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Kiss Me While I Lay Bleeding

As Draco walked down the halls of the Ministry, passing through the atrium on his way to the Auror department, he kept his head held high. He wasn’t oblivious to the whispers his appearance garnered, but steadfastly chose to ignore them.

He didn’t owe anyone anything. He, and his father, had paid their debts to Wizarding society, and were working on rebuilding the Malfoy name. Draco pointedly adjusted the collar of his lime green Healer robes when he heard a particularly vicious insinuation that he was ‘clearly up to no good.’

Honestly, if he had done something ‘bad’ shouldn’t he have an Auror escort?

Idiots. he sneered internally, while on the surface his expression remained passively bored, the typical Malfoy mask he dawned while in public. Merlin forbid he have a genuine expression on his face ever.

Making his way into the Auror department he greeted the secretary at the front desk.

“Healer Malfoy, I was summoned by Head Auror Robards.” Draco waited while the woman behind the desk scanned several sheets in front of her.

“Ah yes, thank you Healer Malfoy, through those doors,” she pointed down a closed hallway, “take the second left and it will be the last door on the right, his name’s on the door, you can’t miss it.” smiling she dismissed Draco with a wave of her hand as she went back to her paperwork.

Nodding stiffly, Draco felt the nervous energy from when he’d first received the summons return. He had no idea what this meeting was about, the note had been outrageously brief and cryptic; demanding his presence and not giving any explanation as to why he was wanted.

Making his way down the hallway Draco found himself standing in front of the Head Auror’s door much sooner than he wanted. Steeling himself, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. 

“Come in, come in!” he was instructed by a booming voice.

Draco entered the office and felt his stoic mask drop when he caught sight of his trainer sitting across from Auror Robards. The pair stopped talking when Draco walked in, his trainer; a jovial enough sort, Healer Marcus Hammington, smiled broadly at Draco, while Robards’ face remained stony and impatient, like he had millions of other things he should be dealing with and this was an obnoxious waste of his time.

“Draco, do come, sit - sit!”  Marcus gestured amicably to the chair next to him, so Draco, recovering himself, sat stiffly in the seat, he inclined his head in greeting to Robards and then just waited for someone to tell him why he was there.

“Thank you for joining us Healer Malfoy, I can imagine that you are a very busy man and appreciate you taking the time to come here on such short notice.” Robards began shuffling sheets of parchment on his desk until he came to a thick folder and placed it on the top of the pile.

“This is a fairly comprehensive list of the injuries my Aurors have received in the line of duty in the past year. We’ve had problems in the past, our Aurors not getting seen to in a timely fashion, or apparating into the waiting area when there’s a veritable crush waiting to check in; sometimes those people waiting to be seen have come in contact with potions or ingredients that can react badly when combined with something an Auror has on them. There’s been more near misses than is safe. The public’s safety and the safety of our Aurors is paramount in our minds and our actions moving forward. Which is why a new initiative has been suggested between this department and the Dark Spells, Curses and Hexes wing as well as the emergency department of St Mungo’s.” Robards pierced Draco with a steely gaze and he felt his stomach clench as his worry increased.

“We want to have a permanent healer on site here at the Ministry in the Auror department that can triage and determine the next best steps for our Aurors. Per Healer Hammington’s stellar commendation, you have been recommended for this new position.” Robards stared Draco down dispassionately, waiting for him to accept or reject the job offer, he seemed to not really care either way if Draco wanted the job or not.

Draco was still confused as to why he  was being offered this position, surely there were other more qualified healers, or ones with more experience that didn’t have such a sordid past. At Draco’s continued silence, Healer Hammington spoke up.

“I recommended you, Draco for this new collaboration between the Ministry and St Mungo’s, not only because you were the top of your class, but your personal history and extensive knowledge with regards to dark hexes and curses makes you utterly invaluable and the perfect candidate for this exciting, and quite frankly needed, position. This will save so much time in our triage, and will ensure that the Aurors aren’t coming into contact with people that have been exposed to anything contagious and vice versa. I can’t believe we haven’t thought of this before!” Marcus looked so pleased with this proposal, he seemed to think it was a done deal as it were.

Draco couldn’t help but feel skeptical. He knew what kind of reception he was likely to receive, more than half the current Aurors had fought in the war, Harry bloody Potter being the first and foremost obvious. The Daily Prophet loved reporting on his solved cases, his daring rescues and brushes with death seemingly every week. Draco studiously ignored the fact that he was one of those insipid readers, eagerly clamoring for any and all information regarding the Savior of the Wizarding World.

Clearing his throat and Draco inclined his head to his colleague.

“As grateful as I am for your kind consideration in proposing me for this position, one that I agree is desperately needed; I can’t help but feel there may be some who will vehemently disagree with any show of perceived favoritism towards a convicted, albeit ex-Death Eater.” Draco unconsciously smoothed his hand over the robes covering his left arm. “Especially when putting one in such close proximity to Auror Potter. With respect, I do believe I should not take this role and suggest you find a different candidate, one the public will find in a more favorable light than myself.” Draco waited patiently to be dismissed by Robards.

He truly hoped he hadn’t upset Marcus with this refusal, but really what was the man thinking suggesting him??

A surprising smirk crossed Robards’ face before he lost any emotion beyond harried impatience.

“And with respect to your deference Healer Malfoy, you are the only candidate for the job, and we have no intention of waiting around for another healer with your necessary qualifications to stumble into our laps. The war is long over,” Draco may or may not have squawked at the suggestion that 4 years could be termed ‘long over’.

“You have served your time, completed all mandated counseling, and during that time you went back to school to become a healer that specializes in dark curses and hexes, as well as working as a field medic for the Muggle British Armed Forces, don’t think I don’t know about that. Healer Malfoy, it is in all our best interests if we skip the humility and you accept this position. You will be starting tomorrow.” Robards shoved a folder into Malfoy’s startled grasp and stood, forcing the other men to stand as well.

Marcus recovered first and smiled warmly at the Head Auror while shaking his head and wishing him well on his future endeavors or some such platitudes, Draco was too gobsmacked to really pay attention. He found himself standing outside the Head Auror’s door once more, this time reeling and standing next to a man whose level headedness had always impressed Draco. Now, however, he was sincerely questioning the man’s sanity.

“Buck up Draco. You’ll do just fine. Think of all the good you’ll be able to do here, an entire department dependant upon you and your gifts.” shaking his head in fondness at the young man that had been his favorite trainee, Marcus clapped Draco on the shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you Draco. Take the rest of the day to gather your things from the hospital and have lunch with your parents. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear of your new position.” Bidding Draco farewell, Marcus left the bemused and still stunned man in front of Robards’ office.

Draco stood, shell shocked outside the Auror department for a good fifteen minutes before he finally started making his way to the floos passed the atrium. Returning back to his office he quickly packed up all his personal belongings and books, directing them to a waiting box with a convenient weightless charm on it. He flooed directly to the Manor and set the box down, still trying to process this very odd career change.

________________________

Predictably, Narcissa and Lucius were quite pleased by the news their son had been hand picked to lead this new division project.

Lucius had commented that it would reflect well on the Malfoy name to have Draco working as the Aurors’ personal physician and his mother was very much relieved that her son wouldn’t be going to St Mungo’s every day, despite him not being on the receiving end of howlers and curses in nearly two years, she would never forget the amount of scorn and hatred Draco had gotten when he’d first started working at the hospital and felt that the Ministry and especially the Auror department would be much safer and more diligent at keeping the riff-raff away from her baby.

Draco merely rolled his eyes at his parents’ reaction to the news and headed towards his room to unpack what he’d brought home from his office so that he could repack what he’d want to bring to his office at the Ministry. Once that task was done he rejoined his parents for dinner, rolling his eyes yet again as his father instructed him not to antagonize Precious Potter. His mother nodded in agreement with her husband and suggested that Draco just avoid the man at all costs.

Really they acted like he was still in school. He hadn’t thought about Potter – well, he didn’t think there was the same animosity there had once been. He had no intention of getting on the savior’s bad side. He fully intended to never cross his path and was sure it would be easy enough to accomplish.

Going to bed that night he tried to ignore the rioting butterflies in his stomach, chalking them up to not really knowing how this new job would pan out, yet hopeful that he would make everyone proud.

________________________

“Damn and blast Harry Bloody Potter and his Merlin be damned idiocy!” Draco snarled as he headed for the lifts, ignoring the way witches and wizards alike clutched their cloaks closer and scurried out of his way.

He was in a foul mood and naturally, it was all thanks to that bloody scarheaded menace!

Four months! For four buggering months Draco had been working as the medi-liaison for the Aurors and in that time he had seen Potter weekly! Sometimes several times a week!!

Draco had tried; Merlin, Morgana and Circe, had he tried to avoid Potter like the dragon pox, but the ridiculous bastard just kept popping up, everywhere! How he had managed to discover Draco’s favorite chip shop was beyond him, though he supposed the man must be a half way decent Auror to have solved as many cases as he had; but still! There’d he’d been enjoying a blessedly Potter free meal when suddenly, as if Draco had fucking accio’d him, there Potter stood, looking charmingly flustered and windswept and torn between eyeing the menu and eyeing Draco.

Draco was sure he was hallucinating, with his fish halfway to his mouth and gobsmacked look on his face as his eyes raked over Potter standing there, looking just stupidly fit, the right bastard! Simple jeans and a tee-shirt for some Muggle band under a truly sinful leather jacket – honestly he should have been brought up on charges then and there – public indecency, inciting a riot, some such thing; because the way Potter filled out his simple jeans and a tight fitting tee-shirt made Draco’s mouth go dry and he’d forgotten how to bring air into his lungs without sounding far too loud in the tiny shop.

Potter had smiled at Draco and sat down across the small table from him like they were friends, and had just started chatting Draco up, wanting to know what was good here? did Draco come here often? did Draco know he had spilled some tartar sauce on his jumper? All with a placid, happy smile and a slight blush on his cheeks.

Draco had fervently hoped that his Potter obsession had waned over the years, but sitting at the little, slightly sticky table, their knees occasionally knocking together at Draco’s favorite fish and chip shop felt like so many mundane daydreams he’d had about Harry Potter that he was genuinely concerned for his mental wellbeing.

Before Draco could demand to know what Potter was playing at though, he headed to the counter to collect his order, that he’d apparently already placed and waved goodbye to Draco on his way out; that happy, satisfied smile still in place as Draco was sure his face still just registered shock and confusion.

Shaking himself out of that memory Draco thought about his current Potter Predicament. Honestly, the amount of times Potter been injured seemed excessive and Draco was quite certain that the Savior of the Wizarding world was either the clumsiest person on the face of the planet or had an incurable death wish and was just too stupid or lucky to actually die.

He gnashed his teeth in frustration as the lift took seemingly ages to get to the floor he had requested. When the rickety doors finally swung open Draco hurried through, nearly knocking several people over in his haste to get to his office where Princely Potter was awaiting him.

“Heyo Malfoy! Just the medi-wizard I was hoping to see.” Potter prattled while pawing at Draco’s knickknacks on his bookcase.

“Potter. What happened this time?” Draco grit his teeth and counted to twenty in his head as he stepped over to Potter and pushed him away from the very priceless antique he was manhandling.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Potter insisted with a petulant scowl.

Draco rolled his eyes and barely contained the reflexive snort that threatened at that statement. It was never Perfect Potter’s fault that something had inevitably gone pear shape and he’d been winged, singed, sliced, or on one terrifyingly memorable occasion, impaled. Draco shuddered at that memory – he still had nightmares about the very first time he’d had to treat Potter.

He had, of course, hidden the severity of his injury from the rest of the team and had insisted that Draco could patch him up when everyone else had been looked over. By the time Draco had gotten Potter into his office, he was pale and sweaty and Draco had nearly had a heart attack when Potter had wincingly shrugged out of his Auror robes to show the giant horned snaklunks’ tusk imbedded in his shoulder. How no one had noticed that Harry Bloody Potter had nearly bled out waiting to be seen by the onsite healer was because the fucking sociopath had cast a fucking notice-me-not on himself!!!!! directly on the injury.

“You need to go to St. Mungo’s RIGHT NOW!” Draco had insisted, (later he would insist that he had not done so as shrilly as Potter liked to insist he had) rabid fear clutching his chest, making him feel almost dizzy.

“If you’re not that good of a Healer you can just say so Malfoy, no need to be such a drama queen about it.” Potter had replied woozily, because the blasted idiot was weak from blood loss.

“Potter, you have been impaled! You need far more than basic first aid-” Potter had waved a dismissive hand in front of Draco’s face and nearly fallen off the exam table.

“If you’re too squeamish to remove a tusk and slap a band-aid over it, why’d you become a healer in the first place?” Potter had questioned, blinking sluggishly.

Draco had become increasingly affronted and had wanted to prove to Potter that he wasn’t squeamish or afraid or a coward and so he had cast a hurried numbing spell to Potter’s shoulder, removed the tusk; thankfully the creature wasn’t of the venomous variety, and had forced several potions down Potter’s throat, all the while mentally cursing the both of them for their idiocy and pigheadedness.

“Since I am a certified and fully trained healer, I am of the opinion that you should go home to rest and recuperate, take these potions with you and if there’s anyone that can stay with you over night, you might ask them to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.” Draco had snarked, irritated that Potter could still get under his skin like they were a couple of first years.

“Right-o! Thanks Malfoy. I’ll take your suggestions under consideration.” Potter had said with a wink and then had left Draco’s office to return to his desk where he stayed until the end of his shift, filling out his report.

Draco may have sent an inter-office memo to Granger appraising her of the situation, she may have sent him back a very nice memo of thanks and sincerest apologies that he had to deal with Harry and his thoughtless idiocy. That may have lead to he and Granger becoming friendly of a sort – both bemoaning the stupidity and reckless natures of the male duo of the golden trio; Draco had confessed he’d always know it was Hermione’s brains that had saved those two buffoons their entire lives. Granger had been very friendly towards Draco after that and they often met for tea and chatted about books and legislation.

Glaring at Potter now, Draco waited for him to explain what occurred this time. Potter huffed and removed his robe and then his shirt with a grimace. Draco couldn’t help his reaction. He sucked in a shocked gasp first at the sight of the terrible bruising all along Potter’s torso then at the rock hard abs he had been hiding under his baggy clothes.

Tearing his inappropriately lingering gaze away from the corded muscles, Draco went to his cabinets and began pulling out the needed potions and salves without comment.

As he grabbed the special container of bruise paste he made solely for Potter, as the moron needed it to be extra strength and he had mentioned he liked Malfoy’s personal one better because of the nice minty scent; Draco thought about the second time he had assisted Potter a mere week and half after the first injury.

Potter had been burned by an unknown potion and he had insisted it wasn’t dire enough to result in a visit to St Mungo’s.

“Honestly Malfoy, you’re a good healer, I’ll just be wasting those other Medi’s time and it’s such a hassle when I go to the hospital. I’m sorry I was a wanker last time – blood loss makes me a bit of prick.” Potter had glanced up at Draco through his improbably thick lashes with such an earnestly chagrinned yet somehow cocky expression on his face that Draco had no other option beyond tending to him and sending him on his way.

Now here they were four months later and somehow Draco hadn’t been fired yet and even more miraculously Potter was still alive. Sighing in frustration Draco returned to the side of the exam table and handed Potter a pain potion, then began applying the special bruise paste while muttering an incantation to ensure the daft fool wasn’t bleeding internally.

Draco was telling himself that the reason for applying the paste with his bare hands was to ensure he didn’t hurt Potter – it had absolutely nothing to do with getting his bare hands over Potter’s naked sides and back and chest and was that a bruise on his hip?

‘Better safe than sorry’  he thought as he meticulously rubbed the salve into Potter’s hip bone.

At Potter’s breathless gasp Draco looked up into those impossibly green eyes and felt his heart flip in his chest.

“Alright Potter?” Draco asked, shockingly breathlessly and desperately wanted to clear his thought, but was worried that might seem suspicious.

“Yeah,” Potter said, licking his stupidly lush looking lower lip. “I think my back is a little sore is all.”

“Can you lie down on your front for me so I can see?” Draco quickly stepped away from the exam table and Potter and walked back to his medicine cabinet and grabbed a jar at random, hoping to get control of himself.

That’s all he needed was Auror Potter hexing him into next week because he’d made a move on him while he was being treated for an injury that by rights should be seen at St Mungo’s.

Mentally kicking himself, Draco turned back to see Potter lying down on the table on his stomach, his arms, surprisingly ripped with muscles, pillowing his cheek as he watched Draco, his emerald eyes boring into Draco’s soul.

‘When did Potter get so fucking fit!?’  Draco screeched internally.

His patented Malfoy mask was in place and knew his outward expression wasn’t giving away his inner turmoil, except for the burning heat coming off of his cheeks. Praying he wasn’t redder than a tomato, Draco took up the jar with Potter’s bruise paste and began massaging rubbing it into his lower back.

Potter sighed in contentment and practically purred like a cat being stroked and Draco, well he was damned from the start, because he could never help himself when it came to one Harry James Potter and he so desperately wanted to make Potter happy, to please him, to show him how much he loved admired him. Swallowing hard Draco continued applying the salve to Potter’s back and sides from this new angle, his thoughts in a riotous circuit of ‘I’m not good enough for him’ and ‘he has no idea the lengths I would and have gone to for him.’

Draco churlishly foisted the blame on his mother. She had been the one to tell him those ridiculous stories as a child about the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Vanquished the Dark Lord. His mother had always made Potter seem like a knight in shining armor that had rescued everyone from the villainy of  Voldemort. And truly, he had, twice! But growing up in Malfoy Manor, he had felt so torn between duty to the Malfoy name and honoring his father’s wishes, while also being his mother’s son. She had weaved such fantastic tales of daring heroics, that always ended with Potter falling madly in love with the beautiful golden Prince and taking him away from his gilded cage and all the nightmares that prowled the grounds.

When Draco first met Potter in the robe shop he hadn’t realized who he was at first and afterwards Draco had felt so foolish for parroting his father’s hateful words. Discovering he had offended his Perfect Potter had broken his heart and then he couldn’t seem to recover from that first misstep and he just kept fucking it up and sticking his foot in his mouth, his damnable pride had made him choke back every apology he desperately wanted to offer and then everything went to absolute shite when that noseless snake bastard returned.

Draco had hoped he’d die in the room of requirement. He deserved it. And then, as if a scene from one of his mother’s stories was playing out before his eyes, there was Harry Blessed Potter, pulling him onto his broom and saving him. He had clung to Harry’s back with a desperation that had seemed appropriate for the death defying scene around them, but in actuality had very little to do with the Fiendfyre burning the room down around them and everything to do with the fact that Draco was being rescued by his life long hero, he was holding onto the man of his dreams and he selfishly never wanted that moment to end.

A moan from said man brought Draco crashing back to the moment currently playing out before him.

How fucking long had he been massaging Potter?!!

Realizing the salve had been completely absorbed, Draco removed his shaking hands reluctantly from Potter’s deliciously smooth skin and quickly returned all his medicines to the cabinet. Gulping down a glass of water he cleared his throat.

“Take that jar with you and that other one for pain as needed. I need to pop out for a quick consult. Are you able to move around on your own?” Draco felt like his voice was far too husky and tried to think all manner of unsexy thoughts to get his straining erection to die down, his back to Potter.

Potter made a shuffling move and groaned, obviously stretched, as Draco heard something pop and then heard the ruffling of clothes being put back on. Draco was certain it was obvious how badly he was shaking. This was a level of closeness, of intimacy he had never thought he’d experience with Potter and really, it wasn’t real, not like that!

Potter trusted him to be a professional healer and here he was getting turned on by giving his patient a fucking massage. Circe’s tits he should have his credentials stripped and be thrown in Azkaban.  For molesting the Savior of the Wizarding world he was sure it would be a life sentence.

“Wow! I feel great! Thanks Malfoy. I had no idea you had such magic fingers.” Potter’s voice sounded almost teasing, Draco could picture the smile tugging on his full lips and quickly nodded, murmured some half garbled excuse and practically apparated out of the room.

______________________

The next morning after breakfast and three mental breakdowns, Draco managed to convince himself that everything would be fine. Potter was clueless and had no idea Draco was lusting after him, so he smoothed down his crisp button up, pulled on his suit jacket and draped his special Healer robe over his arm and left the Manor, flooing to the Ministry and heading to his office with his Malfoy mask firmly in place.

As he neared the Auror’s offices he felt his heart kick up and struggled to suppress it.

“Morning Malfoy! Say, I got too many pastries from that fancy shop down the street, would you care for one?” Potter offered with a smile, holding a bag out to Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the blue paper bag from his favorite pastry shop several blocks over. They were a French bakery on the Muggle side, everything they served was always amazing and very expensive.

Draco’s mouth watered as the scent of the blackberry lemon chiffon tart hit him and he looked back up at Potter’s expectant face.

“Good morning Potter. If you’re sure? Weasley doesn’t want it?” Draco flicked a glance over to Ron’s desk and shuddered delicately as he watched the redhead shove possibly his entire fist in his gaping maw as he inhaled several delicate pastries at once.

“Yeah, Ron’s had more than enough. Mione’s trying to get him on some new fad diet that doesn’t include sugar or flour and he’s going a bit mad.” Potter said with a smirk as he rubbed the back of his neck, still holding the bag out towards Draco.

“Well then, as a medical professional, I feel duty bound to take this contraband item away from him.” Draco said with a completely straight face.

Potter’s face lit up like the sun as Draco reached out to accept the pastry from him. Their fingers grazed ever so briefly and Draco felt an answering smile tugging on his lips.

“Thank you Potter.” Draco said, his smile definitely curving his lips now.

“Anytime Malfoy.” Potter responded before someone called his name, he offered a nod to Draco and turned back towards his desk.

Draco stood there for a moment, not really understanding what just happened. He glanced towards Weasley again and saw the speculative look on the redhead’s face, along with half a bakery’s worth of powdered sugar and crumbs on his face. Grimacing at him, Draco gestured towards his own mouth and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, before walking towards his own office, his head held high.

He waited a few hours before having the pastry, enjoying it thoroughly with a nice cup of tea. He was sure it was all in his mind that this particular pastry tasted even better than usual, it couldn’t have been because Harry had bought it for him….or that he had placed a stasis charm on it keeping it as fresh as when it had come out of the oven. Draco tried very hard to convince himself he couldn’t actually taste Harry’s magic on the pastry and then nearly chocked on the damned thing when he realized he’d been calling Potter ‘Harry’ in his mind.

Placing a hand on his hammering heart he thought about it. Why not call him Harry in his mind, no one else would know.

‘Harry’  Draco thought.

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was smiling like a school girl with a crush.

‘And that’s why we think of him as Potter.’ his mind supplied, sounding suspiciously like Pansy.

He sighed heavily and tried to focus on the Muggle medical journal he had been reading. The rest of the day passes without incident, Draco can’t help but wonder if Har Potter didn’t go on a mission and that’s why there’s no injuries.

Smirking to himself he packs up and heads home.

______________________

The next morning there's a blue bag waiting for him on his desk. With a note. Draco recognizes Potter’s messy scrawl and feels his heart kicking up a storm in his chest.

‘Malfoy, hope you have a calm day with no injured idiots needing your skilled services.’

                                                   Fondly yours,

                                                        Potter

Draco feels lightheaded. What could this mean!? Yesterday, Potter had said he’d gotten too many pastries and Weasley wasn’t supposed to be eating them, so it made sense that he was sharing them – but really, why share them with Draco, when there was an entire department of Aurors he could have pawned them off on. There had been only one pastry left! Had Potter gotten that one intentionally for him!?

Draco sat heavily in his chair, feeling dizzy and that maybe he was putting too much stock in pastries and their presumed significance. He took a bite of the blueberry lemon croissant and moaned in delight. Before his rationale self could talk him out of it, he jotted down a note to Potter.

‘ Potter, from your lips to the Gods ears. Stay safe out there and I’m sure I’ll have a blessedly idiot free day.

                                                                  Ever yours,

                                                                     Malfoy

He sent it off and then felt faint and sick to his stomach.

“Ever yours?!!” What were you thinking!?!?’ He smacked his forehead several times and then took a lot of deep breaths.

‘It’s fine. He’d signed “fondly”! He’ll think you’re being snarky. It’s fine. Completely fine. STOP PANICKING!’

Two mental breakdowns later, he left the Ministry to grab lunch, getting a ping on his charm that he had a patient he took his lunch to go and returned to his office. He was surprised, relived to see it wasn’t Potter, nor was it serious.

He assisted the Auror and sent them on their way.

Not wanting to eat his lunch alone he headed towards the cafeteria to see if Granger was about. Several people gave him dirty looks and more actively snubbed him, turning their backs to him and pretending he wasn’t there; reminding him why he usually didn’t bother coming down here on his lunch break. He was about to leave when Granger called out to him, waving him over.

Smiling he made his way over to her and sat down. They very quickly got into a rousing discussion of the merits of Shrivelfig in potions and healing. Draco had just made a very snarky and witty, if he did say so himself, comment that had caused Granger to practically snort with laughter when several people sat down at the table with them.

Draco had just taken a spoonful of soup into his mouth when an all too familiar voice spoke right next to him.

“That smells delicious Malfoy. Did you get that from here?” Potter asked his eyes on Draco’s mouth still wrapped around his spoon.

Were his eyes darker than normal?

Draco shook himself, managing just barely not to inhale the soup in his mouth before he swallowed.

“No, it’s from this little café a few blocks over, opposite direction of that bakery.” Draco said staring at Har Potter.

He felt like he should leave, but Gods, he was weak and pathetic and wanted to absorb as much of Potter’s attention as the man would spare him. Glancing around the table he saw Weasley was sitting next to Granger and there were three other Aurors all on Granger’s side of the table. Potter had taken the seat right next to him, on his left. There were two other chairs available that weren’t near Draco.

‘Potter wanted to sit by me?!’  Draco’s mind swirled with the implications of that.

‘He must have, he’s sitting right next to me – Sweet Salazar have I been staring at him this whole time!?’

Releasing a shaky breath Draco turned back towards Granger because, may the Gods bless her! she had asked him a question.

“What do you think about this new legislation they’re trying to pass?” she said with a frown, looking at the paper.

Draco knew which one she was talking about it and knew immediately why it was vexing her.

“If I were permitted to vote, I’d say yes.” he said and brought his spoon back to his mouth as she sputtered indignantly.

He smirked behind his spoon, it was too easy to get a rise out of her.

“Granger, did you read the bill?” he intoned, sounding bored and put upon, his lips twitching at the corners when her gaze turned nearly murderous.

“Of course I read it!! They want to take away the rights of the–” she was gearing up for a full SPEW rant so Draco held up a hand to forestall her.

“The whole bill, Granger. The stipulations within, though buried and worded very trickily, are actually for the betterment of the creatures – there’s a whole section of caveats that if a being is proven sentient that this particular bill cannot be applied to them, that their rights are undeniable and that the Ministry must in fact do everything in it’s power to provide a safe and welcome environment for them. That implies that future generations would be given the same considerations as human beings. Honestly, this would be the first step in getting your Lupin’s Law accepted. I know the wording is heavy handed, but that’s to trick the older generation into thinking they’re getting their way. It’s deviously diabolical.”  Draco couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

“You wrote this.” Granger gasped, looking up at him, eyes wet and shiny, an unrestrained hopeful look on her face.

Draco slipped his Malfoy mask back into place.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Granger. My father and I are expressly forbidden from dabbling in anything pertaining to the Wizengamot or drafting any laws, bills or bits of legislation. You would do well to remember that.” Draco nodded to her as he stood, gathering up his rubbish.

“Potter. Weasley. Others.” he nodded again to the table at large, his eyes returning to and lingering on Potter and he felt everything in him clench tightly at the intense look on Potter’s face.

Suddenly feeling overly warm and dying of thirst he quickly ran walked away, returning to his office where a sniffling secretary was waiting for him.

“Are you alright?” he asked in concern.

She shook her head and held up her arm. A stapler was chewing on her hand.  

“Let’s take care of that, shall we?” he smiled softly and ushered the timid girl into his office.

“You can have me paged for something like this, so you don’t have to wait. I’m sure this is quite painful.” he waved his wand, freezing the stapler and then reverted the spell, making it return to a much less deadly stapler and then set about healing her injuries.

“I’m new and I didn’t want to cause a fuss. I don’t even know how it happened.” she sniffled again, embarrassment burning her cheeks.

“Well thankfully it was an easy fix.” he smiled at her again, wrapped a hand around her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to give you a small vial of pain potion that you can take this evening if it starts to bother you, alright?” he handed her the vial and she nodded.

“Thank you Healer Malfoy. I’m sorry to have been a bother.” she winced as she headed for the door.

“No bother at all. Better to come see me then lose a hand.” he smiled again and she finally returned it with a watery one of her own.

“You’re a lot nicer than I was led to believe.” she said with her hand on the door.

“For the love of Merlin, don’t tell anyone! You’ll destroy my reputation.” he replied with a faux horrified look on his face and she giggled before taking her leave.

A slight smile lingered on Draco’s face for the rest of the day.

That night he told his mother and father all about the vengeful stapler and how he’d gotten one over on Granger.

“No run-ins with Potter today then?” she asked casually, taking small, precise bites of her dinner.

“Not really, he left me a tart from that charming bakery with a note. He did sit next to me for lunch, but we didn’t really talk and I was mostly done with lunch by the time he showed up.” Draco frowned, wondering why he felt rather giddy getting to tell his mother that Potter had sat next to him for less than fifteen minutes.

While Draco was deep in thought, Narcissa flicked her steely gaze to her husband’s face. Lucius knew his wife well and he knew what she was telling him without him needing to be a Legilimens to understand.

He was not to interfere in their son’s happiness, on pain of death, because Cissa would bloody well kill him. If the Potter brat was what Draco wanted then that’s who his son should have. He began thinking of the political advantages such a match would have when Narcissa delicately cleared her throat, pointedly .

Shaking himself he inclined his head to his wife and sipped his sherry. Truly the Dark Lord had nothing on his wife and Lucius was only too happy to remain in her good graces.

“What a shame you didn’t have enough time to chat with Auror Potter, but that Miss Granger is quite sharp. I remember in school the two of you were always neck and neck when it came to grades. Is she involved with anyone currently?” Narcissa inquired politely.

“Yes, for some reason she and Weasley are still together.” he said, rolling his eyes.

Draco thought back to the way Ron had looked at Granger when he’d sat next to her, like the sun was shining right next to him, how she had instinctively held her hand out for him to take and the faint blush of pleasure that had suffused her cheeks.

“They love each other very much.” Draco said suddenly, looking up at his parents, feeling a pang of desperate want clutch his heart.

Though his parents' marriage had been brokered between their fathers, they had wanted each other and it was very obvious that they still loved one another very much, even through all the ups and downs and terrible hardships and mistakes.

Besides his ridiculous fantasy of getting the Great and Powerful Harry Potter to fall madly in love with him and whisk him away like a fairy tale prince, Draco had always hoped he might secure a love match like his parents had. When he was older and really realized that it wasn’t all that common for men to want another man, Draco had felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with him.

His mother had badgered him like a Quaffle until he’d finally confessed that while he loved Pansy, he didn’t want a romantic relationship with her, nor any other girl at school. His wonderful, understanding mother had taken him to Muggle London and she’d shown him same sex couples walking around holding hands, on dates, enjoying their lunch, whispering lovingly to each other – existing as couples. Draco’s world had felt flooded with possibility and hope – that he might actually be able to have the type of relationship and love he truly wanted floored him; that his mother was accepting of this made him weep openly.

“You are my son. I will love you forever my Dragon. Always.” she had said simply while wiping his tears.

He had noticed one of the couples watching them and they had recognized what was going on. The look of unabashed hope and wonder in their eyes was reflected in Draco’s and he knew that not everyone’s parents would be as accepting and loving as his and he thanked the lucky stars surrounding his name. He had never been more proud to be a Malfoy than he had been that day.

Glancing back at his mother he wondered again why she had filled his head with those fairy tales of the wonderful Harry Potter, and thought how she had always listened to him complain that Potter had rejected his offer of friendship. She had always been patient and kind and had suggested he try harder to be nice to the Potter boy, while Lucius had usually just sneered and scoffed and walked away in a huff.

“He sat next to me.” Draco said in a very soft voice, still not quite sure why Potter had done it.

“There were other seats available, but he sat right next to me,” he looked up into his mother’s eyes. “on my left.” he saw her eyes widen slightly and heard his father inhale sharply in surprise.

Both Malfoy men reflexively touched the faded Dark Mark on their left forearms.

“Was there an open seat on your right?” his mother asked in an equally soft tone.

“Yes.” Draco nodded, feeling small and confused, yet warm, it took him far longer than it should have to realize the odd sensation curling in his chest was happiness.

“That was very considerate of him, don’t you think Lucius?” Narcissa flicked her dark grey eyes to her husband and he nearly jerked in his seat.

“Yes. Very considerate. Leaving your wand arm free while you were exposed, in a hostile environment, while sitting next to the Dark Mark. Very considerate of him indeed.” Lucius nodded and then wiped his mouth with his napkin and made a hurried excuse about needing to check on something in the study, he all but bolted from the room in his haste to depart, but Draco and Narcissa paid him no mind.

Draco told his mother about the note exchange and asked her what she thought it could mean.

“It sounds to me as if he might like to be your friend.” she smiled brightly at him, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

“I think, time can mend quite a lot and maybe, now that you’re both adults, you could try again.” she suggested gently and Draco felt his heart swell with wonder.

He and Potter – friends ?!

That would certainly be something, wouldn’t it?

That night Draco went to bed with a happily optimistic smile on his face.

______________________

The next day Draco went into work determined to become friends with Harry Potter. Naturally all those warm and happy feelings bubbling up inside ruptured when he saw Potter leaning heavily against the door of his office, blood slowly dripping down his arm and saturating the carpet underneath him.

“Bloody Hell!” Draco rushed forward and grabbed Potter as his knees wobbled and he started to pitch to the side.

Draco half carried, half dragged Potter into his office and his magic slammed the door behind them with a bang. That loud noise roused Potter enough that he pulled Draco behind him and held his wand at the ready in front of him, his magic swirling around them and filling the room.

Draco suddenly felt lightheaded from the concentrated power   radiating off of Potter. He somehow managed to bite back the moan that was perilously close to being very audible and wrapped an arm around Potter’s waist.

“We’re safe Potter. I-I’m sorry I slammed the door. Please, sit down.” he managed to pivot Potter until he was sitting on the exam table and Draco quickly took his robe and shirt off.

Potter muttered something Draco couldn’t catch and then chuckled at his own apparent joke.

“What happened this time, Potter?” Draco gritted his teeth and fought for his usual snarky tone.

Draco’s hands were shaking and he felt icy clawed fingers of fear raking over his spine as the weeping injury was revealed. Potter’s arm had nearly been completely severed.

“It wasn’t m’ fault.” Potter muttered weakly, listing to the side.

He needed to get back onto solid ground. Fucking Potter, always able to make gravity bend to his fucking will, to his mere presence!

Draco pushed him onto his back and summoned the potions he needed, siphoning them directly into Potter’s mouth. He worked quickly, stemming the blood and then stitching the wound closed, while running diagnostics to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

Two more doses of blood replenisher potion and Draco’s entire back was covered in sweat. The fucking moron could have fucking died!!! He should have gone straight to St Mungo’s!

An urgent hammering on his door sounded through his small office.

“I’m with a patient!” he snarled as he continued to obsessively look over Potter’s read outs.

“Is it Harry!?!?” Ron’s worried voice registered and Draco’s shoulders lost a little of the tension straining them.

With a flick of his wrist he unlocked his door and Weasley practically fell into the room.

“Bloody Hell – is Harry alright!?” Ron asked, fear squeezing his throat.

“Never better mate. Told you Malfoy’s got me.” Potter said suddenly from the table.

Draco’s eyes snapped to Harry’s – he shouldn’t be conscious, let alone able to speak right now!

He glared down at Potter, wanting to rail at him, to scream in his face that he had no right to scare the living daylights out of him like this, that he would never treat so much as a hangnail on Potter as long as he lived.

Instead he just stared at Potter, into his fathomless green eyes and felt worry and fear and longing coiling around his heart. Ron was making jokes in the background with a few other Aurors that had come in.

Shaking himself, Draco reluctantly and with far more effort than it should have taken, looked to the others in the room.

“Is anyone else injured?” his voice was rough and harsh and he couldn’t be fucking bothered to clear his throat thick with emotion.

“No, the trouble magnet got there before us.” someone said jovially and everyone laughed.

Potter could have died and his friends were laughing like it was no big deal!!

Draco didn’t realize he was growling until Weasley’s warm hand landed on his shoulder.

“You alright mate?” he asked, a concerned frown pulling at his brow.

Draco straightened his spine and let his mask fall into place, finally clearing his throat.

“I’ll be a damned sight better when you take this mob of mutton headed morons out of my office.” he snapped his robe over himself ignoring how his shirt clung to his back.

“And take the trouble magnet with you.” he channeled his godfather as best he could as he raised an imperious eyebrow, refusing to look at Potter.

The group cleared out quickly, Ron offered Potter his arm and Potter, the fucking imbecile, waved him off as they made to leave Draco’s office.

“Thanks Malfoy. I knew you’d help me.” Potter’s eyes bored into Draco, willing him to look up at him.

Draco did and felt all the air being forcibly sucked out of his lungs.

“You should have gone to St Mungo’s.” Draco’s voice shook and there was nothing he could have done about it.

“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.” was the cheeky response and Potter left while Draco’s whole world was upended and tossed around like a ship lost at sea, no idea where land was or what lay over the horizon.

He felt adrift for the rest of the day and it wasn’t until he got home and his mother nearly swooned that he realized he was covered in Potter’s blood. He fell to his knees sobbing as both his parents clutched him close.

______________________

There was a pastry waiting for him on his desk the next morning, with a note. Draco felt at once overly hot and freezing cold. He didn’t like it. Caring for Potter was just awful.

He’d barely slept last night, the nightmares that had plagued him had been so horrible. Every time he closed his eyes he had seen Potter, covered in blood and he hadn’t been able to staunch it, to get close enough to heal him, and then worse was the accusatory glare in Harry’s eyes – like it was Draco’s fault that he was injured, that he had been the one to hurt Potter and the nightmares had turned into that Hellscape very quickly. Draco stabbing Harry, slashing him and laughing maniacally as he did it, just standing there watching as the man he loved bled to death at his feet.

Shuddering he picked up the note, feeling a tingle course up his arm.

‘Potter’s magic’  his stupid heart sang.

His magical signature was on the parchment and it wrapped around Draco’s fingers like it was Potter’s hand clinging to him.

Shivering he shook himself and allowed his eyes to focus on the words before him.

Malfoy –

I am so sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t until I got my arse handed to me by Mione home that I realized the severity of my injury.

I am truly sorry for any unnecessary distress I may have caused you – but would like to point out just how fine a Healer you are.

I just knew, as long as I could get to you, I’d be alright.

Thanks again and I’ll do my best to not bugger up that badly again.

                                   Yours, truly

                                       Potter

Potter’s note was littered with emotion and Draco could see more than a few ink splotches suggesting Potter had started writing something only to stop, or perhaps was unsure what to say. The fact that he’d written again sent a curious heat throughout Draco’s body. That Potter apologized at all surprised the Hell out of him, even more so was how genuine the apology felt. And the compliments to Draco’s skill and ability as a Healer made that gentle heat increase further pleasing him greatly. The last bit, “I just knew, as long as I could get to you, I’d be alright.” sent that curling heat skyrocketing to volcanic levels.

Taking several moments to process his feelings, Draco munched on the pastry Harry had sent along. It was delicious, how he knew Draco was partial to anything with lemon in it he had no idea. Again, Potter was a surprisingly good Auror. Perhaps he had noticed Draco preferred that bakery and had asked someone what he usually ordered. The thought that Potter could have possibly gone to all that effort to get him a pastry seemed far too fanciful.

Calling forth his nicest parchment, that was faintly scented, Draco began crafting a response to Potter.

Potter –

I would like to say, should something like that occur again I will kill you myself, but that would likely be misconstrued as threatening an Auror and since I know you as well as I do, I know it is merely a matter of time before you “bugger” something up so spectacularly that you end up under my care again. Instead I shall pray that gods see fit to finally gift you with a modicum of self preservation and restraint and await our next meeting.

                                                                                                I remain yours,

                                                                                                     Malfoy

PS: my mother is furious with you for your blood getting all over her favorite rug, please seek to make amends for both our sakes post haste.

Sending it off to Potter didn’t make his stomach lurch as much as the first time, but he still felt a bit twitchy. He hoped Potter found it amusing and didn’t think he was a prat.

A tentative knock on his door helped to keep him from unraveling further.

“Come in.” he called out and his eyes widened in surprise as he took in the worried face of that new secretary from the other day.

“Healer Malfoy, my friend ran into a bit of an issue and …” the timid girl began and Draco waved them both into his office.

He raised an eyebrow at the other girl who appeared to have a small cloud darkening above her head along with green spots all over her very pale face.

“Interesting.” he approached both witches and asked a few questions before murmuring an incantation that resolved both problems.

The previously green spotted witch thanked him heartily while the timid one just beamed at him. Nodding he shooed them out of his office and began going over his inventory and making requisition requests for more stock. He didn’t like how low his blood replenisher supply was getting and also made a mental note to concoct more of that bruise paste Potter liked.

His stomach made him aware of the time a few hours later and he went to that café and ordered the delicious soup, bringing it back with him. He entered the cafeteria and saw Granger and Weasley and Potter sitting together, there was a spot next to Potter so he took a chance and sat down right next to him.

“Granger, Weasley.” he nodded to the couple.

“Potter.” Draco said primly, turning to look at him, taking in every microscopic detail, searching for any hint he was hurting and thankfully finding none.

“Draco! How has your day been?” Granger asked cordially, Weasley inclined his head and went back to massacring his food.

“Delightfully dull. Yours?” he said with a slight smile and brought out the to go container of soup.

“Oh good, I got much further ahead in my research, thanks again for suggesting that book, it’s been exceedingly helpful.” she replied cheerfully and Draco nodded.

“Is that that yummy soup?” Potter suddenly asked next to him, it seemed like he had scooched closer and was leaning in, sniffing like a dog.

“Yes, it is in fact my  yummy soup.” Draco said, a smile fighting to break his lips apart.

“It smells really good.” Potter said, a smile of his own bright and obvious on his lips.

“That sandwich of yours looks promising.” Draco said nodding towards the large sandwich in front of Potter as he dipped his spoon in and blew on the hot soup.

Bringing the spoonful into his mouth, Draco’s eyes closed and he hummed in appreciation as the flavors danced over his tongue. A harsh cough and what sounded like a kick under the table made him pop his eyes open and look between the trio in confusion.

Granger looked like she was stifling a laugh, while Weasley looked nauseous and rather grim.

“You alright Weasley? You look a bit peaky.” Draco said leaning back and away from Weasley just in case the man's stomach decided to rebel against him.

“You know, sandwiches go really well with soup.” Potter said suddenly and Draco turned towards him, furrowing his brow.

“Do they now?” Draco asked trying to contain his mirth, while Potter practically vibrated next to him.

Rolling his eyes at the far too hopeful look on Potter’s face, Draco sighed and severed the sandwich in half and accio’d a bowl to their table, pouring half his soup into it and placing it in front of Potter.

Potter looked up at Draco with an adorably excited expression on his face. Draco flicked an eyebrow up and waited expectantly. Potter carefully placed one of the halves of sandwich on a plate that appeared in front of Draco. He could feel Potter’s magic swirling around them and he swallowed hard against the moan building in his throat.

“Thank you Potter.” Draco managed to smirk before dipping his spoon into his soup.

The hum of conversation continued to buzz around them, but Draco’s focus was too absorbed by Potter’s happy and contented sighs of pleasure as he ate Draco’s soup. Draco took a bite of the sandwich and let out a delighted groan. Looking up at Potter in surprise he quickly swallowed.

“Where did this come from? It’s really good!” he hurriedly took another bite.

The bread was incredible, the crust had a good crunch to it the inside soft and airy, the veggies were fresh and crisp, the meat was flavorful and delicious. Draco tried to remember the last time he’d had such a good sandwich and simply could not. Glancing at Potter he blinked in surprise at the look on his face.

Potter seemed to remember himself and blushed a bit.

“I made it.” he smiled at Draco, hope lighting up his eyes. “You like it?” he asked huskily and Draco felt his mouth go dry.

He nodded quickly, unsure he could actually speak.

“Yes. It’s very good, probably the best sandwich I’ve ever had. I didn’t know you could cook.” he rambled, feeling self conscious but deliriously happy.

“Oh, yeah, I’m pants at potions, but I’m a dab hand in the kitchen.” Harry said looking away, his self deprecation and slight embarrassment apparent.

“I’m a menace in the kitchen. I’ve set it fire more times than Finnigan has blown himself up.” Draco said quietly and Potter threw his head back and roared with laughter, sending a zing of elated pleasure coursing through Draco’s body.

He ignored all the looks that were cast his way and kept eating his lunch next to Harry Potter.

He didn’t stop smiling all day.

______________________

The following day, as Draco was heading past the Aurors’ bullpen he heard Potter call out to him.

“Oi Malfoy, you’re brilliant at potions yeah? Why would someone need 10 vials of essence of murtlap?” Potter looked up at him with an adorably confused look on his face and held out a familiar blue pastry bag.

Turning, Draco walked towards Potter’s desk and leaned his hip against the edge, reaching out to take the offered pastry as he thought about what potions would need the herb but also in such a large quantity.

“Usually you only need a few drops  for whatever potion, it’s quite potent stuff in high concentration. Unless they were trying to knock out a mountain troll, but there are far more effective ways of subduing a troll then trying to get it to ingest a potion.” Draco offered half the pastry back to Potter without thought and Potter’s eyes filled with warmth as he accepted it, their fingertips brushing lightly.

“Oh Harry knows how to handle a mountain troll, been doing it since first year.” Weasley mentions offhandedly, with a huffed laugh as he passes by on the way to his desk.

Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes at the ridiculous joke then scowls in confusion as Potter blushes.

Draco nearly slides off the desk in shock.

“You mean that rumor was true!?!?” Draco squawked.

Potter, if anything, looked even more embarrassed.

“I – well, it was a group effort?” he says lamely with a shrug.

Draco’s eyes widen as his mind races, every rumor he’d ever heard about Potter battering his brain, demanding clarification.

“Did–”  Draco sucks in a harsh breath. “Did you really conjure a full Patronus in third year?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering.

Potter’s expression becomes shuttered for a moment and Draco regrets everything, wanting to apologize for ruining the easy moment they’d been having when his eyes clear and seem to glow.

A shimmering light appears in the edge of Draco’s vision and he turns his head, gasping in wonderment and awe as he takes in the fully corporeal sight of Potter’s stag Patronus standing right next to him.

“Yeah. I did.” Harry says simply, a slight smile on his face as he watches Draco’s face.

Prongs lowers his head and paws at the ground a bit before stepping closer to Draco, brushing against his hand with his snout. Draco shivers as unfiltered happiness and a sense of security and peace wash over him. He realizes he’s crying but he can’t bring himself to move or feel ashamed by it.

“Please don’t be upset, I didn’t mean to–” Potter’s warm hand is cupping Draco’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear drop when Draco turns his face back towards him, his own hand reaching up to grasp Potter’s wrist, keeping his hand where it is.

“Not upset. Not even a little bit.” he whispers staring into Potter’s verdant phthalo eyes, still shining brightly with his considerable power.

They stayed like that, gazing deeply into each others eyes, the sounds of the entire department fading into a near silent hum behind them. It was just the two of them in this moment, being guarded and watched over by Harry’s Patronus, both men relaxed completely and Draco felt his magic swirl around them, longing to entwine itself with Harry’s.

“Potter! You and Weasley get your arses in here!” Robards shouted from the back of the bullpen.

Draco flinched and felt a scorching blush burning up his cheeks. Potter smoothed his thumb over Draco’s cheekbone one last time before removing his hand. The noise returned abruptly and gave Draco a pounding headache with it’s jarring volume. Prongs was still standing sentry awaiting orders from Potter, who just smirked at his Patronus and then smiled broadly at Draco before nodding and walking away.

Draco turned to face the stag and reached out his hand without thinking. The stag eagerly placed it’s warm muzzle into the palm of Draco’s hand and he felt his headache disappear on contact. Sighing deeply, Draco leaned in closer.

“Thank you. For this and for watching over him. He’s …”

something else – incredible – one of a kind? Those words didn’t seem to encompass the totality of the one and only Harry Potter.

Smiling, Draco bite his bottom lip.

“Potter.” he finally said and the stag seemed rather amused by Draco’s assessment and tossed it’s massive head up and down, as if in agreement.

Still smiling Draco stood and left, heading for his office once again, feeling as if he were walking on air.

______________________

“Let me guess, it wasn’t your fault?” Draco was certain if he gritted his teeth any harder they would simply crack.

Relaxing his jaw as he took in Potter’s battered face was impossible though. It was so swollen and bloodied, it reminded him of when the Snatchers had dragged him and the trio into the Manor to be identified.

Spinning away he sucked in several ragged breaths as he tried to steady his heart, fear and anxious desperation clawed at his stomach, making him want to vomit. Grabbing a few potions and vials he turned back towards Potter, forcing everything down. He could fall apart later, after he was sure Potter was fine.

He swept his hand out, the diagnostic spell effortless and silent now, thanks to all the practice he’s gotten over the past several months.

His grand plan to become friends with Potter was a complete success. They had lunch together nearly every day and would alternate between Draco’s favorite chip shop and Potter’s favorite curry place, on the weekends whenever they could. He had even surprised Draco and accepted his invitation to come to the Manor for dinner one evening; his mother had wanted to thank Harry for the recipe he had sent for the house elves to get his blood out of the rug. It had been, slightly awkward at first, but then his father, of all people had made a joke and Potter had laughed so had he’d choked on his water and it suddenly wasn’t awkward and became the most enjoyable meal he’d ever had at home, the rest of the evening spent in a warm, contented bubble of laughter and happiness, even when his mother brought out the family photo albums and had cooed over baby Draco and Potter had teased him good naturedly.

Potter had returned the favor by inviting Draco to go to the pub with him and his Auror friends a few times, but Draco had been afraid, so had always demurred, giving his own friends or parents as an excuse for why he couldn’t. Potter had been so understanding and had told him to say ‘hi’ for him and it was all so nice and sweet and Draco was going to die, because he just wanted to kiss the stupidity out of Potter every day.

‘It would end up being a full time job the way this one goes about.’  Draco thought as he glanced over the diagnostic read out before filing it in Potter’s very, and unnecessarily, thick patient chart.

There were underlying spells that he needed to sort through before he could attempt to patch Potter up so he got to work dismantling the hexes, his magic pooling around Potter and seeking to comfort him. He felt Potter’s magic reach out to his and could suddenly breath easier.

He fucking hated this. Hated how much he cared about Potter, how much Potter cared for everyone else, how he was so damned reckless and eager to run head first into danger. He hated how badly he wanted to hold Potter in his arms and never let him go and worse, he hated how desperately he wanted Potter to hold him in his arms and vow he’d never let Draco go.

Breaking through the last of the curses, Draco quickly brought down the swelling and cleaned the blood from Harry’s face, his hands gentle as he wiped a soft cloth over the man’s forehead, eyes and cheeks.

“I know you won’t believe me, but it really wasn’t my fault.” Harry said a half smile curling the corner of his lips.

Draco scoffed and sniffled, trying to get a hold of himself. He felt far too emotional to have the kind of jokey conversation Potter wanted.

“it never is, is it?” he said harshly, wishing his sharp tongue could slice his mouth to ribbons, so he could choke on his own blood, rather than see the flicker of hurt that crossed through Potter’s eyes.

“Dra – Malfoy…I’m sorry.” Potter said so quietly he almost missed it.

“I know.” Draco sighed heavily and unlocked the door so that Weasley could enter.

“He’s fine. I’m sure you have scads of paperwork to file so I’ll let you take him and get right on that.” Draco said briskly to Weasley, already heading to his desk to sort through some superfluous paperwork of his own.

From the very beginning, Potter had made it clear any injuries he sustained in the line of duty were to be regarded as trifling in the company of others. So, Draco, like an idiot, had gone along with Potter’s wishes and downplayed all of his potentially life threatening injuries and internally fought against the cold, clammy dread that clenched and twisted his insides into knots as his heart felt like it was on the verge of giving out almost daily.

Downing a stomach soother potion, Draco reached a surprisingly steady hand out for his still warm cup of tea.

“Thanks Malfoy. I’ll try to keep him in line for the rest of the week.” Weasley said and Draco huffed a small laugh.

“That would be an impressive feat. I wish you luck in your endeavors.” Draco said, striving for a bored tone as he shuffled his meaningless paperwork around.

“We still on for this weekend?” Potter asked in a small voice, he sounded unsure and worried and Draco hated that he’d made Potter feel that way.

“Of course we are, it’s your turn to pay.” Draco said, refusing to look up because he was very close to crying and he absolutely would not do that in front of a Weasley!

Potter released a breath and Draco could feel the tension leaving Potter’s body.

“Alright, see you later Malfoy.” Potter said, his voice filled with happiness and a smile so wide Draco didn’t have to see it to know it would be blinding.

The door closed behind the two and Draco slumped against his desk, banging his head against the wood twice before knocking over several files.

Groaning he leaned down to retrieve them and glanced at them to shove them back in their appropriate folder. Potter’s name on one of the pages gave him pause. His eyes took in the stats and his brow furrowed in confusion. He righted himself quickly and hunted down the readings from this morning. Comparing the two, side by side, Draco sucked in a horrified gasp as his brain struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

Abuse

His mind howled in rage and several bottles along the medicine wall exploded before he could get control of his emotions. His head was shaking back and forth, a vehement NO echoing throughout his whole being as the logical side of his brain took in the obvious and conclusive data in front of him.

Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, The Boy Who Lived Twice and became the Man Who Prevailed had been fucking abused his entire life!!!??

The readings showed Potter had severe  nutrient deficiencies, suggesting he had been starved  from a young age. Numerous bones had been broken and reset, not very well, likely the result of Muggle intervention. What he couldn’t understand, besides the fact that the abuse had occurred at all, was how no one had seemingly caught on to it!?

The Weasley's had been friends with Potter since day one, and Granger as well, how had neither of them noticed that there was something serious wrong with Potter’s childhood?!

His own parents, while loyalists to a maniacal psychopath bent on Muggle suppression and world domination, would have sooner ripped their beating hearts from their chests before laying a hand on Draco. Even his psychotic aunt had known better than to cast a curse his way; the Dark Lord’s favorite or not, his mother would have put Bellatrix down like the rabid dog she was.

Draco’s stomach cramped as he thought back to all the Welcome Day feasts where Potter had appeared so small and slight and his eyes had widened in wonder while staring at the endless buffet before him. How by the Leaving Feast Potter was essentially gorging himself on as much food as he could. Draco felt tears sliding down his cheeks as he remembered all the times he’d insulted and made fun of Potter for having less table manners than a Weasley while the poor boy was preparing his body for starvation mode.

He felt sick to his stomach as the thoughts coalesced and solidified in his mind; his relatives wouldn’t just start with beatings and starving an eighteen month old, it would have been far more passive, yet equally if not more, damaging.

Had Harry Potter ever been held when he cried? His parents had been murdered by Voldemort, had he watched them die!?

Draco was springing towards the trash can, sicking up everything he’d consumed that morning.

He had teased Harry for his reaction to the Dementors, the vile creatures that used to guard Azkaban, that sucked every happy moment you had ever experienced out of your soul so that you were stuck in dark, dank purgatory of your own worst memories.

Gods breath he didn’t deserve Harry’s friendship! Potter shouldn’t even spit on him if he were on fire!!!

Gulping in air, Draco struggled to pull himself together.

What if Harry always downplays his injuries because no has ever cared before so he doesn’t think it matters when he’s hurt? He’s been hurt so very badly by the very people that were supposed to be there for him unconditionally, how can he trust anyone??

Whimpering, Draco crawled under his desk and sobbed.

He wanted his mother. That thought made him cry harder, realizing Potter was never held and comforted by his mother, when he really needed it.

Forcing himself to stand he choked down a calming draught and placed a glamour to hide his tears and fled his office. Telling his secretary that he’d be gone the rest of the day he made his way to the floo system quickly and burst through the receiving fireplace in the Manor.

“MOTHER!!” he shrieked, unable to keep the pain and panic from his voice as he fell onto the marble floor clutching his stomach as the harsh sobs ripped from his throat.

“Draco!?”

“My darling!? What is it!?! What’s the matter?!”

His parent’s voices pierced the fog of his turbulent grief.

“It’s Harry!” he sobbed.

Narcissa gasped in concern, her hand covering her mouth as she stared down at her son, fear gripped her heart as she waited for Draco to tell them what had happened to Potter. She was sure if he were dead they would have heard about it before Draco could make it home, thought she doubted he would be in any condition to get himself home if his beloved had died.

“Come son, you must calm yourself so you can tell us – did he hurt you?” Lucius asked gruffly and Narcissa wanted to snort at the unlikelihood of that happening.

“His – relatives – and ME!!!!” Draco wailed burrowing his tear streaked face into Narcissa’s chest.

They shared a look of worry over his head and just held him as he sobbed. Some time later, Lucius summoned a house elf and requested a calming draught, Narcissa forced Draco to drink it and they were able to move him to the couch. Draco’s elf wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and he huddled into it then seemed to fall apart again at the gesture.

“What did his relatives do my Dragon?” Narcissa asked quietly, soothingly rubbing her hands over Draco’s back.

“They–” Draco’s whole body shuddered and he had to concentrate on his breathing for several minutes before he was able to try again.

“Harry was eighteen months old when his parents were murdered…in their home….” Draco lifted his red rimmed eyes to his father’s face and Lucius’ jaw tightened.

He nodded, unable to look away from the abject devastation on his son’s face.

“He was sent to live with his relatives and they – abused him!” Draco felt overly cold and pulled the corners of the blanket around his shoulders more tightly.

“They starved him, they beat him, they – I can’t even begin to imagine the emotional abuse he surely suffered. And all through school I was a right bastard to him, thinking he must have been raised like a prince, because he is!!!! He is a prince and should be revered as such!!” Draco didn’t realize he was screaming, his thoughts were all in a jumble, his mind calling up every instance of him being rude and terrible to Potter and his friends – the only people that ever seemed to care about him.

He was gasping in air again and vaguely recognized he was hyperventilating, but couldn’t be bothered. When the black spots filling his vision just kept getting bigger he felt relief and rushed towards unconsciousness gratefully.

______________________

The next morning Draco didn’t want to get out of bed. He mulishly pulled the blankets back over his head and settled in against the mattress, wanting to pretend he didn’t have to get up and go to work where he would have to see Potter.

Seeing Potter, not injured, had become the highlight of every day and now that he had all this knowledge he just didn’t know how he could face him.

Sighing heavily he pushed the blankets off and forced himself to get up. He took a very long shower and then spent too much time dithering about which suit to wear under his robes.

His hands settled on a deep green, silken button up shirt that he loved. Drawing it over himself he shivered as the soft fabric rustled delicately over his skin. His fingers traced over his tie collection before selecting a skinny black one that had impossibly small threads of green running through it that would be noticeable in the light. He pulled on his dark black slacks and the matching corseted vest before shrugging into the suit jacket feeling powerful and confident. He could practically see his reflection in his patent leather shoes and smirked at himself in the mirror as he popped a pocket square into his breast pocket and picked up his Auror Healer issued robes.

He went to the bakery on his way into work and exerted some patented Malfoy charm on the girl behind the counter.

“A friend of mine comes in fairly regularly, dark, messy hair, lovely green eyes hiding behind some ridiculous spectacles,” at the girls nod he smiles encouragingly at her. “he’s always getting me my favorite pastry and I want to surprise him with his, any ideas what that might be?” he waits, feeling excitement pulsing in his chest.

“Oh yeah, you like lemon right? He seems to really like anything with chocolate in it, his redheaded friend will eat anything won’t he?” she giggles and gestures for Draco to follow her to the other display.

“His eyes glaze over when he looks at these.” she tells Draco eagerly, pointing to the sinfully decadent tortes and cakes artfully displayed.

Draco spies a smaller one that looks just right and has her ring it up, along with a few fresh rolls. Stepping outside the bakery he quickly casts a stasis charm on it then hurries over to the café and orders up a large bowl of soup that he and Potter like and heads into the Ministry.

On his desk is a blue bag with a raspberry lemon turnover. Placing his purchases in his bottom drawer he looks around for the customary note. Not seeing one, Draco frowns.

“I’m sure the pastry is very sorry for having offended you.” Potter says from the doorway, seeming a little unsure of his welcome.

“The pastry has done nothing to incur my wrath, I was merely wondering where the note was.” Draco said drolly, pinning Potter with his grey eyes.

“How are you –”

“I’m sorry about–”

Both men blushed slightly and dipped their heads.

“I know it’s rather early to be thinking about it, but did you by any chance bring one of those delicious sandwiches of yours?” Draco asks, smiling softly at Potter.

“Yeah! er – yes, I did.” Harry says, far too hopefully and Draco’s heart swells with affection.

“I’ve brought soup.” he nods definitively and Potter looks so happy and excited and Draco just prays he’s doing a better job at concealing how he’s feeling otherwise he likely looks like a besotted loon.

“Lunch then?” Harry nods and nearly walks into the doorjamb in his haste to leave.

“Try not to injury yourself before then Potter.” Draco calls out, amusement clear in his teasing tone and he starts working on a few brews for his stock.

A few other Aurors had minor injuries and Draco patched them up quickly, sending them on their way before it was time for lunch.

He entered the cafeteria and saw Granger’s wild and bushy hair and made his way over.

“You know, I’m beginning to think your hair is sentient. It clearly reacts accordingly to your stress.” Draco said setting his and Potter’s meal down on the table, accio’ing two bowls and plates while waiting for him and Weasley to arrive.

“You know, you might be on to something there.” Granger said pursing her lips and blowing at an insistent lock that kept falling over her eye.

Draco suggested a few of his favorite products and the salon he and his parents liked. She looked at him in surprise, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to decide if he was being sincere or an arsehole.

“Fidal is a master at his craft and I’m sure he’d be delighted to be able to work on your hair.” Draco said offering her a friendly smile and her eyes widen as she concluded he was being genuine.

“Thanks Draco, I’ll see about getting an appointment.” she said a little stunned.

“Tell him I sent you and they’ll get you in that day.” Draco said blowing on his soup, feeling the telltale tingle of Harry’s magic tickling up his spine and racketing up his awareness.

“Have you ever been to a Wizard’s salon before? I went to a Muggle salon and found the experience to be rather lacking. Though they were very complimentary about my hair.” Draco shook his head slightly, making his hair fan out around his head, preening exaggeratedly and Hermione laughed heartily.

Harry and Ron sat down and Draco gave Harry a beaming smile and nudged his bowl of soup closer to him. Harry returned that smile with a bright one of his own and cut his sandwich in half placing them onto the plates. Draco shook his head when Harry tried to give him the bigger half, insisting Harry should have that as Draco wasn’t that hungry.

Harry looked too happy and began munching away at his sandwich, the soup and the warm rolls Draco had brought. Both men kept smiling at the other while they were looking the other way, neither noticed that both Hermione and Ron were well aware of the soft looks the boys were giving each other.

The foursome began chatting about their day and plans for the rest of the week and over the weekend. It was a very relaxed and content atmosphere and Draco felt so content, his gaze flicking over to Harry, watching him eat and smile and laugh and be happy and he wanted this for him, for himself, for ever and always.

“Did they run you so ragged this morning you didn’t get to have your pastry with your morning tea?” Harry asked, nodding towards the blue pastry bag, a teasing tone in his voice, but his eyes held warmth and a hint of concern for Draco and he suddenly felt like his tongue had swollen in his mouth.

Shaking his head and clearing his throat he reached for the bag and placed it in front of Harry.

“Actually, this one’s for you.” he said softly, a pleased smile on his lips as he bumped his shoulder against Harry’s.

Harry’s eyes brightened and darkened at the same time. His power rippled along his skin and Draco struggled to breath normally. Hermione cleared her throat and announced that she and Ron were leaving and promptly dragged him away from the table before they could say goodbye.

Not that Draco would have been able to drag his eyes away from Harry’s long enough to acknowledge their departure. He was ensnared, willingly captured and totally captivated by the rich emotion swirling in the forested depths of Harry’s eyes.

Eventually both men managed to break free of the wordless enchantment that had been placed over them and Draco blushed as Harry reached out and picked up the bag. He blushed harder when Harry groaned when he saw Draco had gotten him.

“How did you – these are my absolute favorite! I’ve got a rule I can’t buy one more than once a month otherwise I’d eat them every day.” Harry brought the small torte out and placed it on his plate, a fork appearing on the table next to him, effortlessly.

Draco was beside himself, he hadn’t realized how greatly pleasing and making Harry happy would please him in return and he squirmed in his seat as inconspicuously as he could, as he shifted his growing predicament.

“You have to try a bite, I know you like lemon, but this is incredible, trust me.” Harry said thickly, offering a forkful of the torte to Draco.

Draco would have eaten worms if it would make Harry look at him like that. He was instantly leaning closer to Harry, opening his mouth slowly, licking his lips to make sure he wasn’t actively drooling. The moment the torte touched his tongue his eyes slipped closed as the rich, dark chocolate flavor coated his tongue and he moaned in appreciation.

He felt a ripple of power running through Harry and his eyes slid open hazily, he felt nearly intoxicated, the heat and smell coming off of Harry filled him more as he inhaled deeply through his nose. The taste of the chocolate melted with the flavor of Harry next to him and he whimpered.

Harry’s eyes were practically black they were so dark and he was staring at Draco’s mouth with a hunger that almost rivaled what Draco was currently feeling.

“Auror Potter! You’re needed Sir!” a tinny voice called out and Draco shook himself as Harry straightened next to him.

“Thank you, for lunch Malfoy. Perhaps another time we’ll get to finish our dessert, together.” Harry’s heated gaze turned Draco’s insides to mush, he had to swallow hard before he trusted his voice enough to respond.

“I’d love that.” he breathlessly assured Harry and then felt longing and disappointment bubbling up inside of him as Harry walked away.

“Be careful out there Potter, I’d hate to have to see you later.” he called out after him and was rewarded by Harry turning and around and giving him the sunniest smile.

“I’ll do my level best, I’d hate to disappoint you.” Harry returned and then hurried after the junior Auror that had been sent to fetch him.

Draco packed up their mess from lunch and returned to his office, checking on his potions to make sure everything was as it should be and finding nothing amiss.

The rest of the day he felt restless and listless, wondering and worrying over Potter. The day finally ended and he went home feeling emotionally exhausted. His anxiety had gotten the better of him and he’d started playing out worst case scenarios in his head and naturally they all ended with Harry dying and him being unable to save him.

He decided to have a nice relaxing soak to soothe his nerves and luxuriated in his enormous tub, taking special care of his skin, using a sugar scrub all over his body and a very extravagant face mask. He redressed for dinner and told his mother about the chocolate torte he’d gotten for Harry and how they’d had such a nice lunch together before he’d needed to leave.

“I’m sure he’s alright my Dragon.” Narcissa said, a delighted smile partially hidden behind her wineglass.

“I know. I just…I can’t help but worry about him. His team calls him a trouble magnet and they’re not wrong. He can be so reckless and headstrong, rushing into danger without a thought to his own safety.” Draco inhaled sharply as he realized, “He’s a hero! He’s always been a noble hero and always will be.” he looked to his mother, a heartbroken look marring his face.

“How could I hope to be a match for him? I’m not a hero, I have only ever looked out for myself!” Draco suddenly felt worthless.

“Draco – you refused to turn Potter and his friends over to the Dark Lord! You did everything in your power to foil his terrible plans for you and I know you gave Potter your wand to help him escape. And that’s to say nothing of everything you’ve done while working to become a healer! You might not see yourself as a hero, but your mother and I most certainly do.” Lucius flicked his napkin and settled himself more fully in his chair at the head of the table and gestured for his wine to be refilled by a house elf.

Draco and Narcissa looked at him in surprise and wonder, Narcissa quickly dashed a tear off her cheek and smiled warmly at her husband.

“Thank you Father.” Draco said, completely floored.

He had known his father was proud of him, even if he hadn’t said it in some many words – it seemed difficult for his father to express emotions and Draco had long accepted that was just how his father was. This felt like an out pouring of acceptance and love and he really wasn’t sure how to process everything he was feeling so sipped his sherry and complimented how nicely it paired with the duck. His parents murmured their agreement and Narcissa steered the conversation to how well her garden was thriving. The moment passed and the family continued on with their dinner as though their hadn’t been a huge shift, for the better, amongst them.

After dinner they entered the family parlor for port and Lucius challenged Draco to a game of wizard’s chess when the wards screeched in alarm. Draco and Lucius both stood in front of Narcissa, wands out as a silvery dog bounded into the room.

“Malfoy! Come quick! Harry’s been hurt, they took him to St Mungo’s but he’s refusing to let anyone touch him, he’s screaming for you!!!” Ron’s terrified voice echoed around the room and Draco didn’t hesitate.

Running full tilt for the nearest fireplace with floo access he slashed his wand in front of him bringing the floo powder into the grate as he roared “ST MUNGO’S!”

He was gone in a flash of green flames.

______________________

The staff on St Mungo’s Spell Damage floor knew there was no such thing as a quiet night, and that night had had all the markings of too good to be true. Everyone had been in a cheerful mood, including the patients. Several families had brought homemade snacks and treats for the staff, no one had gotten sick from it. Nothing overly serious or complicated had come through their doors and they had began to tense as the evening progressed. So that by the time it was nearly 9 pm when they heard the first shout, the occupants of the medi station breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Then the shouting and screaming only increased and worry replaced relief very quickly.

Scads of bleeding and injured Aurors raced onto the floor, their voices all loud and demanding, the loudest and most desperate came from somewhere in the middle of the throng and it just kept repeating one word, no name, over and over again – the cries getting more and more shrill as their pain kept racketing up.

“MALFOY!!!!!!!!!” the voice screamed, their throat sounded raw and the retching that followed suggested they were vomiting blood.

“What’s happened?!” the Lead Healer on duty demanded.

The wounded sea of Aurors shifted and in the middle, being carried by four slightly less injured Aurors was Harry Potter, blood pouring from seemingly everywhere as his body thrashed uncontrollably as the lightning licks of pain from the curses coursed through him.

“Did Malfoy do this?!” a medi-witch gasped, horrified.

“No ya daft cow, he’s calling for him. He says Malfoy’s the only healer that can fix him.” Ron winced as his shoulder spasmed painfully.

The whole night had been one huge clusterfuck, bad intel on top of trigger happy nutters and the inability to communicate with the other teams had made for a colossal shitstorm of fuckery. Ron was just glad he’d managed to get his Patronus off to the ferret. Bastard had better get here fast. Ron was terrified to look at Harry again, watching your best mate die shouldn’t be a regular occurrence among friends.

The lead Healer, Jaccobson scoffed at the thought of waiting for fucking Malfoy to show up to threat Harry Potter.

“Bring him this way, the rest of you fall in so we can triage you.” he barked and lead the way for the Aurors carrying Harry Potter to follow him.

If he saved Harry Potter he’d be sure to get that corner office, he thought to himself.

Harry was placed on a bed and promptly rolled to the side to vomit again.

“Draco – need Draco.” he moaned as he fell back on the bed.

“It’s alright Mr. Potter, I assure you I’m –”

“LEAVING RIGHT THIS BLOODY SECOND.” snarled a ferociously terrifying Draco Malfoy.

“Now see here Malfoy–” whatever reasoning or excuse Jaccobson had been able to give died on his tongue as he was levitated and bodily tossed from the room, he hadn’t even seen Malfoy’s wand move.

Draco had marched into the department and had caused two medi-witches to faint dead away at the animalistic rage pouring from him as he swept past them and the group of bleeding Aurors uncaringly. His only concern had been finding Harry. He saw the bloody tracks on the floor and had felt the tingle of Harry’s magic and followed without hesitation.

When he entered the room and saw Harry on the exam bed, bleeding and begging for him – he had been perilously close to AK-ing the lead Healer. Fucking Jaccobson, how he become the Lead Healer was beyond him, man was a fucking moron.

Draco began barking orders and the staff jumped to do his bidding. This was not the quietly friendly healer that they had known, this was a former Death Eater, the Heir to the House of Malfoy, with the blood of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black coursing through his veins and Merlin protect you if you didn’t do as he commanded.

The staff ran in circles working to assist Healer Malfoy as he worked diligently to save Harry Potter and that in and of itself made everyone hold their breaths. It was unclear if Harry Potter would make it or not and more than one medi-witch had to excuse herself from the floor to cry in a hidden closet at the thought of him dying like this.

Everyone knows if he doesn’t make it, it won’t be because of Healer Malfoy, he has been working tirelessly to staunch the blood, ordering more and more blood replenisher potions down his throat, running diagnostic after diagnostic on him, shouting orders and whispering threats to Harry Potter himself.

And then, hours after Potter was brought in they turn a corner – the bleeding finally stops and his heart is still beating, sluggishly and weakly, but it’s still beating.

Draco feels dizzy with relief, but knows he can’t rest yet. He runs his hands over Potter’s chest and seeks out the hexes and curses remaining, letting his own magic suffuse Potter’s body to better assist him.

‘There!’ he thinks as he feels a dark stinging sensation prickling at the edge of his magic.

He knows this curse, thank the Gods, his wand is suddenly in his hand as he applies the counter incantation and he feels like he can finally breath for the first time that night.

His legs tremble and he stumbles forward, catching himself on the edge of Potter’s bed, breath shaky and rough as his adrenaline crashes and exhaustion hits him hard.

A nurse steps forward with a damp cloth and moves to begin washing the blood from Potter’s face, a low growl escapes his throat and before he can stop himself he takes it from the shocked woman and orders her out of the room.

The staff quickly flee under the scorching heat from his cold eyes and see about assisting their colleagues.

Draco takes his time, cleaning the blood from Harry’s face, his arms, his chest. He applies a gentle Scourgify to Harry’s lower half and dresses him in a hospital gown, removing his trousers with magic.

Taking Harry’s hand in his own he finds himself in the chair next to Harry’s bed. He must have dozed off for a little bit because there’s a medi-witch gently clearing her throat from the door to get his attention.

“Pardon me, Healer Malfoy, but Mr. Potter’s family is in the waiting area, they’re getting anxious. Would you be able to speak with them Sir?” she asked timidly and he noticed how red her eyes were as she glanced from Harry’s still form back to him.

“Yes. Of course.” he says tiredly casting a quick Scourgify over himself.

He straightens his robes and runs a shaky hand through his hair, grimacing at how greasy and wet it feels. Running one last diagnostic over Potter, Draco leaves the room. Grabbing the medi-witches’ arm he scowls down at her.

“No one is to disturb my patient.” she nods frantically and positions herself in front of the closed door with her wand out.

Taking a deep breath, Draco enters the family waiting area, taking in all the red hair. The blinding white of his parents’ is a shock and he looks at them like he can’t process the incongruency of them being here, surrounded by Weasleys.

He turns his attention back the Weasleys and Granger, nods and offers them a smile.

“Harry’s alive,” his voice catches and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “He’s in recovery now. We’ll know more in a few hours when he wakes, but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.” he can’t seem to stop nodding his head.

Everyone breathes a grateful sigh of relief and exclaims happily, Molly and Narcissa are both crying, Arthur Weasley steps forward and claps Draco on the back.

“Well done son.” he says with a heartfelt smile, squeezing Draco’s shoulder.

Draco feels his mouth drop in surprise and he blinks rapidly as his eyes water.

The girl Weasel approaches him, her face wet with tears and she throws her arms around his waist, crushing his ribs in a shockingly tight hug.

“I told you he’d be fine! Malfoy might be a poncey git but he wouldn’t let anything happen to his boyfriend.” Ron’s loud bark of laughter can be heard as he hugs Hermione close and smiles at his mum.

“E-Excuse me?” Draco feels like the floor just gave out from under him.

Ron rolls his eyes.

“Oh come off it Malfoy. I know you two are seeing each other and were waiting to take your time before telling us, but really mate, Harry’s terrible at keeping secrets. And it’s so bloody obvious how much you two fancy each other.” everyone nods their head and smiles happily, completely oblivious to Draco’s shattered mental state.

“It’s alright dear, we’re all family here, we love Harry like one of our own, if you make him happy and he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.” Molly tells him, pulling him into her arms for a warm hug, welcoming him to the family.

“Now mind, you’ll need to start coming to the family dinners, no more hiding this relationship alright?” with a fiercely determined glint in her eyes she wags her finger in Draco’s face.

Draco can’t do anything other than return her hug and numbly nod his head, helplessly looking towards his parents for guidance. He feels even more off kilter when he sees his father shaking Arthur Weasley’s hand and smiling happily at the man.

“When can we see Harry Draco?” Hermione asks, drying her cheeks and sniffling.

Drawing on his years of training and experience Draco takes a deep breath.

“You should come back in later, during visiting hours. Harry likely won’t wake up for a while, so everyone should go and get some rest.” he managed to tell them, still reeling.

Everyone nods and thanks him as they make their way to the exit. Molly squeezes his arm in passing.

“You should practice what you preach dear, you look dead on your feet.” she tells him with a fond smile.

He nods feeling like his head is going to roll off his neck and nearly sobs as his mother approaches. Molly nods to Narcissa and the women clasp hands, squeezing briefly before Molly leaves.

“Oh my Dragon.” Narcissa opens her arms and Draco folds into her embrace with a choked sob.

“You did well Draco. A damned fine Healer. We couldn’t be more proud of you.” his father whispers to him and pulls his father into the hug as well.

Eventually they separate and he promises he’ll be home as soon as he can, but they all know he won’t leave until Harry’s ready to be discharged. Saying goodbye to his parents Draco stumbles back into Harry’s room.

He feels shaken to his very core.

Staring at Harry, Draco doesn’t know what to do. Harry’s family and best friends were under the impression that they were dating? A couple? TOGETHER? What exactly had Potter been saying about him that they all had come to this conclusion!? And accepted it - THEM!!!

Did Harry want them to be together?

Dear Merlin.

Draco’s knees felt weak and he stumbled into the chair next to Harry’s bed again, his hand reaching for Harry’s without consciously thinking about it. He rubbed his fingers tenderly over Harry’s knuckles.

“You know, I’ve been in love with you for years.” he whispers quietly.

“The thought of you not being in my life – I can’t – I need you too much. I have no idea what you’ve been telling your family about us, but they seem to think we’re dating, which if we are, I would have liked to have been informed, or even asked, you prat.” Sighing heavily he can’t help the exasperated smile spreading across his lips as he brings Harry’s hand to his cheek.

“What the Hell am I supposed to do with you Potter?” he whispers against Harry’s skin.

Closing his eyes he rubs the back of Harry’s finger over his cheek before opening the man’s hand and pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Well I think that’s an excellent start.” Harry responds without opening his eyes, a slight smile curving his lips.