Author's note: Something silly that popped up in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. Have this while I work on other stories.

IMPORTANT: At the end of June, I'll be changing my penname here to "SasuNarufan13" to match the pennames I have on the other sites!

Warnings: Draco's pov; illness; time skip; slash; Potters are alive; referenced MPreg; some fluff; description of injuries

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.

I hope you'll like this!

Blessing in Disguise

He was bored, so incredibly bored. He glared at his small pile of books, wishing he'd brought more with him – or that he hadn't finished them as fast as he had.

How much longer would mother still talk to the Healer? He wanted to know when he would finally stop being sick and would be allowed to go home again. He'd been at Saint Mungos for five days already and he was growing beyond tired of seeing nothing but the same ugly white walls and the same, uncomfortable rough white sheets. He wasn't feeling that sick anymore, so surely that meant he could go home soon, no?

"I've seen you here every day, are you that sick?"

He whipped his head around and stared at the dark haired boy who'd suddenly appeared in his doorway. The boy's hair was quite messy as if he'd stood hours outside in a storm and incredibly deep green eyes gazed back at him from behind a pair of silver coloured glasses. He wore a deep red shirt and some kind of light blue trousers of a material Draco couldn't immediately recognise.

"I'm feeling better, but the stupid Healer won't let me go home," he huffed, crossing his arms.

The other boy nodded wisely. "They're not letting my godfather go home either, even though he says he's feeling better too. Mum says he should stop being stupid and let the Healer help him."

"Why's your godfather here?" Draco asked curiously, resting his hands on his thighs. He hadn't seen any other kids on this floor since his parents had brought him to the hospital and he wondered if this boy's godfather was on the same floor as he was.

"He got hit by some nasty curse," the boy replied, wrinkling his nose. "They wouldn't let me see him for two days. Why are you here?"

Draco shrugged. "I got some kind of flu, but the Healer says it's so bad that nobody but the Healer and my parents are allowed in the room. Says that other people might get sick, so you better not come inside," he advised the dark haired boy, remembering mother deflecting Pansy's parents when they had suggested that their daughter could visit her son.

He was glad mother had told them he was too sick; the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in bed with Pansy blabbing her mouth off.

"Oh." The boy looked down at the threshold as if he could see a physical barrier there. "What do you do then every day if you can't leave and nobody can visit you?"

"Mother and father come over every day," Draco corrected him. "But other people might get sick, so they have to stay out of the room. I've got books with me, but I already read them all." He sighed loudly, incredibly put out about that fact.

What was he supposed to do now until mother came back? He wished he could call for one of the house elves so that they could bring him new books or maybe even some games he'd got for Christmas.

The dark haired boy cocked his head to the right. "I've got some books in my godfather's room here, because I'm here every day for a long time. Do you want me to bring them to you? You can borrow them," he suggested, smiling.

"Really?" Draco stared at him in wonder. "You won't mind?"

"No, I've been in the hospital before and I know how boring it can be," the boy said, wrinkling his nose again. "I'll just pick them up when my godfather can go home again. So, do you want to borrow my books?"

"Yes, please!" Draco said eagerly, sitting up straight.

He would actually prefer being able to go home, but being able to read something else than the same books over and over again was a very good alternative.

"Okay, I'll be right back," the boy promised and disappeared back into the corridor.

He hadn't been gone for long when mother strode into the room; her long blonde hair done up in a loose bun. She was alone today; father had some kind of meeting with the Prime Minister if Draco remembered correctly, so he wouldn't be here until tonight.

"Good news, Draco. I've talked with your Healer and he said that you can leave the hospital in four days," she smiled, brushing down her soft blue gown before she sat down on his bed.

"That's still four days," he grimaced. "I really can't go home earlier?"

Her face softened and she brushed the back of her hand over his left cheek. "Sorry, my dragon, but the Healers want to make sure you're completely healthy before you can come home."

"But I feel fine," Draco sighed aggravatedly. How many times did he have to keep repeating that?

The corners of her mouth twitched faintly. "I know, but the Healers just want to be sure, okay? Can I get you something else in the meantime? You finished all your books, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but the boy who was just here is going to let me borrow his books," he told her.

"The boy? Who?"

At that moment the green eyed boy appeared in the doorway again, carrying a small stack of books against his chest. "Here I am! I've got five books for you, is that enough?"

"Yeah, that'll be enough," Draco reassured him and glanced at mother. "Can you bring them to me, mother?"

"Yes, of course, darling," Mother said, a bit bemused. She stood up regardless, however, and went to the door to accept the books. "You do look somewhat familiar. Have I seen you here before at the hospital?"

The boy blinked owlishly at her and then shrugged. "Maybe. My godfather's here too; he has to stay for a couple more days."

"Harry, honey, where are you?" a soft, female voice called out from somewhere deeper in the hallway and the boy turned in the direction of the voice.

"I'm coming, mum!" he called back and then peeked around mother, smiling at Draco. "I'll come back tomorrow, okay? Then you're not alone with only books the whole day." He waved at Draco, who waved surprised back, and then left again; his footsteps echoing through the hallway before the sound died out as he rounded a corner presumably.

Mother turned around, her lips slightly pursed. "Do you know this boy, Draco?" she asked, placing the stack of books down on the nightstand.

Grabbing the first one off the pile, he answered, "No, he just showed up at my room before you came back. Told me his godfather is here too and said I can borrow his books after I told him I had finished mine. I think that's nice of him."

"Yes, that's certainly nice of him," she murmured; her eyes gaining the distant look they always got when she was thinking about something deeply.

For once he wasn't curious to know what mother was thinking, though. He was way more interested in finding out what this first book was about.

True to his word, Harry visited him every day after that. He remained on the other side of the doorway like he'd been cautioned to and usually stayed for around an hour before he would return to his godfather's room.

The boys talked about everything that popped up in their heads: from Quidditch to their favourite games to the books they liked to read the most or ones they really disliked. Draco found himself looking forward to the boy's visit every day, which was a bit odd as he hadn't really spared a thought for his friends who he hadn't seen in more than two weeks now.

But the dark haired boy was fun to talk with and had a nice smile and his green eyes reminded Draco a lot of the emerald stone mother always wore when she went out with father during their private evenings.

"Do you think Harry could come visit me at the manor when I'm back home?" Draco questioned nervously on his last day in Saint Mungos.

Father and mother exchanged a look. "I suppose that could be arranged," Father spoke slowly; his hand resting on his cane. "We could connect our Floo to theirs if we know their address and if his parents are amendable to it. Do you know his last name?"

Draco flushed slightly. "No, I haven't asked him yet, but I will once I see him!"

"You do that," Father said mildly and checked his watch. "I'll be back in an hour; I have a Floo meeting to attend so I'm leaving."

"I'll see you in an hour, love," Mother said and they shared a fleeting kiss before father strode out of the room.

"Do you think Harry would want to be friends with me, mother?" Draco dared to ask now that father was gone.

Father always stressed the fact that Malfoys shouldn't be needy and definitely shouldn't show any insecurities. He would probably scoff if he heard Draco asking such a question.

Mother smiled and brushed his hair back, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "I'm sure he'd like to, sweetheart. Why else would he come see you here every day?"

That had warmth curling up in the pit of his belly; warmth which grew into a blaze when Harry showed up half an hour later, agreeing cheerfully to be his friend.

"Can you ask your parents to stop by this room before you return home, Harry?" Mother asked smiling; her hands resting on her lap. Her nails were painted a rose gold today which looked nice against the pure white gown she was wearing. "We can exchange Floo addresses then so that it will be easier for you two to meet up."

"Sure, I'll ask them," Harry grinned, pressing his books against his chest. "We'll leave soon so I'll go get them now."

"That's fine, dear."

"Wait!" Draco rushed to say before Harry could disappear.

The green eyed boy paused, looking at him curiously.

"What's your last name? Mine's Malfoy."

Harry blinked before he smiled again. "Potter. Harry Potter."

Oh wow.

Draco's mouth dropped open in surprise and he didn't even register mother's light chiding to close it because he looked uncouth. All this time he'd been talking to Harry Potter? The boy who had been the one to completely vanquish the Dark Lord? The one the media had taken to call the Boy-Who-Lived because he was the only one who had survived a full frontal attack of the dark wizard?

Harry Potter had agreed to be his friend?

Oh Merlin!

Thirteen years later …

"God, I hate this place," twenty-two year old Draco muttered darkly, glowering when his body expelled another burst of dark purple smoke.

It was thanks to that fucking idiot in the Potions department that he had ended up here. Thompson was even worse than Longbottom had been in potions, so it was a complete mystery to Draco how the hell that guy had ended up being hired as a Potions Master. The twat couldn't even read, as evidenced by the fact that he had thrown too much Dragon Blood in the cauldron, leading to a huge explosion in which Draco had been caught in the crossfire of it.

There were painful boils all across the back of his hands and his skin was exuding some strange purple smoke in intervals of five minutes. As the Healers didn't know whether his condition was somehow contagious, he'd been put in a private room for the time being.

He could only hope they would find a cure soon, not only because the boils were quite irritating, but also because he wasn't fond of being stuck in the hospital. Having spent nearly two weeks here before when he'd been nine had been more than enough to give him a life lasting hatred of the hospital.

The door to his room was left ajar and he saw a man being rushed past it, his entrails suspended in the air, and looking like someone had tried to cut him right in half. Blood gushed onto the floor before someone was smart enough to cast a Sealed Bubble Charm, catching the blood in it before it could drench the tiles further.

"Well, that's disgusting," Draco muttered underneath his breath, looking down with a scowl when his body released another puff of smoke.

The vapour lingered in the air for a moment before it slowly dissipated, leaving an odd burning stench behind.

"Now who's the one who has become more accident prone?"

The dry voice of his husband had him whipping his head around to the door and he snapped, "Don't come closer, I might be contagious! Also I'm not accident prone, I'm just forced to work with fucking idiots."

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping into the room in spite of Draco's warning hiss. "Relax, I talked to your Healer. They're still working on a cure, but they're certain you're not contagious."

"Are they really a hundred percent certain about that?" Draco asked warily.

"They are, yes. Mum's with them now, helping them work on a cure," Harry told him, coming over to him. His eyes twinkled when he added, "Mum also said that instead of going to the hospital, you should have just gone to my parents' place. She had the day off, but she came over to help once she heard you got injured."

"Eugh, if she knows, then your dad and your godfather know as well," Draco groaned, barely remembering on time not to touch his face with his hands. "They're not going to let me live this down."

"Dad will, I think, but yeah, Sirius won't," Harry snickered. "Pretty sure he's already trying to come up with all kinds of jokes about your injuries."

"My cousin's an arse," Draco muttered annoyed.

"He loves you, really," Harry smirked and cupped his cheek, pressing a soft kiss on his mouth. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I want to go home as soon as possible, I hate this place," Draco growled, resting his forehead against Harry's shoulder. That made him look down and in spite of everything, he calmed down a bit when his gaze fell on the rounded stomach Harry could no longer hide underneath his robes.

His husband was now nearly six months pregnant and there was no way he could hide his state any longer, even whilst wearing thick robes. It made Draco itch to place his hands on the bump, feel their son kicking, but he didn't dare as long as his hands were still covered in boils.

"Do you really now? When this is the place where we met for the first time?" Harry asked, but he was smirking and Draco huffed.

"While that stupid flu did help me meet you, that doesn't mean I love this place," he said petulantly.

"And here I was thinking we could celebrate our anniversary here," Harry snickered.

"You're an awful git and I don't know why I married you," Draco told him and sniffed, groaning when his skin released another puff of smoke. "I didn't want you to see me like this, puffing smoke and covered in boils."

"You married me because I'm the only one who can stand your prissy arse, remember?" Harry retorted cheerfully, waving away the smoke. "I've seen you looking worse, by the way. Remember Pansy's seventeenth birthday party when you had a bit too much Firewhiskey?"

Draco grimaced at the memory. "You swore to never bring that up again, Potter."

"Malfoy now," Harry reminded him and he reluctantly smiled, feeling a tad smug despite the situation. "Just bringing it up to remind you that I've seen you looking worse than this and I still married you."

"True. That was a very nice day," Draco murmured, glancing at the golden ring adorning Harry's finger, and lifted his head to kiss Harry again, being careful to keep his hands away from him. "You're staying here with me, keeping me company like before?"

"Well, you don't have any books now, so I guess it's up to me to ensure you're not bored to death," Harry smiled, running his fingers gently through blond hair, untangling some locks.

Draco would forever hate the hospital and he would definitely be having words with the imbecile who should never get near a cauldron ever again, but he had to give it to this place: thanks to the hospital he had been able to meet and befriend Harry when they'd been nine years old.

Now they had been married for two years already and had a baby on the way; his stupid flu back then had been good for something after all.

A blessing in disguise as they would say.

The End

AN2: Silly, I know, but hey, it's something? It's fluffish? *winces* Figured I would give you something since it's been a while since I last posted for this fandom *clears throat*

Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.

I hope to see you all back in my future stories! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!

Cuddles

Melissa

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