Blackbird

5 | And Learn to Fly

After a horrific night of transformation, his third in total, Harry woke up at sunrise the next morning on the cold wood floor of his bedroom, face down. His clothes were a tangled, shredded mess of fabric beside him. Light tremors were racking through his body, and he shivered involuntarily in remembered pain. He still ached, still felt nauseated and clammy and weak, but the worst of it was over now.

With a longing look at his bed, he attempted to push himself up off the ground, but his limbs wouldn't listen. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried again. He made it up onto his hands and knees before his strength gave out and his face collided painfully with the hard floor.

"Shit." With a resigned glance at the door, Harry sighed and murmured softly, "Jenkins?"

The house elf appeared beside him with a noisy pop.

"Oh, sir," the elf said sympathetically, seemingly completely unfazed by Harry's appearance, "you is needing help into bed?"

Harry winced, then nodded, feeling extraordinarily pathetic.

Jenkins stepped forward and took his hand. Another "pop," and the elf had Apparated them across the room, landing with Harry on the bed and himself standing at his bedside. The elf snapped his fingers and the covers wrapped themselves over Harry up to his chin.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, swallowing hard.

"Does sir need anything else? Food? Water?"

"No. Thank you, Jenkins."

Draco arrived a few minutes later, and Harry was grateful he'd sought the house elf's help. He still didn't want Draco to see him like that.

Draco sat up in the bed and let Harry curl up with his head in his lap, running his slender fingers over Harry's shoulders and back and through his hair, and soon Harry was fast asleep again.

•••••

Draco looked up when the door creaked open and Hermione slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

"Hi," she whispered awkwardly, "how is he?"

"Fine, just tired," Draco whispered back.

She walked closer and summoned one of the chairs by the fireplace to sit in beside the bed. "I'm really sorry about Ron yesterday," she murmured.

"It's fine, 'Mione," he sighed.

"I've had a talk with him. He knew you and Harry were shagging, but he didn't think it was anything beyond that. Overhearing us talking about... you know, that... it shocked him. He's going to need some time to adjust, but he'll come around."

"I couldn't possibly care less what Weasley thinks of my relationship with Harry, Hermione." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Harry does," she quipped.

"Harry didn't even tell him about any of it!" He hissed back.

She folded her arms and looked him right in the eye. "Exactly."

•••••

Harry woke to the sound of angry, hushed voices.

"I cannot believe you pointed your wand at my husband yesterday. In front of our child no less, you insensitive git!"

"I didn't do anything to him! And he was being a complete arse! I've done nothing but care about and help Harry since things started between us. I've already apologized to Weasley for my past behavior, I've been polite to him all these years when we've come in contact through my friendship with you, yet somehow I'm still the villain—"