Chapter Summary: Harry encounters a bit of an obstacle, and an unexpected individual presents an intriguing proposal.

AN:

A quick turnaround for this update! A very big thank you to all who have shown an interest so far. I'm very excited about this story. More to come soon! Also RIP to my shift key which has decided to just…take a break from working I suppose, making capitals and quotation marks very difficult to type. :)

After the Rain Falls
Chapter 2:

There Is No Rose Without a Thorn

By the end of the first week, a slew of sign-up sheets had been posted, lining the walls of practically the entire Entrance Hall. Harry inched his way through, walking slowly as he took in the various projects that would be available after hours for students to take part in. There were general extracurricular activities, clubs, as well as more focused events, directly aimed at repairing sections of the school grounds, all with proposed dates. Some of them had age requirements and limited registration slots, while others were available for any who wished to take part.

A large crowd of students had gathered, shuffling through the area as they looked at the options excitedly. Several of the pieces of parchment were already filled with names, especially the more fun oriented events aimed at younger years. Harry pulled his book bag in front of his body and peered at some of the ones he could see. He was tempted to sign up for just about everything, and then he saw Mr. Filch's Kitty Quarters Poop and Scoop listed among them and thought better of it. No offence to Mrs. Norris and the other cats in the castle of course. It just wasn't exactly how he meant to spend his free time.

He stopped to read through a few in more detail, writing his name down for the ones he knew for certain he wanted to help with, like Hagrid's Magical Creature Fair, and The Black Lake Clean-Up Project, the latter of which would regrettably not be happening until much later in the year. He scratched his name under a few more before he noticed Draco standing a few feet to his left, staring intently at one of the sheets on the wall. He looked somewhat distressed, his jaw clenching tight as he furrowed his brow. But then he reached out and picked up the self-inking quill hanging from the page before him and hastily scribbled away.

Harry waited for a moment, watching as Draco disappeared from view out of the corner of his eyes, and then he shifted around a few younger students to look at the parchment Draco had just signed. At the top of the page it read, The Room of Requirement Restoration Charity Project, followed by two columns. One, for the actual clean-up portion of the project, the other, for a charity sale at a magical bazaar at which some of the items found mostly intact would be sold to raise money. It was listed for fifth year students and older, due to the unstable nature of many of the magical objects hidden within the room, and the proceeds would go towards children left orphaned after the war.

He stood up straighter in shock, eyeing Draco's signature where it stood out elegantly at the top of both columns. Harry's chest tightened as he suddenly remembered flying between towering stacks of magical items in the Room of Hidden Things, reaching out to Draco as the Fiendfyre circled around them like a burning and never ending swirling typhoon of flames. The knowledge that Vincent Crabbe had lost his life that day, the screams that he'd heard in those few seconds before he had. The awareness that Harry could have easily died that day as well. All of those thoughts assaulted his mind as he stood there amongst the crowd.

Harry's fingers tightened against his bag. It took him a good long while before he managed to unclench them, the blood rushing back into each one in a series of sharp pangs as he stretched them out.

Then Harry reached out and wrote down his name in each column.

"Good news," Ron exclaimed as he lightly jogged towards his seat in the Great Hall. "The Quidditch pitch is still under construction, but McGonagall has cleared the training grounds for use in practices until it's ready. Which means, tryouts are still on." He sat down with an eager grin, but it slipped from his face when Hermione nudged him hard in the side. She gave Ron a pointed look before nudging her chin in Harry's direction in a less than subtle manner, and Harry pretended not to notice. He saw Ron duck his head and grit his teeth, and then the two started whispering harshly at one another across from him at the table. Harry's gaze dropped towards his lap, and he felt a pang as he was reminded that the healers had discouraged him from participating in any activity that involved flying. It was one thing to have a seizure while on the ground, but in the middle of the air, where a fall could mean one's death, it was significantly more dangerous to risk it.

Harry's lips tightened as he thought about giving up his position as Gryffindor's seeker. It was one of the few things that he truly loved, flying. He never felt freer than when the air was blowing through his hair, hundreds of feet above the ground, and he had nothing else to think about apart from catching sight of the glittering golden snitch. He missed it terribly. And he wasn't about to give it up.

"When are they?" Harry asked, tilting his head up and smiling at Ron like there was nothing wrong at all.

Both Ron and Hermione whipped their heads in his direction. They shared a concerned look, before Hermione asked, "You're not thinking of playing, are you Harry?"

"Why not?"

Hermione gaped at him, before carefully setting down the fork she held in her hand. She reached across the table to press her fingers over his arm in concern. "Harry, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Yeah, I miss flying."

"But-"

Harry stood quickly, slamming his hands down on the table so hard the plates shook atop it. "I'm trying out," he insisted, before he gathered up his things and hurried away.

He didn't even get the chance.

It was tryout day, and Harry stood in the change room, doing up the final clasps on his gear. Everyone else was bouncing eagerly or nervously chatting away. He picked up his broomstick and stared down at it, swallowing as his hands began to sweat from stress. It was a new Starsweeper XIIX. A brilliant racing broom. He'd ordered it immediately after the war, at the time, not having known that he'd be banned from flight travel. When it arrived after his diagnosis, Harry had tucked it away and never attempted to use it. He steadied his breathing, squeezing his hands tightly around the silver plating of the handle. Everything was going to be fine. There was no reason to worry.

He could sense Ron's eyes on him, peering at him apprehensively, but neither of them said a word.

And then Harry winced, his head throbbing sharply before his thoughts began to scramble.

No. Not now.

It was his last conscious thought before everything seized, and then a moment later he was on the ground, unable to control the spasms in his arms and legs.

"Harry!" A voice echoed above, and then someone grabbed him, but he knocked them away a moment later with his shaking.

"Get help!"

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but when it finished, he was gasping atop the tiles of the change room, staring up into the wide-eyed faces of the rest of the prospective team members. Ron bent over him, expression a mask of worry, and when Harry lifted his fingers to his face and pulled them away, they were coated with a mix of tears and sweat.

Hermione came rushing through the open door, her robes fluttering about her as she hurried to his side.

"'Moine this is the men's…," Ron uttered, but she waved him off, helping Harry sit up in a more comfortable position.

"Like I bloody well care. None of you have anything I haven't already seen." She brushed away a few stray hairs clinging to Harry's face, and he blinked at her unevenly. It suddenly felt like there was a lump in his throat, and then his eyes started to burn, and he broke down right then and there.

"Harry? Harry, it's okay, it's okay," Hermione whispered, and she pulled him close, holding his head to her shoulder while he sobbed. Her hand rubbed against his back in gentle circles as Harry sniffled into her robes. It really wasn't okay.

The tryouts went on without him. And later that day he found himself seated in the Headmistress's office, pleading for another chance. McGonagall refused.

"But-," Harry started, only for Professor McGonagall to hold out her hand and stare down at him sternly.

"I understand how upset you must be by this decision. You are an incredibly talented seeker. I know you truly love the sport. But the answer is no, Potter," McGonagall. "It's too dangerous for you."

He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Harry was nothing if not persistent. Which is exactly why he was outside, broomstick in hand, at three in the morning on a school night. He hadn't flown since the end of the war. But now that it felt impossible, he wanted to more than ever.

He stood at the edge of the Black Lake, just on the other side of the broom shed. He could see the night watch lights on at the castle, glowing amid the stars above. It was quiet, apart from the toads chirping in the nearby marshy grass. Not another soul was in sight, and that's exactly what he wanted. Some peace and quiet. Some time alone. Preferably in the air.

Harry mounted his broom, and then took a deep breath before pushing up off the ground ever so slightly. He floated there for a moment, just to make sure everything was okay. His hands gripped his Starsweeper tightly at first before easing into a more relaxed hold. It was incredible how readily it came back to him. That feeling of ease. Harry let out a breathy laugh and then took off like a shot into the sky.

He bent low over the handle of his broom, revelling in the sensation of the wind blowing through his hair and against his robes. His heart thrummed in his chest excitedly, and he felt a smile practically splitting his face. It was amazing. The Starsweeper was everything he knew it would be. An absolutely incredible racing broom indeed. He could tell it was just that much faster than his old Firebolt, and though he was sad for its loss as one of his few cherished gifts from Sirius, this was a more than adequate replacement. Sirius would have loved it too.

He dipped down low to the ground, flying just a few feet above the grass west of The Great Lake. He circled the edge of the water for a bit before looking up and guiding his broom higher into the sky. He found himself getting completely lost in the experience of flying, his head finally clear of all his worries as the early autumn air danced across his skin. He circled back towards the school, crossing over the lake again as he made his way back towards the broom shed. And just as he began a downward descent, his thoughts scrambled. Harry stuttered atop the broom, his fingers spasming before they let go against his will.

"Sh-," he croaked, and then he was falling, just falling down and down. There was a shock of cold, and he inhaled, his lungs filling with water and adding choking to the mix. He needed his wand, he needed…something, but he couldn't do anything at all except panic as his body began to sink further beneath the water.

Then, two hands clasped at his robes, yanking him harshly upwards, and working all the while against his flailing limbs as they did their absolute darnedest to sink him to the very bottom of the lake. He gasped as he was pulled from the water, managed to cough up much of the liquid from his lungs as he was thrown onto the grass on his side. His seizure continued, and though he was barely coherent, he made out Draco's signature blond head of hair through his blurred vision.

"Potter, what-," followed shortly after, sounding more panicked than he would have ever expected from Draco. Harry couldn't say anything in return. His limbs tightened and jerked atop the ground, his neck taught as he gargled and coughed. Draco scrambled to stand, clearly intent to run, for help, or away, Harry couldn't be sure. Either way, he needed him to stop, and Harry strained to grab at him, barely managing to clench his fingers in Draco's robes, holding him in place.

"D-don't," he gasped, finally able to breathe slightly as the seizing eased. Draco stared down at him as he collapsed against the grass, sweaty and out of breath. He was shivering, the air cold now against his drenched body and overheated skin. He closed his eyes and nearly passed out from the exhaustion when Draco cast some kind of spell and warm air cascaded over his entire form.

Harry's eyes blinked open and he turned to look at Draco wearily. "What…what'd you do to me?"

"It's a shock relief spell. Basic healing, Potter, elementary level. Nothing to be concerned about," Draco drawled. He was kneeling on the ground next to him, wand held loosely in his hand.

"Feels like a warm blanket," Harry commented. He turned to look up at the night sky, taking several deep breaths as his heart rate slowed, and he was surprised when the ground shifted next to him as Draco sat.

"You have seizures."

It wasn't a question, because the answer was pretty damn obvious. Harry squeezed his eyes shut again and then wiped the water from his face. He sighed, but didn't speak, and Draco sat next to him in silence.

Harry wasn't sure how long it had been when Draco muttered, "Accio glasses." He startled as the circular frames were placed on his face, blinking rapidly as his vision cleared slightly. He hadn't even noticed that he'd lost them. Draco was staring at him oddly, a slight crease between his brow. There was no sign of malice in his expression and Harry turned away in embarrassment when their gazes met.

"Thank you," he whispered. His throat felt raw. His body sore. He wondered idly where his broom had landed, but he supposed there would be time to search for it later. Unless the Giant Squid had gotten to it first. He thought about how fruitless this whole thing was. Trying to fly. In those first moments, he'd really thought it would be fine. He'd fooled himself into forgetting his new reality.

He didn't know why he chose to speak. The words just came out before he could manage to stop them.

"They're not going to let me play."

It was choked, but he cut off the impending sob, teeth digging into his lower lip angrily. Draco shifted beside him, his face turning slightly to observe him on the ground. There was no visible reaction on his face, and Harry wondered what on earth had possessed him to confide in Draco Malfoy of all people. After a moment Draco turned away, lifting his chin slightly to look up at the stars. His jawline was extra jarring from this angle, and Harry saw it clench slightly as the shadows changed in shape across his skin.

"It won't be much of a challenge anymore," Draco admitted. "You were the only one who put up a fight."

For some reason those words were what opened the floodgates. Harry's eyes burned angrily, and the first tears passed over his lower lids as he cried silently atop the grass. He could feel the trails falling down the sides of his face, behind his ears and back into his hair. An endless stream of his sorrow. The stars above him blurred into large pointed blobs as liquid pooled in his eyes, and Harry's breaths shuddered against the sobs while Draco sat stoically at his side.

There was likely a permanent impression of wood grain on his face from pressing his face into the table for such a lengthy period of time but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He was mortified. Completely and utterly mortified. He peered at the clock on the potions classroom wall for the millionth time that morning, wincing as the decorative arrows appeared that much closer to the class's dreaded start time. That much closer to when Draco would arrive.

Harry couldn't believe he sobbed in front of him like that. Of all people. Draco Malfoy. He would surely never hear the end of it. He sat up quickly, then groaned, and slumped back over the desk, putting his head in his hands.

Not only had Draco sat through the entire duration of his blubbering, but he'd also trailed behind Harry while he searched for his missing Starsweeper, casting the odd Accio here and there, until it had whipped up out of a cluster of seaweed and nearly knocked Harry off his feet. He had felt some relief at the sight of it, before he was reminded that he couldn't very well ride it so what did it matter? And then he had to fight off yet another bout of tears lest he die of dehydration. Draco had walked the path behind him back to the castle, before parting ways without a single word just inside, as he more than likely made his way back to Slytherin Dungeon.

He wondered if Draco had told anyone. Harry already had to listen to his own house whispering about it behind his back. The last thing he needed was for it to get all over the school. Though, he supposed it was only a matter of time.

He was startled out of his wallowing as a heavy book slammed down on the table beside him, and Draco slid into his seat with grace that no human should possess after a clearly sleepless night.

"I have a proposal for our final potion," Draco drawled, and then he flipped over the heavy cover and turned several pages in the tome. He flattened it, and then dragged his finger down to a paragraph mid page. "Here." He shoved the book closer to Harry hurriedly.

It was very clearly a textbook for a subject Harry did not take. He studied the page for a second, getting lost in the long and wordy paragraphs. "What am I looking at, exactly?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, pointing at the page again. "Here, Potter. A history of seizures and treatments in the medical wizarding world."

Harry winced slightly, wondering if this was Draco's way of rubbing it in. "O…kay. And?"

"Look at this list of remedies. All of these concoctions only help with the after effects of a seizure. Not a single potion which actually prevents or stops them from occurring," Draco explained. And that time Harry did take a moment to actually read the specified list. He knew this well. He had plenty of those same medicines stored away in his trunk in the dorm. The vast majority of which he didn't even bother with anymore. Because by the time he was able to ingest them, the worst of it was already over.

"I've been through hundreds of healing books. There's nothing like it out there. We should try to develop an inhibitor," Draco added.

Harry swallowed and sat back, looking up at Draco hesitantly. "Seriously?"

"If we could pull it off it would be a serious find for the medical wizarding world," Draco said. He looked very serious, actually, and Harry eyed him more attentively in return. "It wouldn't be a cure of course. That's…way beyond our current potential, probably. But just something that could be guaranteed to ward off tremors or seizures for a period of time. Definitely still meets Snape's criteria." The two of them shared a look. Harry glanced at the book briefly before turning back towards Draco, who put his elbow on the table and raised an eyebrow at him in return. "Unless you had a brighter idea?"

"I'd…be able to fly."

Draco tilted his head pointedly. "Best case scenario, yes."

Harry couldn't keep the elated grin from forming on his face. "Let's do it."

AN: Thank you for reading! And don't be afraid, leave a comment!