Chapter Text
Harry wished he was anywhere else than suspended in the haze of flashing lights and tacky music currently piercing through his eardrums. Blue, green, red. With lyrics quite difficult to grasp in the dancing crowd, but definitely related to rubbing bees on the birds (or the other way around, he could never tell which one was which). The sweat dripping down the back of its exasperated owner felt cold against the heat - he was more than certain was he to take a knife, he would be able to take a piece of the air inside the club and bite into it, like an apple pie or brownie…
Sweet lord - under a blanket with some cake reading a book, on a walk through the fallen leaves in a slight drizzle, in a cafe being a basic bitch with a pumpkin spice latte… why was he even clubbing one might ask, if he stood there like a piece of wood and gazed at the colours (now green, yellow, red, blue) with his head pounding, thoughts escaping into the autumn outside?
He yelped in surprise when hands wrapped around his neck without any warning whatsoever, the attack - or rather a drunk hug - accompanied by a series of insane giggles.
‘I’m so happy you’re here!’ was an overly enthusiastic screech coming out of the pale lips on the freckled face of Ginny Weasley. ‘Ready to find love or a good shag?’
Apple pie or a brownie, pumpkin spice latte…
She had taken it surprisingly well, their break up. The fire and desire between them quickly turned out to be a desperate attempt to collect the shattered pieces of their lives, create something out of nothing- and just like a vase glued together by a toddler, it collapsed when the war came to an end and they could actually spend some time together. Her craving nothing else than a night life collided with him being rather antisocial. Him doing overtime day after day, working himself to death clashed with her perfect work-life balance. Her making a mess out of thin air attacked him personally day after day.
Oh, and he was also gay. That could be an important piece of the puzzle.
After they had talked it through and decided to remain friends (Ginny was the best person to reach out to if in need of a bit of sunshine, enthusiasm and warmth- definitely not the right person to take out the trash) - she made it her life goal to help him find the right person to ‘work out with, since you love working so much’.
That’s how he ended up surrounded by the lights, birds and bees music, her arms on his neck.
‘To be honest, I am everything but ready!’ He tried to communicate through the pulsing rhythm, but she either did not get that right or did not care in the slightest.
‘Great, let’s go! Start dancing, Harry!’
The club was muggle and not specifically queer, so Harry had no idea how to approach the topic of ‘a good shag’ - was he supposed to wiggle in the middle and hope for the best, or perhaps start touching random dudes with affection on the dance floor? He considered both of these options. Which would get him thrown out of the club the fastest, leading him onto the couch with his copy of Pride or Prejudice?
‘Ummm, Ginny, you’ve seen me dance’ he muttered when a slight break before the beatdrop occurred. ‘You sure it is the best decision?’
She considered it for a moment and Harry could almost see the wires in her tequila-fried brain processing this enlightening remark.
‘That’s true, a chimpanzee would make a better impression’ she sighed and took him by the hand, leading them closer to the bar area. He’d noticed that she was more affectionate now that they were friends than during the entire course of their relationship. Did not matter much, though - he had to figure out how to proceed with finding someone gay without the wake up - shake up on the dance floor.
‘Do you see that guy over there? Doesn’t he look a bit…’ she hesitated, the remains of her decency preventing her from finishing the sentence. Harry shot her an exhausted glance.
‘Ginny, I am sorry to inform you that your radar sucks.’
He wanted out of there before she tried to coerce him into seducing a man that had been clearly hitting on a girl - girl way out of his league, by the way, and certainly not an interested one at that. He even considered rescuing her, but-
‘Healer - fuck, I mean - doctor! We need a doctor here!’
A desperate cry coming from a nearby corner made him automatically rise to his feet, rushing towards a weeping girl. She was barely standing, wobbling in her high heels, makeup running down her cheeks, however…
Harry instantly assessed the situation - she was perfectly fine, except from the clear intoxication. A figure curled up by the wall, was definitely not.
‘I’m a healer’ he stated as he came close enough for the other clubbers not to hear it, but it was not a necessary precaution - nobody was interested in the scene unfolding and that stung him right into a sensitive spot. Merlin, he hated people at times. Without waiting for her reaction, he kneeled down the wizard shaking on the dirty floor. His head hanging low, breathing uneven, he seemed barely present.
‘Can you speak?’ Harry questioned in a firm voice, yet there was no response. He delicately picked up the collapsed head by the chin. Pupils were dilated, corners of the lips dropping, blood pressure low, breathing depressed.
‘He collapsed and now he isn’t saying anything!’ The girl’s voice was shaky and Harry could swear he’d heard it before, yet he had no time to dwell upon it. Behind him, Ginny - who was now apparently completely sober, emergency mode turned ON - spoke in a gentle voice;
‘He is a good healer, don’t worry’ her tone was close to a caress, so Harry focused on the man in front of him.
He had to cast more examination spells to be sure and able to react as fast as possible, but a muggle club was not the place to proceed. He turned to the panicked girl at once.
‘I am taking him to St. Mungo this instance. It is not safe for you to apparate while drunk, consider different ways of getting there were you to follow’ he ordered and in the matter of seconds, they were gone.
‘Healer Potter! What are you doing here, you’re not scheduled-’
‘I have a patient, has likely been drugged, I need a bed urgently’ he cut off the stream of words spilling from Marcie’s mouth, which would surely be followed by even more words. He’d usually take up the chance of chatting with her, especially since it certainly included something sweet and at least great tea, but now was not the time. When they appeared in the hospital, the man fell to the floor, legs weak and shaky.
Marcie did not ask any more questions - with a flick of her wand, she checked the availability and shouted - ‘Room 20, Substances Ward, bed already prepared!’
After the war, more and more wizards and witches turned to muggle entertainment - whether it was a shift in mindset or pure escapism, nobody could tell. The horrors of the past could be overlooked while your face was covered in glitter at a fancy cafe where they write your name on the cup with a sharpie (and also, on the personal note, where nobody is aware of the significance of the name ‘Harry’). That meant, however, that more and more injuries seen at the wizarding hospitals were non-magical in their nature. When Harry had been a healer in training, his substance studies mostly related to potions or firewhisky - now he had to take into consideration diazepam, rohypnol.
He was well acquainted with those two substances and nothing made his eyes blaze with fury stronger than treating the drugged daze in innocent eyes, just because someone’d decided to take what they wanted by force. Or even worse, tending to internal injuries…
He called over to the head nurse, Roman - truly the head, and even the complete dickhead, as Harry preferred to call him. The healer was so excited to hear what snotty remarks were to be unleashed today. Those about party-drugs almost made Harry lose his licence a few times by Roman almost losing some of his bone structures in the face- but Potter was an extremely calm and collected person, thus he handled the situation well and had simply reported the victim blaming to the Patient Rights Unit. Thanks to that, nothing was done about it! What an amazing improvement.
‘Roman, be a sweetheart and prepare the patient for treatment. I’ve just collected the blood to check out which drug has been used, but I need to run further diagnostics. Control his vitals for a few minutes’ he asserted his dominance by walking away instantly, to avoid hearing what the other man had to say.
When he came back, the patient was still unconscious but now dressed in a trashy hospital gown, his long blond hair spread out on an itchy pillow, and…
Fuck, it was Draco Malfoy.
How was it even possible he’d looked the man in the face and did not recognize him? The face he was obsessed with for so long, which was lowkey creepy yet justified (Malfoy had really been up to no good), and highkey gay (which he came to realize years later, during his little self-discovery journey).
He found himself unable to decipher how this sweet reunion made him feel. Harry had to admit, it threw him off for a second, but then again, he was an adult medical professional, not a little rat in his school years that would let his prejudice cloud the judgement or steal away empathy. Malfoy had been drugged in a muggle club- being in a muggle club itself was a reason for pity, with all the bees and birds present, and the rohypnol did not help the situation in the slightest. Harry was desperate to give Malfoy the best care in the world, so that the man could go back to his life, whether he still was a massive git or not.
‘I’m back, thank you, Roman’ he collected himself enough to address the real elephant in the room, who stood in the corner like a sleep paralysis demon, apparently ready to say something offensive. ‘I will take it from here. Only supportive care will be necessary.’
‘The only support he needs is a dementor’s kiss’ the nurse hissed, pointing accusingly at the dark mark on Malfoy’s arm. ‘Since when are we catering to their lot, huh?’
Harry closed his eyes for a second. I need my licence, I need my licence…
‘Since we took an oath to take care of those in need. I would love for you to remove yourself from this room. Thank you in advance.’
Roman, not pleased but rich in experience, rushed through the door while muttering something (probably slurs and curses, or perhaps a great pasta recipe).
When he was freed from the chains of his lovely coworker’s presence, Harry began to administer fluids and oxygen. There was nothing left to do besides that, since the drugs had to simply wear off - what Malfoy needed the most now was some peace, quiet, sleep and time.
He came out of the room for a quick coffee break - the spells would notify him that the patient woke up, so he felt confident a cup of triple espresso was the best idea. He was I’ll drink so much coffee my heart will do a flip and a turn kind of guy, at least until he discovered what energy drinks were. Now his heart was able to visit every organ in his body on a funky rollercoaster.
‘You have to let me in! What the fuck do you mean I am not on a list! I need to-’
The voice, now that the dots have connected in his brain and Malfoy was certainly Malfoy, had to be Pansy. She was standing in front of the ward, makeup still smeared all over her face, shaking and yelling at the administrator in front of her. Truth be told, the hospital’s administrators were ruthless and heartless, so a yelling match was not out of the ordinary. At times, they even refused to let the parents see their children and the other way around, just because there was some holy bureaucracy they had to obey or else…
Well, nobody knew what else.
‘I am sincerely apologetic’ stated a voice so artificial and cold it could not possibly be human, yet Harry knew for a fact it was human, since Agatha had a tendency to be a carefree chatterbox in the back office during her coffee breaks. ‘Only a family member or a person listed in our database as an approved visitor is allowed to acquire information about the patient.’
‘I have his literal son with me, are you blind?’
‘Aggression is a valid reason for removing you from the waiting room.’
‘Aggression? I just need to know if he’s okay, I am terrified, how can you be so-’
‘That’s it. Security will be called to remove you.’
‘Noone is getting removed, Agatha’ Harry barged into the conversation, voice cold enough to freeze the entire second floor. ‘Can you explain to me what is going on here?’
When Pansy looked at him, her eyes were wide with fear and full of tears, a deer in the headlights. She opened her lips, but no sound came out.
‘Healer Potter! It’s good that you are here, even though it’s not your shift. Hopefully you do not expect to be paid for overtime.’
‘I eat my healing passion everyday for breakfast. Now do explain the situation, I urge you.’
‘Those two - the girl and the boy - are insisting on visiting a patient under the name of Draco Malfoy, yet they have no right to do that.’
‘Really, is that all?’
‘That is right, healer Potter. I am just doing my job protecting the patient’s privacy.’
Pansy let out an exasperated sob in the background, but Harry only came up to the reception desk and leaned uncomfortably close to the woman in front of him, until he was able to see each clump of her blue mascara.
‘Is that so? Because to me it sounds like you took no steps to contact the healer in charge of the patient to assess what the situation exactly is and how to proceed with the visitors. Which is, to your information, an utter negligence. You had one job, Agatha’ he shook his head and made a sad face to emphasise how terribly upset he was- he usually did not engage in such play, but the look of emotional constipation on her face was worth every word he spoke. ‘What can we do to fix that, hmmm?’
She took a deep breath and shook slightly. Shake your sillies out, you cold bitch.
‘The healer in charge is… oh.’
He wished he could take a photograph of her face in the exact moment of realization and frame it onto his wall.
‘Yes, that’s me! Isn’t it amazing? You can ask me directly, instead of reaching out as you should’ve done all along!’
‘Um, of course. So-’ he could tell her throat was tight, whether from the fury or embarrassment, who could tell, not him, he was not a mind healer. ‘Are they allowed to visit, healer Potter?’
‘Thank you for asking, yes, they are’ he cheered and turned away from the desk, having made the decision to not torture Agatha further.
‘Pansy’ his tone back to normal, even borderline friendly, as he could see how stressed out the girl was, and that mattered more to him than past grudges. ‘And that is…’
Little Draco Malfoy, who was hiding behind her legs, peeked out a bit and Harry could see him shivering slightly. He was wearing a thin shirt and flannel pants, as if he was ripped away straight out of bed, which was more than likely. That made Harry’s heart crumble into tiny pieces.
‘This is Scorpius, I had to take him with me, because the nanny could not stay l-longer… Please, tell me how Draco is, can we see him?’
‘A common party drug has been detected in his system. He is sleeping now, he needs to rest and flush out the substance the natural way’ he explained calmly, knowing that with his calmness, theirs would follow. ‘You can see him if you’d like, but I would wait until he’s conscious.’
‘I-’
And then she began weeping, a sobbing mess that Harry was the worst person in the world to contain. Finally, he leaned over to the boy, who could not be older than 3 and whispered as if he was telling him the most interesting secret.
‘We have a room where all cold turns into warmth and the sadness runs away… would you like to see it?’
The boy hesitated for a moment, but then nodded his little head and took him by the hand.
‘Pansy, how about we sit for a moment in the family room, I’ll fetch you something warmer to wear and get you both some tea, and then we can visit Draco together? I will notify you if he wakes up before that, of course.’
She also nodded, tears still streaming down her face.
Harry led them inside, brought a sweater for Pansy and a spare sweatsuit from the pediatric ward for Scorpius, made them both tea- with a generous amount of sugar to warm them up - and then they waited.
And waited.
And waited.