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Characters: Jamie Dodderidge and Malcolm Brown
Setting: St Mungo's. Tonight.
Summary: Malcolm visits Jamie, and they talk. A lot.
Rating: PG-12 for Quidditch euphemisms?



Okay so the fact that Jamie had such a caring family as to never leave him unattended was nice, but at the same time for Malcolm, it was pretty frustrating. He was welcome to visit, but Malcolm didn't want the Dodderidges asking questions about this new friendship and him being unable to lie. Malcolm was a good liar, as much as a Gryffindor could be, but he didn't want to be put in that position, so he pretended to visit Psyke's cousin and kept him company while keeping an eye out on Jamie's bed area and waiting for a generally calm time.

It was later in the visiting hours by the time Malcolm found the area mostly clear aside from a nurse or two checking on patients around Jamie. He brought his chair closer to Jamie's bed and leaned in to see if he was really asleep or doing that fake-sleep-go-away thing. He wouldn't blame Jamie, but Malcolm just needed to know that his friend was alright. That Jamie was going to get through this, just like most everyone else did.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching to touch Jamie's wrist lightly, a worried frown on his face.

"No more potions," Jamie mumbled, feeling so tired it hurt. "They're not working. Are you sure it's not poison? I think it is." He groaned, not wanting to open his eyes and look at a mediwitch or healer or even his family. He just wanted to be left alone to sleep. But the touch on his wrist was nice. It was really nice, actually. Far nicer than a healer or mediwitch, though far different than what his mum's touch felt like. It was the only reason he turned his head and slowly opened his eyes.

"You shouldn't be here. You'll get sick, too," he said. Despite his words, he smiled up at Malcolm. He looked nice. Worried, but nice. He didn't want him to worry. He was doing enough of that on his own. No sense in everyone worrying.

Malcolm smiled and then pulled up the little mask thing that the nurse had given him, "Is this better? I've been here pretty much all day, waiting for your family to stop hovering. One of my friend's cousin has the bed across from yours and he kept talking about dragons and his dead ex girlfriend," he rolled his eyes, unable to explain the relief in his chest at the fact that Jamie was alive and mostly lucid.

He reached down to his bag and pulled out a new sketch book and a few pencils, "I thought you might get bored, or something and well artists can't be without some sort of sketchpad or a way to express their discontent with the administration of hospital policy regarding poking and prodding."

Jamie smiled a bit more as he listened to Malcolm and saw what he brought him. "You're so nice," he said, pushing himself up to a seated position, moving his pillows to lean back against them. He then reached out and took the sketch pad and pencils. "You're always so nice. Why is that? Would you be so nice if you didn't fancy me?" He looked at the man a moment before turning his attention to the things in his lap, arranging them a bit before opening the book and carefully selecting a pencil.

Really, he couldn't figure out why Malcolm was so nice to him all the time. He liked it, and that scared him. What if Malcolm stopped fancying him? Would he stop being so nice? Would he just slowly fade away and ignore him, like he never existed? He didn't like that idea, and that scared him a bit more. He furrowed his brows down at the paper, frowning a little at his thoughts.

Malcolm hesitated in answering, because it didn't seem like Jamie was himself completely. He seemed more open and Malcolm wasn't sure if he should take advantage of that or not. Maybe if he just kept the topic to himself and didn't ask Jamie anything, he wouldn't feel used or something, if he remembered this conversation.

"I'd like to think I'd still be nice if I didn't fancy you. I mean, I'm not supposed to say that, because we're just friends. So I'm your friend and I'm still nice. I enjoy your company and you make me laugh and so I like doing nice things for my friends. It must be my Gryffindorishness," Malcolm said carefully, watching Jamie closely, especially his hands.

Jamie nodded, not sure what to make of the answer. His brain wasn't working quite like he'd prefer it to. Things were crashing around and making connections and pulling out others, and it made his head hurt. He wanted to go back to sleep, and he wanted Malcolm to go away, but he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he didn't have potions in him making his thoughts all stupid and fuzzy and unfiltered.

His hand twitched as he opened his eyes, his fingers holding the pencil with a purpose now. He glanced over at Malcolm before looking back at the sketch pad. He licked his lips and started sketching. The image filled his head, superimposing itself over the paper in front of his eyes. He worked slowly, afraid working fast would ruin it and mess it all up. He just hoped he could stay awake long enough finish it or that when he woke up next he could remember what it was he wanted to draw.

Malcolm bit his lip and just watched Jamie as he drew. It was quite amazing to see him look that intense and focused, but Malcolm didn't want Jamie to tire himself out too much, so he reached forward and put his hand on Jamie's leg, just above his knee, in a light – just fingertips manner. "Jamie, don't exhaust yourself, okay? I got you those for entertainment, if you're not feeling well, you shouldn't push yourself. I want you to get better, fast. I've found a few more places you need to look at, one even allows pets, if you like that kind of thing and there's this other that has a balcony, that overlooks the river."

"I'm fine. I just want to get this out before I forget," Jamie replied softly. "And I'd like to see those places. I've never had a pet. That could niece." He nodded, looking up at Malcolm. "And a view of the river..." He smiled at the thought and looked back down at his sketch pad. "We'll go see it when I'm better," he said, nodding again as he continued to sketch out the image in his head, humming a little to himself.

Malcolm reached over with his other hand and brushed the hair off of Jamie's forehead, trying not to frown at how hot it was. He knew the fevers could get pretty dangerous and he sighed, running his hand through the rest of Jamie's hair. It was as soft as he'd thought it might be – but Malcolm had to suppress the thoughts about that because Jamie was sick. A very sick friend. Sick. Friend. "Can I make you some ice or something? I don't want to get a nurse, 'cause they might make me leave. But you have water here, I could make ice chips to eat."

Oh he liked that. Jamie shivered and leaned into the touch on his forehead, laughing a little as he imagined he looked a little like a dog. He reached up to grab Malcolm's hand, moving it back to his forehead. "You're so cool," he mumbled, nodding. "Nice and cool." He sighed, moving Malcolm's hand to rest against his cheek. "Ice would be nice and cool, too," he added, sniggering a little at himself. "Ice. Nice. Yes, please." Keep touching me, he added silently, loving the coolness of Malcolm's skin against the heat of his own.

Malcolm laughed lightly, this Jamie was kind of fun – if a bit worrying. Malcolm decided to just go with it, because he doubted he would get this close of contact with Jamie otherwise and decided to shut the little part in his brain that was saying how deplorable he was, taking advantage of a sick boy that had told him no before. He was just helping out a friend.

With his free hand he poured water into a cup and then used his wand to freeze it, shatter the ice and repeating that a few times before there were enough chips to eat, rather than chunks. He held his hand on the cup for a moment before switching hands, putting his frozen one on Jamie's forehead and offering him the cup with the other, "Here you go, spitfire. It'll help cool you down and keep you hydrated."

Jamie shivered again at the other hand against him. He let the pencil roll down to the others as he took the cup. It didn't matter, though. The image was gone. Maybe it would come back. He hoped it would come back, anyway. He fished out a bit of ice and put it in his mouth, sucking on it. He held it there a moment, letting it melt a little before chewing on it. "Thank you," he said when he'd chewed and swallowed. It felt good on his throat, and he picked out a bit more and popped it into his mouth.

"It's okay, I want you to feel better." Malcolm reached for one of the hand towels on the bedside and sprayed it with a little water from his wand and then put a cooling charm on it. "Here, this will be better than my hand," he said, putting the chilled towel on Jamie's forehead, folding it so it would stay there. He gave Jamie another worried look, and spoke quietly, "Please get better."

It was strange, but he sort of preferred the hand to the towel. Jamie wasn't going to say anything, though. He knew the towel was more practical and would last longer. He sighed a little, popping more ice into his mouth. He then reached out and grabbed Malcolm's hand. "I will," he said softly around the ice, crunching it and swallowing it. He gave him a smile, suddenly wishing he didn't looked worried. Who was he supposed to confess his own worry to when the one person he wanted to tell was worried? His gaze dropped back down to his lap at the sketch pad, and he nodded slightly to himself. He'd tell the paper. It would listen and not judge and consume all his worry for him without making him feel worse for dumping his troubles on it.

"Good. I'm holding you to that," Malcolm said, smiling a little more and squeezing Jamie's hand. They were new friends, hadn't known each other for that long and Jamie didn't want to date him, but that was okay, they were friends. But Malcolm would give anything for Jamie not to be sick, to be in this bed and look so lost.

"Is there anything else I can get you or do for you? Psyke's nephew is okay now. She's my brother's girlfriend, remember? The model. And her cousin is okay, getting better. So you will too. Oh," Malcolm knew he was rambling, but he didn't want Jamie to think he was missing anything on the 'outside'. "I heard that your sister's play thing went off really well. Awesomely, but I'm sure it would've been cooler with you there to see it and her there too."

"Yeah, I remember some. I'm glad the cousin and nephew are ok." Or were they the same person? Jamie couldn't quite tell just then, but he didn't want to say so and worry Malcolm more. "And that's good. I wish we'd have been there." Though in all honesty, stupid Muggle musicals like that just weren't his thing. It was just too cheesy for his liking, but he'd never admit that.

"Stay with me and keep talking," he said. "That's what you can do right now. I like listening to your voice. It's nice and comforting and not telling me to take this potion or that potion or continually asking how I'm feeling. It's like, I'm sick, you know? I'll tell you when I feel less sick or more sick. Otherwise, just piss off and let me be. But not you," he added hastily, sitting up a little and looking up at Malcolm. He didn't want him to think he was telling him to piss of because he wasn't. Like he said, he liked listening to him, and he wanted him to stay for a while.

"Okay, but only if you lie back and rest," Malcolm said, helping fluff the pillow a little, glad that it already had a light cooling charm on it. "And I'll make sure everyone else stays away." Even though that wasn't really true, he couldn't keep Jamie's family away or the healers, but for right now, he would hope that they'd get a little more alone time.

"Oh, so Clara got married, on April Fools of all days and of course everyone totally thought it was a joke, but no shit it wasn't. She's actually married! And with a kid too – the kid is like still a baby and everything so that's good. But the totally sad thing is there wasn't a big to-do, so she's gonna have like late wedding reception," Malcolm carried on, keeping hold of Jamie's with one of his hands and waving around with his other. "I totally wanted to be there when she got married, best friend and all, but whatever. He's totally cute and kind of grumpy but he's good to her and so what can I do? Plan her the best post-wedding dinner ever. It's going to be fantabulousa!"

Jamie leaned further back into the pillows, watching Malcolm as he talked. From what he knew of Calra he didn't like, but maybe if she were happy with her marriage and kid--had she been pregnant? That might explain a lot--than maybe she'd not be such a big cow if he ever talked to her agian. He hoped he didn't. He didn't plan on it anyway, but he suppossed if he ever ran into her when he was with Malcolm, he'd be expected to, though he was good at playing nice. It would doubtfully hurt much to be nice, though only if she was. Hopefully, though, he could just avoid her for the most part. The last thing he wanted was another talking to over a misunderstanding he had no control over.

In an attempt to make amends, he opened his mouth and spoke. "If you haven't got a place booked for it, you could probably hold it in the private room at the Leaky. Unless you're going for classy instead of classical, that is, which is totally understandable. It's probably not the best place to have a wedding dinner reception party thing, but as far as I know, it's relatively free for the next few weeks." He nodded a little, squeezing Malcolm's hand.

Malcolm smiled at Jamie, rubbing his thumb on the back of Jamie's hand, "That sounds like a good idea. I mean, we can put up decorations and stuff, but it's cheaper than most places, I'll totally talk to her about it. That would be fun, only I wouldn't want you working that night, you'd totally distract me. You should come with me, meet some of my friends and all. I mean, they're not all mine because Emmet, that's the Husband, his friends will be there too. He was a Slytherin in your year, so maybe you know him and his friends. I hope they're nice too, but you never know about Slytherins, yeah?"

"Your friends won't like me. I don't think most people do. I'm not nice when I'm trying to be or I'm reacting imporperly or something," Jamie said, far more casually than he felt about the matter. "Besides, the wife-bride-thing doesn't like me. I'd just ruin her party by being there. I'd feel awful if I ruined her party." He shook his head a little. "Thank you, though." He smiled up at him, thinking the best present he could give her was to stay the fuck away. "Besides, I can't recall if I really know an Emmet from my year from Slytherin or not just now. Probably have to see him to really remember if I know him or not." He figured if he did know him he'd get an invitation anyway, so what did it matter if he couldn't remember who he was just then? It wasn't like remembering who he was was a life or death thing just now, and closed his eyes, thankful that that had nothing to do with his survival at this point in time.

"Aw, sweet, they will, don't worry. You are an incredible person, written tone is just hard to convey sometimes and people don't understand. I like you and that will be enough for them, but if you don't want to come that's fine," Malcolm said, because he didn't want to guilt Jamie into anything, and he was also pretty sure Jamie wouldn't remember this conversation when he got better. "I can get you a picture and bring it another time. He's got big ears," Malcolm laughed quietly, still rubbing Jamie's hand. "Maybe you can come to another family thing, instead. Like with Psyke and Harper's house warming. Though, they haven't really agreed on one yet, but they will, I know Harper will give in soon."

Jamie brought the cup to his lips, drinking a bit of the melted ice before taking some into his mouth. He sighed a little and then chewed on it, keeping his eyes clothes as he thought on Malcolm's words. He didn't believe him, but they were nice to hear anyway.

"When I get a flat, I'm not throwing a party. Just for the record, so don't go trying to plan one," he said, opening one eye to look up at Malcolm for a moment and closed it again. "But I'm happy for them that they have a house." He wasn't sure if he wanted to go to a house warming, however. Hell, he wasn't even sure he'd remember this conversation in a few hours, much more when he was feeling better. Part of him hoped he did while another hoped he didn't.

"We can have our own celebration instead, some champagne or wine and a marathon of something silly on your telly and a lot of greasy food that's so not good for you but tastes really good that you don't have to cook or serve. No big parties unless you ask for one. Not even a birthday party, unless you ask, okay?" Malcolm nodded, even though he had no idea when Jamie's birthday was, let alone who to invite or what kind of theme it should be. Every party needed a theme, even if it wasn't a full on decoration scheme.

"I don't have a telly," Jamie said, sounding amused as he opened his eyes and looked at Malcolm. "Does this mean I need to buy one? Do I even want one? Champagne makes my nose itch funnily enough. And I won't be asking for a birthday party, but that works. The won't throw parties unless they're asked for thing, I mean." He nodded a little, not at all sure what he was nodding to, but his body seemed to think it was a good response just then.

"You can get one, if you want to. You don't have to though, I could bring mine over or something. And no champagne if you don't want to, it'll be your not-party of housewarming you can pick whatever you want. It's up to you okay, but you've gotta get better first," Malcolm nodded along with Jamie, trying not to choke up because there was no reason for him to cry. He just didn't like seeing Jamie disoriented like this and he didn't need to alarm Jamie. "Why don't you want a birthday party?"

Jamie turned his head, looking away. He stared off into some middlespace before speaking softly, mostly to keep any emotions out of his voice. "You wouldn't want to celebrate your birthday if you were born on the worst day of the year. Always looking over your shoulder, wondering if the present's going to be prank, if the cake's going to explode or the candles not blow out. It's bad enough on its own, but add in a birthday..." He shook his head, sighing a little. "I'd rather spend it in bed, sleeping."

Malcolm frowned slightly, because that wasn't how one was supposed to talk about birthdays… Pranks? Jamie had a lot of pranks done on him? "Is your birthday Halloween? Or…was it April first?" If it was that, Malcolm was going to be sad, because that meant that he'd missed it. He didn't like missing birthdays, and well, he'd thought he might get to celebrate Jamie's with him. "I think your birthday is the best day of the year, not the other holiday, but because you were born on it. You know, if you didn't have a birthday, I wouldn't know you."

Jamie smiled a little and squeezed Malcolm's hand. "Yeah, April first. And then you tell people it's your birthday that day, and they don't believe you usually. I wish it were Halloween, though. That'd be wicked. When's your birthday," he asked, looking curiously up at Malcolm. "And you were... five or so when I was born, weren't you? That's almost a little weird to think about. Not bad, though! Just... just weird. Like, you could be a brother, though I don't want you to be. That would be weird, if you were a brother. Of mine. A brother of mine, because of course you're a brother. I've met your brothers, and you're a brother to them. And I'm just going to shut up now," he said, pursing his lips closed to show he was doing just that.

"My birthday is on July ninth and yeah, I was about five when you were born and I'm glad you're not my brother too. Five or six years might seem like a lot now, but really, in the grand scheme of things it's not," Malcolm smiled and reached with his other hand to touch Jamie's shoulder lightly, "You don't have to stop talking. I know you're ill so I'm not going to take anything you say badly, okay? Do you need some more ice? How's your towel?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. I know what I want to say, but it all comes out funny. And I know it's not a lot in the end, but it's just so strange to think about sometimes. I don't know. I can't describe it. I sound like a babbling idiot," Jamie said, feeling like a babbling idiot as well. He wanted to blame it on being sick, but part of him wondered if that was really the cause or just a catalyst.

He glanced in his cup and then nodded. "And maybe a bit of water in it, too. My throat hurts. And the twoel's fine I think, though it might be drying out." He reached up with his hand hold the cup, pressing his wrist to it. The coolness felt nice, and he wondered where his mum was to ask if she could wipe him down with a cool towel. He then handed over the cup to free his hands so he could close and move the sketch pad and pencils before shoving down his blankets to let his body breathe, thankful for the hospital dressing gown covering him up.

"It happens when you're sick, it's like the connection between your mouth and brain are mixed up or something," Malcolm focused on getting Jamie some more ice and water. He gave the cup back to Jamie and moved the sketch book and pencils to the table on the other side of the bed, reaching over Jamie, "Just so you won't break your pencils, but it's right there where you can get them though."

He took off the towel and unfolded it before putting some more water in it and folding it back up. Actually doing something for Jamie felt good, like he was helpful and that he could get through this. He scooted to the edge of his chair and put the towel back on his forehead before doing the same to another towel, only draping it on the back of Jamie's neck, "That good? Tell me if it's too cold though, I don't want you getting chills too."

Jamie nodded at the pencils and sketch pad, taking a sizable sip of his water. He crunched on some of the ice and set the cup down on the table. "I'll let you know, but it feels good right now," he said, closing his eyes. He suddenly felt completel ridiculous and awkward and stupid having Malcolm do all these things for him, but he liked it, and it felt nice, and it confused him. He didn't want to think about it, and he let it settle at the forefront of his mind, mixing around with other thoughts.

Malcolm ran his hand through Jamie's hair one last time before sitting back in his chair and resting his hands on his thighs and just watching Jamie. Even sick he looked kind of adorable and ugh, Malcolm needed to stop these thoughts. He could fool Jamie into thinking they were just friends, but these thoughts were not helping himself believe his lie. "I'm sorry you're in here. If there was anything I could do, I'd take your place in a heartbeat."

"You didn't make me sick so you have nothing to worry about," Jamie replied, looking over at him. "And don't say that. You don't want to be sick. Be happy you're not. I'd be visiting you, and you could be so much worse off than me." You could be dying even! I don't want you to die! I don't want me to die! He groaned a little at his thoughts, shaking his head and reaching over to have another sip of water.

"I just don't want you to be sick," Malcolm said, resisting the urge to reach over and touch Jamie's face, to try and calm him a little. "You should be deciding what wall you want to put your bed against and fending off guys from hitting on you while you're at work." Maybe a joke would help clear the air.

"I have to decide on a flat before I can decide on a wall," Jamie said reasonably. He did, though. No sense deciding he wanted it on the North facing wall when it was overed with a sink and kitchen or something. "And I'm not very good at fending off blokes from hitting on me. I can't actually tell when I'm being hit on unless it's glaringly obvious, if you hadn't noticed." He smiled and took another sip of his water.

"You will, you'll find one that you're absolutely in love with and you'll never want to live anywhere else. Trust me, it happens." Malcolm looked around to see if anyone was around to listen in; it wouldn't do for Jamie's parents to come in and find out they were discussing guys fancying their son. "And I think you're very good. If you had said no, I would've left you alone. I was actually expecting you to punch me, or something. Right in the nose."

"That's going to make getting married difficult, not wanting to live anywhere else." Of course by then, he'd probably find a new place to love and live in, but that was hardly the point just then. He shook his head a little and finished off the water, setting the cup back down with a little snort.

"Not really," Jamie said. "I mean, I went out with you, right? That's not fending off. But I wouldn't want to fend you off. You're nice, and I like you. It's why I wanted to be your friend." He brought a hand up, rubbing at his eyes a little. He felt tired, but he was so sick of sleeping and resting.

"True, but by then you might find a better place to love and live in," Malcolm smiled, even though the whole marriage thing didn't apply to him personally. He could understand though, why it would be a point for Jamie. "And I'm glad you still want to be my friend. I like you too."

Jamie made a little noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat and then rolled over onto his side. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up. He steadied himself with one hand and reached out to Malcolm with the other. "I need to pee, and I can't use the bedpan anymore. My legs hurt, and I want to get up. Will you help me to the loo, please?" He hoped he would. He really couldn't do this confined to the bed thing any longer. He needed to move, even for a short time, becuase his legs hurt, and he was pretty sure they hurt because no one would let him get up out of the bed for five minutes. He had a sudden image of his muscles atrophying, and he gripped his bedsheets tightly for a second. He did not want that at all, and he glanced around to make sure no healer or mediwitch or anyone was coming over to shove him back under his covers.

"Uh," Malcolm didn't think Jamie should be getting up but he wasn't really going to argue with him. He took Jamie's hand and wrapped it around his waist, "Here, I don't want you to fall, so hold onto me," he said as he draped his arm across Jamie's back and side, holding onto him because he really didn't want Jamie to fall as they sort of limped across the ward to the loo. "Uh, do you need help standing or can you do it on your own?"

Jamie clutched at Malcolm's robes with one hand as he pushed himself up off the bed with the other. He waited a moment to make sure he was steady before starting to walk, nodding a little. "I can stand. Just the getting from point A to point B and back again without falling is a little tricky right now," he said. "I can do the peeing myself so don't worry about that." He hoped he sounded reassuring becuase he was pretty sure he could do that much on his own. He was mostly afraid he'd get away from the bed and fall over and piss all over himself out of frustration, really, but he left that last bit out.

"Okay," Malcolm nodded and held the door to the loo open for him. He didn't want Jamie to think he was an even bigger pervert or something and wanting to get a look at his bits. "Just holler if you need help," he laughed a little, shutting the door and keeping a look out for healers. They would probably yell at him more, for letting Jamie get up, than anything else, but he knew the feeling of not wanting to pee in a bedpan. It was pretty humiliating.

"Will do," Jamie said, then turned the light on. He leaned against the wall a moment, pressing his cheek against the coolness and sighing to himself before moving over to the toilet to take care of his business. He groaned quietly to himself as he shuffled to the sink to wash his hands. He splashed water onto his face and pulled a face at his reflection. I look like death warmed over. I feel like death warmed over. What a funny phrase. Where did it come from? he thought, washing his hands a few times so he wouldn't get his germs all over Malcolm. He wiped his hands off and then went back to the door, opening it and looking up at Malcolm.

"See? I can still do some stuff," he said with a nod and a smile. He then reached out and his arms around Malcolm's middle. He leaned into him, thinking this was nice. And his legs felt better. They hurt, but they felt better than being stuck in bed, even if it was only for five or ten minutes. Bed rest, he decided, was a waste of time and a bunch of bullshit. All it did was prolong recovery time.

Malcolm grinned and pulled Jamie close, to keep him from falling, he told himself. "I'm so very proud of you," Malcolm made a big production of sniffing slightly and put one hand on his chest, "Able to use the potty and everything." Malcolm was grinning and had enough tease in his voice that hopefully Jamie could understand that he was just joking.

Jamie rolled his eyes, poking Malcolm lightly in the chest. "I've been doing that for years. I'm twenty, you know, not two." He stuck his tongue out at Malcolm a moment before shaking his head and pointing. "To the bed! Before the evil witches return and chastise me for needing to pee," he said, having a sudden vision of them swooping down on him from the ceiling on brooms and then whisking him back off to bed.

Malcolm laughed lightly as not to disturb the other people in the ward, "I don't think they're evil, but yes, lets get you back into bed before they come yell at me." Malcolm reached down and pulled the blankets back a little further, holding on to Jamie's upper arm to help him climb into bed. "Careful now…"

"Thank you," Jamie said, turning and wrapping his arms around Malcolm in a hug. He held on to him for about half a minute before pulling away and carefully climbing back into bed. He huffed a little as he tried to readjust the stupid hospital gown, thankful he had underpants on at least, and pulled the towels out from behind him so he wouldn't end up falling asleep with them underneat him. He sighed a little and leaned back against his pillows, fiddling with the towels.

"You're welcome," Malcolm smiled and sat down in his chair, pulling the blankets up over Jamie's lower legs and fiddling with that for a little bit before sitting back, with a slight sigh. "I should probably go, hm? Let you get your rest and all of that. I don't want to bother you or anything. If I had your journal I'd give it to you, but I don't, so…"

"Please don't leave. I've been resting for... for... I don't know. A long time. Please stay and talk. I like your voice." Jamie knew he should let Malcolm go before he got sick, that Malcolm no doubt had better things to do, but it was nice having someone not related to him and who didn't work at St Mungo's visiting him. He sighed again, rubbing his arm a little.

"If you have to go, though... I don't want you to get sick because you stayed with me. I'd feel bad if I got you sick becuase you were being nice." He really would, too. Malcolm didn't need to get himself sick over him. Besides, he probably should try to get some sleep, even if he didn't want to sleep anymore.

"I'm not gonna get sick, that's what this mask is for and they're gonna make me wash my hands and stuff when I leave, and I'll stay until you fall asleep again, okay?" Malcolm said, nodding just a little. "I don't know what else I can tell you, my week has been pretty boring. I went out with Brady though, you haven't met him yet, but we went to a dance club. And…I got a new book but I haven't started it yet. That's about it."

Jamie closed his eys as he listened. "That sounds nice, though." Well, maybe not the club thing. He didn't really like clubs, but he didn't want to say that. Why ruin it by being down? "And what book? And who's Brady?" he asked, looking over at him for a moment. He licked his lips, trying to figure out how he felt about this Brady. Did that mean Malcolm had a boyfriend? Huh. Maybe he did. He shouldn't be hanging out with him so much if he did, though if he did, why would he bother visiting him in hospital? Because Malcolm was nice, that's why. He reached down and messed with his blankets, mostly to give himself something to do.

"It's just a fiction book, about this historian and getting pulled into an adventure." That wasn't quite the extent of the book, but Malcolm wasn't going to tell Jamie that he read romance novels. Especially not one as raunchy as this. "Brady is a friend of mine. He's a couple years older and well we just hang out. He's gay, but has a son and was married, but she died. We don't really talk about that. He's just someone who I go out with to clubs and stuff."

That sounded weird. Then again, a lot sounded weird to him right now. "How was dancing," he asked, more to keep Malcolm talking than because he really wanted to know. Jamie rolled onto his side to face Malcolm, pulling his blankets up and snuggling down underneath them.

"Good, I love dancing. It's a good way to just…be. Like, at work I only work with a couple of people on a regular basis so most people don't care that I'm gay, not that I go outright and tell them, but when I'm in a club its just dancing and well, even though there's the possibility of getting into trouble for being gay it's…still just getting to be," Malcolm didn't think that he was making any sort of sense but Jamie wasn't going to care, was he? "And they're muggles so it's like, they don't know who I am, I'm not anyone's brother. I'm just another face in the crowd."

"It sounds nice," Jamie said with a smile. He closed his eyes to imagine that, dancing and just being. He wasn't sure he liked it in that setting, but it wasn't all that bad in his head, just being a face in a crowd. Sometimes, that was nicer than everyone knowing who you were. "Do you dance with girls and guys," he asked, opening his eyes. "Or do they have clubs for gays? Sorry if I'm intruding or something. I just don't know how it all works, and I'm curious is all..."

"Well there are girls there, but they're mostly lesbians or like Clara, just straight friends. I dance with whoever, but mostly guys. There are clubs just for gays, but it's mostly kind of word of mouth you know? It's not really advertised but at the same time it is? I don't know if that makes sense, but it's just a community thing," Malcolm fiddled with his hands a little. He'd never really explained it all to anyone before, just kind of took them there. "Do you have other questions? Since you're curious, I'll answer anything you want."

No, he really didn't know, but he felt stupid admitting that, so he just nodded instead as he listened. "How do you.... how did you.... know? That you were gay, I mean." And don't say the same someone knows they're straight becuase that's not an answer and doesn't make it less confusing, Jamie added silently. "Do you always know? Or is there some sort of a trigger, and you have this epiphany?" It was all so weird to him, though not bad. Of course, if he weren't sick, he'd probably have never bothered to ask or say most of what he was telling Malcolm in the first place.

"You don't hold back, do you?" Malcolm asked rhetorically, smiling slightly as he tried to come up with an answer. "Um, well, I was fourteen when I had my first boyfriend. I'd had a girlfriend up until that point and she was, and still is, so incredibly nice and caring. A really good friend, and we kissed a few times but it was just like. Bland. And okay, I figured out pretty fast it wasn't like the kid books with the birds chirping and stuff, but there just wasn't anything other than me being her boyfriend that wanted me to kiss her more. I was so confused as to why I couldn't do what a good boyfriend should want to."

Malcolm blushed a little at the next part of the story, "I guess I just started noticing boys, as well. Like I was more aware of when my roommates were running around with their shirts off than when they were waving nudey magazings in my face. And then I got a boyfriend though, it was completely different. I was really into him, so I could say it was both something I knew, but then something that was triggered. I hear it's different for everyone though."

Jamie shook his head a little as if to say no, he didn't hold back. Truth was, he probably held back more than even he knew, but sometimes he had his moments, usually aided by outside forces, like stupid potions that weren't doing a damn thing to help him. He listened to Malcolm's explanation, trying to imagine what he was saying. It was hard, but he figured that had to do with the fact that he didn't completely understand what Malcolm was saying and what meant than anything else.

"Who was your boyfriend," he asked. Not that he figured he'd know him. He just wanted to keep him talking. "And how many have you had?"

"Uh," Malcolm looked around a little to see if anyone was listening and leaned forward, "I don't tell, really, but you won't tell? Griff Kirkham. He was Head Boy when I was a fourth year. I um, I'll tell you the whole story another time, when we're not in public, okay? And as for boyfriends, like exclusive dating? I've maybe had about seven or so. No one more than nine months or so and mostly just out of school. I haven't had one in two years though."

Jamie sat up a little, staring over at Malcolm as he processed this information. "I don't--I won't tell anyone," he said quickly to assure him because, well, who would he tell? Better question, who the hell would believe him? Not that he was going to tell, becuase he wasn't. He wasn't a gossip, and it wasn't his information to share. "And the keeper, right? With the Catapults and the kissing thing, yeah? Does that mean your type's like... muscular quidditch blokes?" Ew, he thought immediately, followed by, Then why do you like me? I'm certainly not that. I'm also younger than you, and he's apparently older, and.... He shook his head a little, letting himself slump back down on the bed.

"Yeah, him. Only, back then he was a chaser, if you know what I mean? I was the goal," Malcolm cringed at the terminology. "Not that I don't catch, anymore. I like both, but just yeah. Um, I don't really have a type, aside from nice guys. He is really sweet and a very good boyfriend. Things didn't work out after school because he was on the team with my brother and just, he kind of chickened out. I didn't really like the hiding though, I like being me and people knowing who I am. But, hey, are you upset? I'm sorry I didn't mean to say anything to upset you," Malcolm said, catching Jamie's body language.

Oh, God, Quidditch euphemisms. Jamie really didn't need to know the intimate details of Malcolm and any of his boyfriends or friends or whatevers. He knew he was asking questions, but he didn't recall asking about positions. Not that he actually understood exactly how that all worked, but he wasn't about to admit that now. He might have five minutes ago, but not now. Maybe not even ever. Not that it mattered either way, but that wasn't the point just then.

"Huh? No. I'm fine. I just got tired of holding myself up while trying to wrap my brain around the pair of you dating is all," he said, which was more or less true. "Especially with you as a fourth year. I mean, I know age doesn't matter, but, uhm, yeah. At that time it sort of would? Becuase he'd have been legal? So that'd have been multiple levels of illegal wrongness. Ages of consent and all..." Ugh! He felt so stupid! He should have just kept his stupid, fat mouth shut! Maybe if he just pulled his blankets up over his head Malcolm would think he'd totally lost his mind, leave, and forget this entire conversation.

"So, two years you said? Just never found anyone interesting? And did you get bored with the others, and that's why they didn't last more than nine months," he asked, still interested in that bit of information as well.

It was Malcolm's turn to slump down in his seat, embarrassed. And also a little alarmed at Jamie's reaction. "I guess if you wanted to look at it that way you could. I don't tell anyone, you're actually the first person I've told, I figured you'd be safe. It was only three years though," Malcolm swallowed and looked down at the floor, suddenly very sorry for bringing it up.

"Well, there have been interesting guys, just never worked out. And yeah, sort of bored. Most guys are into just sex, and some don't want to be out and other just, aren't boyfriend material, I guess. I'm not really sure why they didn't last, other than it just came to the point that I couldn't justify dating them anymore," Malcolm shrugged a little.

And now Jamie felt bad. He would have groaned if he didn't stop himself just before with the thought that it might make things worse. Instead, he licked his lips and said, "It's not like it wasn't consensual, though, and he was an arsehole who forced himself on you, right? So, yeah. Like I said, just trying to wrap my head around it. It was just shocking is all. And I am safe. I won't tell anyone. I promise. You can trust me. And you can tell me more about it later, like you said, and I still won't tell. Or freak out. Might ask questions, though. I can't stop my curiosity, after all," he said, giving him a smile.

"You shouldn't have to justify dating someone. When it gets to that point, where you're looking for reasons to stay with them or whatever, it's over." He continued to smile, nodding his head. Secretly he started wondering if maybe it was Malcolm who wasn't boyfriend material if he had to find reasons to date someone. Not in a bad way, though. More like subconcious. Maybe he secretly and subconciously didn't want to settle down as much as he thought he did. Jamie then told himself to stop analyzing someone else when he didn't even have himself figured out.

"No, actually, he didn't want to at first. For the same reasons, I suppose," Malcolm shrugged. He and Griff didn't really talk about 'them' anymore and Malcolm really didn't want to ask questions about that stuff. He'd never talked about it because Griff was famous, but now that Jamie had freaked out about it, he doubted he'd be telling anyone ever again.

Malcolm gave Jamie a half smile and shrugged again, "I'm probably just a crap boyfriend. That's why I've got friends though, don't have to deal with all that relationship stuff." Words were coming out of his mouth but he had no control over which ones they were. He felt really bad now, that he'd brought any of this up to Jamie.

Oh. "Oh." Well then. Now he felt really weird and uncomfortable. He set his mouth and swung his legs back over the side of the bed, pushing himself up once more. He scooted to the edge of the bed, reached out, and grabbed one of Malcolm's hands with both of his.

"I'm probably really off base here, and I apologize in advance, but you're probably not a crap boyfriend so much as you haven't found the right guy. and maybe you're just... comparing blokes to an ideal image or something?" Like, you know, your first boyfriend, Mr Quidditch Star. "So you want it, but you just look too hard and maybe just get afraid or start to think you'll miss whatever you do when you're single or something else entirely. I don't know. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm assuming to know you so well. I don't mean to. I'm just trying to say you'll find someone, and it'll all just click, and it'll be, like, see? Not a crap boyfriend." Ugh. He sounded so completely juvenile. And what was worse, his attempts at helping would probably just blow up in his face. He wondered why he couldn't find someone with a Time-Turner and just start this month over.

Malcolm gave Jamie a smile and reached out to caress the side of Jamie's face with the back of his fingers. Malcolm didn't think that any of that really applied to him – he didn't have an ideal boyfriend; his thing with Griff had been nearly twelve years ago and he really hated being single. His brothers had girlfriends and Clara had a husband now. Even Griff had someone. He wasn't like Brady – he didn't like to party around, he just did it because there wasn't anything else to do.

"I'm sure you're right, I will meet the right guy someday," Malcolm refrained from letting himself add any more to that sentence. It was quite a pain to fancy someone so much and they didn't want you back. "You better get back in bed before they come and yell at me though."

Jamie leaned into the touch, reaching up with one hand to hold Malcolm's hand in place. "I won't let them yell at you. I'll tell them I know what I'm doing, that I'm an adult, and if I want to sit up, I'll fucking sit up," he said. "I'll even make sure they know you told me to lie down, and that I'm secretly just a rebel, corrupting you and causing mischief all aorund." He laughed a bit at that, seriously doubting he could ever corrupt anyone, especially Malcolm. But it was fun to pretend he was that type of guy, even just for a few seconds.

"You'll protect me from the big, bad, evil healers?" Malcolm continued the joke, adding a little quiver to his tone and pouting slightly, "I'm ever so sure they'll listen to you. I am just so innocent looking, clearly you've taken me off my path to enlightenment and distracted me with temptations like sugar and spice and everything totally naughty."

"I'll protect you," Jamie said, sitting up a little straighter, puffing out his chest like some big macho hero. "Although that makes me wonder, who's going to protect me? I don't think my mum's around. She's pretty good with the protecting thing. I know! I'll protect you, and while they're distracted, you run for help!" Yes, it was a brilliant plan. One that would probably never work, but it was brilliant in its simplicty and in Jamie's addled mind. "And I'll be nice and leave out the part where we both know you secretly enjoyed giving in to the temptations," he added with a smirk.

"You won't need protection, because you're just that fucking bad ass, you know. They will cower in front of you and I won't need to run for help because I'll be too busy basking in your glory to run for help," Malcolm nodded, "Yep, that's it. Only not so secretly."

Jamie snorted and started laughing at the mental images Malcolm's words provided. He was anything but bad ass. He gripped both of Malcolm's hands and leaned forward as he laughed, telling himselfi n his head to be quiet or they really would get caught. It took him a few moments, but he got it under control and sat up, holding Malcolm's hands in his lap.

"You'd make a really awful sidekick if all you'd do was bask in the hero's glory," he said, still smiling to show he was joking. "I'm going to have to do it solo or go look for a sidekick. You'll have to just be the person I save on a regular basis." He squeezed his hands a little. "Like, the Lois Lane to my Superman, only without the reporter gig and the girl thing. And before you say anything, yes I know who Superman is." He only knew that, however, becuase he'd started educating himself on Muggle things recently, but he wasn't going to share that tidbit just then.

Malcolm grinned at Jamie's laugh. It was nice to see him so happy. "I don't think I could be a sidekick, I guess I could settle to be the person you save. I don't know much about Superman, but I think you could pull his tight suit off very well. I'm not sure if red pants are your color though. Maybe a dark green instead."

Jamie wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "I don't think I'd look right in a tight suit thing. I don't have the right kind of body for it. Plus, it looks so uncomfortable." He shook his head again at the thought of wearing something so restricting. It was one thing to wear a pair of trousers that fit snugly and another to wear something like what Superman wore. "But green wouldn't be bad. It's a nice color. Just nothing really, really tight."

"Well... I don't think you can be a superhero without tight clothing," Malcolm gave Jamie a skeptical look, "but if you want to take my opinion, which I must say is actually pretty valuable, but you do have the right body type for it. You're cute and you're a spitfire, I think that will carry it off."

"But some of them wear masks so it doesn't matter if I'm cute. They wouldn't be able to see my face to know that. And I wouldn't want them to see my face becuase then they'd know who I was and try to find me and nag me all the time. I'd get no peace." Plus, I'd probably get the mickey taken out of me for running around in tight suits, Jamie silently added.

"You can still tell though, like Batman? Everyone thinks he's hot and he has a mask and hood thing. But he wears rubber, that's an entirely different set of circumstances and I don't think you're that kind of a superhero yet," Malcolm grinned.

"Yet? Try ever on the rubber." Jamie shook his head to emphasise his point. No way was he ever wearing rubber suits. "And they think he's hot becuase he saves the day and that suit of his totally lies with its premade bulges. Plus, they think he's hot, not cute. There's a big difference between the two."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at that, "Oh yeah? What is the difference?" He was completely amused by this conversation and really had no idea about superheroes beyond the two just mentioned. He just wanted Jamie to keep talking.

"Cute is... It's precious and adorable, sweet. It's sweets and baby animals and aaw. It's innocent and could take you home, introduce you to the family, and eat you up. Hot, though, is... sexy. It's steamy. It's rough and tumble and just this side of wrong. It's I'll take you home and shag you senseless." Jamie nodded, satisfied with his explanation of things.

Malcolm nodded and smiled, that made a lot of sense for someone that was sick, "So can someone be both?" he asked, just for the heck of it. "But if you can't, I'd totally classify you in the hot, category."

"I think so," Jamie said, pretending his cheeks felt hot becuase of the fever. "I don't think everybody can. I think if they are one they can have moments of being the other but generally aren't both. But some people can be both simultaneously. Like, they can look cute and act hot or look hot and act cute. Sometimes even look and act like both at the same time. It just depends on the person."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to use yourself as the definition you're giving," Malcolm said with a teasing grin, "but I think that you are a very good definer. Besides that, what is your super power then?"

"If you keep that up, your going to make my fever higher," Jamie said, but he smiled when he said it. He then shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. Hm. Maybe the power to make drawn images come to life and to go back to being just drawings. What super power would you have if you were a superhero?"

"We can't have that, can we?" Malcolm teased a little and looked over at the towel but decided that if Jamie wanted it he'd ask for it. "That sounds like a really fun power! I think mine would be something like power laser. Not a destroyer but can move stuff and hold stuff up, I guess. A support member of the team really, not quite a hero on my own."

Jamie nodded, not really knowing what a laser was. "That's cool. Would it come out of your eyes or your hands or... or what? I mean, how would that work for you," he asked, imagining these laser things coming out of his eyes and hands and even his forehead. He snickered to himself at those images.

"Probably my hands, because I'd have to wear sunglasses or a mask if it came out of my eyes or something. Hey now," Malcolm nudged Jamie a little, "No laughing at my power! I didn't laugh at yours!"

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at this image I had of you with laser things coming out of your eyes and hands and forehead and top of your head... like, all over," Jamie said, still snickering.

"Oh, okay, thats better, I guess," Malcolm said, laughing a bit more, "I'm not sure how cool I'd look as a walking laser beam though, kind of takes away from my coolness as a superhero though. I think I may want to redo that idea."

"Does it really matter since you already said you wanted to be the one who gets saved more than a hero anyway," asked Jamie, a slightly cheeky look on his face. "If you become a hero, I'm going to have to look for damsels in distress to save, and that might be hard with that whole feminist movement and all." Not that he wanted to save anyone anyway, but that was beside the point.

"Ooh, okay, I vote for being the saved one. What's your superhero name that I can call it out whenever I'm in trouble? Jamie the Hot Hot Hero? Or Mr. Fantastical?" Malcolm was grinning, it was silly and ridiculous but he was getting to see a side of Jamie he hadn't yet.

"I don't know. I haven't thought about a name yet. The mister sort of makes me sound old... Hm." Jamie thought on it and then shook his head after a moment. "I don't know. But not an animal hero and not Jamie because then people all have my name, and we already discussed the whole wanting a life outside the hero thing so people don't nag, and I can get some peace," he said, nodding a little. Unlike some kids, though, Jamie had never really imagined himself as a superhero when he was younger so he lacked actual ideas for names.

Malcolm snorted, "Well, when you think of something, be sure to let me know so that I don't have to reveal your secret identity when I suddenly find myself in trouble or surrounded by a bunch of rabid kneazles or something."

"Yeah, I'll let you know," Jamie promised. He smiled and gave Malcolm's hands another little squeeze. "Though you might be stuck on your own if you're stuck with rabid kneazles. I'm not really good with animals."

"In that case, I will be sure to not find myself surrounded by a pack of rabid kneazles or any other kind of animal, because I would not want to be left to the mercy of such things," Malcolm nodded in mock seriousness. "This is a very weird conversation."

"You know, you could always Disapparate. I mean, you are a wizard," Jamie pointed out. He then nodded. "It is. But it's interesting at least. I don't think non-weird conversations can actually be all that interesting. Becuase then it's like tlaking about the weather and really boring things, though I guess sports talk wouldn't be bad, but that's if you like sports enough to have an extremely long, drawn out conversation about them. Or you end up talking to someone who can ramble, like me." He really needed to stop that. Rambling really wasn't a good quality.

"But what if I'm stuck in a situation with very smart animals that know how to create wards that keep you from disapparating, hmm? Taking down wards like that is very difficult and takes a lot of concentration. Contrary to popular belief, I can't really focus with an animal gnawing on my leg," Malcolm said with a half-serious look.

"Maybe you should start practicing, just in case," Jamie responded in the same half-serious manner. "I mean, what happens if you're stuck in that situation, and I'm stuck in another situation trying to save other people and can't get to you? You're going to need to at least be able to fend for yourself long enough for me to get there, if not save yourself sometimes. There's only one of me, and I can't be in several places at once."

"So you mean I'm not your first priority?" Malcolm pouted slightly, "What good is having my own personal superhero if you're not there to save me every time? Plus, even I can't take down that kind of ward before I get eaten and I'm really good with my wand."

"Well, how would it look if I was saving someone else first, and then you got into your trouble, and I left the person I was saving hanging and possibly dying? I'd look like a twat. And you're probably more capable than most of the people I'd be saving anyway. Then again, if you're always getting into situations, maybe you're not," Jamie said, teasingly. "But then, maybe if you are getting into things, maybe they think you're my weakness? Huh." He stopped and thought on that a moment, not really sure what to make of that just then. He shook his head a little, brushing the thoughts away because they didn't make much sense to him.

"I suppose you would look kind of bad. How about I don't get into trouble when you're saving someone then? But if you are a superhero, then you should be able to save them and then save me, right? I mean, that's the whole thing of a superhero, right? Save the world," Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Though maybe you don't want to be a full time hero."

"Mm, I'm not sure I want to be a hero. It seems like so much work. And I don't want an arch nemesis and people going after people I care about," Jamie said after a moment. "Plus, it's a lot of responsibility--far more than I'm used to. I'm not sure I want the weight of the world on my shoulders. The world's pretty heavy, after all. But on the plus side, that means I'll be there if you need me." He smiled, squeezing Malcolm's hands lightly.

"Well, even though I'm not a superhero, I'll be there if you ever need aything too," Malcolm nodded seriously, "Anything at all okay? How are you doing now? Can I get you some more ice or something?"

Jamie nodded his understanding. "Ok. And mostly I'm just sick of being stuck in bed and sick of potions and sick of healers and sick of being sick. I really hate it," he said. It had briefly occurred to him more than once that he could, legally, leave. Check himself out and just go home. But after that point, he always figured someone would drag his butt back to St Mungo's kicking and screaming, and that wasn't worth it. Ugh. He really, really hoped he got better very soon.

"Yeah, I feel ya," Malcolm said in an understanding tone, "But now you have a sketch book to keep you company and I'll stop by again sometime if you just ask. I'll bring a book or magazine or something if you want."

"Come by whenever there's not a crowd." So no one nags you or shoos you away. "And a book or magazine would be nice. You could read it to me or we could take turns. And thanks a lot for the sketch book and things," said Jamie, smiling. He really did appreciate it, and he made a note to figure out a way to show Malcolm his appreciation.

"Yeah, I'll keep my eye out. Just owl if you need something," Malcolm squeezed Jamie's hand back, "You should get back into bed though, I know you're sick of being tired, but you'd rather not have the healers getting on your case and stuff, right?"

"I'm in bed. Technically," Jamie said, keeping the surliness out of his voice. He didn't care if Malcolm was right. He could rest and sleep tomorrow. And it wasn't like he had anything pressing to do first thing in the morning or anything like that. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep," he asked quietly, suddenly not wanting to be (conciously) alone.

Malcolm laughed lightly and nodded, "Yes, you are, but probably under the sheet at least. I'll stay until you fall asleep. I've even got something that will probably put you to sleep," Malcolm reached and pulled out Arithmancer's Quarterly and showed the cover to Jamie.

Jamie sighed a little and rubbed his hands against his sheet-covered thighs when Malcolm reached for the magazine. He then rolled back onto the bed, settling the sheets at his waist, lying on his side to look at Malcolm. "And people say Ravenclaws are nerds," he said teasingly.

"Well, sometimes the blockheaded mold is broken just a little and some of the nerdiness breaks in," Malcolm said, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other and opening the magazine. He flipped through a few pages to find a suitable article, "Here we go. The standards of using a structure stablising ward versus a restructuring charm on residential buildings. This sounds like fun."

Jamie shook his head and rolled his eyes at Malcolm but said nothing. He tucked his hands under his pillow, settling in and listening to Malcolm talk. Although the subject matter was strangely interesting (not that he'd admit that anytime soon), he focused more on the other man's voice than the actual words coming out. For one, it'd make it easier to fall asleep. For another, he just liked the way his voice sounded (another thing he'd probably not admit anytime soon).