You: Harry

Smut?: I don't care for the millionth time

Triggers?: Maybe

Something happened to Draco Malfoy. He got sick. Very sick. With something very strange. You see, he couldn't move or walk or talk. He couldn't do anything. Nothing at all. He just laid in bed in the infirmary. It's not that he didn't want to do anything. He physically couldn't. And he was icy cold to the touch and his eyes were empty. No one really knew what was wrong with him. Even Madame Pomfrey hardly knew how to help. She'd never heard of a sickness like this before.
Draco laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling all day and slept all night. He only ate when Madame Pomfrey forced him to and he didn't move a muscle. Some people started to worry, one of which was Harry Potter. Sure Harry hated Draco but, he didn't like seeing him so . . . unlike himself. After a week of this, Draco's parents came to visit him. And after that, Harry stopped by almost every day or every other day. Harry would sit by Draco's bed and he'd talk to him. He'd just talk for hours it seemed like. Almost a month later Harry was talking to Draco like normal when Draco did something . . .