Harry James potter smuts

Under the weather

Harry felt bad. Correction: Harry felt terrible. He watched as you crawled into your bed with sunken eyes and a nasty sounding cough. He wouldn't ever say this out loud, but you didn't look so good at all. It was all his fault that you were sick, and he wouldn't let himself forget it anytime soon.
He had just recovered from possibly the worst case of the flu that he had ever fallen ill with. It had knocked him on his ass for a week due to the fatigue, coughing, fever, and body aches. Pomfrey had done all she could to try to make him comfortable enough, but the strain was just a bit more than her remedies could fix this time around. He was stuck in bed with nothing to do but roll around in his sickness and complain about how bad he felt.
In the end, Harry was able to recover swiftly and without any real problems. Before too long, he was as good as new thanks to your help. You had taken extra good care of him by keeping him cool from the fever but warm from the chills. You made sure he was eating, even if it was just chicken and soup everyday. You made sure he was hydrated and getting plenty of rest to ensure his recovery...which also included lots of snuggles and kisses.
It turned out that those snuggles and kisses were rather sickly ones, and about the time that Harry was fully feeling better, you had begun to feel crummy. Harry actually noticed it before you did. It was extremely rare for you to sleep later than him. You almost always were up and going before him, but on particular Friday morning, you were still knocked out when he woke up. Not only that, you were unusually warm and ill looking. He had pressed the back of his hand to your head, feeling a pit of guilt when he realized that you definitely were running a fever.
He had woken you up, feeling even worse when you began to cough. He had practically jumped out of your bed, wrapping you up and doing whatever he could to make you comfortable. You had all the same symptoms that he did, and you were guaranteed to be in for a long week. He had insisted that he take another week off from classes to watch over you, but he was already a week behind, and there was no chance that you were letting him fall back more on your account.
He went through all of his classes in a haze of worry. He knew that he had undoubtedly gotten you sick. There was no way that you could've gotten it from anyone else. He didn't even stop in the common room after his classes, going straight back to your dorm where he had left you. When he did walk into your room, you were standing at your trunk, looking weak and drained. You would've thought that you had tried to mouth off to Professor Snape by the way Harry reacted.
"What are you doing?!" He shrieked, closing your door and rushing to you.
You threw your hands up in defense, sniffling more drainage out of your nasal passageway.
"What? I'm getting changed. I was in the same pajamas from last night and I felt gross," You explained with a congested tone, not seeing the big deal, "I'm fine, Harry."
He ruffled your hair when he noticed it was damp. His face fell into even more horror.
"Did you shower?" He asked as if it were a crime.
"Uh, yes?" You replied nonchalantly.
"But you're sick! You could've...I don't know! You could've fainted or sneezed so hard that you fell or-"
"Harry, I'm not dying. It's just the flu." You argued, giggling at his dramatic act.
That sealed the deal. He was dedicating his entire weekend to make sure you were at least on the road to recovery by Monday if you weren't going to "take care" of yourself.
"Get in bed, you mad woman! What are you doing up?!" He shrilled again, ushering you to your bed again.
That was when you returned to bed to put HIM at ease, looking and sounding just plain awful. That was also when he REALLY started to feel guilty for your current state. He rushed around the room, setting things up the way you had in his when he had been sick. He layered blankets onto your bed, turned on some soft music, made sure the windows were closed to make sure you didn't catch a cold draft. The only difference was that you had spoken to him in sweet, calm tones. Harry was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
"Are you warm enough, my love?" Harry asked, adding yet another blanket on top of you, rushing to your desk on the other side of the room.
"Yes, Harry. I told you that I'm fin-"
"Do you want a book? Or maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and bring you a snack?" Harry rattled off, barely letting you get a word in.
"No, angel. I don't want-"
"I promise I don't mind! The castle is pretty quiet this time of night and Filch is easy to sneak around and-"
"Harry!" You finally croaked out through your already hoarse voice, "I don't need anything. I'm fine."
Harry's demeanor softened. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing, and panicking wasn't going to solve anything at all.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," He said, sitting on the edge of your bed, "I just hate that you're feeling bad."
You shrugged under the pile of covers, giving him a feeble grin.
"I'm okay. I don't feel that bad. Just a little under the weather I guess." You brushed it off.
Harry smiled softly with an even gentler laugh. You certainly didn't look "a little under the weather". He had been much more difficult when he was sick. He kicked the sheets off of his body and complained that it was too hot, and then hissed that it was too cold each time he got a new chill. He whined when he had to keep changing clothes because the sweating from his fever dampened his pajamas. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content, even in your ill state.
"If you say so. Can I squeeze in with you, darling?" He queried, wanting to hold you close in your bed.
"I don't want you to get sick again. You're already behind." You shook your head.
"I don't care about that. I just want to be with you, my pretty girl." Harry bantered.
He knew you hated missing school, and you were sure to miss at least a week. The thought of you having to spend the next several days cooped up in your dorm made him feel awful. Worst of all, you weren't your normal, healthy self and it was all because of him. He wanted you to be happy and at your best at all times, because seeing you happy made him happy.
"[Y/N], baby, I'm sorry I got you sick. I shouldn't have let you get so close to me and love up on me. If I had known it was so contagious I would've taken care of myself." Harry apologized, his eyes lowering, finding your hand under all the sheets and giving it a caring caress.
"It's not your fault. I wanted to take care of you. I always want to...love up on you," You remarked, laughing at his previous choice of wording, "I couldn't let you be sick and not do anything. I care about you."
Harry's eyes found yours again, his lips upturning into a wide smile as he looked at your lovingly.
"You really love me that much, huh?" He questioned, bringing your clammy palm to his lips for a ginger kiss.
"That much and more," You returned with a smirk, "Now shut up and get in bed with me. I need cuddles."
Harry leapt up from the side of the bed, rushing to the empty, opposite side.
"Yes ma'am." He joked, crawling in and pulling you flush to his chest.
He winced at how warm you still were, but he was sure that the fever would subside with time. Harry's paranoia had subsided almost completely, but he still kept a hand on your back to make sure you were breathing...just in case. He'd cater to your every need to make sure you'd be better soon. You'd be back to normal in no time with Harry Potter as your caretaker.
"Thanks for taking care of me, Harry. I really appreciate it." You sniffed, beginning to feel drowsy as your body fought off the horrid sickness.
Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms. It was something he would do until forever ran out...with or without a bad case of the flu.
"I'll always take care of you. No matter what."
******