Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.
My thoughts:
This fic has such interesting and new magical wandlore I’ve never seen before. There are kittens, they’re ridiculously cute.
Harry wanted to groan, he wanted to apparate away, he wanted to scream, but what he wanted the most was to disappear and be somebody else.
But he wasn’t.
So instead, he turned around and smiled down at the child who spoke; she couldn’t have been more than ten. Her smile was radiant, and her hands were waving around excitedly as he nodded in affirmation.
“My mum says you saved the world.”
Harry couldn’t be upset at the adoration in her eyes, nor the hesitant way she reached out for his hand with her own small fingers.
“Your mum thinks too highly of me.”
She shook her head so fast that the bobble in her hair slipped and her braid unravelled.
“Nu-uh. You are the hero of the bedtime stories she reads me. My mum says that the healers will save me, just like you saved us.”
Harry knew it would be a bad idea to open his mouth, he could already hear Malfoy’s lecture in the back of his mind, but as he stared down at the child, he felt his heart lurch.
“Healers? Are you sick?”
“My magic needs mending. The healers said I perform like a squib because there’s a block. They just need a donation. I’m on a list, at least that’s what my mum says.”
Harry winced. He knew that most people on a magical donation didn’t survive long enough to get the magic needed. It didn’t use to be a problem, at least not until after the war. No one wanted to give up magic, even if it would save a neighbour.
He knelt down, so he could peer into her face. “How about you bring me to your mum, and we’ll see about getting you that donation?”
----------
The door slammed open with a bang as it hit the wall and Harry had to fight the urge to flee. No other Healer would be so rude, unless it was Malfoy.
“Want to tell me why I have a transplant scheduled for tomorrow with you down as a donor?”
Harry couldn’t look up, not if Malfoy’s expression matched the anger in his tone.
“It’s just a sliver of magic. That’s all I’m donating.”
“You don’t have any spare magic to give, Potter.”
Harry clenched his fists as he glared up at Malfoy.
“I know that, I can’t ever forget,” He spat out, the anger causing his tone to come out far harsher than intended.
Malfoy’s face morphed into several emotions, and Harry hated each one of them. It wasn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to feel anything when it came to Harry’s situation. It made it more real.
“Every month you come in here and I have to tell you the same speech, the same warnings and the same bad news.”
“Malfoy—”
“No, Potter.” Malfoy closed the door with a snap before he slumped against the door. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this.”
“It’s not your choice.”
Malfoy clenched his teeth, and Harry knew it would be wise to give in, but he couldn’t—not when he thought of the little girl.
“Potter, your magic is dying out, you know this. Every time you say a spell, mutter an incantation, use your wand, or wave your hand with the intent to call upon your magic, it slowly disappears.”
“I know—”
“Do you?” Malfoy asked, sneer in place and anger in his eyes. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure who allowed Malfoy to be a healer, especially with that kind of bedside manner.
“Because I advised you to only use your magic under dire circumstances. Whatever happened to you that night mucked up your ability to regenerate the magic that resides in your magical core.”
Harry looked down the worn, ugly, and mismatched tiles of the floor. He knew magic was like a muscle, the more you use it, the broader your abilities become—but magic requires rest, as does any muscle. Instead of regenerating magic like his body would regenerate energy, his magic slowly decreased with each new spell used.
When he chose to come back instead of moving on all those years ago in the forest, he didn’t think it would have repercussions. But that was his price to pay, his burden to bear.
“Every time you come in, your magic has decreased at an alarming rate. Your idiotic Gryffindor morals can’t let you see someone suffer without offering aid.”
“I can’t help it,” Harry stressed as his fingers dug into his palms. “Malfoy, you don’t know what it’s like. I have this urge to help people, to be of use, and what I do best is the one thing you tell me I can’t do.”
His eyes stung, whether due to anger or something else, he wasn’t sure.
“I want to make a difference. I want to be somebody besides the bloody saviour of the world.” Harry’s voice caught as he screwed up his eyes and his forehead wrinkled. “But what good am I in wizarding society if I can’t perform magic?”
“Potter.” The delicacy to Malfoy’s voice should have been soothing, it should have calmed his emotions, but it only angered Harry further. He didn’t want to be understood, didn’t want to be pitied.
“I’m useless as I am. The only thing I can offer is my magic, and I’m going to do it until I have none left.”
Malfoy closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped.
“I can’t let you, Potter. It goes against every violation we have. You aren’t magically fit to be giving pieces of yourself away.”
Dread filled Harry, but he refused to take no for an answer.
“But I don’t care. I’m okay with that, okay with giving all that I have.”
Malfoy shook his head before crossing his arms.
“I won’t do it. I won’t cypher away your already limited magic.”
Harry wanted to be bothered by that, more so than the annoyance already inside him, but Malfoy was always like that—always attempting to lengthen his magic, and it was nice having someone to look after him.
“Then I’ll fight the decision to the Director of St. Mungos. You know how this is going to turn out, Malfoy.”
He didn’t like using his status against others, but Harry would if he had to—and he was going to. He didn’t care if he had to take it to the Wizengamot, it was his body, his magic, and he would be damned if someone tried to tell him what to do with it.
Malfoy pursed his lips. “You do that. When I’m ordered to perform the transplant, then we can talk. But until then, it’s my decision.”
Harry could respect that, he wasn’t sure what he would do if the situation were reversed.
When Malfoy walked to the door, Harry began to gather his things.
“I’m just trying to keep you alive, Potter.”
“I know,” Harry whispered softly. “And I appreciate that.”
They both knew he’d get his way in the end but having Malfoy fight so strongly meant a lot to Harry. It meant everything.
----------
“Healer Malfoy says it will be painless!” Estrella exclaimed, eyes bright and a happiness Harry wasn’t used to seeing oozing outward.
They only had a few minutes before the transplant, and Harry was rather pleased to have gotten to know Estrella better. It had been a rocky few weeks for the both of them as Harry had to petition St. Mungos.
He knew Malfoy was upset, and didn’t want to perform the transplant, but Harry knew that Malfoy would end up doing it.
“Has Malfoy said anything else?”
Estrella hummed a tune Harry wasn’t familiar with as her legs kicked back and forth from the hospital bed.
“Just that he admires you.”
Harry’s mouth parted, and he wondered if he could take her words at face value. Just last week she talked about her best friend who was a hybrid dragon and gorilla combination—so he wasn’t quick to believe her.
“Now, I don’t remember quite saying it like that.” The drawling tone had both Harry and Estrella sitting up straighter.
Malfoy was in the doorway, a clipboard in his hands and a few healers in training behind him.
“But you did, Mister Malfoy! Remember? I said that Harry Potter was so cool, and you said—”
“How about we forget what I said, alright?” Malfoy asked, a beautiful flush to his cheeks that had Harry unable to look away.
“I’d like to hear what it was that you said.”
Malfoy’s flush increased past his neck and Harry had to wonder if that was where it stopped.
“Can we hurry up?” A healer behind Malfoy asked. “I’ve got a patient in Creature-Induced Injuries who’s got a bad Chimera bite that needs to be drained in a few hours, and Merlin knows you two will flirt for that long.”
It was Harry’s turn to flush as Malfoy turned to glare at the healer.
Malfoy cleared his throat. “It’s a routine transplant, but I’ve got a few healers on standby due to your low magical levels. Odds are still in your favour, but it’s better to be safe.”
Harry smiled at Estrella when she frowned at Malfoy’s words. He didn’t want her to worry about him.
“Are you ready?”
When they both nodded, Malfoy brought his hands together before gesturing for them to lay down.
“Alright then, let’s begin.”
--------
Clammy. Harry felt sticky, his palms felt wet and he wondered why he was so sweaty. His mind was foggy, and he couldn’t remember where he was. Was he at home?
—“He’s seizing! The limited magic won’t separate from his core.”—
Something prodded at his mind as if urging him to remember, but nothing made sense, nothing stuck out. What was the last thing he had done?
—“He’s not breathing. Murphy, I need an Anapneo right away.”
“But sir, there’s no blockage.”—
Panic seized Harry as his mind blanked. He couldn’t remember anything.
—“Lower his heart rate. Marsh, I need respiration potions, half a vial.”—
Something wet touched his lips and he tried to move his head but his body wouldn’t cooperate.
—“We’ll have to rip the magic out of the core.”
“That could send him into shock.”—
As liquid seared his throat, Harry wanted to scream, he wanted his body to listen to him. What was happening?
—“Immobilize his heart, I can’t get his core to respond accordingly.”—
The more Harry fought, the more things began to hurt. Nothing made sense, not even his own mind.
—“Potter, I need you to stop fighting me, please.”—
Time meant nothing as he tried to grapple with his surroundings. If he concentrated he could make out a buzzing of noises, but nothing made sense and he didn’t know what it was.
—“He’s not going to make it. His magic is creating a shield and with how little there is it’ll take his natural energy.” —
The urge to fight was strong, but he didn’t have the will to keep it going. Why was he so tired? What was causing the lethargy? Harry just wanted to sleep, maybe he should, that seemed like a good idea.
—“Potter’s going to need an emergency supply of magic. If his core doesn’t stabilize then there will be nothing we can do.”
“We’ll need to place him in a stasis, sir, we don’t have a match on hand.”—
His body felt heavy, and Harry decided that giving in would be the smartest move. Conserve his energy for another time. There would be another time.
—“There’s no time, we’re losing him. Turner, I need you to take over, Lynn I need you to prep another bed.”
“What? Sir?”
“I’ll donate the magic myself.”—
The heaviness increased, but it was comforting in a way. It meant giving up responsibility when he was tired, oh so tired. It was nice to not have to keep fighting.
—“Potter don’t you dare give up now. Come on you stubborn bastard.”—
---------
Harry opened his eyes and quickly shut them again as the pain of the light stung his eyes. A noise of disgust left him, and his mouth felt gross as he tried to swallow past the uncomfortable feeling of sleep.
“Oh, you are up.”
He startled slightly at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. He squinted to the left of him as he tried to figure out if the blurry lump was really Malfoy.
It wasn’t until Malfoy chuckled, the noise sounding close to fond as his glasses were placed in his hands was Harry actually able to see.
“You look like shit,” Harry blurted when his eyes focused and he could see Malfoy’s pristine hair ruffled and sticking up in places, purple spots underneath Malfoy’s eyes, and an exhausted expression made him look years older.
Malfoy’s right eye twitched and Harry had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.
“Thank you, Potter. Your manners are spot on as usual.”
“Are you alright? What happened to you?”
“Me?” Malfoy asked, voice incredulous. “You almost died, you moron.”
“What?” Harry asked as he tilted his head to the side. “I thought you said it was a routine transplant.”
“Yeah, for those with normal magical reserves. Your magic refused to separate.”
Harry’s hands gripped his chest, as if he could feel the magic, but he just needed to hold onto something.
“But what about Estrella? And her transplant? Does that mean she didn’t get any magic?”
Malfoy clenched his jaw as he looked away.
“I tell you that you almost died, and your first question is about someone else.”
“Malfoy,” Harry sighed, not wanting to get into a fight. “Just please tell me—”
“She’s fine. I was able to separate enough magic to fix her blockage.”
He exhaled a shaky breath of relief. But when Malfoy didn’t relax, he began to worry.
“But?”
“You flatlined, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice cracked, and Harry watched in awe as Malfoy blinked rapidly. “You were dying and there was nothing I could do to help. Your magic was killing you as much as it tried to save you.”
Harry looked down at the bed as he fiddled with his fingers.
“But I’m still here.”
A hollow laugh left Malfoy, and he hated the noise, hated that he missed the normal laugh, the one that usually at his own expense.
“Only because I gave you some of my magic.”
Harry’s head snapped up and his mouth parted at the intense look in Malfoy’s eyes.
“But I thought that—” He paused as he tried to recall the ethics of something like that. There were rules on donors, and he didn’t think that was something allowed.
“I’ve been suspended.”
“What?” Harry asked aghast. “But—but you saved me.”
A small quirk of Malfoy’s lips could be seen before it mellowed out.
“I broke six hospital violations and committed a peccadillo that could be punishable by the Wizengamot.”
Harry frowned heavily. “They aren’t going to charge you with anything, are they?”
Malfoy shrugged. “I doubt it. I did save Harry Potter’s life after all. The papers haven’t vilified me, and the hospital is up by 50% in donations since it was announced.”
“I still don’t understand why saving me got you in so much trouble.”
“Donors are screened, prepped, advised and forced to sign waivers before ever being allowed to offer magic. Tests are run to ensure the recipient is compatible, and the other person must be aware.”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair as the realization of it all came crashing down.
“I injected you with my own magic on the hope that it would be enough. You were dying, Potter. If I had followed hospital rules, your friends would be burying you in the ground right now. I did what I thought was right, and that, unfortunately, meant breaking guidelines.”
“Why?” Harry whispered, eyes a little wet. “Why did you risk so much for me?”
“You aren’t the only one who can’t help but save others.” It was said with an accompanying sad smile, and Harry’s heart lurched at the sight.
“Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me. All I could hear was your damn mentality of giving pieces of yourself away, and I knew that I had to try, I had to do something!”
“Thank you,” Harry said as he closed his eyes and blindly reached for Malfoy’s hand. He wanted to thank him for caring, for being there, for yelling at him when it got rough, for listening when he needed to vent, for being the best healer and friend that Malfoy could have been.
“Thank you for everything.” He hoped that was enough.
When Malfoy entwined their fingers and moved onto the bed with him, Harry knew that Malfoy had understood.
It took many years of always being on the wrong page to synch up, and now, there was an understanding that went both ways.
An understanding that he wouldn’t change for the world.
---------
Bonus Scene
“Hurry up, Harry!” Estrella yelled as she rushed through the halls of St. Mungos.
“We have time, Draco’s shift isn’t over for another few hours.”
Estrella sighed as she slowed down to a brisk walk instead of the near run it had been before.
“Draco was right, you do suck the fun out of things.”
Harry gasped, the sound far more offended than he felt. “I resent that.”
When she laughed brightly, he decided to let that one go and just blame Draco.
As they rounded the corner, Harry waved at the welcome witch, Jeni.
“He’s on break for the next few minutes. I’d catch him now before he starts his rotation in the Artifact Accident wing,”
“Thank you!” Harry called over his shoulder as he decided to make treacle tart later and send it over for the staff. He would make sure to give Jeni the biggest one.
“Estrella!” Harry yelled as she pushed open the staff room without a second care or thought.
When he walked in, he was glad to see it was empty except for Draco who barely had enough time to catch Estrella as she launched forward to hug him.
“What are my two favourite people doing here?” Draco asked as he grinned at Harry before giving him a soft kiss in greeting.
“Show him, Harry,” Estrella demanded as her arms wrapped around Draco’s neck.
“Estrella’s mum sent her over with this.”
Harry pulled out the recognizable letter and watched Draco suck in a sharp breath.
“Dear Estrella,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed—”
Harry cut off when Draco stepped forward, arms still wrapped around Estrella.
Estrella beamed as Harry showed Draco the letter.
“You did it Draco!”
“No, I—” Draco shook his head. “All I did was do the transplant. Your magic got you into Hogwarts, not me.”
“You saved me,” Estrella argued, a small frown on her face. “You saved Harry too. Just accept the compliment.”
Harry grinned at her fiery disposition as Draco laughed, the sound a little wet.
When Draco pulled Harry into a one-armed hug as he held onto Estrella and whispered, “Thank you,” Harry didn’t need any clarification.
He understood, and when it came to them, he always would.
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I am a day early, but I want to wish @rmh8402 a very happy birthday. I hope your day will be just as wonderful as you. I love you! Thank you @unicornsandphoenix for being a great beta and looking this over for me.
This ficlet was inspired by the song Anpanman, and the message behind it is something that has stuck with me for a while now.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 40/40
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy, OFC, OMC
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Sounding, Erotica, slow-build, EWE, first-time m/m, Love Story, Angst, disability fic, Happy Ending, switching sex, OOC
Summary:
What happens when someone you hate needs you more than anything else? When it’s life or death, either battle to the end, or die trying. DH compliant, but ignores the Epilogue. (Rating for later chapters: for the avoidance of any and all possible doubt, this story features a lot of plot and character development. The smut is quite a long way off.) This is the original fic, without post-completion editing.
*note that this fic is over 400k…
Excerpt:
“Do you want me to take care of that for you?” his Healer asked slowly.
“W-what?” Harry asked, shocked stone-cold sober by the question. He wasn’t sure if he had just heard properly. The blush that painted Draco’s cheeks was adorable, and Harry looked at him, blinking in surprise, waiting for a response.
“Would you like me to masturbate you?”
Yes! Harry’s mind screamed as his mouth fell open and no words would come. All he could do was open and close his jaw a few times, before slowly nodding his agreement, the words dead on his tongue.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Luna Lovegood/Dean Thomas
Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Characters:
Draco Malfoy
Harry Potter
Language: English
When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy’s patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he’s no longer sure he wants to.
Excerpt:
Malfoy said that Harry could tell him anything.
“There’s something I want,” Harry says. His heart is racing. “I thought I—I thought I’d never want anything, but I do, now.”
Without even thinking about it, Harry is leaning closer, the inches between them shrinking.
“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks, his voice very soft; Harry can feel it on his lips.
“I’m in love with you,” Harry answers.
Malfoy goes very still, and his soft edges are gone. Harry moves away slightly, surprised, and when his eyes meet Malfoy’s, Malfoy is as startled and frightened as he was when Harry said he’d died.
“You don’t mean it.”
“Obviously I mean it! I couldn’t very well say it if I didn’t mean it, now, could I?”
Malfoy is very still, and his lips press together into a thin line.
“Truth potions only force you to stick to what you believe to be true, and render you unable to say things you believe to be false. Saying you want me doesn’t make it true, Harry.”
“That’s ridiculous—I believe it because it is true!” Malfoy is looking at a point just over Harry’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “And what sort of nonsense is that anyway? Is there some sort of proof of love aside from a person’s word—”
Years after the war, Draco Malfoy finds Harry Potter slumped down in front of his St. Mungo’s office. He is offered an unprecedented glimpse into his former rival’s mind.
