Since January 2020, I've been a member of the writing collaboration Seven Shades of Drarry, a group of seven Drarry writers coming together to write themed anthologies. Our first anthology — Seven Shades of Sin — is inspired by the seven deadly sins. My contribution to this anthology is teased here, but you have to click to the collection's account to see the entire story. The link is in my profile, or you can search users for SevenShadesofDrarry.


This work is part of the Seven Shades of Sin anthology, the first in a series of planned collaborative projects within the Seven Shades of Drarry collective. Each Sin has been written by a different author. Please see the Author Profile of the Seven Shades of Drarry account for more information on the anthology, the collective, and each individual author.


Summary:

It's been ten years since that strange man with his strange condition showed up in Healer Potter's office, setting off a chain reaction none of them could've ever predicted. A getting-together story involving puzzling symptoms, inefficient coworkers and a life-altering turn of events that caught them both blind-sided.

Tags/Warnings: EWE, HP/DM, Healer Harry, Potioneer Draco, Fluff

Word count: 20,960
(This post is only a teaser. To read the full story, please find it on the collection's account. The link is in my profile, or you can search users for SevenShadesofDrarry.)

Sloth — the absence of interest or habitual disinclination to exertion.


Author's notes:

Thank you, my brilliant Shady Ladies, for all that you are and all that you do. This fic wouldn't have been the same without you — or, rather, it never would've even existed if it weren't for you.

English is not my native language so please be kind if you find any errors I've missed. That said, I'll appreciate any feedback you're willing to give me — follows, favs and reviews are my primary life sources.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR and associated publishers. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The comments and opinions expressed by the original creator do not reflect the views of the author of this transformative work.


TEASER


Sloth | Lazy Days

by Drarrelie

Excerpt from Chapter 1


Now


A soft ray of sunlight peeking through the gap in the curtains is what brings Harry awake this morning. Its warm tendrils brush gently over his skin, ghost over his eyelids and draw a content smile from his lips.

Harry can't even remember the last time he woke up like this; allowed a late morning lie-in without a care in the world. Months, surely, if not years. If it's not the buzz of an alarm spell rousing him for another workday, it's one of their kids craving attention or a neighbour bustling around at sunrise o'clock.

Today is different, though, Harry reminds himself — special. Just as it should be.

When Draco asked him what he wanted to do for their anniversary, this was what Harry wished for. Not a romantic weekend away at some luxury resort or a hip city on the continent; not tickets to a Quidditch game or a West End show; not a fancy dinner at any of those snazzy restaurants Draco always says he wants to take him to; not even a relaxed garden-party with their friends and family. Just this; them, alone. One day for just the two of them, as a break from the hectic chaos that is their ordinary family life.

They'll probably still end up going to one of those restaurants tonight — knowing Draco, he's probably booked the table already several weeks ago — but that's perfectly okay. It's called compromising. It's what you do in a marriage if you want it to work and last longer than a package of toilet rolls.

There's a blackbird singing in the birches outside, its cheerful song finding its way through the slightly ajar window. Without opening his eyes, Harry can feel the presence of his husband's body next to him, Draco's warmth reaching out to mingle with his own in the space between them.

Despite their many years together, Harry can attest mornings like these have been few and far between. He can't even remember the last time they woke up side by side, without one of them already up and about, preparing breakfast and entertaining the kids.

And honestly, waking up like this wasn't all that usual before the children either. Back in those days, they still slept entangled in one another's limbs, half on top of each other or spooning, and their morning routine almost always commenced with a rock-hard morning wood pressing against a hip or an arse cheek — or devoured by a hot hungry mouth.

They used to be insatiable then; almost incapable of keeping their hands off each other whenever they happened to be in the same room — even in the company of others, much to their friends' dismay. Harry can't help the grin from spreading across his face at the recollection, finally giving in to the urge to open his eyes and look at the man he loves.

Draco is lying on his side, his face close enough for Harry to see the familiar features clearly even without his glasses, and Harry's heart melts at the sight of ruffled blond hair, pillow-creases on a pale cheek, and rosy lips curved into a fond smile.

"Hi," Draco murmurs softly, his voice husky from sleep.

Harry shifts his gaze to meet his husband's warm grey eyes, currently sparkling with amusement.

"Mornin'," Harry says, clearing his throat to wake up his own vocal cords. "Watching me sleep, eh?"

"Maybe," Draco hums and lifts a hand to trace the length of Harry's arm before carding his slender fingers through Harry's unruly locks. "What were you thinking about just now? You were smiling like a loon."

"You," Harry says, reaching over to place a light kiss on the tip of Draco's nose. "Us."

"Yeah?"

The hand that's been entangled in Harry's hair travels further back to curl around the nape of his neck, keeping Harry close enough for Draco to press his soft lips to Harry's own. The kiss they share is slow and tender, affectionate and unhurried — so unlike those hungry desperate kisses they used to crave in the beginning.

Back then, every kiss was spiked with desire, ablaze with pent-up emotions from nearly two decades of charged confrontations and a magnetic pull none of them had been able to identify at the time. Back then, every touch was laced with the awe of something too good to be true, mixed with the fear of it suddenly coming to an end — of waking up one day, only to find it all being nothing but a dream.

Harry groans as Draco draws back, fluttering his eyes open as Draco cups his jaw and strokes the pad of his silky-smooth thumb over Harry's flushed cheek.

"So, what's the plan for today?" he says.

"No plan," Harry says, smiling as he watches the crease form between Draco's brows as he frowns. Draco always needs to have a plan, or he'll get restless and itchy. "Don't worry, love, I reckon we just do whatever the hell we want."

"And what do you want?"

"How about just staying in bed?"

Draco is awfully adorable when he's going for his incredulous look, with his bright eyes comically wide and those neat pale eyebrows raised halfway towards his hairline.

"You want us to lie here all day? You know sloth is a deadly sin, right?"

"So, let's sin," Harry grins, waggling his eyebrows as he wraps his arm around Draco's waist and pulls him closer. "Let's be slothy for a day, just you and me."

"Slothy?" Draco snorts, "I'm pretty sure that's not a word."

"So? It's not like we're playing Scrabble or anything." Harry chuckles, feeling rather pleased with himself as the corner of Draco's mouth twitches from repressed amusement. "Slothy, slothful, slothsome. I don't care what it's called — I want it. Besides—" Harry leans in, pressing another kiss on Draco's petulant lips, feeling them soften beneath his own before drawing back and giving Draco a mischievous wink. "Considering what finally brought us together, wouldn't sloth be just the perfect theme for our anniversary?"

Draco sighs and rolls his eyes, and Harry can only snicker at his husband's antics. He may be frustrating at times, if not downright annoying, and he's such a fucking drama queen. But, he's Harry's annoying drama queen, and no matter how much they bicker and banter, Harry wouldn't want him any other way.

— ¤ — ¤ —


Then


"Well, Mrs Jugson," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I honestly don't know what to tell you."

"You don't—?" Piercing blue eyes stared back at him from under furrowed brows. "And you call yourself a Healer?"

"Yes," Harry said calmly, silently counting down from ten, "as a matter of fact, I do."

It wasn't the first time he'd been questioned in his profession, and while it used to bother him in the beginning, it didn't sting all that much anymore. Harry had been at St Mungo's for nearly a decade now; he knew he was good at what he did.

Also, he knew that look. It was not mistrust, but concern. Worry. Anxiety.

"So, why can't you tell me what's wrong with my husband?"

"Because we don't know yet," Harry answered honestly. "We're still waiting for the tests to come back from the lab."

He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile before glancing over at Mr Jugson by her side. Just looking at him, you wouldn't suspect there was anything wrong with the man. He didn't seem to have any injuries, neither superficial nor internal, and the standard Diagnostic Spells hadn't given Harry much to work with either.

Except for the heart rate. The extremely low heart rate.

Any other patient with a heart rate that slow would've passed out a long time ago, and yet, curiously enough, this middle-aged man just sat there calmly in the visiting chair across from him, scratching his forearm as he looked at Harry expectantly.

"If you don't mind, Mr Jugson, I'd like to keep you overnight for observation. Just until we know what caused your current condition."

Mr Jugson blinked — slowly — before — slowly — nodding his consent.

And this was the symptom that currently had half of St Mungo's frowning in confusion. It was as if Mr Jugson were living in slow motion; as if he existed in a separate timeline of sorts — a timeline which ran at least ten times slower than the usual one. And Harry didn't know if he'd rather laugh at it all, or cry out in frustration — the only thing he knew was, he really shouldn't do either of the two.

Instead, he gave his patient a nod of approval before reaching for his quill and jotting down a short note for his colleagues to prepare a bed for the night. As it flew off towards the Mediwizards' station, Harry turned back to the worried woman in front of him.

"I'll let you know as soon as we have any news to share. We have yet to determine the reason for your husband's current state and—"

"You mean to tell me you don't even know what this is? Surely, there must be previous cases you could—"

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid there isn't."

Harry knew he was breaking one of the cardinal rules of his Healer code by telling her this — admitting lack of knowledge or uncertainty only tends to cause distress, for patients as well as next-of-kins — but the urge to tell this woman the truth was currently stronger than Harry's loyalty to his vocation.

"We have several people already searching for the root to your husband's condition as we speak, and the only thing I can say with certainty at this point is, there shouldn't be any cause for alarm; your husband's not ill or injured, nor is he suffering from his symptoms — he's just…"

"…slow."

"Exactly," Harry said, pleased to witness the tension draining from Mrs Jugson's shoulders. "In fact, if you don't mind, there's a way in which you could help the process along."

"How?" Mrs Jugson asked, her eyes widening as she leaned forward.

"To be able to discern how your husband became affected, it'd be helpful if you could provide information regarding your husband's last couple of days; his whereabouts, his doings, any unusual behaviour, his food intake, any people he's been in contact with, et cetera."

"But, of course," she said determined, "anything you need, Healer Potter."

"Thank you, Mrs Jugson, that'd be most appreciated. I'll have a Mediwizard come and go through it all with you in a few moments." Harry assembled Mr Jugson's file and rose from his chair. "If there's anything you need in the meantime, just tap your wand against my desk three times and someone will be with you shortly."

Harry managed to keep his professional face intact until he was out the door, hiding the emotional turmoil raging within. He took a deep breath, then another, before resolutely heading towards his Senior Healer's office.


To read the full story, please find it on the collection's account. The link is in my profile, or you can search users for SevenShadesofDrarry.