Spells and potions gone wrong. (Yaoi-Harry Potter)

Chapter 1: Complications Abound.

Chapter 1

Complications Abound.

Fingers twitched, tingling a bit with that numbness of having fallen asleep. Vaguely he remembered a weight pinning his arm down at some point, though now the memory felt just out of his reach. The waking was slow, muddled as though drawing up out of deep water. Grey eyes finally blinked open, squinting a bit in the light, rolling over gingerly as though that would help the numb arm. He was only half aware of the warmth now at his back, having turned away from someone, too worn out to look very closely. First and foremost in his mind was the fact that this wasn't his dormitory or even his room, that it wasn't the dark stone walls of the dungeon, but much paler and brighter. He got only a brief view of the room, as much as he could see with curtains blocking the way. Because someone was seated in the chair not far away.

Pale blue eyes gazed over glasses at the drowsy Slytherin, the Headmaster's expression almost solemn, if it wasn't for the brief amused smile that made an appearance. "Good to see you awake Mr. Malfoy. It seems you had quite the ordeal."

Draco's eyebrows drew in, sitting up, determined to ignore the needle point of a headache that started when he was upright. Instead he was swinging his legs off the bed, a little bit chilled even in the warm air now that he wasn't laying beside whoever was sharing the bed. Which was one question his brain hadn't quite caught up to wondering about yet. And that was the fact that the Headmaster didn't seem to be reacting to the fact that he was even sharing a bed with someone, in what looked to be the medical wing. "What ordeal? How long have I been..." He was cut off suddenly aware of the muted groan behind him, of someone stirring on the bed. And shifted to look and see who it was when he felt the mattress shift as the occupant rolled over. And found himself staring at the still sleeping face of his nemesis. Why in the hell was he sharing a bed with Potter?

Startled by the realization, the Slytherin decided standing seemed like a better option. He managed to lurch to his feet, but the pounding in his skull only became worse, that he had to sink back down, one hand pressing to his head for a moment, hating the fact that he probably looked weak. It was just a little satisfying to hear the slightly more disgruntled groan from behind him, that his drop back on the bed had disturbed Potter. Though the Gryffindor still didn't do more than shifted to get more comfortable. Draco forced himself to ignore the male behind him, to finally raise his head to see the Headmaster.

An almost polite cough, when he had finally looked up, Headmaster Dumbledore smiling gravely at the young wizard,"Nearly a full day Mr. Malfoy. One of the teachers found the two of you unconscious on the third floor. We have been very curious to learn more about what brought it on."

The longer he sat upright, the harder it seemed to focus on the Headmaster, that while he was trying to listen his focus had switched inward. To the drowsy comfort that seemed to cling to his skin, even though he was awake, and the prickling feeling returning, as though his entire body was a pincushion, not just his hand, but without the numbness. It seemed gradual, but increasingly uncomfortable to sit still. Features pinching enough that while he heard the Headmaster question whether he was feeling alright, Draco couldn't open his mouth, or at least couldn't focus past the tingling needle pain.

That when a warm weight settled against his back, it was an almost instant relief, barely aware when he sagged back against the warmth. Grey eyes slid shut, drawing in a shuddering breath, fingers somehow finding one of the hands that had at some point slung themselves around his waist. When he could focus on reality again, it was to find himself holding hands with the one who could only be the Boy Who Lived, the drowsy Gryffindor leaning against his back, arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

"Headmaster? What are you doing here?" The muffled voice, still heavy with sleep came from Draco's shoulder, where the darker boys head had dropped. And somehow not sounding the least bit embarrassed to be found in such a position, unless he just wasn't aware of who he had wrapped himself around. That when Draco shifted to break the grip, arms only tightened to keep him there, the Gryffindor grumbling.

"Are you feeling better Mr. Malfoy? It seems there is more to this then we could see. Would you two care to explain?"

Draco only shrugged dismissively, not sure how to explain that the pain he'd felt had vanished as soon as Potter was leaning against him, startled to find the weight not irritating even though it confused him. But finally the Gryffindor was sliding around, fingers still linked with Draco's, and slid his legs off the bed so he was sitting upright beside the Slytherin, an odd view when Draco realized he didn't have his glasses, squinting at the Headmaster as he was. "I think Malfoy would know more than I would Headmaster. Everything is a bit fuzzy after I bound him, and reflected whatever vial he threw at me."

It felt almost unnatural, as it did natural, to have his fingers intertwined with Potter's, that even as he listened, the dull headache a reminder of the binding, since it had dumped him on the floor, he was focused on their hands instead. The Gryffindor's skin was a little rough, as though he worked with his hands a lot, and much tanner than the Slytherin's pale complexion. When silence fell, he looked up, to find both Headmaster and Gryffindor watching him, and settled for an uncomfortable glower back, especially at Potter, jaw tight before he blew out a breath,"Fine. I wanted revenge on Potter. So I brewed a potion to use on him."

"And what potion was this Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco had been half expecting the Headmaster to snap, or get upset, but the calm and cool tone was just as scary. It meant he couldn't tell what the Headmaster thought, enough that he fidgeted a bit, until the hand gripping his, squeezed, reminding him of the Gryffindor sitting thigh to thigh with him. A reminder that had Draco shaking his hand free with a disgusted sneer,"Some 'Infinite Bind' or something. Not sure if the title was all there.. But it seemed to be a potion to bind the one it was used on."

What started out as a proud announcement of this grand potion he'd found to use on Potter, faded to a grumble since it was clear Draco hadn't had a complete potion. So he must have missed something. Even clearer by the bushy eyebrows drawing down over pale blue eyes, the Headmaster looking as though he were thinking deeply about it. "Mr. Potter, when you reflected the potion, I take it some still got through? And some must have flown back at Mr. Malfoy, correct?" A glance to take in both boys nods that it was so, which seemed to concern the Headmaster more,"Did anything else happen?"

"There was this kind of...gold glow." Potter again, and though Draco was loathe to agree with him, he was nodding as well.

"Gold? Not sunny yellow, tan. Maybe a nice mocha color. Or any other color? It was gold?" Now Draco started to feel a little worried. Because the Headmaster did not look as serene anymore, but seemed to be growing even a bit more concerned. Which he seemed to catch on that his mood was affecting the two students on the bed, that he smiled reassuringly,"Relax my boys! We'll have this figured out soon enough." Headmaster Dumbledore busied himself with getting up, tugging on his sleeves as though he needed to straighten up, or at least avoid looking at the rivals for a moment. And a last smile and a 'Get some more rest!' and the Headmaster was gone, leaving the two of them on the bed.

Draco stared at the curtain for a long moment before shoving to his feet, ignoring the consistent headache, needing some space from Potter, which fell to pacing. He didn't have far to move, as the curtains were fairly close around the bed, pacing the length of the bed in front of the seated Gryffindor,"What was his bloody problem? I'm surprised I didn't get in more trouble for doing something to the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived."

It had been a grumble to himself as he paced, trying vainly to ignore the growing stings of pain that had him clenching his hands to his sides, fingers gripping at the hospital issued pajamas. It was slightly easier to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, until the stings started becoming more of a gnawing ache. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the steps, half aware of the sharper, pained sounding breaths of the boy on the bed, their breathing almost in rhythm. He didn't know when he stopped pacing, standing still, when a hand found his, relieving some of the pain. A shaky tug pulled the blonde closer to the bed again, the Gryffindor seemingly more willing to be near him than Draco himself was. He dropped to sit when pulled, the relief from pain strengthening even as his shoulder pressed against the Gryffindor's. That once Draco could breath a little more normally, grip not quite as tight on the others hand, was he turning his head to stare at green eyes that looked equally as confused and as troubled as he was, which he only had one question to voice.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"