and Harry wondered what it was.

The carriage stopped just outside the Manor and a servant opened the carriage’s doors.

“Welcome home, sir,” he said to Draco as Draco graciously left the carriage.

“Thank you, George,” Draco said.

“And Mr. Potter, I assume?” George the butler said to Harry. At Harry’s nod, he continued, “Welcome to Malfoy Manor.”

“Thanks,” Harry said and followed Draco as he started up the stairs towards the entrance.

“Take all of our things to my bedroom, please, George,” Draco said over his shoulder and the man nodded.

The doors opened magically for Harry and Draco as they came closer. Harry found himself standing in an enormous entrance hall.

A small house-elf popped up out of nowhere. “Can Minny take your cloaks, sirs?”

Draco didn’t respond, he only handed the house-elf his cloak and motioned for Harry to do the same. Harry couldn’t help but wonder about how tense Draco seemed as they made their way further into the Manor.

It was split in two, really; walking further down the entrance, they came to a spacious room and hallways on either side.

“That one,” Draco said, pointing to the left hallway, “goes to my room – our room, now. It’s the first door to the left. The door to the right leads to the pool – it is connected to the outside pool, if you’d like to take a swim. There is a whole relax area, actually. George, the butler you just met, lives in the basement, so he’s close by if you ever need him. There’s also the second living room and the library on the third floor, if you want anything to read. There are two guest rooms on the second floor as well. On that side—” he pointed to the right one “—you’ll find the other four guestrooms and the Master Bedroom, the study on the third floor – it’s connected to the library. On the second floor is the first living room as well as the first dining room.”

Harry just gaped as Draco told him.

“Right in here,” Draco continued, walking further into the room they were standing in and turning to the left, “is the kitchen. Well, it’s the part of the kitchen that you can go to if you feel like cooking yourself. The house-elves have their own kitchen downstairs, where they make all our food.”

“I’ll take you for a tour later, but right now I’m tired,” Draco said. “You can have a look around if you want to. I’m sure George will be more than happy to help you with anything you need.”

Harry nodded. Through the amazement he felt about the Manor that he was going to live with, he felt concern for Draco, who looked beyond tired. He followed his boyfriend to their rooms, marvelling all the time at the splendour that covered the Manor. The soft, white mats on the floor, the expensive-looking paintings on the walls, the fine furniture – it was amazing.

Draco opened the door to his room and Harry gaped more at the beautiful room that Draco called his. There was a large bed – not a four poster, for once – with green and white covers, light grey walls, large windows on one side with a balcony overlooking the fields and the lake in the back of the Manor and signed Quidditch posters on the walls. His and Draco’s belongings had already been brought to the room.

Draco didn’t stop to look at any of this; he headed straight for the bed where he curled up and closed his eyes. Harry tore his eyes from the beautiful room to look at his boyfriend instead.

“Draco? Are you all right?” he asked, walking over to the bed.

“I’m just tired,” Draco said weakly, looking up at Harry.

Concerned, Harry placed a hand on Draco’s forehead – only to feel that Draco was burning up.

“You have a fever,” Harry said. “You’re sick.”

“No, no,” Draco said, “I’m fine. I just need to sleep.”

Draco closed his eyes again.

“Draco, let’s get you into your pyjamas if you’re going to sleep,” Harry said.

“Mm,” Draco said and allowed Harry to pull him up and helped him change into his nightwear. Then he lay down again, under the covers this time, and fell asleep instantly.

Worried, Harry left the room and called for George.

“Yes, sir?” George said, appearing right in front of Harry.

Harry blinked at the sudden appearance, then shook his head and said, “It’s Draco. I think he’s sick.”

“I will call the family healer at once, sir,” said George and disappeared, literally, before Harry had a chance to say another word. Harry stared for a second at the spot where George had just been, before turning on his heel and returning into Draco’s room. He frowned when he saw pearls of sweat running down Draco’s distraught face; he didn’t seem to be having any pleasant dreams.

Mere minutes later, George returned and handed Harry a glass filled with a nasty-coloured potion.

“It is one of Professor Snape’s healing draughts, sir,” George said. “The Healer will be here in half an hour, but he recommended for Mr. Malfoy to take that.”

Harry nodded and reached out to Draco. He shook him lightly to wake him and Draco winced as he opened his eyes.

“Wha’?” he mumbled.

“You need to drink this,” Harry said, helping Draco sit up. “Healer’s orders.”

Draco viewed the glass unhappily. “Sev’s all-round healing potion. Tastes like crap.”

“Drink up,” Harry said, rubbing Draco’s back. He noticed Draco leaning into his touch.

Draco nodded and downed the potion, though not without several grimaces. “Merlin, that’s awful. I need to tell him to make it taste better,” Draco mumbled, his eyes falling close again. He shook his head and looked at Harry. “Can I go to sleep again now?”

“I don’t know, Draco – we don’t know what’s wrong with you – perhaps it’s something dangerous,” Harry said.

“Harry, it’s not dangerous – I’m just tired,” Draco insisted. He shivered. “And a bit cold. And my body hurts a bit. Your backrub was nice.”

“That’s because you have a fever,” Harry said, as though he was talking to a child. “Actually, with the symptoms you’re showing, I think what you’ve managed to get is the flu.”

“I don’t feel that bad,” Draco said.

It turned out that Harry’s conclusion was correct, however; Draco was down with the flu.

Two days after arriving at Malfoy Manor, Draco’s fever reached an all-time high and both Harry and the Healer was actually worried that they might have to take him to St Mungo’s for treatment. Then the fever went down and the Healer left Harry to take care of Draco instead.

Harry realised that a sick Malfoy was a whiny Malfoy.

“I’m sore and my nose is running and my head’s pounding,” Draco complained from the bed, where he was lying, neatly tucked in.

“Here,” Harry said, giving him a glass filled with more nasty-coloured potion. “It’ll make most of the head-pounding and aching disappear.”

“But it tastes gross,” Draco said, making a face at it.

“It’s your choice,” Harry said, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “Either you have the aches or you drink the yucky potion.”

Draco pouted at him. “’Yucky potion’ – you sound like you’re talking to a three-year-old.”

“Right now, you both look and sound like one,” Harry said, bending down and placing a teasing kiss on Draco’s forehead.

“You shouldn’t be making fun of me,” Draco said. “I’m sick.”

Harry smiled at him. “It’s the only time your wits are low enough for me to keep up, love.”

Draco smirked at this and, with a final hateful look at the potion, he downed it.

“Wow, real clothes!”

Draco glared at Harry, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip before responding. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s your own fault – you’re rubbing off on me.”

Draco set his cup down and walked over to Harry, stopping a mere inch away from Harry. He leaned in and ran a hand up Harry’s thigh. “I think I prefer this kind of rubbing.”

Harry made a sound in his throat and nearly dropped his glass as Draco’s hand moved upwards, cupping him through the jeans.

“You’re certainly feeling better,” Harry squeaked.

“Mm,” Draco mumbled, beginning to lick his way up Harry’s throat. “I figure this summer got off to a bad start,” he said between kisses and licks, “and now I’ll compensate.”

“Are you sure you’re—” Draco licked that spot just below Harry’s ear and his breath hitched. “Compensate. Compensate is good. Oh sweet Merlin.”

Draco smiled predatorily and pulled Harry along with him towards the bedroom, though if they got that far, it would be a miracle.

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