The raven settles before him, landing on the book he's just set aside. Harry looks askance at the patronus and waits.
"Potter. You have a follow-up at St. Mungo's in two hours. I'll find you. Be ready."
He watches the bird take flight and vanish through the wall. "I guess he wasn't expecting a reply, then."
Harry shakes his head. Reaching for the wand beside him, he casts a Tempus. "At two." He taps his lip in thought and heads to his room. "Guess I'd better get cleaned up."
When Draco shows up to his room, Harry is freshly-showered and in clean clothes. Harry notices the stain on Draco's robes and the tired lines around his eyes. He doesn't press.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
The Floo powder lights up the fireplace and Draco calls out, "St. Mungo's."
Harry goes through first and waits for Draco. After he brushes the soot from his trousers, Draco leads him to the fourth floor.
"Mr. Malfoy, it's good to see you again." A bright young healer looks up at Draco from the other side of the healer station and he smiles curtly.
"Yes. I've brought Harry Potter for his follow-up."
"Oh, let me see." She studies the list before lighting up. "Oh yes! Mr. Potter will be in room two if you would like to go in and have a seat?"
Draco nods, then ushers Harry to the second room on the left. He closes the door and takes a seat in the corner.
The quiet doesn't last long as a thin, sharp healer enters the room with a wheezing voice. "Hello, Mr. Potter. How are you doing today?"
Harry looks from the healer to Draco as if he can hide, but Draco raises and eyebrow and laughs. "I'm, uh, fine, thanks."
"Good, good. I'm Healer Lunz. Please have a seat."
As she gets closer, Harry smells the sour smell of cigarettes and sweat. He tries not to gag, but is having a difficult time when Healer Lunz raises her arms to cast a diagnostic spell. Harry shrinks back and she appraises him.
"Still some aftereffects from the spell, I take it?"
"Yes." His answer is short, but he hopes it's clear.
"Just a couple more to go." Healer Lunz's fingers are thin and shrew-like and Harry wonders how she can truly grip the thick wand she holds. Harry shakes his head softly and looks down at his knees. "There we go."
"Am I done?"
"Let's talk for a minute, Mr. Potter." She steps back and turns to Draco. "Can you please step outside?"
Draco huffs, but leaves.
Harry's thumb taps absently against the metal table and his eyes start moving from the healer to the door.
"You were hit with a right nasty spell. Botched, too, from what I'm told."
Harry nods.
"You've recovered remarkably, but it seems as if you still have some lingering… shall we say, psychoses, to work through?" She's writing as she says this, so she doesn't see Harry purse his lips or grip the edge of the bed. "All things aside, you are free to live on your own unless you are experiencing any thoughts of self harm. Are we feeling any thoughts of self-harm, Mr. Potter?"
Harry thinks hard about the question. He remembers the incident when he'd arrived at the Manor and how long it's been since he's thought that way. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. He shakes his head.
"Anything to add?" The healer lifts Harry's shirt and Harry tries to tug it back down. "Mr. Potter, I need to examine you fully." At his insistence, Harry lets go of the fabric. "I see we have some scarring that isn't mentioned in the reports. So I'll ask again. Anything to add?"
Harry clenches his jaw and his eyes go tight.
"Do we need to be worried about your choice in companionship, Mr. Potter?" Harry's eyes snap to hers and his tapping stills.
"What?"
She nods toward the doorway. "I realize he's an Auror now, but certainly there is someone else you could stay with?"
Harry blanches and isn't sure what to say.
"All right then. We are all free to make our own choices." She makes some notes, then looks up at him. "It seems as if you are free to go, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you, Healer Lunz." His words are clipped, but he jumps off the table and runs to the door.
Draco walks quickly to catch up with him. It's not until he's at the Floo that Draco tugs on his shoulder.
"Everything perfect, then?"
"Sorry, Draco." Harry looks away. "I'd just like to get back home—or to the Manor, I guess."
Draco catches the slip and ignores it, going for the Floo powder instead. He tosses it in quickly and walks in before Harry has a chance to see the expression on his face.
As they emerge from the fireplace back at the Manor, Harry spins on Draco. He's shaking and breathing quickly.
"Draco, I—" Harry starts, but he's unsure how to continue. His fists are balled at his sides and Draco's staring, so he closes his eyes to breathe. "I can't go back."
"Back where?" Draco's face is pulled taut.
"To Grimmauld. I can't go back there." Harry's shoulders slump as if the weight he's been carrying is shed and gone. "I don't want to be alone anymore."
Draco takes off his robe, tosses it on a nearby cushion. "What do you want me to do about it?" Harry isn't sure how to respond; the anger is new.
"I want to sell it." The words come out so quickly, they surprise Harry and Draco both. "There's too many memories there. I—I need it gone." He's lost in thoughts of Sirius—how they'd both nearly been taken by that house. Draco's voice brings him out of it.
"Okay, so sell it." A soft wave of Draco's hand dismisses the entire thing as if it's nothing—absolutely nothing.
"You're okay with it?" Harry sits now; it's more of a collapse, really.
"Why would I care about that shit hole? It never meant anything to me."
"Oh." Harry laughs softly. "Well, I thought since you're technically a Black and it was their house…" He lets the words drift into the ether. Neither reels reel them back in.
"Once you sell Grimmauld, then what?"
"I was hoping I could stay here, at least for now."
"Stay if you want." Draco grabs his robes and vanishes upstairs, leaving a slightly bewildered Harry in his wake.