Work Text:
“I swear to Merlin I am quitting tomorrow!” Draco yelled as he came into the house, throwing his rain-wet cloak at the hooks. He pointed his wand at his boots and the laces untied themselves so that he could step right out and stalk through to the kitchen in socked feet. He paused on the threshold. “Harry?” he called. Usually Harry was in the kitchen, reading the paper while something cooked on the stove, since Harry got back half-an-hour earlier than Draco most days.
Draco looked around, confused, before he headed upstairs. “Harry?” he called.
“Here,” Harry’s voice came through muffled from the bathroom and Draco hurried over, pushing the door open.
“Dammit, Harry,” Draco said, looking down at where Harry was cured up by the toilet, looking pale as the Bloody Baron. “Why didn’t you owl me?”
Harry shrugged, looking miserable and Draco crouched down to smooth a hand over Harry’s damp hair and sigh.
“Don’t get too close,” Harry muttered, pushing as his chest. “Don’t want you to catch anything.”
“Hm,” Draco huffed. “I’ll get you a bucket, you should be in bed, you idiot.” Draco’s heart clenched at the thought of Harry sat here alone, feeling awful, and Harry must have sensed his upset because he lifted his head to look at Draco and gripped his arm.
“I’m fine,” he said and smiled weakly.
Draco glared half-heartedly at him. “Yeah, because you look fine,” he snapped, but he got up to fetch the bucket and then helped Harry to his feet with an arm around the smaller man’s waist, pulling him close and taking some comfort from Harry’s solidity, though he was burning much hotter than usual.
“Don’t fuss,” Harry muttered, pulling off his glasses to set them on the bedside table as Draco lay the covers over him. Frowning over Harry’s pallid colour, Draco put a hand to Harry’s forehead and tutted at Harry’s temperature, though he smiled a little when Harry knocked his hand away irritably.
“Have you taken some Pepper-Up?” Draco asked.
“Do you think you married a total nitwit?” Harry grumbled. “’Course I did, you prat. I think I got one of those magic-resistant stomach bugs the Ministry’s had its knickers in a twist over.”
Draco exhaled heavily. “Alright, I’ll go see if we have anything for vomiting.”
“We don’t,” Harry said as Draco was leaving but Draco went and checked anyway. “Told you so,” Harry said smugly when Draco returned with a glass of water.
“Shut up,” Draco said fondly and came to sit down on the edge of the bed. Harry groaned and shut his eyes.
“I hurt,” he muttered.
“You want anything?” Draco said, wishing he could help. “Tea?”
“Tea. Don’t leave-”
“-the tea bag for more than a minute. Yeah I know. I know how fussy you are.” Draco touched Harry’s shoulder and went to move away, only for Harry to catch his hand and tug him back, kissing the back of Draco’s knuckles like the stupid fool he was.
“Glad you’re home,” Harry said and Draco huffed, but he was smiling.
“Would have been home much sooner if you’d owled,” he groused.
Harry closed his eyes and Draco tenderly stroked his hair back from his forehead, brushing the dark strands back out of Harry’s eyes. “Love you too,” Harry said and Draco rolled his eyes and went to make soup.