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Undesirable - COMPLETE
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,498
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,498
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Tangled
Chapter Number/Total: 2/31
Chapter Title: Tangled
Words: 2847 Words
Draco conferred with the other Healers and found that they were excited by Potter's reaction to him. In months of treatment, Potter had ignored all attempts to communicate. They assigned Draco to his case. He had argued that he was hardly an objective person to deal with Potter. That their history made him an inappropriate person to be Potter's Healer. It had been to no avail. It was embarrassing to the staff that a high profile figure like Harry Potter would still be without improvement and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that he was being set up to take the fall if it didn’t work.
Now the blond stood again in the room with Potter. He had insisted that they turn off the observation spell before he went in. "So, Potter, still lazing around?" he asked the man.
Harry tilted his head to the side when Malfoy walked in again, still in the same spot he was in before. He didn't like the rest of the bed. Harry watched him instead of replying, reaching at one point to grip the ends of his own long hair and pull. "Wrong," he mumbled, looking at the hair in his hand before squinting up at Malfoy's hair.
Draco shook his head. "I suppose we will have to cut your hair. Even a Detangling Spell isn't likely to be able to get those knots out."
"You cut yours," Harry said quietly, resting his cheek on the tops of his knees.
"Did I?," Draco asked, not hiding the surprise from his voice and stepping closer.
Harry cringed when he heard the footsteps, but he didn't move away. He peered at Malfoy's face, able to see him better now that he was closer. Younger, not the older one, he thought. Harry blinked a few times before he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, softly crying out and reaching up to press his hands against his ears.
Draco frowned. Did Potter really know who he was or was he confusing him with his father? "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"Malfoy," Harry said, slowly opening his eyes again.
"Which one?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.
Harry was beginning to shiver with the memories that assaulted his mind again, but he looked over at the other man once more. "Younger," he whispered.
"Yes," Draco confirmed, pleased with even that little progress. "Do you remember my name?"
"Dra-Draco," Harry stuttered out, swallowing and closing his eyes again.
"Do you know where you are?" Draco asked.
But Harry didn't want to talk anymore. He clenched his teeth and turned his head away, ignoring Malfoy.
"I hear you haven't been eating," Draco said, "and by the looks of you, it seems to be true." The staff had been forced to use Feeding Spells but they were not good for long term use and never as successful as natural eating.
Harry didn't react or reply to Malfoy's words.
"Of course, the food in here isn't exactly the best," Draco said as if agreeing with something Potter had said. He noticed the way Potter was curled up into only a small part of the bed. Ignoring the chair, Draco sat on the other end of the bed.
Harry tensed up and quickly turned his head back toward Malfoy, looking at him and then down at the bed.
"You don't like the bed or you don't like me on it?" Draco asked, curiously.
Harry made a soft noise in the back of his throat, curling up as tightly as he could. "No ....”
"The rules don't allow this, me sitting here," Draco said, smoothing the sheet of the bed near him. "But then the rules aren't supposed to allow me to be your Healer, either. Too much history."
Harry began to chew on his bottom lip, watching Malfoy again, aware of his every move while on the bed.
"They seem to have this idea that because you knew me before but not ... after, that I can reach you," Draco said, watching Potter's eyes.
Harry blinked and shook his head, rocking himself again. "Can't."
"Do you still like treacle tart?" Draco asked, abruptly changing the topic away from memories that might set the man off.
Harry nodded slowly and licked his lips quickly. If he thought hard enough he could remember how it tasted.
"Good," Draco said and flicked his wand, conjuring the tray he had left in the next room. It appeared on the bed, tart sitting on a plate.
Harry looked down at the plate, but didn't reach for it, still wary of Malfoy.
"It's not poisoned or anything," Draco said with a huff. “Unless you count being sickly sweet as poison.”
"What do I have to do for it?" Harry demanded.
"Nothing, it's yours," Draco answered.
Harry unclenched his hands and slowly reached for the tart, watching Malfoy in case he decided to just flick his wand and make it all disappear again. When Malfoy only tucked his wand away and watched, Harry snatched it up and took a small bite, tasting it to see if there was anything strange about it. Once he decided that it was good enough, Harry devoured it.
Draco smiled. He supposed having known Potter before was helpful. He had spent his Hogwarts years watching the other boy and knew a lot more about him than most people would realise. Like his favourite foods. "That's better, isn't it?"
Harry finished every last bit of the tart, down to the crumbs on his fingertips. "What do you want?" he asked in a quiet whisper, not looking directly at Malfoy.
"Do you know where you are?" Draco asked again.
Harry wasn't expecting more questions. He was expecting … he shuddered. "Mungo’s," he mumbled.
"And do you know what year it is?" Draco asked, pleased that the man seemed more lucid.
Harry shook his head. In the beginning he tried to keep track of the days, but that became too hard once the sunlight was blocked.
"It's 2002, Potter," Draco told him. It had been five years since Draco had last seen his childhood rival. He remembered the fire in those green eyes when they had faced off in school fights. It was disturbing to see them so dull and unfocused now.
"2002," Harry repeated quietly, stretching his fingers to count them.
"Three years since the end of the war," Draco reminded him.
Harry tucked his hands underneath his knees and, curling up again, turned his head away from Malfoy. The end ... it seemed like ... yesterday.
Draco pulled his wand again and sent the tray away. "Do you want to stay here?" he asked.
"No," Harry whispered more to himself than to Malfoy.
"If you could be anywhere else, where would it be?" Draco asked.
"Home," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes and rocking slowly.
"And where is home, Potter?" Draco asked. He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch the other man. Even sitting on the bed was against hospital policy though; hugging him could get him sacked.
Harry's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, not sure himself. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, especially now that he knew how many years had gone by.
Draco sighed. "I can't arrange to get you home if I don't know where that is, Potter."
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," Harry said suddenly, remembering exactly what had been written on that paper so many years ago. He looked over his shoulder at Malfoy, "Read quickly and memorise it."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. The Order had disbanded after the war, of course. "Is that your home, Potter?" he asked.
Harry nodded a few times, looking lost in his mind as he rested his chin back on top of his knees. "Headquarters ....”
"Well, let's see if we can get you well enough to go back to headquarters," the blond said. It was like Potter was stuck somewhere before the end of the war.
"Can't," Harry murmured softly before he shifted and lay back on the bed, curling up on his side.
"I know, Potter," Draco said sadly. "I have to go attend to some things. I will be back."
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, still curled up as tightly as he could. While he didn't show it, he somehow felt a little better, a little more himself, than he had in a while.
***
Draco sat at the desk he had been assigned to and contemplated the file in front of him. It was labelled "Harry J. Potter" and was over two inches thick. It contained every report ever taken at the hospital on the man from the first time he was admitted immediately after the final battle.
This is why they don't allow us to treat people we know personally, Draco thought as his hand shook when he reached to open it. He had heard rumours, of course. But reading it would be different.
The initial report was bad enough. Potter had been near dead when brought in. "Extensive spell damage including prolonged use of the Cruciatus Curse and banned Potions. Malnutrition. Contusions, lacerations and broken bones throughout his body. Evidence of repeated torture including sexual abuse."
Harry Potter had been captured over a year before that report. Many had presumed he was dead. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had pulled off a successful coup, taking over the Ministry. Most people had given up hope of ever stopping the madman.
Draco had not been in Great Britain during that time. After Dumbledore’s death, Severus Snape had taken Draco to a refuge in France, leaving him there. He never returned, dying not long after. The war had ended suddenly in the spring of 1999. Draco didn't know the details but, somehow, Potter had destroyed Voldemort. The resistance had risen up and defeated his followers. But The Boy Who Lived Again had not recovered. If something didn't change, Potter would most likely spend the rest of his life in a locked room in the Janus Thickey Ward, alongside the other victims like the Longbottoms.
Conventional approaches had obviously failed. Now, as Draco read every single page of the file, he realised he would have to try something different. Problem was that he’d only just returned to England and taken this job. He had finished school at Beauxbatons, then trained as a Healer in France and worked his first position there. It was only after he finally cleared his name that he had been able to return to his home country. He knew that there would be many who would still not trust him. Could he get permission to try unconventional treatment with the Hero of the Wizarding World? Since conventional approaches had failed, and Draco thought Potter himself had never been normal in any sense of that word, he thought it would take a much more personal tactic to help the severely damaged man.
Draco wrote up his own notes, his recommendations and then went to face the staff meeting. By the end of the meeting, he would either have permission to try or, more likely, be fired from his position at St Mungo’s. And he wasn’t even sure which he preferred.
***
Harry was awake and back in his normal spot in the middle of the bed. There was a plate of food left on the table next to the bed as usual, but Harry didn't touch it. He turned his face toward the sunlight coming through the small window in the room. He liked being in a room with a window. It was nice out, a good day for flying. He cringed at the thought and mumbled that he couldn't, turning his head away from the window.
Draco steeled himself and then walked into the room. He took in the untouched food and Potter's state in a glance. "Hello, Potter," he greeted him.
Harry's eyes flickered over to Malfoy, quietly reminding himself that it was the younger one. Draco had given him a tart.
Draco set the food tray aside along with the clipboard he had brought in. He stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide how to talk to Potter. He finally pulled up a chair and sat down. Potter’s eyes tracked every move he made.
Harry wondered why Malfoy didn't sit on the bed again today.
Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at his own hands for a minute. "They have given me your case, Potter," he said. "I don't know if you understand what that means." He glanced up trying to read the other man's face. Potter blinked and scratched his leg, but otherwise didn't respond, so Draco continued. "Technically, your only living relatives are Muggles, so you have been declared a ward of the Ministry. It means I don't have to have permission from you to treat you," he watched Potter to see how he reacted to that.
Harry looked around the room as he thought about the new piece of information. He thought Malfoy was already trying to treat him, so he didn't see the difference now.
"I want your permission, though, because I want to try something that isn't usually allowed," Draco said.
Harry sniffled and looked back toward Malfoy, his head tilting curiously, silently asking him to go on.
"Instead of coming in to talk to you each day like this, I have recommended I take you on as my only patient and move you out of the hospital," Draco said, and waited for a response.
Harry's face scrunched up at the words, looking very confused. "Move out?" he asked quietly.
"Actually, I was thinking you would prefer to live in your own home," Draco said. "Problem is that I would have to live there as well to continue your treatment."
"Headquarters?" Harry asked, lifting his head up finally.
Draco smiled. "Yes, living at headquarters," he confirmed. "You think I can be trusted?"
Harry shrugged, resting his head on his knees again. "You don't hurt me," he said softly.
"I did, a long time ago," Draco said, wincing as he said it but knowing it wouldn't help to ignore the fact.
Harry tensed, his arms tightening. "Will you hurt me now?”
"No, I won't now," Draco said. "You're willing to try my plan?"
Harry looked at Malfoy for a long moment, eyes squinting as he tried to focus them. Finally, he nodded once, biting his lip and slowly relaxing again.
"When do you want to go?" Draco asked, testing again.
Harry looked back toward the window and pointed. "Sunny," he murmured.
"I know you can understand me, Potter," Draco said. "If you want to go back to headquarters today, we can. If not, I will come back tomorrow."
"Now," Harry said, still looking outside. "Now ....”
Draco stood, picking up his clipboard, and smiled. "I’ll get your paperwork together and then I will take you home," he said.
"Now?" Harry asked, looking back once more at Malfoy.
"Today, if you want," Draco agreed. He paused and pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket, holding them out to Potter. "You'll need these."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at his glasses, looking suspiciously at them. "Don't want to see," he insisted.
"To go home, you will need to take them and wear them," Draco insisted. He waited, attempting to look calm and certain. It was a small thing, but important. It would show if Harry was able to cooperate in his own care.
Frowning, Harry reached a shaking hand toward the glasses but then seemed to falter. He had an image of a pale hand grabbing his wrist and he pulled his own hand back quickly. "No, hurt," he shuddered, rocking again.
Draco was disappointed. "You need to wear your glasses," he said firmly. He didn't know what it was about the glasses that was frightening to Potter. "I need you to take direction from me if I am to take care of you," he explained, setting the glasses in front of Potter on the bed and waiting.
Harry shied back when Draco reached out but then trembled in relief when the man didn't touch him. He snatched up the glasses and, after a bit of fumbling, managed to put them on his face. He peered anxiously through strands of his own hair at the now clearer blond.
"That's good, Potter," Draco said approvingly. "I will get your clothes now. You can't really go out in nothing but hospital pyjamas."
Out? Harry wondered but didn't say anything, studying Draco's face instead. He looked different than he remembered. His hair still white blond, but seemed shiny. And those grey eyes seemed softer. He could see Lucius in the man's features but not in his eyes or his expression. Harry shivered despite the fact that he felt warm.
Draco smiled at Potter. The file said the other man hadn't looked anyone directly in the face since he had last been admitted. This was real progress. "I'll do the paperwork and be back with your clothes when everything is ready," he said.
Chapter Title: Tangled
Words: 2847 Words
Draco conferred with the other Healers and found that they were excited by Potter's reaction to him. In months of treatment, Potter had ignored all attempts to communicate. They assigned Draco to his case. He had argued that he was hardly an objective person to deal with Potter. That their history made him an inappropriate person to be Potter's Healer. It had been to no avail. It was embarrassing to the staff that a high profile figure like Harry Potter would still be without improvement and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that he was being set up to take the fall if it didn’t work.
Now the blond stood again in the room with Potter. He had insisted that they turn off the observation spell before he went in. "So, Potter, still lazing around?" he asked the man.
Harry tilted his head to the side when Malfoy walked in again, still in the same spot he was in before. He didn't like the rest of the bed. Harry watched him instead of replying, reaching at one point to grip the ends of his own long hair and pull. "Wrong," he mumbled, looking at the hair in his hand before squinting up at Malfoy's hair.
Draco shook his head. "I suppose we will have to cut your hair. Even a Detangling Spell isn't likely to be able to get those knots out."
"You cut yours," Harry said quietly, resting his cheek on the tops of his knees.
"Did I?," Draco asked, not hiding the surprise from his voice and stepping closer.
Harry cringed when he heard the footsteps, but he didn't move away. He peered at Malfoy's face, able to see him better now that he was closer. Younger, not the older one, he thought. Harry blinked a few times before he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, softly crying out and reaching up to press his hands against his ears.
Draco frowned. Did Potter really know who he was or was he confusing him with his father? "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"Malfoy," Harry said, slowly opening his eyes again.
"Which one?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.
Harry was beginning to shiver with the memories that assaulted his mind again, but he looked over at the other man once more. "Younger," he whispered.
"Yes," Draco confirmed, pleased with even that little progress. "Do you remember my name?"
"Dra-Draco," Harry stuttered out, swallowing and closing his eyes again.
"Do you know where you are?" Draco asked.
But Harry didn't want to talk anymore. He clenched his teeth and turned his head away, ignoring Malfoy.
"I hear you haven't been eating," Draco said, "and by the looks of you, it seems to be true." The staff had been forced to use Feeding Spells but they were not good for long term use and never as successful as natural eating.
Harry didn't react or reply to Malfoy's words.
"Of course, the food in here isn't exactly the best," Draco said as if agreeing with something Potter had said. He noticed the way Potter was curled up into only a small part of the bed. Ignoring the chair, Draco sat on the other end of the bed.
Harry tensed up and quickly turned his head back toward Malfoy, looking at him and then down at the bed.
"You don't like the bed or you don't like me on it?" Draco asked, curiously.
Harry made a soft noise in the back of his throat, curling up as tightly as he could. "No ....”
"The rules don't allow this, me sitting here," Draco said, smoothing the sheet of the bed near him. "But then the rules aren't supposed to allow me to be your Healer, either. Too much history."
Harry began to chew on his bottom lip, watching Malfoy again, aware of his every move while on the bed.
"They seem to have this idea that because you knew me before but not ... after, that I can reach you," Draco said, watching Potter's eyes.
Harry blinked and shook his head, rocking himself again. "Can't."
"Do you still like treacle tart?" Draco asked, abruptly changing the topic away from memories that might set the man off.
Harry nodded slowly and licked his lips quickly. If he thought hard enough he could remember how it tasted.
"Good," Draco said and flicked his wand, conjuring the tray he had left in the next room. It appeared on the bed, tart sitting on a plate.
Harry looked down at the plate, but didn't reach for it, still wary of Malfoy.
"It's not poisoned or anything," Draco said with a huff. “Unless you count being sickly sweet as poison.”
"What do I have to do for it?" Harry demanded.
"Nothing, it's yours," Draco answered.
Harry unclenched his hands and slowly reached for the tart, watching Malfoy in case he decided to just flick his wand and make it all disappear again. When Malfoy only tucked his wand away and watched, Harry snatched it up and took a small bite, tasting it to see if there was anything strange about it. Once he decided that it was good enough, Harry devoured it.
Draco smiled. He supposed having known Potter before was helpful. He had spent his Hogwarts years watching the other boy and knew a lot more about him than most people would realise. Like his favourite foods. "That's better, isn't it?"
Harry finished every last bit of the tart, down to the crumbs on his fingertips. "What do you want?" he asked in a quiet whisper, not looking directly at Malfoy.
"Do you know where you are?" Draco asked again.
Harry wasn't expecting more questions. He was expecting … he shuddered. "Mungo’s," he mumbled.
"And do you know what year it is?" Draco asked, pleased that the man seemed more lucid.
Harry shook his head. In the beginning he tried to keep track of the days, but that became too hard once the sunlight was blocked.
"It's 2002, Potter," Draco told him. It had been five years since Draco had last seen his childhood rival. He remembered the fire in those green eyes when they had faced off in school fights. It was disturbing to see them so dull and unfocused now.
"2002," Harry repeated quietly, stretching his fingers to count them.
"Three years since the end of the war," Draco reminded him.
Harry tucked his hands underneath his knees and, curling up again, turned his head away from Malfoy. The end ... it seemed like ... yesterday.
Draco pulled his wand again and sent the tray away. "Do you want to stay here?" he asked.
"No," Harry whispered more to himself than to Malfoy.
"If you could be anywhere else, where would it be?" Draco asked.
"Home," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes and rocking slowly.
"And where is home, Potter?" Draco asked. He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch the other man. Even sitting on the bed was against hospital policy though; hugging him could get him sacked.
Harry's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, not sure himself. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, especially now that he knew how many years had gone by.
Draco sighed. "I can't arrange to get you home if I don't know where that is, Potter."
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," Harry said suddenly, remembering exactly what had been written on that paper so many years ago. He looked over his shoulder at Malfoy, "Read quickly and memorise it."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. The Order had disbanded after the war, of course. "Is that your home, Potter?" he asked.
Harry nodded a few times, looking lost in his mind as he rested his chin back on top of his knees. "Headquarters ....”
"Well, let's see if we can get you well enough to go back to headquarters," the blond said. It was like Potter was stuck somewhere before the end of the war.
"Can't," Harry murmured softly before he shifted and lay back on the bed, curling up on his side.
"I know, Potter," Draco said sadly. "I have to go attend to some things. I will be back."
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, still curled up as tightly as he could. While he didn't show it, he somehow felt a little better, a little more himself, than he had in a while.
***
Draco sat at the desk he had been assigned to and contemplated the file in front of him. It was labelled "Harry J. Potter" and was over two inches thick. It contained every report ever taken at the hospital on the man from the first time he was admitted immediately after the final battle.
This is why they don't allow us to treat people we know personally, Draco thought as his hand shook when he reached to open it. He had heard rumours, of course. But reading it would be different.
The initial report was bad enough. Potter had been near dead when brought in. "Extensive spell damage including prolonged use of the Cruciatus Curse and banned Potions. Malnutrition. Contusions, lacerations and broken bones throughout his body. Evidence of repeated torture including sexual abuse."
Harry Potter had been captured over a year before that report. Many had presumed he was dead. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had pulled off a successful coup, taking over the Ministry. Most people had given up hope of ever stopping the madman.
Draco had not been in Great Britain during that time. After Dumbledore’s death, Severus Snape had taken Draco to a refuge in France, leaving him there. He never returned, dying not long after. The war had ended suddenly in the spring of 1999. Draco didn't know the details but, somehow, Potter had destroyed Voldemort. The resistance had risen up and defeated his followers. But The Boy Who Lived Again had not recovered. If something didn't change, Potter would most likely spend the rest of his life in a locked room in the Janus Thickey Ward, alongside the other victims like the Longbottoms.
Conventional approaches had obviously failed. Now, as Draco read every single page of the file, he realised he would have to try something different. Problem was that he’d only just returned to England and taken this job. He had finished school at Beauxbatons, then trained as a Healer in France and worked his first position there. It was only after he finally cleared his name that he had been able to return to his home country. He knew that there would be many who would still not trust him. Could he get permission to try unconventional treatment with the Hero of the Wizarding World? Since conventional approaches had failed, and Draco thought Potter himself had never been normal in any sense of that word, he thought it would take a much more personal tactic to help the severely damaged man.
Draco wrote up his own notes, his recommendations and then went to face the staff meeting. By the end of the meeting, he would either have permission to try or, more likely, be fired from his position at St Mungo’s. And he wasn’t even sure which he preferred.
***
Harry was awake and back in his normal spot in the middle of the bed. There was a plate of food left on the table next to the bed as usual, but Harry didn't touch it. He turned his face toward the sunlight coming through the small window in the room. He liked being in a room with a window. It was nice out, a good day for flying. He cringed at the thought and mumbled that he couldn't, turning his head away from the window.
Draco steeled himself and then walked into the room. He took in the untouched food and Potter's state in a glance. "Hello, Potter," he greeted him.
Harry's eyes flickered over to Malfoy, quietly reminding himself that it was the younger one. Draco had given him a tart.
Draco set the food tray aside along with the clipboard he had brought in. He stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide how to talk to Potter. He finally pulled up a chair and sat down. Potter’s eyes tracked every move he made.
Harry wondered why Malfoy didn't sit on the bed again today.
Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at his own hands for a minute. "They have given me your case, Potter," he said. "I don't know if you understand what that means." He glanced up trying to read the other man's face. Potter blinked and scratched his leg, but otherwise didn't respond, so Draco continued. "Technically, your only living relatives are Muggles, so you have been declared a ward of the Ministry. It means I don't have to have permission from you to treat you," he watched Potter to see how he reacted to that.
Harry looked around the room as he thought about the new piece of information. He thought Malfoy was already trying to treat him, so he didn't see the difference now.
"I want your permission, though, because I want to try something that isn't usually allowed," Draco said.
Harry sniffled and looked back toward Malfoy, his head tilting curiously, silently asking him to go on.
"Instead of coming in to talk to you each day like this, I have recommended I take you on as my only patient and move you out of the hospital," Draco said, and waited for a response.
Harry's face scrunched up at the words, looking very confused. "Move out?" he asked quietly.
"Actually, I was thinking you would prefer to live in your own home," Draco said. "Problem is that I would have to live there as well to continue your treatment."
"Headquarters?" Harry asked, lifting his head up finally.
Draco smiled. "Yes, living at headquarters," he confirmed. "You think I can be trusted?"
Harry shrugged, resting his head on his knees again. "You don't hurt me," he said softly.
"I did, a long time ago," Draco said, wincing as he said it but knowing it wouldn't help to ignore the fact.
Harry tensed, his arms tightening. "Will you hurt me now?”
"No, I won't now," Draco said. "You're willing to try my plan?"
Harry looked at Malfoy for a long moment, eyes squinting as he tried to focus them. Finally, he nodded once, biting his lip and slowly relaxing again.
"When do you want to go?" Draco asked, testing again.
Harry looked back toward the window and pointed. "Sunny," he murmured.
"I know you can understand me, Potter," Draco said. "If you want to go back to headquarters today, we can. If not, I will come back tomorrow."
"Now," Harry said, still looking outside. "Now ....”
Draco stood, picking up his clipboard, and smiled. "I’ll get your paperwork together and then I will take you home," he said.
"Now?" Harry asked, looking back once more at Malfoy.
"Today, if you want," Draco agreed. He paused and pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket, holding them out to Potter. "You'll need these."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at his glasses, looking suspiciously at them. "Don't want to see," he insisted.
"To go home, you will need to take them and wear them," Draco insisted. He waited, attempting to look calm and certain. It was a small thing, but important. It would show if Harry was able to cooperate in his own care.
Frowning, Harry reached a shaking hand toward the glasses but then seemed to falter. He had an image of a pale hand grabbing his wrist and he pulled his own hand back quickly. "No, hurt," he shuddered, rocking again.
Draco was disappointed. "You need to wear your glasses," he said firmly. He didn't know what it was about the glasses that was frightening to Potter. "I need you to take direction from me if I am to take care of you," he explained, setting the glasses in front of Potter on the bed and waiting.
Harry shied back when Draco reached out but then trembled in relief when the man didn't touch him. He snatched up the glasses and, after a bit of fumbling, managed to put them on his face. He peered anxiously through strands of his own hair at the now clearer blond.
"That's good, Potter," Draco said approvingly. "I will get your clothes now. You can't really go out in nothing but hospital pyjamas."
Out? Harry wondered but didn't say anything, studying Draco's face instead. He looked different than he remembered. His hair still white blond, but seemed shiny. And those grey eyes seemed softer. He could see Lucius in the man's features but not in his eyes or his expression. Harry shivered despite the fact that he felt warm.
Draco smiled at Potter. The file said the other man hadn't looked anyone directly in the face since he had last been admitted. This was real progress. "I'll do the paperwork and be back with your clothes when everything is ready," he said.