IX.
Harry looked at the time, fingers curling around his mug of coffee to bring it to his lips. It was only lukewarm, but he took a long drag of the dark liquid, hoping to finally feel its effects. He realized with a start that he'd been working for close to twelve hours after being called in just after midnight the previous night for an altercation in the wing.
Of course, he'd suspected Malfoy. Yes, it had been more than ten days but his subconscious had obviously been eager to jump on the chance to be right in its suspicion. He blamed it on sleepiness and recent confusion regarding Malfoy. The idiot had always been wholly distracting.
A sharp knock sounded out just as the clock read the dreaded hour: noon. Harry sighed, leaning forward with the weight of his body and his fatigue. His exhaustion forced him to replay, in his mind, the events of the earlier night. He almost didn't want to call Malfoy in for his session, a wave of embarrassment hitting him.
He'd barged in, ready to accuse Malfoy of... whatever wrongdoing he'd been involved in.
Instead of the face of someone who attacked two other patients, however, Harry'd faced a sleeping Malfoy. Soft hair that fanned out onto the pillow, covers drawn to his chin, mouth slightly open, and nothing that Harry could use to justify his own anger to himself.
Of course, Harry had left without a word to deal with the real problem, but he worried that Malfoy had noticed his entrance.
"Come in!" he called, swallowing hard against the nervousness.
Harry was wary, watching every one of Malfoy's movements from the corner of his eye. He tried to act normally, desperate not to give away his earlier blunder.
"Your office is cooler," Malfoy said. Harry didn't know if the casual tone was normal. Grey eyes darted around the room as though to find the source of the cold air. To Harry, it seemed he was looking for a reason to bring up the topic. His eyes narrowed momentarily before landing on Harry. "Why?"
"I've been here for ages." His throat dried, so he coughed once. "I must have left a few charms running for longer than needed."
"Hmm," Malfoy was noncommittal. His shoulder were set, back straight, and Harry's mind whirred with thoughts of how to distract him.
In truth, he'd set the temperature of the office just a bit cooler than usual for Malfoy's comfort, but admitting to that would probably be worse than telling Malfoy how innocent he'd looked asleep.
Fuck.
"What are you waiting for?" Malfoy was insistent, tone sharp—or perhaps it was in Harry's head.
"Sorry?"
"You're acting strangely, Po-sorry, Harry."
Harry froze.
"Did you just—"
"Yes." Malfoy looked annoyed.
"Harry?"
"That is your name."
"You?"
"I'm Draco. Are you sure you aren't the patient here?"
"You used my name."
"I don't see why it needs to be cause for comment."
"Right."
"Right."
"Of course it doesn't." Harry grinned.
Inside, Harry the Healer was more than satisfied, if Harry the Gryffindor was a little suspicious. With Malfoy calling him by his first name—voluntarily—it proved they were taking steps forwards, or else Malfoy was trying to trap him in something by confusing him…
"How would you like to try out some magic?" Harry asked, eager to start something a little more distracting.
"Right now?" Malfoy's voice was suddenly wavering, weaker than normal. Harry felt some control return to him and he pushed the sleepiness aside. Working with Malfoy was far too exciting, just as it always had been.
"Right now."
Malfoy lifted his chin slightly, defiantly. Then, he pursed his lips so that his face seemed much thinner and much younger.
"Have you taken your calming draught today, Malfoy?"
He shook his head at the neutral question.
"I'll call for a nurse to bring that, and then we can work. How does that sound?"
"Fine, Harry." Malfoy, the prick, smirked at Harry's wide eyes. In his defense, being called by name two times in as many minutes was, frankly, overwhelming. "I don't need coddling."
Harry raised his eyebrows, unable to resist. "That's a surprise to me."
Of course, the real surprise came when Malfoy cracked a little smile in response. It was followed by a scowl, but the damage had been done.
Standing, Harry turned to the fireplace to place a floo call to the potions department. The potion could be sent up in moments. In that instant, he remembered the topic they hadn't yet broached since the incident a number of sessions earlier.
A look at Malfoy showed that the blond was staring right back at him with a curious expression on his face, watching as he stood in place.
"An owl." Harry said, more to himself than to Malfoy, jerkily turning to the window. "I'll send the request by owl. It should be quick."
Swiping some parchment from his desk, Harry scribbled a little note, sealing it with a small poke from his wand for authentication. Satisfied, he leaned out through the window. With two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly, calling an owl to him. It flew, letter gripped in its talons, with Harry's strict instructions to return only with a potion.
"Why're you scared of owls?" Malfoy's voice pierced Harry's back, and Harry ran a hand through his hair before turning to face Malfoy again.
"What do you mean?"
"I've just noticed…" Malfoy looked thoughtfully to the window behind Harry. "You don't like to touch them and you've got the same pile of mail on your desk as you did when I first had to come in here."
Harry's gaze landed on the mentioned pile.
"That's, er, that's my fault. I don't normally have so much work. Hermione, my colleague here in the wing, is away on her honeymoon, so I've taken on some of her patients in her absence." He shrugged, leaning on one shoulder against the wall. "I haven't even had a spare moment to think, if I'm honest." He paused, holding back a sigh. "What is it now, Draco?"
Malfoy schooled his features immediately, but the little twist of his lips hadn't been missed by Harry.
"Nothing." Harry waited. "All right, I just realized that I might have been stuck with Granger instead of you—"
"She's a wonderful Healer!"
Malfoy was unperturbed. "That isn't what I'm trying to say."
Again, there was a pause. Malfoy looked down at his hands.
"I prefer you, that's all."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Nothing." There was a redness spreading over Malfoy's cheeks that Harry couldn't understand. Even if he'd been sitting, ready to write down observations, he wouldn't have known what to make of the comment.
Harry hummed, unsure of what to say.
"So, they're procreating now."
Harry winced, and Malfoy did a second later. "Not yet… but I'm sure it's ahead."
"Lucky them." There was a twinge of something unrecognizable in the way his lips spat the words out, though the uncomfortable stillness around them was not eliminated.
"Well," Harry began, trying to find his way back to safe territory. "As it happens, I'm not scared of owls."
Malfoy looked relieved at the change in topic.
"I had an owl, but she was killed."
"I'm sorry."
The situation was bizarre, Harry found himself thinking. Still, he couldn't stop the words that continued to spill over.
"Another part of it is that, as a hero," the word twisted in his mouth, "I find myself receiving a lot of mail. Though you always used to tell everyone that I love attention, the opposite is true. I like helping people, but I never wanted adoration or credit for things I didn't do."
Malfoy's eyes were firmly locked on his fingers, which had tangled together.
"P-Harry?" The slip was almost unnoticeable, which, in itself, screamed for Harry's attention.
"Yes?"
The silence between them was fragile but heavy.
"I don't think I've apologized for the way I acted in school."
"Neither have I."
Their eyes met. Malfoy looked away first.
"I can't shift all the blame from myself, so I have to say—that is—I'm sorry."
Harry nodded casually as his pulse raced in his ears.
"My behaviour was caused by my pride, my father's expectations, and immense pressure. It might not seem—"
Harry cut him off before he could get angry about another person in his life thinking he didn't understand. "I know. I was under pressure myself."
They sat in silence, but something clicked in Harry's mind, so he continued. "Draco, I think you've been hiding from your magic because of its potential. You've seen it being used for evil." A nod. "No offence, but I don't know if you've realized that you lack that same potential. You aren't your father, you aren't going to hurt anyone."
Resting his chin on his hands, elbows on his desk, Harry waited.
Malfoy looked shaken. "I know that? I just saw so much."
His eyes fluttered shut, pained.
It struck Harry that they really were rather similar. "Draco, if you want to put the past behind you, you need to start moving forward. I understand your hesitance not to hurt—I've been protecting people all my life, and sometimes it seemed I did more harm than good. Still, wallowing never helped. When I decided to be a Healer, I realized how much I enjoy helping people. No prophecy, no Voldemort, just me."
"I don't have anything like that." It was a whisper, and Malfoy placed his hands on his knees, leaning forward to share the secret.
"We'll work to it," Harry promised just as quietly. "We've worked to identify some areas that need help, and I think it's truly time to take that first active step."
The fear on Malfoy's face was familiar. Harry'd saved him once, could he do it again? The softness that was etched permanently in his memory—Malfoy's sleeping figure— told him yes, he'd do everything in his power to make things right.
The Boy-Who-Lived's job never ended, did it? For once, Harry didn't mind.
The knock on the window came soon after Harry laid out the plan for Malfoy. They would begin with simple charms: levitation, colour-changing, amplification, and their respective counter-charms.
Harry watched with all too much interest as Malfoy drank the potion, but there was a lot on his mind and he blamed it all on not sleeping, writing it off as a fluke.