Chapter Twenty-Three

This chapter was written by literaryspell.

Harry forced his eyes to open, thinking that it really should come naturally and not be something that had to be forced at all. The light that streamed through his window was malicious, announcing that it was midday without regard to the fact that Harry hadn't gone to bed until morning.

There was a haze in his mind. He threw his hand over the side of the bed and felt around until the neck of the Firewhisky bottle he'd left there brushed his fingers. He grabbed it and brought it up. It wasn't like him to drink so early in the day, but since he was 'between jobs' he really didn't see the harm. He took a long swig and hissed at the taste. The haze cleared in minutes, replaced by a number of bodily faculties asking for assistance in one way or another.

Deciding to skip a shower, Harry used the loo and made a utilitarian breakfast. He sat at his kitchen table, alone. This wasn't where he'd seen himself being after Hogwarts. Where was his important job...where he was needed? Where was his family, his husband or partner or whatever? He sighed. He hated getting maudlin and the only way to avoid it was to drink until things looked cheerful again.

So he did.

*

"Harry, mate, come on," Ron said, speaking through green flames.

Harry shook his head. "Not feeling up t'it."

"You're making Hermione worry, and you know what she's like when she worries."

Harry knew Ron was actually saying he was worried, though he didn't doubt Hermione was as well. Why, he didn't know. Harry was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He was only taking the week off before going back to Robards and getting his job back. He smirked. He hoped Marcus wasn't getting too comfortable working with Neville.

"Is just..." Harry swallowed and paid more attention to his words. It was three in the afternoon and he was sloshed. If Ron heard him slurring, his little pity party of one would get gate-crashed. "It's just that I'm feel a little... anti-social. Okay?"

"Well, you should at least cut it with the drinking, Harry. It's really not good for you and you want to be in top form for when you come back to work."

Harry raised an eyebrow, or tried to. Really, he thought, he should leave things like that to people like Draco. He just looked silly when he did it. "I'll be fine, Ron."

"I know you'll be fine." Ron seemed to be trying to force his voice into lightness, but Harry could hear real concern there, and it made him a little angry. If he wanted to exist in a stupor for the next little while, that was his business. Ron had never said anything before...why was he starting now? "You're always fine. We just, you know, want you to be actually happy...not just fine."

"I am happy, Ron." Harry raised his glass and gave Ron a wide smile. "See?"

Ron sighed and Harry knew it was coming.

"We've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, mate. It's just... it's hard to know where the line is between having a few drinks, a good time, and having a... a problem. And I just want to make sure you're... okay." Ron looked woefully ill-prepared for his speech, and he was looking at Harry like he was worried a hex might come his way.

Harry put his glass down. "Look, I appreciate your concern. Really, Ron. And tell Hermione the same. But it's just not about that. I've been having a rough few days and I just want to forget everything for a while. After the weekend, I'll get back to work and everything will be fine. I swear." Harry felt accomplished after his speech. He'd barely mumbled and he'd kept his train of thought the entire way. Now he just wished Ron would leave so he could get back to searching for Draco look-alikes on the telly.

Ron sighed, so heavily that ash from the fireplace scattered over the books and files piled there. "You just can't let this whole Malfoy thing get to you."

"What're you talking about?" Harry said. He took a sip from his drink...in a glass, this time...and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. He wished he could go to bed.

"Malfoy being gay. You didn't make him that way, you know."

"Er, yeah, Ron. I do know." Harry was confused and couldn't help showing it. Then he remembered Pansy's little exposé and how it had posed the question of who had made Draco gay. Honestly, he'd love to be given the job of educating the daft bint. He could think of a great many lessons that would improve her state of being.

"I mean, maybe it's a little weird. He was straight, wasn't he? Dated birds and everything? Well, I guess he's just figuring his shit out a little later than most."

"Seriously, Ron, I'm not worried that I made Draco gay!" As soon as he said the words, though, Harry's drink-addled mind started to wonder. After all, Draco hadn't made any advances before that day when he'd pushed Harry against the wall and...

Still. If anything, Draco made Draco gay. Harry was content in the knowledge that Draco was just kind of crazy. Nothing Draco did surprised him anymore.

"Maybe we could... make something work?"

"What did you say?" Harry demanded, shaking his head to clear it but only managing to make it worse.

"Just that it's probably better that you don't try to help him anymore. You did the best you could. The next thing you know, he'll be getting all clingy because he's gay and you're gay, and..."

Harry had the impression that Ron didn't really have a good handle on what being gay was about, but he didn't bother setting his friend straight...or gay. Whatever. He'd probably only end up confusing Ron worse, seeing as how Harry felt rather confused himself at the moment.

It didn't help that he had Draco's voice in his head...Draco saying he wanted to make things work.

"Ron, I've got to go. I have... an appointment... or something."

Ron was unconvinced and tried to stop Harry from ending the conversation, enlightening as it hadn't been, but Harry just left the living room and waited in the kitchen until he heard the Floo call end.

Draco. Why was Harry so bothered about him? He shouldn't even care...Draco had shown him that time and again. What was that saying...if someone shows you their true self, believe them? Well, Draco had shown his real self and Harry would just have to believe it. Whatever Harry had thought...had hoped...Draco might have been, he just... wasn't.

*

There was anger on Draco's face. Then again, when wasn't there when Harry was around? Harry's thoughts were focused on the man in front of him. Draco had come for him. To save him? Did he need to be saved? Why was Draco here, in a Muggle bar, asking to go back to the way things were?

Somehow, inexplicably, Draco was in his bed, waiting for him. He touched Harry, fingers soft even if his intent wasn't. They kissed. It was... everything.

Harry gasped himself awake...the tail end of his climax rattled through him like the Hogwarts Express and he could only wait it out, panting. When it was finished, he buried his face in the pillow. He hadn't had a wet dream since his first years at school. He tried, but couldn't recall what the dream had been about.

Reaching for his wand, he spelled the mess away. As the cleaning charm abraded his sensitive skin, he cursed losing Draco's more precise wand. It wasn't like Draco was using it, anyway.

When he finally lifted his head from the pillow and made to get up, he noticed his room was clean. He glanced down beside his bed...yes, the bottle he'd placed (or dropped) there the night before was gone. All his clothes were out of sight, his drawers pushed in, even the bed looked like it had been made around him.

On his nightstand was a folded note. Harry groaned, hating the thought that someone had been in his house, in his room, without him knowing. He wasn't worried, as he trusted his wards, so he knew who it had to have been.

When he opened the note, which bore two simple words...love, Hermione...and a business card fell out, Harry grabbed it up. It was for an addictions counsellor.

"Wow, very subtle, Hermione," Harry groused before Banishing the card. He put the note in his drawer.

The rest of his flat was clean to Hermione's exacting standards. He was a little embarrassed that she'd been inside for what must have been a very long time and yet he hadn't woken at all. He wrote her a quick note thanking her for her work...his flat had been a mess even before he'd gone to the manor, and since he'd returned, it had only gotten worse...and tossed it through the Floo. Either she or Ron would get it when they got home from work.

Harry disabled the Floo and went to the cupboard where he stored his liquor. He was running low. He grabbed the last full bottle of Firewhisky and sat on the couch. It was going to be another long day and Harry just... didn't want to be a part of it.

*

"Mr Potter! This is the height of indecency. To be standing at your door like a hired hand or delivery person. Outrageous."

Harry woke to the sound of very vocal grumblings in a familiar aristocratic voice.

"Wha' you want?" Harry tried to shout. Fuck. He was still drunk.

"Open this door now or I shan't be held responsible for the terrible things that will occur."

Deciding it was worth it to stop the voice from going on, Harry aimed his wand at the door. It took more than one try but it opened eventually.

He groaned when Lucius Malfoy strode into his living room, looking like he wished there was more room to flounce about in.

"You look terrible," Lucius said, shaking his head. The moue of disgust on his face made Harry want to punch something, but Lucius was too far away and the couch wasn't satisfying enough so he let it go.

"Feel terrible," Harry slurred. He narrowed his eyes at Lucius until there was only one and he'd stopped spinning. "Why're you 'ere?"

"This is about Draco."

At his words, Harry leaned forward, but was assaulted by a queasy sensation in his stomach and he figured he was probably going to vomit.

"Drink this," Lucius said, handing Harry a vial.

Harry laughed. "As if I would."

"It's a sobering draught, Mr Potter, and Draco brewed it himself. He told me I might need to bring it, were I to see you."

"You take some firs'," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his mouth, but the immediate need to purge abated.

"I am quite sober enough," Lucius said with a sneer. Then, seeming to understand that Harry wouldn't take any unless he did, he brought the vial to his lips and sipped some back. After a few moments, Harry held out his hand.

"Fine."

Lucius passed it to him and Harry drank it, sobering much too quickly. His feeling of lightness, the lack of pain, the pleasant warmth...all were gone in an instant. He mourned the loss but made himself focus on Lucius.

"Now, listen, Mr Potter. I don't know what kind of relationship you have with my son...in fact, I doubt you two really know, either. But this is a delicate situation and I fear I might be overstepping my bounds with my son, who can be, as you know, rather... protective of his dignity."

Harry fought the urge to scoff and gestured for Lucius to go on.

"He's in St. Mungo's right now."

Harry shot to his feet. "What? Why? What's happened?"

Lucius lifted one hand. "He is all right. There was an incident three days ago. His magic... well, not even he knows exactly what happened. But he was hurt and he's been recovering in hospital ever since."

Three days before... Harry closed his eyes and struggled to remember. His days were blurred together and he only remembered today's date after a long moment of pondering. Still, he knew that it had to be the night in the bar. Draco hadn't seemed himself then, less in control than he usually was...but Harry could only remember snippets. Draco'd been in St. Mungo's that long? Harry rubbed his eyes with his fingers, guilt welling up inside him. He'd been so ready...eager, even...to let Draco fend for himself without magic. He thought he'd given up on him. This was proof, though, that he couldn't.

"Damn it," he muttered. "But he's all right?"

"Very weak, though he wouldn't want me saying so. I am worried for him, or else you can be assured I never would have sought you out in this manner."

"Of course." Harry rolled his eyes. "All right. I'm going to have a shower and then I'll go see him. Did he... I mean, he didn't ask for me, did he?"

Lucius shook his head and eyed Harry knowingly. "No, not specifically, but I know my son. He would want you there."

"I don't know if I believe that," Harry said. "Well, thank you for telling me. You can see yourself out, I assume?"

"Yes, I do believe the three meters between the door and where you... entertain guests shan't prove unnavigable."

Harry left him to it. "And take your bloody Malfoy sarcasm with you," he said under his breath on the way to the shower. He was rank and while he was sure to insult Draco with his mere presence, he didn't want smell to be on the list of things Draco railed against. Once he was finished he actually began to feel human once more. He did make himself another drink before he left. The sobering potion had rattled him and things were a little too clear.

He Apparated right into St. Mungo's, perk of being an Auror, and asked the desk witch how to find Draco. She'd directed him with a rote response, and Harry took the lift to the fourth floor, Spell Damage, and found Draco's room.

Outside the door, he hesitated. What was he planning to say to Draco? How could he even talk to him after what he'd done with Pansy? Maybe what they'd shared hadn't been some romantic tryst in the moonlight, but it still meant something to Harry. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it shouldn't...maybe it was just sex. That must be how Draco saw it, so for the sake of his sanity, Harry decided he'd go that route as well. It was just... sex.

Harry knocked on the door, uncertain of the etiquette when it came to things like this.

"Come in," came an exasperated voice, as if Draco had been asked that a hundred times that evening.

Harry pulled open the door and stepped inside. He thought he heard a sharp intake of breath, but it could have been the door whisking shut.

"Heard you're having a bit of a go of it," Harry said, standing halfway between the bed and the exit.

Draco glared, but wearing what Harry knew to be a rough cotton hospital-issue gown, it didn't hold much weight. "And I suppose I have my father to thank for that."

Having no compunction about ratting Lucius out, Harry nodded. He sat in the chair beside the bed, feeling a little more confident when Draco didn't lash out at him.

"Told him not to," Draco grumbled. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Was it your magic, Draco? That did this to you?" In truth, Draco didn't look like death was nigh, but he certainly lacked the fire that usually warmed a room. He was paler than usual and even his hair looked lank.

"Who can know these things?" Draco asked rhetorically. He swept his hand about in the air. "Certainly not the Healers, incompetent swine."

Harry pursed his lips, ire already flaring within him. "Just be straight with me for once. What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know, all right?" Draco sighed and let his head fall onto the pillow. "One minute I was... perfectly fine, and the next, not so much."

"But it's not a physical thing, right? It's your magic." Harry was certain of it and he knew Draco knew as well.

"So what if it was? What's it to you?"

"Christ, Draco, can't you ever just... stop?" Harry ran his hand through his hair. He wished he'd had more than one drink before coming. When dealing with Draco, a proper buzz was necessary for survival...his and Draco's.

Draco didn't say anything. After a long moment he sighed, and Harry took that as a sign that he was willing to try.

Make things work.

Draco's words. Harry nodded to himself, his decision made.

"Do you feel comfortable continuing in your life as it is? Without magic?"

Draco looked out the window, facing away from Harry. "I haven't been comfortable in seven years."

"Do you feel safe to practise it on your own?"

"Are you trying to make me say I need you or something?" Draco scoffed. "You can stop right there if you are."

"What's so bad about needing someone, Draco?" Harry asked, wondering if Draco could even give him an answer, let alone a real one. "What's so bad about being needed?"

"Malfoys do not need."

Harry laughed. "Wow, did you think that one up all on your own, or what?" Draco scowled and Harry immediately felt bad. Here he was, chiding Draco for being difficult, and then he went and goaded him right after. "Listen, I... can help you. I know I can. We were almost there."

"And I can get the rest of the way myself."

"And kill yourself trying?" Harry paused. "Don't put that on my conscience. I have enough."

For the first time, Draco met Harry's eyes. "I don't know what you even want from me."

"Just... shite, try to help me help you. Maybe it's cheesy, but there it is. Don't be such a sodding prat all the time. Make it easier on both of us, yeah?"

Draco closed his eyes. "Maybe I'll make more of an effort to be sensitive to your plebeian needs...if you stop drinking."

"I'm not drinking," Harry said immediately, forced into the habit from trying to hide the problem for far too long.

Draco gave him an incredulous look. "And I'm lounging between Egyptian cotton sheets at the manor. Don't lie to me."

"I'll..." Harry swallowed. "I'll try."

"I need more than that. I don't want to see you sloppy and half in the bag anymore. I don't want to wor..." Draco broke off and his face went blank in seconds.

Worry. Draco had been worried. Harry felt like he could breathe again. He wanted to press Draco to finish his sentence, wanted to make him spell it out, but he knew Draco wouldn't. He couldn't...he wasn't ready. But it was the first time, ever, that Harry actually had a sliver of hope that they could make something out of the moments between them, the fury and the flame, the things that hurt and the things that almost didn't. It made him want to change.

"Okay, Draco. I'll quit drinking...at least, I promise you that I will do my very best. And I won't lie to you."

Draco nodded. "Then I, in turn, promise to... do whatever it was that you said."

Harry laughed and to his shock, Draco threw the tiniest of smiles his way.

"We'll make it work, then," Harry said. Hope was threatening to spill from his very pores but he forced it back, knowing it would scare Draco...hell, it scared him.

The choice of words wasn't lost on Draco. He swallowed, and nodded, and looked back at the window. They fell silent, and Draco was asleep in moments. Harry finally understood something that hadn't occurred to him at all: Draco Malfoy trusted him. Trusted him to bring back his magic, trusted him to keep his word, maybe even subconsciously trusted him to keep him safe while he slept. So that was what Harry did.