Blackbird

7 | You Were Only Waiting

As the next full moon swiftly approached, Harry became lethargic and sickly again and Draco hated how helpless he felt as he watched him. He brought potions that lessened the discomfort only slightly, and made sure Harry took his Wolfsbane potion.

When a potions order came in from the shop on Diagon Alley, he turned it away in favor of sitting with Harry, despite Harry telling him he should take it, and that felt strangely satisfying. Taking care of someone else didn't exactly come naturally to Draco, but when it came to Harry, he found he quite liked it.

Two days before the full moon, Harry abruptly pushed his breakfast tray away and stood, walking away from the bed and pacing erratically while opening and closing his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't...sit still." Harry muttered, grabbing his head and pulling at his dark hair. "I feel...strange. Stranger than usual, I mean. I have all this nervous energy, like my insides are on fire."

Draco stood up, his brow creasing with concern. "What do you need?"

"I—I don't know."

Draco closed the distance between them and reached out, first touching Harry's arm, recoiling, and then brushing his fingers over his forehead.

"Merlin, you're burning up. Are you sick?"

"I don't know. I felt fine a minute ago, but now I—"

Harry collapsed.

Draco caught him and slowly lowered him to the floor, cringing at the heat coming off of Harry's body.

"Jenkins!"

The house elf appeared beside him. "What can I do for you Master Draco?"

"Can you go to the Granger-Weasley's and give a message to Hermione for me? She should be at home this morning."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Tell her that Harry fainted, and I'm taking him to St. Mungo's, and to meet us there."

"Yes, sir," Jenkins repeated before Apparating away.

Draco took Harry's scorching hand and Apparated them both to St. Mungo's Hospital.

•••••

Draco stared down the Healer in front of him, trying in vain to rein in his frustration. They had been at the hospital for hours and no one could tell him anything about what was going on with Harry.

"So what you're saying is, you still have no idea what's wrong with him?"

The lime-green clad woman glared back. "I'm saying, Mr. Malfoy, that I've never seen this before, and he's not responding to traditional magical remedies. It's clearly some kind of werewolf affliction." She spoke the word distastefully, and Draco's glare turned positively murderous.

"How dare you—"

Hermione placed a warning hand on his arm and he cut himself off before he could make the situation worse.

"Draco?"

The three of them spun to look at the bed, where Harry had woken without them realizing. He was sweating profusely, his skin still pale with an unhealthy sheen, his voice raspy and faint.

Draco sneered at the Healer before turning to walk over to the bed, his voice immediately softening as he took a scalding hand into his own. "Hey. I'm here. Are you okay?"

Harry swallowed, struggling to speak, shaking his head slightly in response before he forced the words out. "Need to Apparate. Wolf Pack."

"Where?"