WARNING: Horrible unwanted voyeurism, unwanted pet names, and other condescension. This made me feel kind of gross. Me. So… Yeah. Be warned. Of course there are bold exclamation marks! Oh and Happy New Year!

Harry had thrown the dittany over to Malfoy on his request and had sat down again, trying not to stare.

Malfoy picked off some of the leaves as if they were beneath him, then ate them.

Harry could see through the glamour that he then poured some liquor over the end of his stump, rinsed it off with Aguamenti, then crushed up some of the dittany and pressed it on.

Just being able to watch him without being 'caught' was… bizarre.
Would he ever get used to it?

"You are just monitoring?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah?" Harry responded, feeling caught. He hadn't even logged the spell yet.

"…any chance you could make yourself useful, instead?"

"Uh… Sure?" Harry said.

"Vanity unit, top shelf."

Harry grinned a bit. "Are you describing yourself?"

It was quiet for a moment.

"No," Malfoy said, but he sounded somewhat amused. "There is a vanity unit in the bathroom,— "

Harry snorted.

"Never mind," Malfoy said curtly, then got the dittany off his stump and picked up his wand. A fresh bandage hovered over to him.

"Hey," Harry said, feeling bad. "Sorry, I would have."

Malfoy ignored him.
He made a loop in the bandage which he tied with his teeth, rolled it down his stump and adjusted it. Then he placed the dittany back on and wrapped the bandage carefully, pressing the crushed leaves in place.
He then cast a sticking charm, which didn't stick the right way, apparently, because he needed two more tries.

The log hadn't mentioned the amount of sticking charms that Harry had seen him use already.
As he logged what he ought to, he wondered whether he should ask about that.

…maybe not immediately, it might be a touchy subject.

Just like everything else.

"I thought essence of dittany was used for this kind of stuff," Harry said, hoping to restore the atmosphere.

"We've run out," Malfoy said huffily. "And it takes a long time to make."

"I though maybe you had some alternative way to — "

"Anything alternative I do is involuntary — didn't I tell you that there is nothing as wasteful as undue change?"

"Is that a saying?" Harry asked, interested.

Malfoy sighed, annoyed, then got up. He hovered a towel towards himself and wrapped it around his waist.
Because his 'bad' side was towards the glamour, Harry could see he kept moving his stump as if it was helping.

Malfoy stepped out of the bath and cast a drying charm on both himself and the floor.

The swirls of his mum's blood that had floated on the water now lay there as if they were part of the marbling.
Malfoy sighed and cast a cleaning charm.

It didn't do much.

He rolled his eyes and walked out of sight, presumably to get dressed.

26.11.1998, 09:23 - Charge cast cleaning charm
26.11.1998, 09:25 - Charge hovered clothing towards self

It was 09:42 now and Malfoy was still moving around out of sight in the bathroom.
Harry had clicked the FieldScroll open and shut a few times just to enjoy the sound, but even that was losing its appeal.

"You all right in there?" He asked.
After the words left his mouth he realised that there was a loo there, too, and he hoped he hadn't interrupted anything.

Merlin, this was awkward.

"Have you got somewhere to be?" Malfoy snapped.
It sounded vicious, but not embarrassed.

Good.

"Sorry, got bored," Harry turned back to Malfoy's bookshelf. "Wasn't I in a rush to assess your gross furniture?"
The sooner he got that sorted out, the better.

"You are, just — …" Malfoy said through gritted teeth. "Quality takes time."

Harry wondered whether he should ask whether Malfoy needed help, but decided against it. He didn't want to be condescending.
"Okay," He said instead, "… vanity unit."

"…I will hex you," Malfoy said quite seriously.

"And I will log it," Harry responded, grinning.

The silence recommenced, punctuated by brisk adjustments of cloth.
Then: "…I've had three hours of sleep, a heart attack and I'm drunk…"
He sounded miffed.

"So this is an average Thursday then?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sighed and stepped into sight again, fully dressed in black.
He'd even put shoes on.

Who the fuck put their shoes on in the bathroom?

He looked at the floor and moved his tongue over his teeth without parting his lips.
Then he stepped over the threshold, turned, and cast Aguamenti on the tiles.

The floor was now wetter than before.

Malfoy sighed. "I'm going to need sodium hypochlorite," He said, then looked at Harry as if he expected something.

"What?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded at the FieldScroll.
"Quarter to ten, charge cast Aguamenti — go on," He put his wand up his sleeve with a twirl. "Waiting."

Harry logged the charm.

"Be grateful for my patience, I could have marched out and left you scrambling."

"Cheers," Harry said. As far as he was concerned he was the only one who'd needed any patience so far.

Malfoy did a little upwards nod when Harry pocketed the FieldScroll, then went to cross his arms and caught himself.
He turned and briskly opened the door — the opposite of a slam.

He marched further down the hallway, to a door at the end of it. There he paused.

"Potter…" He said, trailing off darkly.

"…yeah?"

"I demand the utmost respect."

"What?"

Malfoy paused for a moment and then turned to him, dead serious.
"The utmost respect. Understood?"

"I don't — I mean… Respect; sure, but… What's going on? What's in there?"

Malfoy looked exhausted. "You need a Pensieve to look at the memory, don't you?"

"Yeah…" Harry said slowly.

"…this is my Father's office." Malfoy said stiffly. "I demand the utmost respect."

Harry felt his eyes widen. "Yeah… Of course. I eh… " Why was he so nervous? The guy was dead. "I thought Pensieves were usually buried with — "

"Your colleagues were kind enough to empty it when they popped over for Dark Artifacts."

Wait, what?

"They took anything they thought we might care to keep." Malfoy spat the words, eyes blazing. "… in their perquisition, the… Bildersturm…" His face contorted in bitterness.
"Father and I were in Azkaban at the time while Mother was here, alone with them…" His words were full of implications.

"I could watch the memory at headquarters…" Harry said, his voice purposefully steady.

Malfoy's gaze burned through him.

It gave Harry chills.

"Trying to postpone being useful?" Malfoy spat. "You would rather spend another shift admiring the architecture? Who knows what your poor Tristan will get up to before you finally decide to do your duty."

"Hey!"

"This is the most efficient way for you to get to work, his memories are gone and sentimentality won't get us anywhere." His eyes had watered but the venom hadn't wavered. "Now — I demand your respect."

"All right!" Harry said, still bristling at the Tristan remark. "Don't be a dick."

Malfoy nodded curtly, then turned back to the door. He took a deep breath.

"…are we waiting for something?" Harry asked after a few seconds.

"I haven't been here, since…" Malfoy trailed off, then took another breath.

"Oh," Harry said, then remembered something. "Eh… I'm sorry for your loss."

"No you're not," Malfoy said softly, then reached for the door handle.

"I am! I — "

"Ssh," Malfoy said as he swung the door open, then stepped in.

There was a dark wooden desk facing the door, an inkwell and quill placed at its edge, its green leather writing surface clear.
To the right were shelves lined with tomes, some as wide as a fist. There were items there too, little metal moving things, but placed sparingly between the books as if they were there for decoration.

There was a rectangular chandelier on the ceiling, hanging high, beset with jade.
A thick carpet lay on the dark wooden floor like velvety moss.

Behind the desk were high windows covered with delicate white semitransparent curtains. Dark green velvet ones were tied neatly to the sides.

On the wall were rectangles where the panelling looked darker — portraits must have hung there in the past.

Harry stepped over the threshold, following Malfoy.
Neither of them breathed.

Behind the door, to the right, was a hook carrying a light travelling cloak.
To the left, beside the doorway against the wall, was an enormous grandfather clock, with little planets and phases of the moon made out of different metals. It ticked rhythmically, but didn't limit itself to seconds.

There was a fireplace at the left of the desk, a low one, with a tall and decorated mirror above it that angled down.
Besides the fireplace was a book case, and in its centre was a wooden panel.

Harry was fairly certain that that's where the Pensieve would be, since he didn't see a place for it elsewhere.

Malfoy had quietly walked over to the desk and stood in front of it, as if summoned, next to a green leather chair.
He extended a hand and gently touched the wood with two fingers, stroking it as if to check it for splinters.

He didn't otherwise move.

"…hey," Harry said softly after giving him a moment.

Malfoy dropped his arm and exhaled — or sagged, rather, and turned towards the panel.

His lip quivered as he stood there, looking lost and distant.

Then he seemed to catch himself and straightened up, his face becoming neutral.
He marched over to the wood and touched it at the far side, between the shelves. The panel turned away and revealed an alcove that had a silver and violet pedestal in it, on which the Pensieve hovered. It, too, looked like it was made of silver — on the inside. The outside was matte violet, and above it was a mirror.

Malfoy looked at the Pensieve, then at the mirror, and averted his eyes. He turned away entirely and went over to the chair in front of the desk. There he stiffly sat down, very upright.

This room made Harry uncomfortable. There was tension in the air and it smelled musky and a bit like lavender.

He got the vial out and released the memory into the bowl.
Then he leaned over to look into it. He could already see the emerald green of the bathtub.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, scandalised.

"…going to look at the memory…?" Harry responded, looking at him through the mirror.

"Is that your special Auror school method?" Malfoy asked flatly.

"What do you mean?" Harry turned to him, a bit annoyed.

"…this is not the time for jokes." He looked serious.

"I'm not —…" Harry started, but Malfoy gave him a look. "What?"

"You're serious?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "A fingertip, Potter."

…where had Harry gotten the idea he was supposed to submerge his face in it?

…

Dumbledore hadn't corrected him that first time…

…he'd probably found it amusing…

Harry blushed ferociously.

How many times had he looked at memories during training? Fuck, what had his colleagues thought when —

Not now.

He didn't have time for this.

"…right. Okay." He sighed as he turned back to the Pensieve. "Thanks," He said, looking into the basin.

"Of course, Auror Potter."
Was Malfoy intentionally getting Harry's work-brain switched on?

Well, he was about to look at a very private memory, wasn't he?

Just get the info, it'll be fine.

Harry leaned a fingertip into the swirly liquid, and felt his mind be tugged along.

When his sight cleared he found himself in Malfoy's bathroom doorway.

A peacock called from outside, in the darkness, audible through the opened window. There were other sounds too, men's voices. Many of them, indistinguishable.

Bellatrix was on the sofa, sitting on her lower back with her feet on the edge of the table and her knees apart. She was using her tongue to pick something out from between her teeth as she twirled a singular hair around her wand, apparently fascinated by it.

Greyback was in That Chair and he slowly extended his legs over the bathroom threshold, reaching through Harry's ankle.
Bellatrix cast something nonverbal on him. "Eh-eh!" She called, as if he was a misbehaving pet.

He withdrew with an annoyed groan.

Malfoy stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. His black shirt was buttoned up uncomfortably high and compared to how he looked nowadays, he struck Harry as a beacon of health.
Harry turned back to Greyback, who was leaning to the side in an attempt to catch a glimpse. Then he made some clicking noises as if ushering an animal.

Harry turned back to Malfoy, who looked almost as green as his sink.
He grabbed the sides of it and looked down, trembling, eyes wide.

Harry was a bit taken aback by seeing him with two arms — he hadn't realised how much he'd gotten used to just the one.

"Don't dawdle Draco, I have plans this evening," Bellatrix called.

Harry jumped and looked at her.
She was now twirling her wand in her hair, blowing air from puffed cheeks.

! There was movement beside him — he turned to it and saw Malfoy had begun to undress, panic plain on his face.

Harry looked away, struck.

How had he not realised how uncomfortable this was going to be?
He turned away and saw Greyback again, beginning to smile very unpleasantly.

Oh yeah, he could smell the flavours of discomfort, couldn't he?

Fuck, he couldn't allow this to — …

It was a memory.

It was a fucking memory.

There was nothing he could do.

Harry was used to having to run, to the risk of attack, or even mortal peril.

He wasn't used to… 'this'.

As Malfoy continued to undress, Harry focused on Greyback who seemed lazily amused.

Suddenly he let out the disgusting derisive laugh that Harry had heard earlier.
"There he is…" He said in a low voice, before continuing the tongue clicking.

! Harry turned back, mortified, and saw Malfoy get in the bath behind the glamour. He was white as a sheet and wrapped his arms around his legs, becoming as small as he could.

! The clicking sounds didn't let up until Greyback asked "Is the little puppy shy…?"
Then he continued, clearly amused.

Bellatrix apparently only held him in check physically — she didn't comment on what he said.
It wasn't like Harry had expected her to be considerate, but he had expected a little more from her towards her own family.

No wonder Narcissa wasn't able to do this.
Harry could hardly stomach it, and they weren't even his relatives.

Malfoy sat more normally and got cleaned up as quickly as he could. He held his wand the entire time.

He didn't have much of a choice, did he?

He could clean himself by the sink, but it'd take three times the effort and if Greyback would just… march in, there'd be little to defend him.
Cleaning charms could be horrible skin irritants if they were used too much, and what other options were there?

Harry couldn't imagine Malfoy going around stinking of sweat.

! Greyback made a mock-pitying groan that went on too long for comfort, and Malfoy shuddered so thoroughly that it seemed to sway the glamour.
Then Greyback inhaled deeply, as if someone had just presented him with his favourite food. "You're so scared…" He growled with a grin.

Harry wanted to vomit.

"Don't be scared Draco, it's just his eyes," Bellatrix said impatiently. "You're done? All clean?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, and Harry could hear the strain in his voice.

! "Nah…" Greyback said. "You're still a bit dirty, aren't you?" His exhale was voiced through his grin. "Just a little…" He chuckled.

Bellatrix sighed, annoyed.

Malfoy went to make himself small again, wrapping his arms around his knees, but then caught himself and got up.

! Greyback chuckled again and clicked a bit more. "Shake a bit, come on…" He growled.

Malfoy ignored him and went back to the far side of the bathroom.

Harry looked away, choosing to look at Greyback instead.
He had leaned forward and looked like he was about to get up, but Bellatrix screeched as she jinxed him. He snarled at her but sat back and scooted forward, not crossing the threshold. Then he clicked his fucking tongue again.

From the periphery of his sight Harry could tell that Malfoy was at least wearing underwear, and chose to look at him instead.
He wanted to punch Greyback too much to be able to look at him for another second — he might accidentally punch the mirror above the Pensieve.

Malfoy had put on his trousers and gripped the edges of the sink, trembling, looking down. He was breathing heavily. A red blotch had appeared in his neck, resembling one of those inkblot tests.

He grabbed his wand and briefly held it with two hands, as if he was about to snap it, but then his nostrils flared and he looked at his reflection, livid.
Then he briskly put on his unbuttoned black blouse and adjusted the sleeves.

The silver scars on his torso caught Harry's eye.

As if a tornado of razors had come too close.

Had he done that?

He must have done that.

…was Malfoy showing him this intentionally?

He looked back at Malfoy's face.

"Is the puppy mad…?" Greyback asked before making that fucking sound again, and Malfoy's eyes shone as he pulled the corners of his mouth back in a snarl. He buttoned up his blouse as his shoulders and eyes twitched.
Then he exhaled slowly, put his wand up his sleeve and took another deep breath.

He closed his eyes.

Greyback's clicking didn't stop and Bellatrix sighed impatiently.

Suddenly Malfoy opened his eyes and made a face at the mirror, a challenging look, before grinning at himself.

His lip trembled, but only for a second.

Then he walked towards Greyback.

"You smell good," The monster said, but Bellatrix jinxed the chair aside with him in it so that Malfoy could pass.

The memory faded out.

Harry's sight prickled back and he looked into his own eyes, in the mirror. Then he looked beside himself, at Malfoy's reflection.

He was in the chair he'd taken earlier and he'd pulled up a knee. His arm leaned on it and he was swirling his wand downward, doodling baby blue lines in the air.
It was strange to see him with one arm, but Harry was especially shocked to realise again how skinny he was.

How many hours had he spent with him? He hadn't seen him consume anything, had he?

…Harry felt a bit sick too, after seeing that.
"…okay," He said, making a point not to turn around. "Was that… representative?"

Malfoy nodded, peered up, and then said "Yes." He sounded resigned.
His eyes looked unnaturally pale, contrasted with the bags underneath them.

"I didn't… look." Harry said, feeling awkward. Malfoy probably thought he did regardless of what he said.

Malfoy shrugged.

"The eh… Scars…" He started, still looking at Malfoy through the mirror.

No response.

"I'm sorry."

Malfoy shrugged again, looking down now, still doodling loops.

"I er… I've seen the memory, so…" Harry turned around. "We can go?"

Malfoy nodded, sighed, and unfolded himself. When he moved forwards, the lines he'd drawn disappeared like smoke.

He looked absolutely miserable.

"Want to get breakfast?" Harry asked.

"I've had dittany."

"…health salad?" Harry looked at him, amused… — trying to be amused. There was something swirling in the pit of his abdomen and he wanted to punch something… but not Malfoy, for a change.

Malfoy looked at him, but his expression was hard to make out. "Salad has dressing, Potter…"

"Right, so you had rabbit food." Harry said as he went to leave the room. "Are you a rabbit?"

Malfoy followed him, uncomfortable and confused. "What are you — "

"It's a simple question." Harry stopped in the hallway and turned to him. "Are you a rabbit?"

"…no. I am not a rabbit."

"Yeah, you're human, right?"

Malfoy seemed taken aback, then nodded a single time. "…obviously…" He said, as he closed the door behind him.

"Right. So we need to get you some human food." Harry managed a smile and continued down the hall. "Come on."