"HERMIONE!"
The world flared green and whirled and then Harry was vomited out onto the hearth rug, startling Ginny into bolting for her room.
"I'm not dressed!" she shouted. "Haven't you heard of calling first?"
"Hermione!" Harry scrambled to his feet and whirled around, sweeping the mantle clean of picture frames. "Where is she?"
"She left for work twenty minutes ago!" Ginny shouted back from her bedroom. "Have you gone mad?"
"Where's your owl? Take a letter," he struck a pompous pose as she came back into the room in a fresh t-shirt and slacks. "Dear Hermione, your brilliant idea was an utter failure. Thank you so much for making me look like a gullible prat in front of Draco fucking Malfoy. Yours truly, Harry the fucking ten-point stag. How does that sound?"
"Merlin, Harry," Ginny stared at his head. "Your rack is bigger than mine."
"Stuff it," he snapped. Unsatisfied by his dictation, he jumped back through the Floo to his flat, seized his invisibility cloak, and Disapparated for Hogsmeade. He skipped the knocker and rapping three times, and instead pounded his fist on the door and glared at the windows of the upper floors.
The handle jiggled and the locks rattled and the door swung open. Draco's pale blond hair was rumpled, his forelock no longer neatly tucked behind his ear, and his eyes were bloodshot. He wore a robe tied loosely over satin pyjamas.
"Potter?" he asked hesitantly.
"Of course it's me!" Harry shouted.
"Keep your voice down," Draco hushed him. "Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood?"
"I don't care!" Harry hollered, then ran up the steps and shoved past the other man.
Once inside he threw the cloak back, this time getting enough rage-fueled momentum behind the toss that it actually swept clear on the first try. Atop his head sat the large rack of antlers that he had erroneously assumed were gone forever.
"Bollocks," Draco said calmly. "Now don't panic, clearly we have to-"
"We nothing!" Harry shouted. "You clearly have no idea what you're doing. This is just like when they were sawed off. You can't just remove them you have to remove the cause."
"That's what I was about to say."
"Why does it need to be said?" Harry screamed. "You're the Healer! Cures are supposed to be your speciality!"
"Harry, calm down."
"Don't call me Harry! Don't talk to me like a mate! You probably did this on purpose because you're still hung up on our stupid school rivalry rubbish!" Harry was pacing now, and every time he spun on his heel Draco flinched and ducked.
"Potter, it's a difficult spell and we don't yet know what-"
"You've always hated me!" Harry shouted over him. "You probably planned this to humiliate me! Too bad I was at home when they grew back instead of out in public where someone like Rita Skeeter could see me."
Draco's eyes darkened, and with a cat-like swipe he seized Harry's left antler and yanked his head down so he could speak directly into his ear.
"Are you questioning my integrity as a Healer?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
"Yes," Harry glared up at him sideways.
Draco released him, shoving him hard and sending him tumbling to the floor. "Get out."
"No!" Harry scrambled to his feet and marched to the examination room door. "You go in there and find me a cure! It's what you're charging me for, isn't it?"
"I'm not charging you anymore," Draco's voice refused to rise. He stood with his fists balled at his sides but allowed no anger to penetrate his expression beyond his eyes. "Now get out."
"So that's how it is, quitting already?" Harry asked. "How long did you spend mending that vanishing cabinet in sixth year? I suppose destroying the wizarding community was more important to you than healing the sick."
"Get out!" Draco's expression cracked. He seized Harry's collar, and dragged him towards the door. Harry hauled back with all of his might and tore free, lost his balance, and wheeled into the nearest wall, where the sharp tines of his left antler punctured a hole in the sheetrock.
They both froze. Harry stared up through his eyebrows at the gash in the wall and Draco's shock slowly melted back into a stony, neutral mask.
"I'm sorry," Harry stammered. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to pull free from the jagged hole, but the hooked points of the antler hung up on the edges of the sheetrock, keeping him doubled over at the waist and pinned.
Draco watched him struggle to free himself for a moment and then sighed. He crossed the room and gently pushed Harry's hands away so he could maneuver the spires free and release him from captivity.
Harry was embarrassed. A small triangle of sheetrock still hung from one of his points. Draco reached up and slid it free, then tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Just go," he sighed.
Harry sheepishly scooped up his cloak and slunk to the door. He was confused. He should still be furious but instead he felt guilty. Why should he feel guilty? Draco was the one who had screwed up. So Harry had put a hole in his wall, that was nothing compared to Harry's prospects as a horned hero.
He grasped the door handle and paused. Finally he spoke up to try to assuage his guilt. "Sorry about your wall."
"Not your fault," Draco said, his voice low and dispassionate again.
Harry swept the cloak over his head and walked outside. As the locks rattled behind him he realized the apology for the wall hadn't helped one bit. He still felt guilty, but he didn't know why.
0oOo0
The metal examination table was cold beneath Harry's thighs. Once again he was stripped down to his skivvies so a healer could inspect a problem on top of his head.
The Ministry Healer, Chesterton Payne, chest pain, Harry thought with a strange mix of amusement and guilt, gazed at him with thoughtful bemusement.
"And you say they've grown back overnight twice?" he asked. "You know, we could try a potion I've had in mind. It's a paste typically used in taxidermy-"
"No," Harry dropped his head back in exasperation and nearly toppled over from the shift in weight. "We thought of that."
"Who thought of that?"
"I talked to another Healer when you didn't have any answers," Harry said.
"And who pray tell did you think would know more than the Ministry Healer?" he folded his arms across his chest. Chest pain. Harry wanted to snicker again.
"Draco Malfoy," he said. "He's a former classmate of mine-"
"Oh I know who he is," the Ministry Healer sneered. "Young upstart thinks he can run a practice purely at his own whim. I'm surprised he was willing to see you at all."
"I only-"
"The young Master Malfoy has taken in a grand total of zero wizard cases since starting his practice three years ago," the Healer spoke over him.
"How does he-"
"Non-human patients. Werewolves. Veelas, Centaurs. Goblins." The healer spat each label with contempt. "He simply doesn't take human cases." He flipped through Harry's file. "And as we've established, you are fully human."
"Well," Harry said. "It's a rather intriguing case, isn't it?"
"I suppose," the Ministry Healer shrugged. "I find his practice suspect and discriminatory. If you're willing to trust yourself to that kind of care..."
Harry frowned. How was he meant to take that? So far Ministry Healer Chest Pain hadn't tried a thing. He hadn't even given Harry a thorough exam, just asked him to undress and then sat at his desk. At least Draco had checked him for other symptoms and tried a potion.
Trust himself to that kind of care? At least he'd provided care.
"I want you to apply this poultice to your scalp every night for the next week," the Ministry Healer seemed to read his mind. "It should lift the horns by the roots and remove them completely."
"Antlers."
"Oh. Quite right."
Harry accepted the dense bundle of brown wrapping paper and twine and hefted it in his hands. How was this any different from the taxidermy paste or the saw? Wouldn't they just grow back in again? Was the Healer even paying attention?
"Come back and see me on Friday if it's not starting to improve."
Harry had no doubt that he would be in on Friday.
0oOo0
Three raps on the brass knocker, no more, no less. The handle jiggled, the locks rattled, and the door opened. Draco Malfoy blinked at the empty space at the bottom of his stoop and then sighed.
"Potter?"
"Yes," Harry didn't know what to say. Well, he knew what to say. Obviously sorry was the thing to say. He just didn't know how to say it. How was hard.
"What do you want?"
"I want to say I'm," he swallowed hard, "sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you."
"What else?" Apparently Draco didn't mind if his neighbors saw him talking to empty air.
"I'm sorry for insulting you," Harry added.
"What else?"
"I'm sorry for questioning your integrity as a Healer?" Harry's voice rose in a question. Surely that's what Draco was looking for.
"Damn straight," he nodded.
"Can I come in?"
"Potter," Draco braced his hands on his hips and bowed his head. Finally he waved his hand and stepped aside.
Harry dropped the cloak as he entered and went straight to the wall he'd punctured. The repair job was good but he could see just a tiny zigzag crease from the patch.
"It seems oddly fitting that the Boy who Lived would leave a lightning bolt shaped scar on my wall," Draco's said dryly.
"I'm sorry about that, too," Harry ran his hand across the plaster.
"As you've expressed multiple times," Draco said. "What can I do for you, Potter?"
"The Ministry Healer gave me this," Harry handed over the paper and twine bundle. "Chest pain," he grinned.
"Indeed," Draco struggled to swallow a smirk. He settled his expression and went cold again. He unwrapped the bundle and frowned at the dense, sticky loaf inside, then sniffed it once and shook his head.
"He said to wear it for a week and come see him on Friday if it's not improving."
"Have you made your Friday appointment yet?"
"No."
"Do it now," Draco said. "Because this won't fix it. This is a poultice to remove warts, corns, and calluses."
"Great."
"I told you he was useless," Draco wrapped the bundle up and handed it back. "Then again, you think I'm useless, too, so I suppose it doesn't matter much."
"Draco-"
"Oh so now I'm Draco," his eyes darkened again. The versatility of his eyes distracted Harry, making him forget that he was about to get an earful.
"Malfoy-"
"Your problem," Draco said. "Is that you don't know what was cast. So any Healer is going to have to make some educated guesses. How educated depends on the Healer."
"Will you accept me back as a patient?"
Draco stared at him with his neutral, blank expression. Harry remembered that mask. He'd started wearing it during sixth year, when family and duty and honor had put more strain on him than anyone deserved. Even a tosser like Draco Malfoy.
"Please," Harry said. He reached up and grasped his antlers. "Don't leave me like this."
"Go see a Necromancer," Draco said. "Find out whatever you can about the curse and I'll decide if I can offer any more help."
"Okay," Harry's breath came out in a gust. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted Draco to agree. They stood there, staring at each other across the parlor, neither one sure what to do next.
"Anything else?" Draco's cheeks pinkened.
"I, well," Harry held his hands out and cocked his head. "Do you think my hands look any different?"
"I'm not sure, I doubt it," Draco craned his neck but didn't move any closer.
"Oh," Harry shoved them into his pockets. "You're right, I would have noticed."
Draco touched his bottom lip with his fingertips and gazed thoughtfully at his examination room door. He tipped his head slightly. "I should probably examine you to be sure," his voice came out softer than before.
"Yes, that sounds right," Harry nodded quickly. He ducked and busied himself folding his cloak as Draco went to prep the table. Harry didn't know why his cheeks should be blushing or what he was hoping for. It would be a routine exam. It would confirm what he already knew, that the issue was confined to his head. But there was no reason not to confirm. Especially if it meant a lovely bit of touching.
He stood up quickly, knocking a lamp into a chair with one of his antlers. Where in Merlin's name had that thought come from?
"Are you coming?"
Harry shoved the thought aside and hustled into the examination room, knocking a wall sconce askew on his way in. He hopped onto the table and clasped his hands between his knees.
"Undress," Draco was pushing parchments around on his desk again. Harry unbuttoned his shirt and yanked off his socks. He then paused at his trousers. He was wearing boxers, but he was a little concerned that he might become aroused again by the contact and it would be much more visible than last time.
"You can keep them if you're more comfortable," Draco glanced over his shoulder.
"I'm wearing underpants."
"Well," Draco turned back to his papers. "Take your trousers off, then."
Harry obeyed and laid back, his head at the edge of the table with his antlers hanging off of the end. As before, Draco approached him from above, starting at his scalp and fluttering his fingers through Harry's hair.
He had to swallow a groan as the other man took his time inspecting the base of the horns. He drew the pads of his thumbs around the circumference where bone met flesh, eliciting goosebumps up and down Harry's arms. His fingers worked back and forth through the new hair growth, tracing over every bit before moving on to his ears.
The ears were just marvelous. Draco dragged his thumbs around the edges of his pinnae and then stroked behind them right where they met his head. Then the fingers worked their way across his temples to his forehead, then down to his cheekbones, and then they rasped lightly across the stubble that lined Harry's jaw.
Draco circled around and stood beside him now, his gray eyes focused as he worked skilled fingers along Harry's collarbones to his shoulders. He leaned in and inspected Harry's triceps and Harry took the opportunity to inhale the scent of Draco's hair. His shampoo had the dark masculine scent of leather and musk and a hint of night-flowering jasmine.
Draco looked up and met his gaze, and he had to wonder if he knew Harry was enjoying himself. Certainly he had to wonder whether Draco had felt the sniff.
Draco straightened up and worked his fingers down his biceps and forearms and wrists to his hands, where he pressed into the creases of Harry's palms and flexed each of his fingers. He raised Harry's hands to his face and inspected them carefully, and Harry had to fight the urge to run one finger along the edge of his bottom lip.
It was madness, but surely he was picking up some kind of signal, right? Draco hadn't responded when Harry admitted that he was gay. Hadn't said a single word about it, actually. If he was straight surely he would have said something. Straight men were always clarifying their preferences to him, in a universal paranoia about being hit on.
Then again, Draco took his Healer Code seriously. This could simply be professional. It could be entirely one sided. But oh, what kind of professional would work his fingers around his pecs like that? And that feathery soft glance of a touch around his nipples, what was medical about that? And oh Merlin, he was near the waistband of Harry's underpants now. He was painfully aware that his semi-erection was more than semi-noticeable.
Draco skipped down and ran his fingertips along Harry's thighs, and come on there was no way that wasn't sexual. And then he was down at Harry's feet, squeezing and inspecting and, to be perfectly honest, massaging.
"Turn over," Draco's voice was unmistakably husky as he stepped back and waited for Harry to settle on his stomach. He then started at Harry's scalp again and worked his way down his back to his waistband. Without asking he slipped Harry's underpants down and ran his hand across the smooth expanse of skin just above his tailbone. He leaned in close, just as he had done before, his warm breath ghosting across Harry's back. And then Harry was absolutely certain that he felt two lips graze his skin.
His voice was thick, "Mal-"
Three raps at the door and Draco was out of the exam room and crossing the parlor before Harry could straighten his underpants and sit up. He looked around for his clothes and knew there would be no point in waiting to see if the exam would resume. There was nothing more to inspect. Besides, they both knew the curse started and ended at the antlers. There was no point in starting again.
"I've been waiting for this shipment of bee pollen for three weeks," Draco said as he lugged a big box through to the potions room. "This is good timing because I have another potion I'd like to try on you. Can you be here on Monday?"
"Sure," Harry buttoned up his shirt. He was disappointed, which was silly because what exactly did he think was going on here?
"And see a Necromancer before then," Draco was busy at his desk. Harry stared at the line of his shoulders but couldn't read his posture. He'd better not be laughing again. If this was all just taking the piss-
He arrested that line of thinking. It wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to not get all tangled up in matters of personal history or pride, not as long as he had any hope of removing the rack from his head. Once that was gone, he could tangle all he liked. For now he just had to trust that Draco Malfoy really did want to help him.