Chapter Text
Draco knew he wouldn't have agreed to this if anyone had told him how agonizing it was going to be. He would have found another way on his own. Probably a potion or something. Talk to Snape’s portrait. Or just let himself die and be done with it. The world wouldn't be any worse off.
He'd had his first chemo treatment less than an hour ago and already he was sure he was dying. He couldn't stop his stomach churning and his head swimming. His muscles contracted in violent cramps. His body had begun to shake and he was covered in a cold sweat. They'd injected him with something and given a potion for nausea, but it didn't seem to be helping and they couldn’t give him anything else.
The worst part wasn't how sick he was, but that everyone was there. Pansy was wiping down his forehead with a cool cloth. Hermione was trying to distract him, reading from his favorite book about potions theory. He knew he should be grateful, but right now he was just embarrassed and irritated.
They kept offering to get Harry, since he seemed to have helped before. Pansy was driving him nuts. Draco didn't want anyone to see him this way, but he especially didn't want Harry bleeding Potter seeing him puke all over himself for the third time in 10 minutes.
When the searing pain started on his skin like fiendfyre, he started to lose track of himself, falling in and out of consciousness. He caught a few words between Hermione and the healers, enough to know this was a severe reaction and not how the treatment was supposed to go.
So when Harry had come to the bedside shortly after, Draco expected comfort and false cheerfulness. Instead, the man came up to the edge of the bed and placed a hand on top of Draco’s, squeezing lightly.
”Hey.” Harry said when he was able to force his face to untwist and his eyes to open. His voice was kind, but not soft and sickly sweet like most people.
“Shh, you’re alright, mate. You’re gonna be okay. Draco, you’re having a severe reaction. Something with the muggle medicine and the potion for your magic. It's not supposed to be like this. They're stopping the medication now and switching it tomorrow, if you’re better.” He could hear the emotion in Harry’s voice and his hand turned in his, squeezing tightly.
It wasn't supposed to be this way? He wasn't supposed to be in this much pain? Draco broke down then, shame at showing this much emotion only fueling more tears. Harry adjusted himself, sitting on the bed and pulling Draco closer when he reached out to him. He wasn’t sure how long he cried like that, too embarrassed to look up when the emotions began to pass.
Harry was warm and comforting under him, and his muscles began to relax against the man. The pain was still there, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him and he let himself drift. The last thing Draco remembered was Harry laying back a bit on the bed and curling an arm around him protectively.