A/N: Bit of a technical issue before, but this should be fine now! Not Beta-ed as of yet, so if you spot an error, feel free to point it out :)
Harry hissed in pain as the antiseptic potion was dabbed onto his wound, followed quickly by a Stitching charm. He watched in mild fascination as thin tendrils of magic weaved their way from one side of the wound to the other, gradually closing it shut.
He didn't think he'd ever tire of watching magic at work.
Nicole, the Auror department's office healer, put the stopper back on the potion bottle before tucking it back into her first aid kit and fixing Harry with a disapproving glare.
"You really should go to St Mungo's."
Harry sighed, more than familiar with this argument. It happened every time Harry got injured out on the field, which was at least twice a week.
He opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by Nicole raising a hand.
"I will not listen to any more of your protests, it is, after all, only your life that is at risk every time you refuse thorough medical examinations!" She exclaimed in an uncharacteristic burst of anger.
Nicole came from an Italian pureblood family - some sort of half sister to Blaise Zabini - so had been coached from a young age to take everything in her stride and with as little emotion as possible. Harry had seen her force calming potions down the throat of Auror Dawlish - a 6 foot 5 man made entirely from muscle - with a serene expression on her face, as if she was lounging on a beach rather than treating one of the most successful aurors Harry knew.
She was quite a scary lady, not that Harry would ever say so to her face, which was only magnified by her anger.
Nicole rummaged through her kit bag and pulled out a potion which was a bright pink that Umbridge would have been proud of.
"This is the strongest legal pain potion available in the Wizarding world. It is technically only permitted to be give out through prescription, but since you refuse to go to the hospital, I'm going to give you a dose to get you through the night." She opened the bottle with a slight pop and poured it carefully into a measuring cup. "I expect you to keep this quiet."
She held it out to Harry, pulling it back when he made to snatch it from her hands and down it.
"There is a reason it is only available through prescription." She warned. "It has a similar effect to a very large quantity of firewhisky. Your mental reasoning will be effected, possibly your balance and speech too. You already look dead on your feet, so I expect you to ask Auror Weasley or Auror Greengrass to escort you to the Floo so you can go home and sleep through the worst effects of the potion." She handed Harry the cup, watching as he downed it in one go.
Immediately, Harry stood, or attempted to. He cried out in pain and his leg buckled under the pain. Nicole was by his side and guiding him back towards his seat in an instant.
"It won't kick in instantly. I want you to stand very slowly and carefully. Your wound was very big and very deep and since it refused to fix itself with the usual potions, you are going to have to let it heal naturally with the aid of pain potions. The effects of this potion stretch out - while you won't feel high or drunk after tomorrow morning, the potion will still be in your system and will be numbing the pain."
Harry pushed himself up from the chair again, much slower this time. The fiery pain that had accompanied his previous attempt at standing had lessened and he was able to stand.
He grinned at Nicole. "Thank you, as always." The healer returned his grin with a flat look.
"Don't take any form of Dreamless Sleep or potions to increase sex drive in the next week. They react poorly with the pain potion." She gave him a none too gentle push towards the door.
"Go and find someone to take you home and don't let me see you back here for at least a week!"
The door to the medical room slammed shut behind him, leaving Harry alone in the corridor.
The majority of his team had already been sent home, as Harry had been the only one injured in the raid. Ron was down in the holding cells with Astoria putting away the suspect for the night, so the corridor was empty and silent, save for an obnoxious Christmas tune floating through the Head Auror's slightly open door.
Through the door he could see Robards leaning back in his chair, bobbing his head along to the music and singing under his breath. A collection of small Christmas ornaments danced across the paperwork on his desk in time to the tune.
Harry chuckled at seeing his very proper boss so caught up in the Christmas cheer - despite it only being the first of December - and decided against asking him to escort him to the Floo.
Harry limped past the door quietly and made his way towards the lift. He didn't need an escort, he thought, rolling his eyes. Nicole was just exaggerating the the effects to get him out of her workspace.
He eyed the buttons on the lift before making a split second decision and pressing the button for floor 6.
On floor six resided the Department of Child Welfare - or DOCW - and every Monday and Friday he would head down to visit the kids who were there and this Friday would be no different, injuries or not.
Many of the children were there for therapy sessions, as the Wizarding orphanages simply didn't have the space for private sessions to take place. Others were there with parents battling over custody with hefty amounts of paperwork. The occasional few were there with guardians-to-be, all ready for their future parents to sign the paperwork to officially adopt them.
Harry loved visiting the kids playing in the waiting area. With his job, it was rare that he was able to spare a whole afternoon to go down to one of the orphanages and spend time with children, but he could visit the DOCW for half an hour or so after work quite easily.
As the lift doors opened, Harry could feel himself being slightly light headed as the potion began kicking in. On slightly unstable legs, Harry walked down the corridor to his left and made his way to the offices and waiting room, which were situated at the very end of the corridor.
The DOCW was brightly decorated in an attempt to make children feel as comfortable as possible. Inside every office, paintings and drawings made by the children who passed through were hung on the walls in hand-made photo frames from the arts and crafts events held monthly to raise money for the various orphanages. Harry's favourite thing was watching children spot something they had made on the walls - the way they lit up was absolutely adorable and they always seemed a bit more at ease afterwards.
All the seats in the waiting room had been donated and as a result, were well loved and slightly worn. For Harry, this only made it feel cosier more homely. The beanbags were a huge hit with the kids.
The seats were arranged in a large circle around a huge rainbow coloured mat. It was charmed to change its design based on the children playing with it and it was usually a cartoonish series of houses and twisting roads, as many of the children seemed to have an obsession with the small toy cars.
A small plastic set of drawers full of donated toys was sandwiched in between two sofas, with a drawer dedicated entirely to small toy cars.
The waiting room was quiet, with only two children playing together on the brightly coloured mat. Mrs. Wittle, one of the witches who worked at Puffskien Orphanage in Wiltshire, gave him a smile and beckoned him over.
Harry sank into the comfy sofa next to her, with a grateful sigh. At least the world wasn't spinning any more.
"Long week?" She asked.
"Very." He replied, pleased to find he wasn't slurring his words.
"I can tell." She murmured sympathetically. "You still have a cut on your hand."
Harry didn't quite trust himself to cast a safe healing charm and waved away her concerns. "What bring you here this late?" It was half six in the evening and he never usually saw her here this late.
"We're here for moral support. One of our little ones is being adopted!" She wore a huge smile and seemed to be bursting to tell anyone she could. "These two," She gestured to the pair on the mat, who were currently staging some sort of battle between a dozen nifflers and several plastic dinosaurs, "want to say goodbye to little Lissy before she goes off with her new daddy."
One of children, a little boy, looked up and let out a happy cry. "Harry!" He flew at Harry and threw his arms around Harry's neck. Harry winced as the boy, Joseph, his potion-addled brain helpfully supplied, but returned the hug all the same.
Harry knew Joseph quite well, given that he had been the one to save the three year old from his original home, where he was abused by his parents. Joseph attended child therapy sessions every Friday afternoon, which was why Harry had chosen to visit on Fridays.
The other child, a slightly older girl of about 6, called Joseph back over. "I'm gonna squish your nifflers!" She said.
Joseph hopped off his lap and hurried over to save his nifflers from a flat fate.
Mrs. Wittle sighed happily. "I love seeing them go to loving homes. Don't get me wrong, I adore being around kids, but orphanages are always better when they're empty."
Harry made a vague noise of agreement, too focused on the voice coming from the room opposite their seat.
"What do you mean I can't adopt her?" The voice cried, audible through the poorly warded door. It was a voice Harry would recognise anywhere, if he wasn't currently high on a pain potion and it wasn't accompanied by a high pitched ringing in his ears.
The delight slid off Mrs Wittle's face as she listened.
A female voice replied. "I will not let you," Harry could easily imagine the sneer that came with the word, "adopt and corrupt this perfectly innocent little child."
"Corrupt?" Came the other voice, sounding hurt and offended.
Harry stood and strode purposely towards the door, ignoring Mrs. Wittle's mutters of confusion. It seemed like a brilliant idea to go in and help the fellow finalising the adoption. After all, who would refuse to assist a friend of Harry Potter?
The remaining rational section of his brain reasoned that there could be a legitimate reason why this man was not being allowed to finalise the adoption and going in to help him could potentially endanger the girl he was adopting. But, Harry thought, they've already passed the background checks and gotten this far in the process, so they probably didn't have any sinister intentions.
Hermione would be so proud of him for his logical thinking!
The snobbish female voice came from the inside door again. "I know what you did and I can't imagine what sort of curses you've used to make the other officials believe that you're a suitable guardian for a child, but I won't let you use them on me!"
Harry could hear muffled rummaging, presumably as the woman searched for her wand in her desk.
The other voice returned, lower this time. "I have reached this stage because I have been deemed a fit guardian. I have not done anything untoward."
There was scoffing from the woman and Harry opened the door, fumbling with the handle before he lurched into the room. The three people in the room froze, taking in Harry's exceptionally disheveled appearance.
The woman gaped, opening and closing her mouth like a fish, clutched an oversized piece of parchment in her hands.
"Mr Potter, sir!" She eventually let out, in an award and breathy tone reminiscent of a house-elf.
"Potter?"
Harry turned towards the other man, ignoring the woman.
Had Harry's brain been working normally, he would have registered who exactly was in the office far earlier and would have responded with the appropriate amount of shock, given that he was stood opposite Draco bloody Malfoy in the middle of a DOCW office.
As it was, Harry's only thoughts were 'he has really, really shiny hair' and 'why are there two of him?'.
He turned back to the woman, who was still clutching the parchment. Harry reached over and picked it out of her hands, judging that by the way she was holding it away from Malfoy that it was of some importance.
At some point between Harry entering the room and him taking the parchment, the room had taken on a pink haze.
He unfolded the parchment. The words on the page swum before Harry's eyes, but he could make out boxes and several ticks. At the bottom of the parchment was a section empty except for what appeared to be a signature - although in Harry's current state, it could have been the Mona Lisa and he wouldn't know the difference - which was probably Malfoy's.
"Wha.." Harry started, barely noticing that he was starting to slur his speech, but doing his best to speak clearly, "Wha' seems to be th-the pro-ba-lem?"
He could see Malfoy watching him with a mix of apprehension and concern, but the woman stammered out a reply before he could speak.
"He wants to-to adopt this little girl."
"So le' 'im!"
"But Mr Potter!" She gasped, as if she had mortally offended him.
I probably have he thought, a tiny shred of logic breaking through to his potion-fogged brain.
"An'-An' how does 'e ad... ad-yopt her?" His tongue felt heavy and fuzzy in his mouth and refused to cooperate as he forced out the words.
"It is quite simple Potter." Malfoy's voice was cool, but lacked the edge it had had in previous years. "I add a drop of my blood to that parchment, she signs it and I will be officially registered as Melissa's adoptive parent on her birth certificate."
"He is not fit to be her guardian!" The woman replied shrilly.
"Why no'? Maf... Maflee is a grea' dada! I tr-tl-tlust him!"
The woman suddenly looked flustered. "Oh! I-I didn't know you were friends!" She stuttered out a half baked apology to Malfoy and waved her hands at the paper. "Go on then, I'll sign it for a friend of Mr. Potter's!"
Malfoy reached a hand out for it, removing it from the shoulder of a small girl next to him.
She barely came above Malfoy's knee and only came halfway up Harry's thigh. She looked up at Harry shyly with bright brown eyes, one hand fisted in Malfoy's trouser leg, the other holding a bright green, stuffed tree frog.
She raised her frog and gave Harry a tiny wave with it, hiding her face in Malfoy's leg immediately after.
Malfoy watched Harry cautiously as he accepted the paper from him. With a flick of his wand, he pricked his finger, a little droplet of blood welling up and then dripping onto the document. It sunk into the paper, leaving a perfectly round circle of blood on the page. He passed it back to Harry, who winced as it rubbed over the still-gaping cut on his hand.
The woman smoothed the parchment out on her desk and with a quick flourish of her quill, signed the document. A paper by her elbow glowed and she pushed it towards Malfoy, who had come to stand in front of her desk.
The words on the page continued to swim and the ringing in his ears only seemed to be getting louder.
He could make out the name Draco Malfoy in glowing letters at the bottom, below two greyed out names and another, larger bold name that Harry assumed was the child's.
Malfoy let out a breathless laugh as he saw his name weave its way onto the document, crouching to scoop up the girl into his arms. He spun her around, smiling as she giggled.
"Can I go home with you now?" She whispered to Malfoy, her frog pressed against the side of his neck and her voice full of a nervous anticipation that Harry hadn't realised small children were capable of.
He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her dark hair. "Yes!" He swirled her around again, laughing along with her. "We'll go get all your stuff then we can go home."
Malfoy had clearly forgotten about the other two people in the room, too caught up in his obvious happiness to care.
He looks good when he smiles Harry mused, too far gone to realise who exactly he was thinking about.
His attention was drawn to the birth certificate, which had began to glow again.
Next to Malfoy's name, another was forming.
Malfoy froze as he noticed too, shifting the girl onto his hip and snatching up the document.
"Why..." He started, glaring daggers at Harry, a vulnerable look in his eyes, "Why is your name on here?!"
Harry pulled it from his hands, swaying as the motion unbalanced him. He squinted and brought the certificate close to her face, making the words still long enough for him to read the new name and realise that it did, in fact, say 'Harry Potter'.
"Bu'-bu'!" He protested, with very little idea of what he was trying to say, given that he had no idea how this had happened.
Malfoy turned on the woman sat behind her desk. "Why is his name there?"
"I don't know!" She wailed, wringing her hands and looking like she wished she had never taken a job here.
•••
Draco isn't quite sure why fate chose for his life to lead to this.
Previously, he wouldn't have complained; while not perfect, his life was good, he was happy and he didn't have the looming threat of a serial killer hanging over his head.
Now, he was stood in a Ministry adoption office with an obviously high Harry Potter clutching a document that declared that the pair of them had just adopted Melissa Williams.
Of course, said 4-year old thought this was the funniest thing in the world - Harry Potter making wild and exaggerated gestures while the worker sat behind her desk tried desperately to rescue her multitude of potted plants from the weapons that were his arms. Some sort of blue fuzz was growing out of Potter's left sleeve, curling around his forearm and towards his elbow - most likely the remains of a failed hex, considering his profession and the numerous cuts littered across his exposed skin.
Lissy's little hand slipped around his neck and she continued to laugh at Potter's antics.
The ministry official - he hadn't caught the woman's name and, quite frankly, he couldn't care less - finally came to her senses and shot a stunning spell at Potter. At the same time, Mrs. Wittle burst in, hand clutching her chest as she watched Potter's erratic limbs freeze and his body fall to the floor.
"Dear Merlin!" She cried, "Whatever happened here?"