Chapter 23
Draco stands at the front of the class while his students pour in, meanwhile, Harry wastes valuable magic summoning some sort of sack that makes a wooshing sound when he flops down gracelessly.
Draco wants to shake him until he uses his common sense but he has a class to teach. It doesn’t take long for Harry to fall asleep yet Draco still can’t stop shooting him worried glances out of the corner of his eye.
~~~
He manages to get some valuable teaching time in, hey he might’ve been half productive in the couple of hours Harry had spent passed out in the corner but during his break between his fourth and fifth classes, he woke up.
Not twelve seconds later swayed over to Draco and draped himself across his shoulders. Heat was coming off in waves and Harry’s eyes were unfocused and glazed over.
“I just had a wonderful dream, you were in it,” Harry says gesticulating wildly with his free hand.
“Was I now?” Harry nods enthusiastically but offers no further information, “Care to share?”
Harry seems to think about it for a moment, a smile gracing his face before he shakes his head, “I don’t think you would like it.”
“Was I being a prat?” Draco asks, guiding Harry by the waist back to the sack he was sitting in before.
“No, you were being sweet,” Harry flops down, “It’s so hot in here,”
Draco tries to adjust the sac only to find it full of… beads?
“It’s not Harry, you’ve got a fever,” Draco casts a temperature-checking charm.
“You know would help?” Harry goes cross-eyed to follow the blue magic.
Draco summons a blanket from their room and lays it over Harry, Harry grunts and pushes it off, “What?”
“Your magic,” Harry pouts.
Draco can feel his cheeks flush with heat, “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Harry leans forward, “Please,”
“Well alright then, since you asked so nicely,” Draco lets his hands rest on Harry’s shoulders and allows his magic to flow into Harry. Harry sighs and leans deep into his touch.
“Even just your hands are nice and cold Draco,” Harry says once he stops pushing magic into Harry. Harry reaches up to Draco’s hands and guides them beneath the neckline of his shirt. Draco freezes for a moment before rubbing circles into his overheated skin.
Draco eventually relaxes into the motion, at some point even starting to hum that merlin-forsaken muggle lullaby he can’t figure out where he picked up.
And this is the scene his students walk in on. Draco’s hands are in their DADA professor’s shirt. Harry for the most part seemed entirely unperturbed by the flood of fifteen-year-olds walking in on what what Draco knows will be misinterpreted as a sexual act.
When he withdraws his hands Harry does something that can only be described as whimpering and Draco wants to cry. His students are still standing by the door sharing conspiratorial glances.
Draco clears his throat, “Take your seats please, we will be working on our project today.”
~~~
His students are whispering to eachother but he doesn’t really have it in him to silence them today so he lets it slide.
That is until Francene decides to make his already bad day worse.
“Professor Potter’s rather cute when feverish is he not?” She asks Draco. Loudly. In front of the ‘Professor Potter’ in question who seems weirdly invested in his answer.
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question for class Ms. Hudds,” He says sternly as he can manage, Harry looks slightly disappointed and he can’t have that, “You're very cute Professor Potter, no need to pout.”
He tries so hard to play it off as a joke, it doesn’t work, but at least Harry seems pleased.
Harry also manages a slurred, “Not as cute as you Dra- Professor Malfoy,” and a sloppy wink.
The whispering intensifies. Draco sighs.
~~~
After that is lunch which means a reprieve from the whispers, or at least Draco had assumed that. This didn’t turn out to be true, in fact, they were in ever big quantities as it was now the entire great hall. Harry slumps onto Draco's shoulder.
“I miss your hands,” He whispers into his shoulder.
Draco can’t help but go read.
Hermione Granger interrupts his suffering, “Harry?”
Weasley follows his fiance holding their child up on his hip.
“Mon Dieu,” Draco sighs.
“You should speak French more often, Draco,” Harry says instead of acknowledging Granger.
“Harry,” Granger repeats.
Harry finally looks up, “Oh ‘Mione, ‘ello there, and Rose,”
Harry makes grabby hands at the baby in question and Weasley hands the baby to the feverish man with zero questions. Harry adjusts his seating to cradle the child with a soft smile.
“She’s gotten so big,” Harry mutters.
Draco gives Weasley a look, “You do realize he can barely see, much less hold a child with any significant amount of safety.”
“I trust him,” Weasley says defensively.
Draco blinks as the point soars over his head, “As do I, I still wouldn’t give him something fragile right now.”
“Ronald Bilius Weasley, you get my child away from Harry right this instant.” Granger absconds, “Harry is in no state to hold a child if he didn’t even notice me.”
Weasley takes Little-Weasley away with muttered apologies. Harry looks completely dejected and Draco wonders briefly if the joy on Harry’s face was worth risking the child's life.
“Harry, are you alright?” Granger asks much more gently.
Harry nods and Draco gets the urge to slap him in the back of the head he opts instead for merely threatening bodily harm, “If you lie one more time about your health you will be hanging from the great hall by your bollocks.”
Harry changes his response.
“I don’t know why I even asked,” Granger rolls her eyes, before directing her attention straight at Draco, “How’s he doing?”
“Not great. He’s been super feverish for the past hour or so, it’ll pass though,” Draco pats Harry on the head absently.
He much prefers talking to Granger over Weasley, she seems to have retained some brain cells.
That’s all it takes to pull Poppy in and start an in-depth conversation about Harry's health.