A/N: Thank you once again to Arithmancy Master for your wonderful work on this fic. My Latin would be absolutely dismal without you (as would many other portions of this story).

All of the reviews/follows/favourites are much appreciated! Thanks to Ern Estine 13624 and 726sweetpea.

With a Little Luck
Chapter Four

Harry was lying naked from the waist up on his bed, his trousers yanked down a few inches about his hips. His arms rested underneath his face as he turned his cheek to the side, peering up at Draco who was hovering over him. "Will it hurt?" he queried.

"Not even a little. It may tickle, depending if you're the ticklish type," Draco returned. He grinned as he saw what was becoming a familiar tint of red creep up Harry's neck. "Just relax, it will only take a moment," he assured as he raised his wand over the wounds that were clearly visible on Harry's back. "Invenio."

A warm, yellow glow spilled out from the tip of Draco's wand and immediately stretched out, like tendrils searching for something to hold onto. They found Harry's back and quickly nestled into his wounds. Harry fidgeted slightly beneath their touch and bit his lower lip. Draco concentrated on the shape the light and the spell was taking. The yellow hue began to spoil and turn a coffee brown. The light crawled out of his wounds and amalgamated above him. Draco's eyes narrowed as they began to take a shape.

The identifying spell that Healers used was really quite a useful one, however, it was difficult to read. Most of the time, it could only identify the severity of the wound, but sometimes it could take form, to somehow describe the cause of the wound. It took form in a vial.

Draco swore beneath his breath. Harry brought himself up so he was sitting and facing Draco. "What is it?"

"I think that bastard-fuck!" Draco swore again, even bringing up Fletchley indirectly caused Harry to flinch as if he were being struck. "Sorry, Harry, I just…as surprising as it is to you, and believe me when I say it is equally surprising to myself, I hate seeing what has been done to you. You do not deserve any of it," he strongly reminded him.

Worry fleeted across Harry's face. "Will you be able to fix my back?"

"Yes, I believe so, but it will take more than mere healing. I think a strong potion was used to ensure you remained unhealed. I need to take a sample of the freshest wound and test it. I feel uncomfortable healing it when I don't fully understand the properties of the wound," he explained and upon seeing Harry's face fall he quickly added, "I promise you I will heal you, Harry, it just might take some time."

"You have to go back to work in two days," Harry stated.

"And whenever I'm not there, I will be here for you, okay? If you would feel more comfortable, we can have you admitted-"

"I don't need to be admitted," Harry snapped. Just as soon as the words left his mouth, an apology came afterwards.

"Stop," Draco warned him, "You need not apologise for expressing yourself. I knew you wouldn't like the suggestion and as I said you can stay here as long as you wish. I, unfortunately, need to retain my job as having one is not an opportunity that often finds convicted Death Eaters."

"I wish they wouldn't treat you like that. You went to Azkaban for what you did and even you didn't really do anything of your own volition. It was Voldemort and your father twisting your hand into doing it," Harry muttered, carefully avoiding Draco's gaze as he spoke.

"I know how you see me, Harry, but you have to understand not everybody sees the world like you. To be fairly honest, I don't know anybody who sees the world quite like you do," Draco admitted truthfully.

Harry shrugged. "Hermione once told me I had a tendency to forgive people even when they didn't deserve it. Not that you don't!" he added quickly, blushing as he did.

Draco laughed. "You and my mother are probably the only two who believe that, Harry."

Having to retrieve more ingredients, Draco set off for Knockturn Alley once again where his galleon still held enough weight after he took a sample of Harry's freshest wound. Harry was much more comfortable at being left alone in the home, especially now that he moved freely about it. He had even taken a liking to Draco's study. Unable to escape thoughts of his patient, his house guest, his…friend? Draco shook his head, he needed to find a term for Harry that fit but nothing seemed to.

As much as he wished to deny it, he cared for Harry in an odd way. More than he cared for his patients at St. Mungo's but certainly not in the same way that he cared for his friend, Blaise. It was an odd caring, like when one finds an injured Crup and takes it in and then keeps the Crup as a companion. Is that what Harry was becoming to Draco? It had merely been three days and Draco was growing attached to the quiet presence in his house. He was becoming comforted by his being there.

'Maybe I have lived alone for too long,' Draco inwardly reasoned.

Leaving Knockturn Alley, Draco passed by a general wares store. They had artefacts for household chores and little bobs for children – a variety of items. However, something glinted just beyond the window of the shop which caught his eye. The sight of eyeglasses in a container roused the forgotten image of what Harry was before Draco had found him in that flat. The Boy Who Lived with those hideously out of proportion glasses.

Draco, wearing his robe affixed with his family's signet, reached into his pocket and withdrew his watch. He had been gone from the house from less than an hour, it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look inside at what the shop had to offer.

When he returned home, Harry had fallen asleep in his study on the Chesterfield. Draco, unwilling to disturb him as rest was still necessary for the rest of his physical healing to take place, retreated to the basement to begin experimenting with the wound. It would have to be a potion which was used to specifically delay healing, or to make a wound cut deeper or worsen over time. Perhaps a poison of some sort and thankfully poisons were Draco's proclivities from his time spent at the Plant and Poisons ward.

It was difficult to concentrate, on the small amounts of sleep he was able to achieve those days, and the badgering thoughts in his head. Draco longed for the quiet which came easily to him before Felix Felicis ever led him to Harry. And yet, he was glad that he could have ended such a suffering. Over the past few days, he was able to see Harry in a whole new light. Draco put himself in Harry's situation, simply imaging what could have possibly taken place in that flat within that confined room, and found himself shaking at the thought of it. Draco would not have been able to recover. Hell, it took him years to recover from the nightmares of Azkaban and they still visited him on his darker days. But Harry was stronger than that and perhaps he had always been stronger. He was not the intelligent, flawless man the world took him for, Draco knew that, but he was certainly braver and stronger than Draco had ever given him credit for.

The views Draco possessed as a child were naïve, and driven by jealousy and hatred which seeped from his father into him. Now, seven years later, Harry wasn't something to hate…but even in this state was he something to pity? No. Draco didn't quite feel pity. He felt angry that Harry had experienced such injustice. But alongside that anger was something deeper. He felt proud that Harry continued to show daily improvements after such treatment.

Unsure of how long he spent down there, Draco lost himself in his thoughts and his work. Thankfully, his storage of obscure potions which were often never used was well stocked and could be used as comparisons to the sample of Harry's wound. It was not long before he found what he was looking for and the pride that had swollen earlier for Harry quickly turned into white hot anger. Draco was holding his own potion in one hand and a vial holding the blood taken from Harry's wound in the other, it had turned the same colour and consistency as the other. He gripped the vials between his hands hard enough he was certain they would shatter and when they did not he threw them across the room, letting out a guttural yell.

Draco seethed. "How could anybody fucking do this to somebody else that didn't bloody well deserve it?" he growled. Memories of the war rushed back to him. Perhaps that was what his attachment to Harry's situation was. The cruelty Fletchley had shown Draco had seen elsewhere…at the hands of his Aunt Bellatrix or the Dark Lord himself.

"Draco?" came a small voice from the top of his staircase.

Quickly brandishing his wand to tidy up the broken glass bits, he breathed a heavy sigh and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Draco, are you alright?" Harry asked again as he cautiously treaded down the stairs. Upon the landing, Draco forced a smile which Harry merely frowned at. "What's wrong?"

"I found out what was used on your back," he simply said. "It is a potion called ** sanguinem incurso and it is used to attack the blood cells wherever it contacts. I have seen this once before in a poisoning case at the hospital. It can be easily healed, now that we know what it is, but I will have to brew the necessary concoction to counteract the poison and it can take up to a week. I'm sorry, Harry, I wish I could heal it sooner."

Harry was staring at him from the bottom of the stairs. "Draco," he started softly, taking small steps forward as he spoke, "However you did it, you found me and took me away from there and now you're doing your best to heal me. And you hate me. My back has been like this for longer than I can remember, I can wait a week," he assured him, coming to stand just a few feet from Draco now.

Before he could catch himself, the question tumbled out of his mouth. "How long is longer than you can remember?" he asked, "How long were you there, Harry? How long were you being treated like this?"

Harry paled at the questions and opened and closed his mouth several times before shutting it and shaking his head. "Dammit, I know I shouldn't ask but I need to know! Both for your sake and my own," said Draco.

"It's not that…I just don't remember how long I was there for," Harry answered truthfully. "I never thought it would be a permanent arrangement and by the time I realised it was, I had already lost count of my days."

"When was the last date you remember not being in that room, Harry?" Draco queried.

Shrugging, Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of Draco's pants which fit him far too tightly. "I honestly don't remember, Draco. I can remember the year after the war but then…I remember him, I remember them being angry and…I don't remember, Draco. I-I don't remember."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked in the first place. Come on, I can't start brewing the potion I need to heal you now and I'm certainly not going back to Knockturn Alley at this time of the day, let's go upstairs," he suggested, and upon remembering the other item he had purchased, his spirits slightly lightened.

Harry let the subject matter die with them as they went upstairs and Draco led him to his room. He had placed a small, rectangular parcel down on his bedside table. "I thought you might need these," said Draco as Harry curiously tore open the package, with slight trepidation.

Draco watched as Harry's hands reached inside the parcel and pulled out a pair of eyeglasses, his own emerald orbs widening. "You…you bought me glasses?" Harry questioned, as if the very idea astounded him.

"You have been reading lately and I remember that you were as blind as Trelawney, it only made sense," Draco said, brushing off the gift. It wasn't so much a gift as a necessity in his mind but Harry came as close to beaming as he had seen the man do in the past few days. Though his lips didn't turn into a smile, his eyes were somewhat brighter.

Harry slipped the thin-framed spectacles on, blinking a few times. "They adjusted to my sight," he mused before his eyes fell on Draco. And unlike before, Harry did not avoid looking directly at him. Draco was taken aback at the startling green that pierced into him. "Thank you, Draco, this means more to me than you could know," he blushed at his own words.

Draco found himself speechless as he was lost in that steady gaze which Harry bravely held. It was a long moment before the raven-haired man finally turned away, allowing Draco to concentrate once again. "Really, it was nothing," he murmured, clearing his throat. "I have to, uh, just handle some personal matters in my study. I'll be there if you need me."

Before Harry could respond, Draco was fleeing from the room. He couldn't describe what had happened when Harry looked at him with such intensity, with that unwavering gaze, but it left Draco feeling breathless and dazed. Draco nearly collapsed as he found the refuge of his study, closing the door behind him.

The look of appreciation in Harry's eyes did not only startle Draco but left him feeling unnerved. And excited.

XXXX

The next morning, Draco was amused to awake to the sound of the shower running. He pushed himself out of bed, thinking aloud, "He certainly is making himself at home."

The thought of Harry feeling comfortable in his home wasn't upsetting and Draco knew it was a good sign. Another notch on his recovery belt. However, the fact that it was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, wandering around Draco's home unattended, at ease, and as if he lived there himself, was the most unnerving of it all. At first it had been easy to separate the two, Harry from the Saviour he once loathed at Hogwarts, but now as Harry slowly healed and hints of the boy he knew before were shown, it was proving more difficult.

What was the worst of it all was that Draco truly did not mind his presence, Harry nor the Saviour. He welcomed and savoured both. This thought horrified Draco because he could not explain it, he could not decipher why it was a comfort.

As the shower turned off, the running water coming to a halt, Draco hurried to call Cally and request her prepare them breakfast. He got dressed and combed his hair and upon realising all of his ties for his hair were in the bathroom, he was forced to leave it hanging down around his face. As he headed downstairs towards the kitchen, Draco was stopped in the hall as Harry exited the bathroom.

He was dressed in another one of Draco's lesser worn outfits which fit him oddly. His raven hair was long and dripping wet, his new glasses pressed against his face were slightly foggy from the heat. "Good morning," Draco greeted.

Harry looked as if he were about to respond but his face contorted, his brows furrowing and his lips pulling back into his mouth as his chewed on them. "Your hair…I remember when you had shorter hair," he stated.

With his lack of inflection, Draco was left standing in the hall wondering what Harry meant by his statement. He had his shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail most of the times since he had rescued Harry so certainly he must have noticed his hair was longer now than it had been in school? Did he mean that he preferred it? Draco frowned and stepped into the bathroom, retrieving a band from the drawer and pulling back his thin, platinum strands so he could tie them behind his head, out of the way. He paused briefly, looking at himself.

At twenty-four, Draco appeared startlingly like his father did when he was his age.

Unsettled by the comparison, Draco tore his gaze away and left for the kitchen again. Cally was nearly done breakfast and he sat at the table, drawing a fresh cuppa to his lips and savouring the smell of it. Tomorrow he would go back to work. Draco was not looking forward to it. It wasn't merely the thought of leaving Harry unattended for such a long period of time that concerned him, but also his ability to concentrate and the most certain fact Healer Burnie would seek him out. Now that he had signed a confidentiality agreement, Holly saw Draco as a prize. To examine the mental health of a Death Eater, of a Malfoy, seemed to be revered to her. Draco shuddered at the thought. The last thing he needed was a personal mental health healer. No, Harry needed her, not Draco. Yesterday he had received a small package of books regarding mental healing and a note hoping to arrange another appointment with Holly. Draco did not respond other than to thank her for the loan.

"You wear your hair back," came a comment from the other side of the table.

Draco started. He had not noticed Harry enter the kitchen nor join him. Bringing a hand behind his head, Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "You've only just noticed this?" Draco returned. "Do you like it?" he asked, unsure of why he even bothered with the question – Harry's opinion on the matter made no difference to him. Harry shrugged noncommittedly, avoiding Draco's gaze and his question.

Cally served them breakfast and Harry picked at it, more than he had eaten since Draco had retrieved him from the flat, but certainly not enough that it was a healthy portion of a meal.

"I have to return to work tomorrow," Draco began conversationally. "Are you certain you will be alright here on your own, with Cally?"

Harry nodded, his eyes trained on his plate. "I feel safe here," he admitted beneath his breath. "Nobody can come here, right?"

"Just the three of us are permitted," Draco assured him. "I have a few errands to run afterwards so it will be nearly ten by the time I come home."

"Errands?" Harry queried curiously.

Draco waved his hand. "Ingredients to retrieve, mostly, and a few other things." Harry nodded, continuing to push food around his plate and every so often pop a small portion into his mouth. "Actually," Draco continued slowly, "I was wondering if you knew where your wand was. Now that you are becoming more comfortable with magic, do you think you would feel better if you had your own wand back?"

Even without being near him, Draco could sense all the muscles in Harry's body tense. There was a sharp intake of breath and an even sharper exhale before Harry spoke lowly. "It broke…I-I haven't used magic since…it's gone," he settled with.

Draco frowned. His wand was broken? Did Fletchley do that, too? He left his questions unasked and set it aside for another time. "Tomorrow, if you need me, you can always ask Cally to get me."

"I know," Harry stated, setting down his fork with finality. He pushed up from the table and lingered in the kitchen, his eyes roaming across his surroundings. They landed on the window above the sink, overlooking the expansive backyard. It was somewhat kept, considering Draco only had one House Elf (as was the decreed allowance by one of Hermione Granger's many new laws), but the grass was too tall and there wasn't much to it. There were wards placed around it so that a passing Muggle could not see any activities because, when Draco had the time to himself before he had found Harry, he would take his old Nimbus 2001 and fly around the perimeter of his house or try to catch a practice snitch with himself.

Harry looked out across the landscape with a haunted gaze. Draco left his own breakfast and came to stand behind him, looking out across the scenery. "The lawn is warded as well, if you would like to go outside," Draco offered, idly wondering how long it had been since Harry had seen the sun directly.

"Maybe another day," Harry replied, turning away from the window and freezing as he had not realised how close Draco was to him. Harry's breath caught in his throat and his eyes found Draco's only for a moment before a blush sprang upon his cheeks and he cast his gaze downward.

Draco found himself smiling at the reaction. It wasn't fear that caused Harry to react to his close proximity, but a sort of timid embarrassment. There was an urge that resonated in Draco, to reach up and hold Harry's arms, to squeeze him beneath the flesh of his skin. Draco was uncertain how much time passed as they remained unmoved, but suddenly Harry was clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks flaming now and emanating down to his neck. "Er, today," Harry mumbled, "Wh-what are we doing today?"

"I have a little preparation to do in the basement for when I retrieve the ingredients tomorrow, but otherwise I had nothing planned other than a bit of reading I need to finish," he said, thinking of the three books Holly had sent to him. The sooner he read them, the sooner he could help Harry improve even more and give him the long-term support he may need. And the sooner he could give them back to Holly, the sooner he would not feel so indebted to her.

"Can I…would you mind if I sat with you while you read? I-I don't like being alone more than I have to be…"

"Of course, your company is always welcome," Draco quickly responded, subconsciously perturbed at the truth behind his words.

It wasn't long before the two of them settled in his study, each with a book in their hands. Draco sat at his desk, a roll of parchment and quill ready for him to take notes if need be. He quickly became immersed within his text that Holly had allowed him to borrow titled, Healing the Unseen. Harry was resting with his knees drawn up to his chest and a book perched in between. Oddly enough, despite Draco's suggestion for him to read something a little more excitable, Harry had chosen another healing book Draco had long since studied during his internship at the hospital.

The hours of the morning drifted by and the only way Draco kept time was how deep into the text he was. Harry sighed and slowly closed his book. It certainly was dry, as Draco had warned him. "Why did you become a Healer?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco finished a quick note he was making before saving his page and leaning back in his chair. "I had very limited options."

Harry turned around on the Chesterfield so he was kneeling on it, much like a child would, and peering over the edge at Draco. "You're lying. Your family lost a small fortune, not all of it. You have enough money to live comfortably without work. You had other options," he returned.

Draco raised his eyebrow. "You know what assets my family holds?"

That hue Draco was beginning to find sickeningly adorable appeared on his cheeks. "I was the head of all the proceedings regarding you and your mother," Harry admitted, "Because I had given the Ministry my word for the two of you, they saw it fit I handled the aftermath."

That was certainly information Draco had never known. At that point in his life, he was busy being imprisoned that family assets hardly meant a thing to him. "I simply couldn't spend all of my time at the Manor. I loathed that place."

"You're a healer because you're bored?"

"Not at all!" Draco snapped. "At first, I was unsure if I had chosen the right profession out of the few that were available for me but…" he sighed, standing up from his desk and stretching his arms over his head. "Halfway through my internship there was this old woman brought in. None of the healers on my floor – Plants and Poisons – had any idea what had happened to her. Her condition was rapidly deteriorating and they gave her a mere couple weeks to live. I was doing rounds one evening, a midnight shift, and I decided to read her chart. I wasn't exactly an authorised healer on her case but I thought another set of eyes couldn't hurt," Draco had come around the Chesterfield now and was sitting in the armchair just beside Harry. "I kept reading her symptoms again and again and they just didn't add up. They didn't equal plant poisoning to me. Nor did they equal poisoning from any sort of potion I knew. However, if I separated her symptoms into three separate areas, I could at least make sense of it.

By the time my shift ended, I had figured it out. I told the healer on my floor who thought I was worth anything about my theory – that she was being purposefully poisoned using three different agents – and by noon the next day, given the proper antidotes for each of the poisons, she was better than she had been in years. I was able to see her discharged two days later and…" Draco paused, running a hand through his hair. He could still remember the old woman embracing him and his reluctance to return to gesture. She had smelt of hospital bedding and florals, her arms felt frail as she held Draco, and yet she did so without fear or revulsion. "I never knew until that moment how satisfying healing could be. To have watched that woman nearly lose her life and then because of me seeing her walk out of the hospital a few days later. It felt empowering, humbling, and absolutely thrilling, all at once," he admitted.

Harry was perched on the edge of the sofa, watching Draco intensely as he hung on each of his words. His emerald eyes were full and did not waver from Draco's gaze. "Is that why you saved me?" Harry asked. "Because it makes you feel like that?"

Draco frowned. "No…I brought you here, I'm healing you, because it's the right thing to do."

"Since when does Draco Malfoy do what is right?" Harry countered. There was no malice in his voice, no accusation. He simply sounded as if he were stating a legitimate point.

Suppressing an urge to defend himself, Draco merely leaned forward in his seat and offered his hand forward. "Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy, the Healer, not the Slytherin brat."

Harry looked between the offered hand, which he did not take, and Draco's face a few times before his eyes lit-up. Draco took it as a smile, though it did not reach his lips. "Funny," Harry returned dryly. "I wanted to ask about that day, if I'm allowed."

"Harry," Draco said seriously, "You are a grown man, you are allowed to do anything so long as it is legal."

"Well, I've been going over that day in my head and-and…how did it happen, Draco? I don't understand how you found me, where you came from…where h-he was?" he stuttered at the mention of Fletchley.

Draco rested back into his seat. Though he knew this subject need to be breached, he felt somewhat exposed admitting to Harry what he had done prior to his interview that day. "I had an interview for a position on a floor with more clearance that morning. I have wanted a job on that floor for a long time but unfortunately due to my past they do not see me as fit for the job. Over the past eighteen months, in my spare time, I have been brewing Felix Felicis. Do you remember what that is?"

Something odd ghosted across Harry's face at the mention of the potion. "Yes. The luck potion."

"Exactly. I had finished my batch two days prior and used it just before my interview. However, as soon as I took the potion I found myself going places I had never been. Eventually, I wound up in that flat. Without even questioning myself, I went inside and found you. The rest, well, you were present for."

If Harry was surprised, he didn't show it. He merely pulled his legs underneath himself so that he was sitting cross-legged on the couch. "Liquid Luck doesn't give us what we think we want, it gives us what we need," he muttered beneath his breath and then looked up at Draco, as if searching his face for an answer. "What could you need from me?"

Draco screwed up his face in thought. He certainly had not thought of the situation in that particular way. What could he need from Harry? Why had the potion brought him there? Draco shook his head. "I don't know why Felix Felicis brought me there, but I'm glad it did. If I hadn't found you, I wonder how long…" Draco stopped himself, it was a thought he didn't wish to have. Thinking of anybody in that situation, remembering the countless Muggles he had seen imprisoned and tortured, it was not a pleasant thought, and for some reason thinking of Harry like that…

"I have been reading about mental healing and I keep coming across an important reminder. If anybody begins to fall mentally ill or is put under a stressful or traumatising situation, the length of time in which they are within these situations or fall ill is a critical factor in determining the time it will take them to heal. Each individual experiences the healing process in a different manner, however, but it is all relative to the trauma and the time the trauma is experienced," Draco explained, carefully watching if Harry had any reaction to his words – he merely stiffly sat and listened, no emotion crossing his face. "I was hoping that since you appear to be feeling better, you may be able to speculate the amount of time you were-"

Harry took in a sharp breath. He was shaking his head, that unruly raven hair falling around his face. "I'm sorry, I-I don't remember more about time than before."

Draco raised his eyebrow and spoke carefully. "What do you remember?"

Harry sharply looked up at Draco. For the first time since he had found him three days ago, his emerald eyes were flooding with emotion, his face pulled taut. Instead of fear, of anxiety, he was glaring angrily at Draco as he snarled between his teeth.

"Only things I want to forget."