Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What Remains	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6084 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's note: Here's the sixth chapter; Harry is slowly making progress.
Thanks to the following reviewers: Jan and ANON (I'm relieved that I didn't screw that scene up!)
Warnings: slight fluff; drama; cliffhanger (I suppose)
I hope you'll like it!
Part 6
"And do you experience any discomfort?" Calling inquired, jotting something down in Harry's file.
The dark haired man shrugged. "Not really. I mean, smiling too much still hurts a bit and my left cheek aches a bit at times, especially when it's quite cold, but that's it."
"Hm." Calling let out a soft sigh and lowered his quill, studying Harry gravely. "Well, I'm afraid those are things you'll have to get used to. I can recommend you a potion to put on your scars for the winter, though. It should help relieve the symptoms caused by the cold weather."
"Sounds great," Harry smiled weakly; disappointment colouring his voice slightly. He knew he shouldn't have got his hopes up, but a small part in him had hoped that Calling would have found some kind of cure by now. Or at least something to diminish the scars somewhat.
It had been a little more than two months since the attack and Calling had sent him a letter, requesting to see him for a check-up. In rare cases the scars worsened and the Healer had wanted to make certain that wouldn't happen with Harry's scars. They hadn't worsened, but they hadn't improved either.
Fingers curled around the arms of the chair.
"Here's the prescription," Calling said and handed over a folded piece of parchment. "You can find it in any Apothecary or you can brew it yourself. The potion isn't complicated to make and the ingredients are fairly inexpensive. Let me know if you experience any changes."
"I will," Harry muttered and after exchanging goodbyes he left Calling's office.
The corridor was alive with witches and wizards awaiting their turn with a particular Healer and Mediwizards and Mediwitches hurried to rooms and other floors, often with a harried look plastered on their faces and clipboards clenched against their chests. Throwing a look at his watch, he noted that it was nearly twelve o'clock. He would eat lunch first before he would go to Diagon Alley and search a gift for his godson. Teddy's birthday was in a week and he couldn't show up emptyhanded.
He stuffed the paper with the prescription in his pocket, intent on placing it away in a drawer at home. Spring had started – even though the rain outside wasn't immediately a sign of beautiful spring weather – and so there was no need for him to use the potion on his scars. At least the weather wasn't that cold anymore.
Some of the people sitting on the small chairs against the wall stared at him when he passed them, whispering to their neighbour, but most of them were too preoccupied with their own problems to give him much attention, for which he was glad.
The lift to take him down to the ground floor of the hospital was located right next to a mini apothecary. Basically it was nothing more than a counter separating the Mediwitch behind it from the patients. The apothecary was quite small and the shelves lined up against the wall behind the Mediwitch were filled with mostly common potions like an Anti-Nausea Draught and salves for light burns. People could buy special made potions here as well if they had an agreement with the hospital, but most people chose to purchase their potions from a regular apothecary.
Currently there was a woman arguing with the Mediwitch; her caramel brown hair resting in a long braid on her back. When Harry neared her, his attention was unwillingly caught by the argument.
"But I can't afford that price!" the woman protested; a hint of desperation fuelling her ire. "I have an agreement that says that I can get the potion for two galleons each month."
"Yes, but one of the ingredients has become more expensive lately and we had to raise the price to five galleons," the Mediwitch explained stiffly. "My hands are tied, Mrs. Dale. Either you pay five galleons or you won't get the potion."
"And I just told you that I can't afford it!" Mrs. Dale retorted agitatedly. "I'm already behind on some of my payments and I still need to pay off my divorce. There's no way I can spend five galleons for that potion each month!"
"Then I can't give it to you," the Mediwitch said unremorsefully and placed some papers beneath the counter.
Having arrived in front of the lift, Harry was close enough to see Mrs. Dale's face and he grimaced in sympathy. Her entire right side was covered with severe burn marks and a long scar ran straight through her right eye; Harry doubted she still had any vision left in that eye.
"But I need that potion," Mrs. Dale pleaded; her fingers clenched around the edge of the counter. A faint sheen of tears made her eyes glimmer. "If I miss one dose, the burns will worsen!"
The Mediwitch sighed heavily and frowned; not even a glimpse of sympathy crossing her face. "Look, there's nothing I can do, Mrs. Dale. I can't give you the potion if you don't give me the money. You want to complain, go to your Healer." With that said, she turned around and went to the back of the room, clearly dismissing the other woman.
"Damn it!" Mrs. Dale cursed and whirled around before coming to an abrupt stop when she realised who was standing in front of the lift. Embarrassment crossed her face and she clasped her robes tighter around her as if she was trying to ward off the cold. "Sorry for that. I didn't mean to make a scene."
"No need for an apology," Harry reassured her and bit his lip, hesitating before he gave in and asked gently, "Are you going to be all right?"
Her breath left her in a gush of air and her shoulders slumped. "I guess. I still have some potion left, but I'll have to see what I'm going to do next month. I need that potion but I can't afford the new price." She let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "As if it isn't enough that my husband left me for another woman, now I can't even afford the draught I need for the burns."
She looked up, one eye a mixture of milky white and blue and the other a clear crystal blue colour, and chuckled embarrassed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say all that. I'm just having a really bad day."
"Can someone else loan you the money?" he suggested hesitatingly. Money was always a touchy subject and he didn't want to overstep any boundaries.
"Maybe once, but I can't ask my family to keep loaning me the money," Mrs. Dale sighed and tugged at a lock that had escaped from the braid. "It doesn't matter. I'll find a way. It's just … Life seems a lot harder now than I remembered it being before I got hurt."
Her words echoed in Harry's head as she gave him a wave, a weak smile, before turning around and walking away in the opposite direction.
He couldn't help but think she was right.
"You're home early," Harry remarked surprised when he walked into the living room and saw Draco sitting at the table with a thick book open in front of him. The bag with a Quidditch playset and two books about dragons – wrapped in dark red paper with a silver bow – was placed on the coffee table and Harry removed his robes, leaving him in a worn grey sweater and dark jeans.
"Some idiots were experimenting and their potion exploded," Draco sneered and closed the book, looking up. "We had to clear the building because they feared the fumes were poisonous."
"And were they poisonous?" Harry inquired curiously, trailing closer to the blond when the wizard beckoned him.
"Don't know," Draco snorted and rose up from his chair; his hands came to rest on Harry's hips and he tugged him even closer. "They thought it'd take at least four hours to clear the air and an hour to figure out whether there was any danger. I guess I'll find out tomorrow whether it's safe to go inside again." Not giving Harry any chance to back away, he swiftly bent closer and pressed a kiss on Harry's mouth, not lingering but not rushing either. "How was your check-up?"
After nearly two months of no kissing, the reintroduction of them made Harry's lips tingle every time even if the urge to flinch away was still rather strong. He was trying, though. He longed for everything to return to normal and even if he still wasn't ready to have sex with Draco again, he still wanted the closeness between them and the kisses gave him that.
Draco seemed to understand that; he didn't push Harry for more, but the kisses were frequent and at times it felt like they were teenagers again, hiding in an alcove to snog each other silly.
It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
He felt like one wrong move would have him lose everything, but he tried to push that thought away as much as he could. Greenling had been sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban for attempted murder last week; he wouldn't be able to come near Harry again and the dark haired wizard was more than ready to take up his life again. He just wished it didn't take him so long.
"It was good," Harry replied and shrugged, glancing at the grandfather clock standing in the corner. Nearly time to prepare dinner. "Nothing changed. He gave me a prescription for the winter, though, to make sure the scars don't ache when it's cold."
Draco hummed and cocked his head when Harry retreated from his embrace and walked back to the coffee table to put the presents on top of the bookcase. The height of the bookcase would make sure that Teddy wouldn't notice the gifts in case he showed up unexpectedly before his birthday. It wouldn't be the first time his godson sneaked out of his grandmother's house because he wanted to visit his godfather.
"I bought a Quidditch play set and two books for Teddy," he commented, levitating the presents on top of the bookcase. "Andromeda told me your mum wants to be at Teddy's birthday party as well. Will she go straight to Andromeda's house or will we pick her up?"
"She'll probably go straight to Aunt Andromeda's house, but I'll ask her tomorrow," Draco answered and his pensive tone made Harry turn around.
"What's wrong?" Harry questioned confused, stuffing his wand back into his pocket.
"That's my line," Draco replied cryptically and leant back against the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Blond eyebrows furrowed and grey eyes studied the younger man intently. "Did something happen today?"
"What? Why?"
"You look like something's bothering you," Draco clarified and narrowed his eyes. "So what happened?"
Harry let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at a couple of locks before he dropped his hand back down. "It's nothing. It's stupid really," he said dismissively.
"Let me be the judge of that," the blond retorted dryly and raised an eyebrow.
The green eyed man bit his lip and wavered for a moment before he nodded and gave in. He might as well tell Draco about it; it wasn't like it was really a secret. "After my check-up, there was a woman arguing with the Mediwitch of the apothecary. You know, the one next to the lift?"
Draco nodded and remained silent, gesturing for the other wizard to continue.
"Well, apparently she had an agreement with her Healer about the price of a potion she needs to use for her wounds, but they raised the price because one of the ingredients had become more expensive," Harry continued and frowned. "She can't afford the new price and so she won't be able to buy the potion next month."
He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, careful not to aggravate the scar on his left cheek. "I know I shouldn't let it bother me," he said begrudgingly, already anticipating the argument his lover would use. "But I just can't help but think that people with permanent scars – people like me – there is no real help for people like us." Agitation flared up and he balled his hands into fists. "People are so used to magic being able to fix things that they don't seem to know how to deal with it when magic isn't able to fix something. But it happens. And people seem to want to pretend that everything is fine instead of actually doing something. Magic won't ever be able to fix my face, but at least I can afford the potions that I need. Hell, I could ask you to prepare the potion for me."
He started pacing back and forth; restless energy buzzing right underneath his skin. "But that woman can't afford the new price of her potion. She doesn't have anyone who can prepare it for her. Who knows how many are out there who are in the same situation? How's any of that fair?"
"It isn't. Life's never fair," Draco said calmly and he pursed his lips together. "But it's not like you can do much about it."
"Right," Harry replied slowly, hesitatingly. An idea had been slowly forming in the back of his mind, but he hadn't paid much attention to it yet, figuring it was too ridiculous to even contemplate.
But what if it was something that was actually needed? The scene in the hospital today showed that people were too compliant to bring about any change. What was it that they said? If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself? Well, Harry wasn't exactly a stranger to doing things on his own. But could he set up something as big as that? A lot would have to be arranged in order for it to work and he had no clue where to start.
"But?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're thinking of something, aren't you?"
"Not really. It's – it's probably ridiculous," Harry admitted and flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, I promise not to laugh," Draco said, looking both exasperated and intrigued. Only he could pull off such a mixed expression.
"I started thinking – what if there was some sort of organisation for people with permanent scars and injuries. An organisation where they can go to if they need someone to talk to; one where they can get potions for a decent price without having to bankrupt themselves," Harry explained, starting to get worked up. "Just a place where they can go to for help instead of being pushed aside by the rest of the world."
A place where they could feel accepted. He didn't voice that particular thought, but it remained present in the back of his mind. He knew he was lucky; he still had his best friends, he still had the Weasleys, his godson and even his boyfriend to support him even when the rest of the world regarded him like a freak. But there were people out there who weren't so lucky, who didn't have the support he had. Case in point had been Mrs. Dale today whose husband had left her and who had sounded as if she had no real support in her life.
"That actually sounds like a good idea," Draco said thoughtfully and Harry threw him a surprised look. The blond wizard shrugged. "What? It is. You'll have to work out the details better like how you want to set it up and who's going to supply the potions and offer the help, but it's a good idea. I think it would gather a lot of support." He eyed the dark haired man shrewdly and smirked faintly. "Especially if your name is attached to it."
Green eyes rolled but Harry smiled relieved and halted right in front of the couch. "So you don't think it's a stupid idea?" he questioned uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why would it be stupid?" Draco countered lightly. "You're right that there isn't any organisation meant to help people with permanent injuries or scars. You'd be a pioneer, but I have faith that you can do it. You can even propose it during a gathering – I dare say you'll get some support from the families."
"I'm not sure whether Pureblood families are really interested in an organisation like this one," Harry admitted with a frown and crossed his arms. "I wouldn't do it for the fame or the profit, you know?"
"True," Draco acquiesced but continued dryly, "But you're still Harry Potter and they know better than to shun an idea of yours. If anything they would support you just for the chance of being able to boast that they are helping you."
Harry's frown deepened; he wasn't certain whether he really wanted support from people who would only be in it for the chance to claim that they were helping out the famous Harry Potter. That didn't feel right.
"But the Purebloods' support is just an option," Draco said calmly, apparently having read Harry's concern correctly. "You don't have to propose the idea to them if you don't want to." His face grew solemn as he crossed the short distance between them and slipped his arms around Harry's waist. "It's a good idea, Harry," he said quietly, seriously. "One I think you need, right?"
Harry's cheeks heated up a bit and he nodded, relaxing into Draco's embrace. He was tired of feeling helpless, of feeling powerless. He was done with the pitying stares and the horrified glances. Even if his face would never return to normal, he could help other people in the same situation living an easier life.
"You have my support," Draco murmured into black hair and his fingers danced up and down over Harry's back.
A smile graced Harry's mouth and he pressed his face into Draco's shoulder, slipping his own arms around Draco's waist, linking his hands together on his lower back.
Enjoying the quiet moment between them.
"My son told me about your idea to help people with permanent scars or injuries."
Harry started and nearly spilt his drink when Narcissa suddenly spoke up behind him and he whirled around, coming face to face with the older woman. There was a glimmer of amusement dancing in the depths of her ice blue eyes when she regarded him calmly. Her light blue dress shimmered faintly in the weak April sunlight.
"No secrets in the family, huh," he retorted lightly and threw a quick look at Draco who was helping Teddy set up his Quidditch playset on the patio.
Grey eyes looked back and the owner of them winked before turning his attention back to the now seven year old fussing around with the mini players.
Knowing his cheeks were slightly red, Harry cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to Narcissa again.
"He thinks it's a great idea," she said and shrugged apologetically. "Draco has always had a difficult time keeping things quiet if he was excited about it."
He sighed and shook his head in amusement. "It's only an idea so far, nothing concrete yet," he admitted and took a sip from his Butterbeer.
He had talked about it with Hermione and his friend had been quite enthusiastic about it, promising to help him out with setting up the entire organisation. Most likely she was already collecting all the information she could get her hands on and would inform him next week what was required to actually start establishing the organisation. Ron had been equally enthusiastic when Harry had proposed the idea and had clapped him on his shoulder, telling him he could count on his help.
"Don't sell yourself short," Narcissa smiled faintly; her fingers resting loosely around her own glass of chilled water. "It's far more than the Wizarding World has so far, so you already made quite some progress already. Everything started as an idea once after all."
He felt himself flush even more and glanced away.
"If you decide to go through with it, you have the full support of the Malfoy family," she continued calmly.
"Even from Lucius?" Harry blurted out before he could think twice about it and his cheeks coloured red.
She inclined her head, seemingly not bothered by the sceptic undertone in his voice. "Even from my husband," she said and a faint hint of amusement lingered in her voice. "He has his faults, but he recognises a good idea when he hears about it."
"Uncle Harry, come play!" Teddy demanded, waving his right hand madly.
"You're being called," Narcissa smiled.
"It appears so," Harry replied dryly and placed his glass on the table. "Guess I'll go do the birthday boy's bidding."
"I look forward to hearing more about your proposal," she told him and disappeared into the house soundlessly where Andromeda was finishing up the birthday cake.
"You okay?" Draco inquired in a low voice, too soft for Teddy to pick up his question.
Harry smiled and in a fit of boldness swiftly leant over to peck Draco's cheek. "Yeah, I am."
Grey eyes lit up and a hand covered his own, entangling their fingers together.
With the weak but warm sun casting its rays on them and surrounded by his lover and family, Harry figured that life was finally taking a turn for the better.
Feeling lighter than he had done in weeks.
"You're sure you're going to be okay?" Ron asked concerned, wavering in front of the fireplace.
Behind Harry he could already hear some Ministry employees complaining that they were taking too long. He clapped Ron's shoulder and sighed. "Yes, Ron, I'll be fine. It was just a minor cut. It's already healed, see?" He pushed up his sleeve and showed his arm which was once again smooth. He hadn't managed to escape a Cutting Hex entirely during their pursuit of a man who was suspected of breeding illegal magical creatures and a long cut had adorned his arm until he had found the time to heal it with a spell.
If only all wounds were that easy to heal.
"Just worried," Ron huffed, but took a pinch of Floo powder.
"I know and I appreciate it," Harry paused and then continued light-heartedly, "I'll appreciate it even more if I can go home now and get something to eat because I'm starving."
"All right, all right, I'm going," Ron laughed and called out, "Rose Garden!"
The flames turned bright green and whisked him away to the cottage he was sharing with Hermione where she was waiting for him to come home.
Shaking his head fondly, Harry grabbed some Floo powder out of the jar and threw it into the flames as soon as they turned golden red again, calling out his own destination.
As soon as he stumbled out of the hearth, his attention was grabbed by Draco's bag placed next to the couch and he cocked his head, unclasping his Auror robes. Draco was already home? Had there been another incident?
He didn't find the blond in the kitchen and he wasn't in the living room either. Curiosity brimming inside him he made his way upstairs, wondering whether the other wizard was in his own study.
A smile spread across his lips when he saw light dancing underneath the door of Draco's study; the dark wooden door standing slightly ajar. He crossed the landing, his shoes soundless on the carpet, but paused surprised when he heard Zabini's voice drifting out of the room.
"And what does the letter say?"
"Hm?" Draco sounded distracted and there was the sound of papers crinkling.
"The letter of Greengrass," Zabini repeated patiently and Harry froze.
Which Greengrass member was Zabini talking about? Surely it couldn't be –
"They – want to restart the negotiations for a marriage between me and Astoria."
Of course.
Because nothing would ever be easy for him, right?
AN2: Does this count as a cliffhanger? A minor one then. Anyway, please leave your thoughts behind in a review. Harry is slowly making progress now, but I hope it doesn't come across as rushed. I feel like I'm balancing on a cord with this story *sweatdrops*
I hope to see you all in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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What Remains