Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and the licensed copyright holders including Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money has been exchanged and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Sinceit's my birthday, my gift to myself is posting another chapter, you are all just so fortunate to benefit from my largesse. I also accept tribute of cash, fuzzy plushy toys, additional chapters of my fav stories, and of course…reviews! grin This is slash, by the way, in case anyone missed that….so boy/boy love abounds…well, maybe not abounds, but it's in here somewhere. And as always my deep appreciation to my beta WindandSummer! And big big thanks to those who've reviewed so far.

Road to Recovery

III.

"I didn't want you to know, ever," Harry sobbed. "I-I tried keeping myself away from you, but you'd still come, still hold me in the night, still touch me. You'd read to me when I had nightmares. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to be able to tell how filthy I was and stay away, but you wouldn't you'd tell me sweet things, tell me you loved me, and the more I tried to get you to leave me, the more kind and attentive you were. It was when I went back to work after the mandatory leave. You sent me roses. I knew it then, that I'd have to hurt you to force you away. Merlin Draco, it was the last thing I wanted but I had to, don't you see, I couldn't…you're so beautiful and good I couldn't spread that to you, infect you. You wanted to kiss me, touch me, but how could I when Carleton had put himself in my mouth, used my hands on his body. I-I couldn't!"

As the pieces came together Draco tucked Harry's head under his chin, pressed his face into the soft inky mass of tangles, and let his tears fall, until the smell of sweat and sickness mingled with salt. He should have seen it. The way Harry jerked away from him, when he reached out to touch him, the distance he'd put between them in bed. He should have known! "Oh, Harry." He ground out. "I'm so sorry. I failed you."

Harry pulled back to stare at him, "No, no, not you, Angel, never you. It was me. I'm the one who failed. I was weak. I got myself captured and let--let them do those things to me!"

Draco shook his head, "They drugged you, Harry. They ambushed you and forced Muggle drugs on you so you couldn't fight them. I read your medical charts, Merlin, Harry, it's a miracle they didn't kill you with all the shite they injected you with. It wasn't your fault!"

"But…I wanted it," Harry said finally, voice near gone, shame pressed it down so heavily. "I…I came…"

Draco laid his lips against Harry's forehead, "Is that what they told you when they were hurting you?" Harry's averted gaze was the answer he needed. Draco frowned, "Your body responded to a physical stimulus, Harry. That doesn't mean you wanted what they did to you. You couldn't fight them off, the drugs made your body compliant, and more sensitive. Nothing they said to you, nothing they did, matters, unless you let it matter. You had no choice and they forced you."

"Angel?" Harry's voice was broken and shy.

"Yes, Harry," Draco pressed his lips more firmly against Harry's forehead.

"Can-can you make it go away? Make me forget? I tried. If I drank enough, sometimes I wouldn't remember, or it'd be all fuzzy like it hadn't really happened, like it was a bad dream. I want to forget."

Draco forced his anger away. It couldn't help Harry now; it would only confuse him, as his former lover was in no state to understand that Draco's fury wasn't directed at him. He shuttled it off to a corner of his mind to attend later. The same corner where his father's most damning legacy was hidden. He set his rage beside the incantations and directions for the darkest spells and potions he'd once trained in. He was a healer, and as such had access to Azkaban to treat ailing convicts. He would unleash the full weight of his wrath. 3 men were going to die, slowly and in excruciating pain. But he could plot and plan later. It was Harry who needed his full attention now.

"I can't make you forget, Harry. But I can help with the pain of it. And tomorrow, I'm going to bring a friend here. Healer Marsh. She's very good at what she does. She'll help soothe the rawness, and I'll be with you. I'll help you through this Harry."

Harry's eyes were fearful but resolved. "I-I don't want to, but I will, if you think seeing her will help. If you'll stay with me."

"It will help," Draco said softly, but confidently. "And I will stay with you," he promised.

Harry nodded and tucked himself closer, "Draco? Angel?" he asked after they'd laid there in silence for some time.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I-if I get better. When I'm not so filthy anymore. Would you--will you come home?"

Fresh tears slid down Draco's cheeks. "You were never filthy or dirty or anything of the kind, Harry. And you will get better. It's a matter of when." He kissed him again.

"When, then," Harry said softly. "Will you? Will you come home then?"

Draco sighed. "I--We'll talk about it Harry. I know now that you were hurting and trying to push me away, but…" Draco bit his lips, "I--, just sleep for now, Harry. We'll talk later." Draco rubbed his back, making shushing noises until he'd lulled Harry into deep and restful sleep. He lay there a while, but the demands of his body made it so he eventually had to carefully disentangle himself.

He went to the guest room to get cleaned up, and changed his clothes. The whole time thinking of the desperation in Harry's question. Could he really go back? He wanted to. He ached for it. He missed Harry terribly. He knew in the last few months he's just been going through the motions, marking time. He'd thrown himself into his work, forced himself to socialize with his friends, dinners with Pansy and Blaise, catching the occasional film at the cinema with Neville, secretly, of course. But it all seemed so empty. As empty as his flat when he came home at the end of each day.

He missed Harry, knew that it was Harry who'd brought the spark of fulfilment and enjoyment to his life. He understood now, but that didn't make the pain go away. Sometimes, he still heard Harry's bitter sneering voice ringing in his ears. Things had been strained between them for a few weeks, since Harry had come out of hospital. Draco thought he just needed time to adjust. He knew being captured had been a severe blow to Harry's confidence. But things were getting worse. And then it had all just fallen apart in a flurry of angry cutting words. It had been obvious Harry had had a bad day. The Ministry was considering cutting the Auror's budget again. Draco had wanted to show he understood, that he commiserated with Harry's frustration at the bureaucrats. He'd hugged his boyfriend, "Don't let them get to you, Love. It's just the Minister trying to flex his muscles. I seriously doubt cuts to the Auror department will be approved. He'd tried to kiss Harry's cheek, but his boyfriend pulled away.

"What does it matter?' Harry spat. "It's not like anyone cares what happens to Aurors anyway. At least they don't unless there's some mad wizard running around threatening them. Then they care and want to know why there aren't more personnel taking care of the problem. Sheep and sycophants, I swear! It's not that anyone cares whether there are enough of us to keep each other safe."

Draco had reached out for Harry's hand, but again he pulled away. "I care, Harry. I love you; of course I want you to be safe."

"Love? Oh that's rich. What would a snivelling little pervert like you know about love anyway? We don't love each other Draco." Harry had smirked, "Well I certainly don't love you. We fuck. A little sexual gratification and I do mean little," he leered, "is what we get out of this arrangement. We're just a couple of blokes shagging each other for fun. Fags, poncey poofters, fall in love with other men. I'm no poofter, Malfoy."

Harry had gone into the flat's kitchen, leaving Draco speechless and broken-hearted in their living room. That night while Harry was out with Ron and Seamus, Draco had tearfully packed all Harry's things and had Dietty deliver them to Godric's Hollow. Anything they'd purchased jointly, which since he'd purchased the flat shortly after their first anniversary, when they'd decided to live together, was nearly everything besides his wardrobe and a few personal oddments, Draco put in storage. He explained in the letter he'd left for Harry in their now barren living room, that Harry could take whatever he wanted from the items in storage, that Draco had no interest in them. The locks and wards would be changed by the end of the next day, and Draco didn't want to see him again.

I'm not sure what these last three years have meant to you. I thought I'd found the love of my life. I thought we had something special, what everyone hopes for and few ever achieve. It seems I've been living a lie. I thought you loved me, Harry, but then I'm just a fag, what would a pervert know about love anyway.

He hadn't bothered to sign the note. He spent the night on Pansy's couch, getting pissed and cursing Harry and himself for trusting in love. The next week he'd spent at a hotel in Muggle London while his flat was redecorated. Minimalist, he'd said to the decorator he'd hired. Spartan, cold, and lifeless was the result. He hadn't cared. Now Harry wanted them to try again. Could he do it? Open his heart to greater hurt? He'd wanted a home, and thought he'd found it, its destruction had nearly wrecked him too. Could he trust that Harry truly wanted a life with him? Draco sat in the living room sipping lukewarm tea, noting that none of the décor had changed from when he and Harry had had the cottage built two years ago. There was no question that he'd stand by his friend through his recovery. But would he regain his lover? He just didn't know.

Deciding that there were no easy answers and that he wasn't going to find them sitting there doing nothing, Draco did what he did best when facing an emotional upheaval, he went to work. He pulled the Gregory files and spread them over the coffee table going over the test results he'd been too tired and distracted to read carefully the day before.

A slow smile crossed his lips as his reached the end of the report. The treatment was working! By the end of a new course, three more treatments, Melissa would be cured! He was ecstatic. Of course, Healer Malfoy didn't do ecstatic in public. It was just another moment where he wished things between he and Harry were different, when he wished he could share this feeling of triumph with someone who loved him, whom he loved in return. He sighed, while not Harry, there were others who'd be heartened by the news. He pinched some Floo powder and told Muriel and Nurse Abrahms who'd been working closely with the young witch. Draco sat back satisfied that his ingenuity, daring and skill as a healer had combined to give this girl a chance to have a full rich life.

"Muriel, will you schedule the third treatment a week later than usual?" His assistant made a note.

"Don't worry, it won't disrupt the process overly much. I wouldn't want to push it more than a week, but if we keep to the usual schedule, Melissa will be in hospital for her birthday. She's turning eleven and I'll be damned if her Hogwarts letter comes addressed to St. Mungo's I want her to receive it home, like a normal little witch, like all her yearmates."

Muriel smiled a little, "You're just a softie, Healer Malfoy, admit it."

"I'll admit nothing of the sort," he said with a haughty sniff, though his eyes were smiling.

Muriel just nodded knowingly. "How is your emergency patient? IS there anything you need from the office today?"

The light in Draco's grey eyes, dimmed, "He is better. I won't need anything from my office, or Nurse Abrahms assistance. Thank you, Muriel." He sighed, "Patch me over to Healer Marsh's office please."

"Of course, Healer Malfoy, have a good day," she said, saddened that this emergency seemed to siphon the joy from him, not that he was every overly demonstrative in public. And calls to Healer Marsh usually indicated something serious. As she transferred him, she hoped things would get better for her young medi-wizard soon.

After a few moments, Draco's head appeared in Healer Marsh's office. His face was grimmer than it'd been before. But he was hopeful that this too would end well, like his treatments for Melissa Gregory.

"Draco! How are you? I have to say I'm surprised to see you; usually Muriel handles your referrals. Is everything alright?"

Draco smiled at the bouncy older medi-witch, "It's nice to see you too. And I'm fine thanks for asking. As for this referral. It's a special case." Draco paused, "I need your utmost discretion on this Lydia. Absolute secrecy. Notes in one centralized file that I will keep, no mentions to your assistants. No discussing this case with your department head."

"You're quite serious about this," she said taking in the set to his jaw and the unwavering determination in his eyes.

"Utterly."

Healer Marsh sighed, she knew he wouldn't require this of her if it weren't serious. He wouldn't have even asked if he didn't trust in her professionalism. "You have my word, Draco. And just who is this mystery patient. With this kind of secrecy and security it's almost as if I'll be tending the Minister of Magic, himself."

Draco snorted, "Not that idiot. I could care less whether The Prophet got hold of his medical records. He's high profile though, and if this were leaked to the media…it would be catastrophic for his recovery."

She nodded. "It's your ex."

"Yes, it's Harry."

She pursed her lips, thinking. "Alright I can clear my schedule for a few hours each day for the next week. What kind of ailment will I be treating? Depression? Dementia? OCD?"

Draco shook his head, ice-blond locks flying, as he'd neglected to tie it back that morning, "Post-traumatic Stress, based on sexual assault victimization, and Substance Abuse, alcoholism. Maybe Depression as well, but I think the trauma is the underlying cause."

"Merciful, Merlin," she breathed. Lydia Marsh had 30 years of experience dealing with rape victims. Every case horrified her. It never got any easier, though she considered her work with assault victims some of her best. Most did, and she knew this is why Draco had contacted her. Not every mind healer was cut out to do the sensitive work needed for a rape victim's recovery. "I'll be there tomorrow at half ten."

Draco nodded, "Thank you Lydia. We'll be expecting you." Draco was about to ring off when he remembered something vitally important. "Lydia, you'll have to Floo from my office. The grate here is warded for limited access. Muriel will let you in."

"Alright then. Thank you, I wouldn't fancy getting caught in a Floo trap. I'll see you both tomorrow, Draco."

"Tomorrow."

Draco ended the firecall, glad that Lydia would be able to fit them in her schedule. He knew she'd mainly attend to Harry, but that his full recovery would best be served by a few sessions with Harry's friends. Not only so they could be made aware of warning signs, but so they could address their own feelings about Harry's illness, and in some cases their roles as enablers. It would be a group session, and Lydia would make arrangement for individual appointments as she thought necessary, afterwards. Draco sighed realizing that this would be the first time he'd had anyone in the flat since he'd moved Harry out. But it needed to be done. Harry's friends would have to gather somewhere large enough to accommodate them all, and private, if not very comfortable. He had no illusions about the flat's sterile atmosphere.

He penned several short notes, inviting Harry's closest friends, the ones he considered family, including the ones who'd been alienated by their break-up, to his apartment in a fortnight for a Saturday afternoon discussion. It was enough time that Harry would be healthy enough to attend, if that's what he and Lydia decided. He sent the notes off with Hedwig and Regina, his own eagle owl.

He thought about waking Harry, but decided there was no rush; the recovering man's body had been through quite the ordeal after all, not to mention the emotional upheaval Harry had endured. He left Harry to his own devices, though he perched in the bedside chair for the rest of the day, having meals only because Dietty forced them on him. His mind was still whirling with all Harry had revealed and what it meant for their futures, individually and together.

Harry woke on his own the next morning, ravenous, Draco had given him plenty of fluids to prevent dehydration, and nutrient potions, while he was semi-conscious, but this was the first time Harry had said he was actually hungry. Draco was pleased, and asked Dietty to bring them something. It was an odd choice for breakfast food perhaps, but they made quick work of the delicious noodle soup Dietty made for them. Then Draco levitated Harry to the bath. Though they were the same height, Harry had always had more mass than Draco, and even in his weakened and thinner state, he was too heavy for the young medi-wizard to move on his own.

Draco bathed him, washing away the stale odour of sickness and sweat that had clung to Harry over the last few days. Much to the relief of both. And he'd done a good job keeping his touch professional and impersonal though he did struggle now and then with a few lascivious thoughts.

When they'd finished, Harry was dressed in clean pyjamas. Draco fought for control as he slipped the pewter snitch buttons through their holes on the navy blue silk pyjamas. True, they were Harry's favourite pair, and it was important that he feel as comfortable as possible for the upcoming meeting with Healer marsh, but they were also a gift from Draco.

Harry sensed his ex-boyfriend's distress and gently lifted Draco's hands away, finishing the buttons himself, though his hands were shaking with the effort by the time he'd done. Draco nodded his gratitude, though really he longed to kiss Harry his thanks, as he had so many times before. With wet eyes he settled Harry in the bed, then turned away to regain his composure.

"Draco, Angel?" Harry called softly, but Draco didn't turn around.

"Please love, look at me."

Draco squared his shoulders and finally turned to face the man in the bed. Harry held out his hands, "Come to me Angel."

Draco took slow steps to the bed and sat on its edge. "Harry--" his voice was an agony.

Before either could say another word, reopen old wounds, or grasp at healing the raw edges, the Floo chime sounded. "That's the mind-healer," Draco rasped, "Remember she's here to help you, Harry." He squeezed the squared hand with its blunt fingers, and left to meet Healer Marsh.

Tbc…