Chapter Text
Draco didn't remember leaving the hospital.
One moment he had been sitting alone in his office, staring at the classified report with its missing pages.
The next, he found himself unlocking the door to his flat.
The silence inside greeted him like an old acquaintance.
He dropped his satchel onto the kitchen table, loosened his tie and glanced automatically toward the clock.
Half past one.
He had been awake for nearly twenty hours.
Sleep should have come easily.
Instead, his mind refused to let go of seven words.
Medical observation requested following exposure to an unprecedented magical event.
He could still see them.
Every time he closed his eyes.
Draco sighed heavily before walking to the kitchen.
A kettle floated onto the stove with a flick of his wand.
Another wave of exhaustion washed over him.
He ignored it.
Tea wasn't going to solve anything.
Neither was sleep.
Not while Harry Potter's life depended on answers buried somewhere inside a report that no longer existed.
By the time the sun began creeping over London's rooftops, Draco was back at St. Mungo's.
Earlier than anyone else.
The corridors were almost empty, occupied only by a handful of Night Healers finishing their shifts and sleepy nurses beginning theirs.
"Healer Malfoy?"
A young Mediwitch blinked in surprise.
"I thought you went home."
"I did."
She frowned.
"...Did you sleep?"
Draco looked at her for a long moment.
"...Eventually."
She didn't look convinced.
Before she could ask another question, he continued walking.
His destination wasn't his office.
It was the Restricted Archives.
Again.
The ancient wooden doors groaned softly as they opened.
Madam Ellwood looked up from her desk.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
Draco stopped.
"You expected me?"
She smiled knowingly.
"You have the look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you've found one answer and ten new questions."
Draco couldn't argue with that.
She gestured toward the chair opposite her desk.
"So."
"What did you find?"
Instead of answering, Draco carefully removed the classified report from his satchel.
Or rather...
What remained of it.
Madam Ellwood adjusted her spectacles before taking it into her wrinkled hands.
She turned the cover over once.
Then again.
A small frown appeared.
"...Interesting."
"You've seen something like this before?"
"Not often."
She gently traced the perfectly clean edge where the remaining pages had once been.
"This wasn't damaged."
"I know."
"It was professionally altered."
Draco folded his arms.
"So someone removed the pages deliberately."
"Oh, undoubtedly."
She looked up.
"The question is who."
"And why."
Madam Ellwood nodded.
"And why."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, she stood.
"Wait here."
She disappeared between the towering shelves, leaving Draco alone with the report.
He found himself reading the surviving page once again.
Nothing new appeared.
Nothing changed.
It remained maddeningly incomplete.
Several minutes later, Madam Ellwood returned carrying a small oak box no larger than a shoebox.
Dust covered the lid.
She placed it carefully on the desk between them.
"I wasn't certain we'd still have these."
Draco looked down.
"No label."
"It doesn't need one."
She opened the lid.
Inside were hundreds of small parchment cards, each covered in faded handwriting.
"They're archive references."
Draco picked one up.
Every card contained dates.
Departments.
Transfer requests.
Authorisation signatures.
Some even listed who had borrowed specific documents decades earlier.
"They predate the enchanted catalogue system," Madam Ellwood explained. "Before everything became digital, every classified document left a paper trail."
Draco looked up sharply.
"Even if the document itself disappeared?"
"Especially then."
Hope stirred somewhere deep in his chest.
"So if someone removed Harry's report..."
"They almost certainly signed for it."
Draco immediately began sorting through the cards.
There were far more than he'd expected.
Most had nothing to do with Harry.
Ancient curse research.
Potion trials.
Experimental healing methods.
Years passed beneath his fingertips.
Then...
He stopped.
One card.
Barely different from the others.
Except for a single handwritten line.
Medical Observation File — Transferred by Ministry Request.
No patient name.
No explanation.
Just a date.
4 August, 1998.
Draco's pulse quickened.
The Battle of Hogwarts had ended only months earlier.
He turned the card over.
Someone had written another note on the back.
The ink had almost completely faded.
He leaned closer.
"...Department..."
He frowned.
The remaining words had become impossible to read.
Only one thing was still unmistakably clear.
A wax seal.
A single eye surrounded by a circle of stars.
Draco recognised it instantly.
The seal of the Department of Mysteries.
He slowly lowered the card.
His heart was beating faster than it had all week.
The missing report hadn't vanished by accident.
Someone inside the Ministry had requested it.
And somehow...
The Department of Mysteries was involved.
For the first time since Harry had arrived at St. Mungo's, Draco finally had a direction to follow.
---
The seal of the Department of Mysteries stared back at Draco from the faded parchment.
He knew what it meant.
He had seen it enough times during his years at Hogwarts to recognise it instantly.
What he didn't know was why it was attached to Harry Potter's medical records.
Draco turned the card over again.
The faded writing remained impossible to decipher.
He held his wand over it.
"Revelio."
Nothing.
He tried again.
"Specialis Revelio."
A faint shimmer passed over the parchment.
Then disappeared.
Draco frowned.
Someone had warded the writing.
Not recently.
The magic was old.
Very old.
And deliberate.
He carefully placed the card beside the classified report.
The dates matched.
August 1998.
Harry had been seventeen.
The war had just ended.
And someone had apparently considered whatever happened to Harry important enough to involve the Department of Mysteries.
Draco's fingers tapped impatiently against the desk.
There had to be another record.
A transfer request.
A Ministry authorisation.
Anything.
He began sorting through the remaining cards.
Most were useless.
Then...
Another date caught his eye.
12 August, 1998.
Same department.
Same classification level.
But this time, there was a name.
Draco leaned closer.
His stomach tightened.
The handwriting was difficult to read, but one word was unmistakable.
Potter.
He stopped breathing for a second.
Harry.
It had to be.
He pulled the card closer.
Underneath the name was a reference number.
DM-9847.
Draco immediately copied it onto a fresh piece of parchment.
Then another line caught his attention.
Transfer authorised by Order of the Wizengamot.
Draco stared.
The Wizengamot.
That wasn't normal.
Medical records didn't require Wizengamot authorisation.
Not unless they contained information considered a threat to magical security.
Or something the Ministry desperately didn't want known.
Draco sat back.
"Potter..."
He rubbed a hand over his face.
"What happened to you?"
He didn't realise how late it had become until his stomach growled.
Draco glanced at the clock.
Two in the morning.
He hadn't eaten since breakfast.
He considered ignoring it.
Then his phone buzzed.
Draco froze.
Nobody texted him at two in the morning.
Nobody except.
Potter.
He unlocked the screen.
Harry: Are you awake?
Draco stared at the message.
His first instinct was to ignore it.
His second was to ask why Harry was awake.
His third.
Apparently.
Was to answer.
Draco: Yes.
The reply came almost immediately.
Harry: Good.
A pause.
Harry: I have a question.
Draco sighed.
Draco: What?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
Harry: Is it medically acceptable to eat chocolate at 2am?
Draco stared at the screen.
He actually laughed.
Quietly.
Alone in the archive.
He shook his head.
Draco: You're asking a Healer that?
Harry: You're the only Healer I know.
Draco's smile faded slightly.
That shouldn't have affected him.
It did.
He typed:
Draco: Yes.
Harry: Really?
Draco: You're an adult, Potter. You can eat chocolate whenever you want.
A pause.
Harry: Excellent.
Then came a sticker.
A small cat sitting proudly beside an enormous chocolate bar.
Harry: Medical advice received.
Draco stared at it.
Then typed:
Draco: Don't eat the entire bar.
Harry: No promises.
Draco sighed.
Draco: Of course not.
He was about to put his phone away when another message appeared.
Harry: You should eat something too.
Draco stopped.
He looked at the message again.
Draco: I'm working.
Harry: So am I.
Draco: You're eating chocolate.
Harry: Multitasking.
Draco shook his head.
Draco: Go to sleep, Potter.
There was a longer pause this time.
Then:
Harry: You too.
Draco stared at those two words.
Something about them felt strangely warm.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Just...
Caring.
He wasn't used to it.
Especially not from Harry Potter.
Another message appeared.
Harry: And don't forget breakfast tomorrow.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
Draco: Are you giving me medical advice now?
Harry: Maybe.
Harry: Someone has to look after you.
Draco's fingers stopped above the screen.
For several seconds, he didn't know what to say.
Eventually, he typed:
Draco: Goodnight, Potter.
The response came almost instantly.
Harry: Night, Draco.
Draco stared at the name.
Not Malfoy.
Draco.
He wasn't sure when Harry had started doing that.
He wasn't sure when he had stopped correcting him.
He placed the phone face down on the desk.
Then, despite himself, smiled.
Just a little.
Five minutes later, Draco closed the archive file.
The mystery was still there.
The missing report.
The Department of Mysteries.
The Wizengamot.
The unexplained magical anomaly.
None of it had changed.
But somehow, for the first time that night, the questions didn't feel quite as suffocating.
Tomorrow, he would follow the reference number.
Tonight...
He decided to listen to his patient.
He left the archive.
And, for once, went home before sunrise.
---
Harry woke the next morning to the smell of toast.
For several seconds, he simply stared at the ceiling.
Then he remembered.
He was home.
No hospital.
No Healers.
No enchanted monitors.
Just his own bed, his own flat, and the faint sound of the kettle beginning to whistle in the kitchen.
Harry smiled.
It was becoming dangerously easy to get used to this.
He climbed out of bed and made his way into the kitchen.
His phone was sitting on the counter.
He picked it up.
The last message was from Draco.
Draco: Goodnight, Potter.
Harry smiled at the screen.
Then noticed the time.
8:17 a.m.
He typed.
Harry: Morning, Draco.
He hesitated.
Then added:
Harry: Did you eat breakfast?
He stared at the message.
That was suspiciously caring.
Before he could delete it, the reply appeared.
Draco: Good morning.
A second message followed.
Draco: Yes.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
Harry: That's suspiciously quick.
Draco: Because I was already awake.
Harry: Hm.
Draco: What?
Harry smiled.
Harry: Nothing.
He put the phone down.
Then picked it up again.
Harry: You didn't forget, did you?
There was a pause.
Draco: I ate.
Harry grinned.
Harry: Good.
He put the phone down for real this time.
Unfortunately, he was still smiling.
By the time Harry arrived at St. Mungo's, Draco was already waiting.
"You look suspiciously pleased with yourself."
Harry stopped in the doorway.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've been smiling since you arrived."
Harry looked offended.
"Maybe I'm happy."
"That would be unusual."
"Rude."
Draco handed him a clipboard.
"Sit."
Harry took the clipboard.
Then looked at it.
Then at Draco.
"You know, you're very bossy."
"And yet you keep listening."
Harry smiled.
"Only because you're pretty."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Silence.
Harry's eyes widened.
Draco froze.
For one horrible second, neither of them moved.
Harry cleared his throat.
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant."
"Right."
"Sit down."
Harry sat.
Immediately.
Draco turned away, but Harry could have sworn the tips of his ears had turned slightly pink.
That made Harry smile even more.
The examination was surprisingly normal.
No new symptoms.
No increase in the curse's activity.
The potion was still working.
Draco checked the readings twice.
Harry watched him.
"Good?"
Draco nodded.
"Good."
Harry's shoulders relaxed.
"Excellent."
He leaned back.
"Maybe I'm actually getting better."
Draco's hand stopped over the parchment.
Harry noticed.
He always noticed now.
But Draco continued writing.
"You're responding well to treatment."
Harry smiled.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
Draco didn't correct him.
Instead, he reached for another instrument.
"Hold still."
Harry obeyed.
For once.
A faint golden glow passed over his chest.
The magic settled around his body.
Nothing happened.
No strange reaction.
No surge.
No alarms.
Draco slowly lowered his wand.
Harry looked at him.
"See?"
Draco frowned.
"See what?"
"You were worried for nothing."
Draco gave him a look.
"I've never worried for nothing."
Harry's smile softened.
"Maybe."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Then Harry reached into his coat pocket.
"I brought you something."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"If it's another cat sticker..."
"It's worse."
Harry placed a small paper bag on the desk.
Draco opened it.
Inside were two cinnamon rolls.
He stared at them.
"You remembered."
Harry shrugged.
"You liked the ones I brought yesterday."
"I never said that."
"You ate both."
Draco looked away.
"That proves nothing."
Harry laughed.
"It proves everything."
Draco picked up one of the rolls.
"You really don't have to keep bringing me food."
"I know."
"Then why do you?"
Harry's smile faded slightly.
He looked down at the second cinnamon roll.
"Because you keep forgetting to eat."
Draco went still.
Harry glanced back at him.
"And because..."
He shrugged.
"I thought you'd like them."
There was something painfully sincere about the way he said it.
Draco didn't know what to do with that.
So he took a bite.
Harry immediately smiled.
"Good?"
Draco chewed thoughtfully.
"...Acceptable."
Harry gasped.
"From you, that's basically a declaration of love."
Draco nearly choked.
"Don't push your luck."
Harry laughed.
And Draco found himself smiling too.
Neither of them noticed how natural it had become.
How easy.
How quickly the space between them had changed.
Later that afternoon, Draco sat alone in his office.
The smile was gone.
The cinnamon roll wrapper remained folded neatly beside his paperwork.
In front of him lay the reference number from the archive.
DM-9847.
He entered it into the Ministry's restricted database.
The screen flickered.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then a message appeared.
ACCESS DENIED.
LEVEL OMEGA CLEARANCE REQUIRED.
Draco stared at the screen.
He tried again.
Same result.
His jaw tightened.
Level Omega.
That was almost unheard of.
He reached for his wand.
There had to be another way.
Then another line appeared beneath the warning.
REQUESTOR: DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES
CASE STATUS: SEALED
SUBJECT: POTTER, HARRY JAMES
DATE: 12 AUGUST 1998
Draco stopped breathing.
The same date.
The same reference.
The same Harry.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
Whatever had happened in August 1998...
The Ministry had gone to extraordinary lengths to bury it.
And now Draco finally knew where to look.
The Department of Mysteries.
He stood.
This time, he wasn't going to ask permission.
The following morning, Harry arrived at St. Mungo's carrying three things.
His wand.
A cup of coffee.
And an expression that immediately made Draco suspicious.
"What's that look for?"
Harry stopped in the doorway.
"What look?"
"That one."
Harry glanced at his reflection in the glass cabinet.
"I look normal."
"You look pleased with yourself."
"Maybe I am."
Draco narrowed his eyes.
Harry smiled.
"Good morning."
"Morning."
Harry walked over and placed the coffee on Draco's desk.
Draco looked at it.
"Again?"
"I've decided it's part of your treatment."
"My treatment?"
"Yes."
Harry pulled out the chair opposite Draco's desk and sat down.
"One coffee a day. Keeps the Healer functioning."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Is that medical advice?"
"Absolutely."
"You're becoming remarkably confident for someone who nearly fell asleep during his own examination yesterday."
Harry pointed at him.
"That was one time."
"It was yesterday."
"Details."
Draco shook his head, but he picked up the coffee anyway.
Harry watched him take the first sip.
"Well?"
"Acceptable."
Harry gasped.
"That's practically a five-star review."
"Don't push it."
Harry laughed.
Draco tried not to smile.
He failed.
Only slightly.
But Harry noticed.
He always noticed.
"There," Harry said.
Draco frowned.
"What?"
"That."
"What?"
"Your smile."
"I wasn't smiling."
"You were."
"I wasn't."
Harry leaned forward.
"You absolutely were."
Draco looked down at his paperwork.
"You're imagining things."
"Maybe."
Harry sat back.
"But I like it."
Draco's quill stopped.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Harry seemed to realise what he'd said only after the words had already left his mouth.
He cleared his throat.
"I mean..."
He gestured vaguely.
"You should smile more."
Draco looked at him.
Something about Harry's expression was unexpectedly sincere.
Not teasing.
Not flirting.
Just honest.
Draco looked away first.
"Sit properly."
Harry smiled.
"Yes, Healer."
The examination itself was almost routine.
Almost.
Draco checked Harry's pulse, magical output and the silver veins.
Everything appeared stable.
Harry looked relieved.
"So..."
Draco continued writing.
"So?"
"Does this mean I'm allowed to do something fun today?"
"Define fun."
"Going somewhere that isn't work or this hospital."
"No."
Harry stared at him.
"That wasn't even a pause."
"You collapsed two days ago."
"Three."
"That doesn't make it better."
Harry sighed dramatically.
"You're ruining my life."
"Your life was already in considerable danger before I arrived."
"Fair."
Draco looked up.
Harry was smiling.
It was strange how easily the banter came now.
A few weeks ago, every conversation between them had felt like a battle.
Now...
It felt easy.
Almost comfortable.
Draco wasn't sure when that had happened.
He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
After the examination, Harry didn't immediately leave.
Instead, he remained sitting on the edge of the bed.
Draco noticed.
"Something else?"
Harry shook his head.
"No."
"Then why are you still here?"
Harry shrugged.
"I don't know."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
Harry smiled sheepishly.
"I suppose I got used to being here."
The words carried more weight than Harry probably intended.
Draco understood.
The hospital had become part of Harry's routine.
The examinations.
The potions.
The same corridors.
The same people.
And, apparently...
Draco.
Harry looked toward the window.
"It's weird."
"What is?"
"Going home."
Draco waited.
Harry continued quietly.
"Everyone thinks going home means you're better."
He looked down at his hands.
"But sometimes I still wake up and expect to be here."
Draco's expression softened.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
Harry looked up.
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
That surprised Draco.
Harry gave him a small smile.
"I think that's why I don't mind coming here as much anymore."
Draco's chest tightened.
He wasn't sure what to say.
So he did the only thing he could think of.
He reached for the paper bag sitting beside his desk.
"Eat."
Harry blinked.
"What?"
Draco held out a small pastry.
"You're becoming predictable."
Harry stared at the pastry.
Then at Draco.
"You bought me food?"
"You brought me coffee."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I brought it because I wanted to."
Draco paused.
"So did I."
Harry's expression softened.
He accepted the pastry.
"Thank you."
Draco nodded.
Harry took a bite.
His eyes widened.
"This is good."
"I know."
"You bought the good ones."
"I know."
Harry smiled.
"You're getting soft, Malfoy."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Don't ruin the moment."
Harry laughed.
And Draco found himself smiling again.
This time, he didn't bother hiding it.
---
The sound of the lock releasing echoed through the corridor.
Harry stared at the doors.
Draco didn't move.
For several seconds, neither of them seemed willing to breathe.
Then Harry whispered,
"Did it just... let us in?"
"Apparently."
Harry glanced at Draco.
"That's not ominous at all."
"Stay close."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Was that an order?"
"Yes."
"Right."
Harry stepped closer anyway.
Their shoulders almost brushed.
Draco noticed.
He chose not to comment.
The enormous doors slowly opened.
Beyond them was darkness.
Not ordinary darkness.
Magical darkness.
The kind that seemed to swallow the light from the corridor rather than simply exist without it.
Harry swallowed.
"Do you know what's in there?"
"No."
"Comforting."
Draco stepped forward.
Harry followed.
The doors closed behind them.
The room was enormous.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with objects Harry couldn't begin to identify.
Glass spheres.
Strange metal instruments.
Old books.
Crystal containers filled with swirling mist.
Everything seemed to hum with ancient magic.
Harry looked around.
"This place is terrifying."
Draco nodded.
"Agreed."
"Do you think we're allowed to be here?"
"No."
Harry smiled.
"Good."
Draco looked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Harry shrugged.
"I was just checking."
They continued deeper into the room.
Eventually, they reached a large circular table.
A single parchment rested in the centre.
Draco immediately recognised the seal.
The same eye surrounded by stars.
His heart began beating faster.
"This is it."
Harry stood beside him.
"The report?"
"I think so."
Draco carefully broke the seal.
The parchment unfolded by itself.
The first page was almost completely blank.
Except for a date.
12 August 1998.
Harry stared at it.
"That's..."
"Yes."
Draco turned the page.
The second page contained a series of magical measurements.
The third contained medical observations.
The fourth—
Draco stopped.
His face changed.
Harry noticed immediately.
"What?"
Draco didn't answer.
He read the sentence again.
Then again.
Slowly, he turned the parchment toward Harry.
Harry looked down.
There was a single line written in dark ink.
Subject displays persistent magical instability following confirmed soul-related trauma.
Harry frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Draco stared at the words.
"I don't know."
But that wasn't entirely true.
He knew enough to be frightened.
He turned another page.
There were diagrams.
A magical core.
A human soul.
And something else.
Something attached to it.
The drawing had been deliberately obscured with black ink.
Harry leaned closer.
"Is that supposed to be me?"
Draco didn't answer.
Because beneath the blacked-out section was another sentence.
This one was partially damaged.
The foreign fragment appears to have remained embedded within the subject's magical structure for approximately—
The rest was missing.
Harry went completely still.
"Foreign fragment?"
Draco's eyes remained fixed on the page.
He could feel Harry watching him.
"Draco."
He finally looked at him.
Harry's expression had changed.
The joking was gone.
"What does it mean?"
Draco swallowed.
"I don't know yet."
Harry looked back at the parchment.
Then quietly:
"Do you think it has something to do with the curse?"
Draco's answer came immediately.
"No."
Harry looked at him.
"Then what?"
Draco stared at the diagram.
The strange magical anomaly.
The resistance.
The reason Harry had survived when others hadn't.
The report from 1998.
The missing pages.
The soul-related trauma.
Everything was beginning to form a pattern.
A terrifying one.
"I think..."
Draco stopped.
He couldn't say it.
Not yet.
Because the thought was too impossible.
Too dangerous.
Too personal.
Harry waited.
"What?"
Draco closed the report.
"We need to leave."
Harry frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I need to research this properly before I tell you anything."
"Draco."
"Harry."
The use of his first name silenced him.
Draco rarely used it.
Harry stared at him.
Draco's expression softened.
"I promise I'll tell you when I understand it."
Harry searched his face.
Then nodded slowly.
"Okay."
He stepped closer.
Not quite touching.
But close enough that Draco could feel the warmth coming from him.
"Just..."
Harry hesitated.
"Don't disappear on me."
Something inside Draco tightened.
"I won't."
Harry smiled faintly.
"Good."
They turned toward the exit together.
Neither of them noticed the final page of the report lying beneath the table.
A page Draco hadn't seen.
A page containing one final sentence.
The subject carried a foreign soul fragment for approximately sixteen years.
And beneath it, in smaller handwriting:
Removal would have resulted in immediate death.
The page remained hidden in the darkness.
Waiting.