Post-peace Chaos (Drarry)

Chapter 28

[Harry]

Harry awoke with a deafening shriek.

"What? WHAT?" he bolted upwards, hand shooting in his pajama pocket reaching for his wand.

"Harry- your, your forehead-"

Harry barely registered a pale blonde clad also in silk pajamas standing at the other side of the bed. His blurry but gleaming grey pupils were shining with shock.

"Wh- ahhh," Harry grimaced the instant he swiveled his head. His head was pounding, pangs of pain were jolting from his forehead into his skull.

Harry's hand involuntarily flew to his face. Sure enough, a Galleon-sized lump could be felt on his forehead and it stung horribly as his fingers made contact.

Then he remembered. He would be surprised if slamming headfirst into a door frame didn't result in this raging pain.

Draco came round the bed and approached him.

"How-"

"Hang on," Harry said. "Accio glasses!"

The pair of round spectacles came zooming towards him and he gingerly put them on, the world finally not blotchy and dizzy.

Draco bent down beside him, examining the wound. He looked evidently worried.

"Harry... it doesn't look really good, it's purple."

"What?! Ahhhh!" he winced again as his head made an attempt for sudden movement, fresh pain shooting out from his swollen bruise.

"Harry, you need to lie down," Draco said as he tried to wrestle a protesting Harry back down.

"I- can't- Travailler- kill-" Harry managed to squeeze out before he was pinned down by Draco. The scene felt oddly familiar to him.

"Accio!" an embroidered napkin came soaring into the room. Draco pointed his wand at the palm of it. "Glacious!"

Draco pressed the napkin-wrapped ice onto Harry's forehead. The pain eased fairly.

"Thanks," he mumbled, not looking at him. "What time is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Harry, you can't be seriously thinking about going to Auror training today, are you?"

Harry made to get up but was strangled back down by Draco in mere seconds. "I have to!" he protested, still pinned under him. "I called in sick on Monday! Travailler will kill me if I follow up!"

"I don't care who this Travailler bloke is, you're not going to work in this condition," Draco said.

"He's my trainer," Harry explained hastily. "I'm not joking, I need to go, or I'll get sacked even before I make Auror! What time is it?"

Draco sighed, still holding him down. "Little over six."

Harry stared up at him. "Seriously?" He paused briefly. Draco did seem to always get up pretty early, after all. Every time except this peculiar predicament when Harry saw him in the morning, he was already dressed and neatly groomed. He broke into a grin. "Excellent, I've still got time," he said as he made an attempt to leap from bed.

He was stopped by Draco's arms still pressing firmly at his shoulders. "Fine, but you'll have to keep pressing that to your forehead," he gestured to the ice pack. "I've got something that will speed up the healing process, and I might be able to whisk up some bandages so you won't be a laughing stock at training. But judging by the looks of it, it will be at least two days before it's gone if you don't go to St. Mungo's."