Chapter 2


That same evening, Draco Malfoy found himself skimming through various books, looking for a cure for his new patient's condition. He didn't really know where to start and thought that it was probably pointless to begin with since even the great Albus Dumbledore hadn't found anything to help Harry. But he knew that he couldn't just let it rest. If anything, Draco was stubborn, and he wouldn't rest until he had found something. He wouldn't give up on the kid like so many had done before him.

He drank his coffee, scanning the pages of a Potions book for something useful; then, after emptying his mug, he finally dismissed the idea of finding the cure tonight and shut the book. How was he supposed to find something when he didn't even know what he was looking for? He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, taking off his glasses and tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. No, he had to find another way to deal with this.

Carrying his mug back into the small kitchen of his flat, he decided that it was best to first observe Harry for a while and get more acquainted with his condition. Tomorrow he was going to study his file and then spend some time with him. Maybe he just needed to become his friend for something miraculous to happen. He snorted when he realized how ridiculous and naïve that sounded. But then he thought that after all the first result had happened because of his mere presence and maybe that thought wasn't so stupid after all. On the other hand there were other people who'd kept the boy company and they'd all failed or had at least not managed to get a significant result. But maybe he, Draco, had something the others didn't…

Draco frowned and shook his head. He was getting nowhere tonight, so he decided to watch television for half an hour before he felt tired enough and dropped into bed, his thoughts once again drifting to the small, pale boy who was now probably sleeping in the white impersonal room at St. Mungo's. He frowned. Maybe it was just the clinical surroundings that didn't exactly make the patients feel better or help them recover.

He finally fell asleep, looking forward to his next day at work and making the decision to do everything in his power to help The Boy Who Lived become able to lead a normal life. Dear Merlin, when had Draco Malfoy become such a caring person?

***

Draco arrived the next day at work staggeringly early. Most of the patients were still sleeping and none of the other day-time Healers or Nurses had arrived yet which suited Draco just fine. He brewed some strong coffee, then grabbed his mug and went into the "living room", flopping down onto the sofa with Harry's file. He took a sip of black coffee and then started to read.

He must've sat there for a long time, completely absorbed in his lecture when he suddenly felt the couch next to him move. He looked up and was surprised to see Harry looking back at him, a somewhat curious expression on his face.

Draco closed the file and smiled. "Good morning, Harry," he said quietly and the boy responded by looking at the floor.

"You all right? How did you sleep?" Draco asked, mentally slapping himself since it wasn't really smart to ask questions when he knew that he couldn't expect the boy to answer.

"So… uh… I'm Draco. I'll be taking care of you from now on if that's okay with you," Draco finally said, placing the file and his empty mug on the small table. Draco took the fact that the boy just kept staring at the floor as an "okay". He smiled and hesitantly reached out to pat Harry's shoulder awkwardly.

"So… what do you usually do at this time?" he asked, already feeling uncomfortable because he had to basically talk to himself. He knew that the boy probably heard him but his lack of reaction was already frustrating him.

'Patience. Calm,' he told himself. 'The boy is sick, you need to take care of him, and screaming at him or doing something equally stupid won't help anyone. Even if you don't find a way to help Harry, this will at least help you get more patient.'

"Would you like to play something?" he asked, looking at Harry. "Or I could read something to you?"

When Harry just kept looking at the floor Draco decided to read him a story. He wasn't even sure Harry was able to play, being all passive. He got up and chose a book from the back of the shelf before coming back to sit with Harry.

*

Harry liked stories. He liked them because he knew that they weren't real. They were made up by people with a great imagination, and usually the stories the Healers read to him were so obviously fiction that Harry could trust the fact that they were, indeed, made up.

He listened to Draco's voice but didn't look at him. He couldn't be sure he was real or if he could trust him. He told him a nice story, yes, but who said that it wasn't just a trick? He liked the young man's voice, though. Abigail's voice was sometimes shrill and hysterical but Draco's was soft and quiet, and sounded smooth, like velvet or silk. Just like his eyes. Harry risked a glance at the other man from the corner of his eyes and saw the pale skin and sharp features. Everything about him seemed to be a contrast of soft or smooth, and sharp. Harry watched the man for a while, seeing the small smile playing across his lips. Maybe he was nice. That thought made the corners of Harry's mouth hitch up a little. But at the same time he felt an unbearable sinking sensation in his stomach. Draco was too good to be true. Which meant that he probably wasn't real. Things this beautiful were never real.

Harry heaved a sigh and averted his eyes, looking at the sizzling flames in the fireplace. When would this ever stop? Would he ever get out of this horrible situation? It frustrated him that he didn't know what or whom he could trust. He wanted it to end, wanted to either only live in that imaginary world that he loved so much, or get out of it completely. He slowly leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, listening to the rest of Draco's story.

*

After the story, Draco watched Harry go to the window to look at the clouds again. He wondered what was fascinating Harry so much about them… They were just white, shapeless… things to him. Why could Harry look at them for hours every day?

Draco frowned curiously and jotted it down in his notebook, deciding that he had to look into that. It would possibly give him a clue. He sighed and got up, walking to the reception counter where Abigail had just arrived.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, smiling. "Or… May I call you Draco?"

Draco gave her a tight-lipped smile, obviously not pleased at the prospect of being called by his given name, but then he gave her a curt nod. "Good morning, Abigail."

Abigail gave him another smile and… good Lord, was she trying to flirt with him? The woman had to be at least thirty and… well, she was not exactly Draco's type, lacking the penis and all. He still smiled back politely, then leaned against the counter, watching Harry thoughtfully.

"Everything all right?" she asked softly, watching Draco's face attentively. "Did something happen?

Draco sighed and shook his head. "No. That's what's frustrating me," he murmured, turning his head towards her and studying her face. "Though he did look at me for a moment after he woke up and joined me. I was just reading his file and found him staring at me. The moment I spoke, however, he stopped looking at me. But I'm quite sure that he looked at me again while I was reading to him."

Abigail nodded and looked at Harry for a moment before turning back to Draco. "Look," she said, shamelessly using the opportunity to pat Draco's arm. He sneered but managed not to jerk his arm away. "I have been working here for several years and I know Harry pretty well." She paused, shrugging. "Well, as well as anyone can know him. I don't think you get how big this is. He hasn't ever looked at anyone. There must be something about you that's… different. I don't know what it could be but maybe we're onto something here. I know it can be frustrating; believe me, when I started out here, I wanted to yell at him more than once. But you'll learn to be patient."

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at her thoughtfully, then he saw that she was probably right. Patience was the way to go here. "Yeah," he murmured, then placed the file down on the counter, performing a quick spell to prevent anyone other than him to open the file and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "I need a smoke. Be right back."

He turned and left the building, leaning against it as he smoked his cigarette and thought about Harry.

When he came back a few minutes later, he decided to join Harry, who was still happily watching the clouds. He stood behind him and looked from the clouds to Harry's face and back again. He raised an eyebrow curiously when Harry frowned a little and moved away from him. Draco hadn't said or done anything that could've provoked this action. Unless… Maybe Harry didn't like the smell of cigarettes on him?

He watched Harry's face as he performed a brief cleaning charm on himself and raised his eyebrows in surprise when Harry visibly relaxed. Interesting. He would make sure to always smell nice when he showed up for work.

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside Harry, just keeping him company and watching the clouds, even though he couldn't imagine anything more boring.

After an hour or two, Draco still couldn't see why on earth this would be an interesting way to spend one's time but if it helped Harry, he would sit with him. It would maybe help him understand what was going on in Harry's head. And the thing that mattered most to him was Harry's well-being.

Tbc...