Bitter Transmutation : Cruel Transformation -21-
Tags: eighth year, drarry, angst, assault, bullying, violence, illness, enemies to lovers, harry with long hair, magic theory, veela history/world building, veela draco, book veelas, fairy tale inspirations, -no feathers-, -no mates/bonding-, dysphoria related to physical/magical changes, Fenrir Greyback, werewolves, hurt/comfort, romantic tension, emotional and romantic intimacy, slow burn, pining, longing, happy ending
suggested rating: 18+, for heavy themes and violence
<– Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <–Part 20 ||
(continued from previous part)
Harry counted to ten in his head, taking a few deep breaths and then did his best to get on with it. He transfigured a plate into a serving tray and carried up all the tea things, jingling and rattling with every slightly shaky step.
“You like your tea sweet?” Harry asked, setting the tray on the edge of the table and filling the mug.
Malfoy opened his eyes just enough to see, “Thought you left.”
“Err, no…” Harry said. He cleared his throat, “Your tea?”
“One sugar,” Malfoy said.
“Only one?” Harry asked, dropping in a single sugar cube and stirring it in, trying not to bang the spoon against the sides too much.
Malfoy nodded. He squirmed back onto his pillow, so he was slightly propped up, keeping the sheet tucked tightly under his armpits.
“Do you want any more pillows?” Harry asked.
“ ‘M not going to be up that long,” Malfoy said irritably, holding his hands out for the mug.
Harry passed it over, “It’s hot.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, blowing on the tea before taking a sip.
“…I could conjure some more pillow if you wanted them or blankets, whatever you want,” Harry said.
“I don’t like conjured pillows,” Malfoy said, sounding like his younger self, spoiled and whiny.
Harry turned on his heel, acioing his own pillow from the cot downstairs, “You could have this one.”
Malfoy stared at him, his cup frozen a breath away from his mouth, “Your pillow?”
“Yeah? It’s not conjured,” Harry said.
Malfoy’s face went slightly redder, perhaps from his fever or the tea which he set aside, sliding back into bed, “…fine.” He held out a hand and took Harry’s pillow, placing it next to his own.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Harry asked.
Malfoy shrugged faintly, “More water. A stasis charm to keep the tea warm.”
Harry did both and waited hopefully for more direction. “…is there-”
“You can go away now. It’ll be over soon enough,” Malfoy said, waving him off and closing his eyes.
Harry hesitated and then took a step back, “…Alright, I’m gonna go for a bit. I’ll be back later.”
Malfoy made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.
Harry nodded to himself and hurried down the stairs.
There was a sinking feeling in his chest that he dimly recognised as guilt. He had gone too far with the scars. He knew, unfortunately well, that the guilty feeling would only grow as time went on.
He almost missed back before fifth year when being rude and cruel had been easy, and he hadn’t felt bad about anything he had done. Now, even those memories had weight to them.
Draco shifted against the sheets. The restless itch that he couldn’t scratch was spreading, down his back and arms, he clenched his hands in anticipation of the feeling tingling through his fingers. It felt like it was under his skin like it was reaching to his very marrow, twitching, growing, changing him-
He shuddered and reached up, pulling Potter’s pillow down, hugging it tight to his chest and burying his face in the pillowcase, trying to memorise the scent caught in the fabric. After a moment, he reached under his own pillow, fishing around until he found the blue hair band and slipping it back around his wrist. Draco felt himself flush again, embarrassed at even the thought he might be seen being so foolish. But it was too nice not to.
“What do you mean, there’s nothing?” Harry said in disbelief.
Pomfrey spared him a look as she moved to the next bed, a wordless charm pulling the dirty sheets off and another charm putting on clean ones from the pile floating by her shoulder, “It’s not an illness, it’s a natural process. I can’t heal him of it.”
“Yeah, but there has to be something that makes it easier,” Harry said.
“I have sent Mr Malfoy a rather diverse selection of potions and his very extensive letters in return have thoroughly explained that none of them has had anything more than a mild and fairly temporary effect,” Pomfrey said.
Harry winced, “He’s- yeah. So nothing, then.”
Pomfrey stared at the bed with a much put-upon expression before sighing and turned to Harry, “I can give you a couple pepper-ups, they seemed to reduce the fever slightly and teach you a charm to freshen his sheets and pyjama’s so they don’t get too unpleasant from sweat.”
Harry walked over as Pomfrey held her wand out and demonstrated the spell twice before having Harry practice it on a few of the unchanged beds himself. She patted Harry’s shoulder, “Just keep him as comfortable as you can manage, that’s the best advice I can offer.”
“Just keep him-? That’s it?” Hermione groaned in frustration, “Can anyone here manage anything without magic?!”
“Err-” Harry held up a hand.
“It’s like if you can’t fix it instantly, then why bother even trying?” Hermione said mockingly.
“Hermione,” Harry said, glancing around the hall nervously as students glanced over to see what the fuss was about.
“Maybe if they ignore it hard enough, it will just go away!” Hermione said even louder.
“Hermione, c’mon, I agree it’s shit, but right now I need some advice, not a lecture on the history of magical medical care,” Harry said.
Hermione let out a huge sigh, deflating from her righteous fury.
“Here, I’ll walk with you to the great hall,” Harry said, turning Hermione by the shoulder to get her started in the right direction.
Hermione gave him a glare but started down the hall anyway, “So Malfoy’s illness doesn’t respond to potions at all?”
“A little, not much, it’s tricky,” Harry said.
Hermione said, terribly unsubtly, “I could be more helpful if you told me what was wrong-”
Harry shook his head, “Not gonna happen.”
“Besides, I need advice about what muggles do when they’re sick, not magic folk,” Harry said.
“Well, what did your-” Hermione cut herself off, “Nevermind, forget I asked.”
“Yeah. I kinda wanted to know what people who actually care do,” Harry said lightly.
Hermione reached over, giving Harry’s hand a sympathetic squeeze, “Well, I’ll tell you everything my parents did…”
♡ Next update will be tuesday, 12-6 pm pst ♡
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