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On the tenth day of Christmas, my best friend gave to me...

Ten 'Dying' Wishes

When Hermione arrived in the Common Room the next morning, it was to a rather confusing sight. She was, as usual, the first one to come downstairs, but everyone who slept in the Common Room was awake.

Justin, Theodore and Blaise were sitting, seemingly, as far away from the fire as they could get. They were playing poker and darting frequent glances at the fire. Luna was more difficult to locate, as she was lying flat on her stomach on the floor in the middle of the room, a blanket thrown over her back, watching the rug in front of her intently.

It took Hermione a few moments to recognise the pile of blankets on the couch closest to the fire as Harry.

She blinked. "What on earth is going on in here?"

"Theodore sucks at poker," Blaise and Justin called in unison.

Luna didn't look up as she answered. "I believe that this rug is developing a dangerously evil colony of dust bunnies."

"I'm dying," Harry croaked.

Hermione sighed and went over to him, sitting beside the heap of blankets. "Dying, Har?"

"Yes," he sniffed. "You an' Draco packed me in all that snow yesterday, an' now I'm sick."

"A cold is hardly dying, Harry," she sighed. "I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up Potion after breakfast."

Harry pulled one of his blankets down just far enough for him to peer out miserably at her. "But 'Mione," he whined. "I don't like them."

"Harry..."

"Before I die, 'Mione, can you do something for me?"

She sighed again. "Harry, you're not dying."

"Will you buy me some leather pants? I want to go out in style," he continued, ignoring her.

"No, Harry, because you aren't dying. Besides, you could just borrow some from Theodore."

Harry pouted.

*

A few minutes later, a large blanket-monster stood up and walked across the Common Room to where Theodore, Blaise and Justin were avoiding its germs. "Blaise, can I talk to you?" it asked pleadingly.

Blaise sighed and turned to face the barely visible green eyes of his friend. "What is it, Harry?"

"When I die, will you sing at my funeral?"

The other three boys stared.

"Please?"

"You're not dying, Harry!" Justin exclaimed. "Honestly!"

"Blaise?"

Blaise shook his head slowly. "Justin has a point, you know. A cold isn't going to kill you, especially if you just let Hermione take you up to Pomfrey like she wants to."

"But Blaise..."

"Besides, you know I can't sing."

*

Hannah, Ginny and Susan were the first of the girls to get up that morning, and Hermione quickly filled them in regarding Harry's cold. The four of them remained seated by the fire in relative piece until Harry stopped sulking over Blaise's refusal to sing and rejoined them.

He sniffed.

Ginny eyed him. "Are you going to go to Pomfrey?"

"No."

"Harry," Hermione sighed for what felt like the billionth time that morning alone. "Please."

He ignored her. "Hannah, seeing as I'm going to be dying very soon, would you promise me something?"

Hannah decided to humour him. "Depends what it is, Har."

"Take car of Bob, Desmond and Henry for me."

She just glared.

*

Colin was the next one to wander down the stairs, and as he was not a morning person, he walked right into wall of blankets standing directly in his path.

He blinked. "Um?"

"Hello Colin," Harry replied weakly. "I'm dying. Please take pictures of my corpse and send them to Voldemort."

Colin blinked again in confusion as the blanket heap shuffled away.

*

Harry peered down at Luna. "Got those dust bunnies under control yet?"

"Almost," she replied dreamily. "Is there something I can do for you, Harry?"

"Fill my coffin with tinsel."

"Very well. And I shall also shower people with glitter at your funeral. But just so you know, Harry, this cold will not kill you."

Harry gave up on getting any sympathy out of his friends and left the Common Room entirely.

*

Minerva was an early riser, and always had been. As such she was sitting by the fire in her quarters rereading one of her favourite novels before breakfast when someone knocked on her door.

She closed the book, stood, stretched and then answered it. She had not been expecting to find a pile of blankets standing there. She almost closed it again until she noticed the green eyes gazing out at her. "Harry?"

"Hello Professor McGonagall," he said thickly. "I think I'm dying."

Minerva's lips twitched. "Nonsense, child," she scolded gently. "A Pepper-Up Potion after breakfast will have you feeling as good as new."

"When I die, Professor," Harry said, completely disregarding her comments. "I would like you to send up fireworks at my funeral."

She blinked at him for a few moments. "If this cold kills you, Harry James Potter, then I swear I will do so. Now why don't you head back to the Common Room until breakfast begins?"

Harry sighed and shuffled away.

*

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said with a rather pathetic sniffle, standing in the doorway of the man's office. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Albus raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Of course, my dear boy, do come in. Might I say that you are sounding particularly dreadful this morning?"

Harry grimaced and nodded. "I think I'm dying," he confided. "And you know, all I've ever really wanted to have before I died was a pair of socks that actually fit. Is that so much to ask?" He sniffed again.

"Of course not, Harry," Albus consoled, hiding his amusement. "Perhaps you will be lucky enough to get some before you wind up on your death bed."

"It could be any minute now, I'm sure," Harry sighed as he made his way out of the Headmaster's office.

Albus just shook his head in amusement and went back to his paperwork.

*

Unlike Minerva, Remus was not a morning person. In fact, he liked to deny the fact that mornings existed at all (this is why he tended to be late to his own classes, especially on Mondays).

As such he was most definitely not impressed when someone shook him awake, and even less impressed when he opened his eyes and identified the culprit as what appeared to be a large pile of blankets. He began to wonder if Sirius and James's unwashed Quidditch uniforms from their seventh year had evolved over the past two decades or so and were now back for revenge on the closest thing they could find to their previous owners.

He woke up a little more when he realised that this probably meant that Harry was in grave danger also, and then he recognized the green eyes that the blanket monster was staring at him with.

"Harry?"

"I'm dying, Moony," he sniffed pitifully.

Remus blinked a few times and finally sat up. "What?"

"I'm dying," the teen repeated dutifully.

"Dying."

"Yes Moony."

"From what?"

"Cold."

"You're cold?"

"I have a cold."

"Get a Pepper-Up Potion."

"I hate them."

"How did you inherit Sirius's aversion to Pepper-Up Potions?"

"I don't know. When I die, will you avenge me?"

"You want me to kill the cold?"

"No, I want you to kill Draco and Hermione."

"Oh. Sure. If the cold kills you, I'll do it."

"Ta. Thanks."

"It won't, though."

"You're mean, Moony. I'm going to leave now to find someone who will be more sympathetic than you."

"Good luck. I'll see you at breakfast. Or maybe not till lunch if I sleep in."

"As long as I don't die before then, I'll see you there."

*

Severus had just finished wrapping the last of his Christmas gifts (a pair of socks for the Headmaster, as Harry had convinced everyone he could to get them for the man) when the door to his quarters opened to admit a pile of blankets.

Considering that there were precious few people who could just walk into his rooms whenever they felt like it, and even fewer who would walk around as a pile of bedding, he didn't need the figure to speak before he knew who it was. "Hello Harry."

"Professor Sevvie."

"Do not call me that. What do you want?"

"I'm going to die before the end of the day, so can I have my Christmas present early?"

Severus stared at the boy, who from the sound of his voice was suffering a cold. "No. If you're going to die then you have no need for it. Now get out of my rooms and go to the Hospital Wing. Poppy will shove a Pepper-Up down your throat and you'll be back to your annoying self by dinner."

Harry sighed, turned around and headed out. One side of the blanket pile moved, and Severus assumed that the boy had given the best wave he could.

*

Ten minutes after the students had arrived for breakfast and joined Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape, a blob of blankets walked into the Great Hall and seated itself between Hermione and Draco.

After another minute of everyone else eating while Harry sat and looked miserable, Draco had had enough. "All right, that's it."

"What's it?" Hermione asked absently.

Draco grabbed a handful of blankets and began to drag Harry from the Hall. "We'll be back soon."

"Good luck!" Ron called.

Half way to the Hospital Wing, Harry sighed. "Dray?"

"Harry?" the blond replied.

"When I die -"

"You're taking the potion and you'll be fine," Draco interrupted.

"But -"

"Harry, stop being such a drama queen."

"Will you just listen? Just in case?"

Sighing, the Slytherin nodded. "Fine. What?"

"If I die from this...will you wear my sexy Santa suit until New Years?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Considering that you're not going to die, there is no harm in saying yes."

Harry poked his tongue out. "Wanna wear it anyway?"

"No."

"Say, Draco," Harry said, suddenly changing topic. "Let's go down to the kitchens."

Draco snickered and made sure that he had Harry's sleeve in his grip. "Nope, we're going to the Hospital Wing where you're going to take the Pepper-Up Potion even if I have to force you."

"But Dray..."

"No buts."

"Aw..."



**

If anyone happens to be wondering why the second half or so of this chapter are in italics, there is a reason for it. For some bizarre, inexplicable reason, I felt that since those parts happened outside the Gryffindor Common Room, where the story is supposed to be set, it made sense for them to be in italics.

I never said that it was a good reason.