Draco's feet had barely touched the tiles of the St Mungo's before he was hurrying towards the mind-healing ward, trying to put as much distance between him and Potter as physically possible.

The mind-healing ward was empty when he got there, as per usual, but it didn't take long for him to find a mediwitch who knew where Iris was.

The mediwitch had to unlock the doors to the Janus Thickly ward, always kept heavily warded so the patients couldn't wander off. It was for the patient's safety, the man told him. But it felt uncomfortable to Draco.

The Janus Thickly ward was a single large room with beds lined along the sides of the walls. Some of the beds had screens between them to add the slightest touch of privacy, but that was it. The beds had little personal touches, art over the headboards, plants on the small scuffed bedside tables, and various mismatched chairs set beside the beds or over the windows on the far wall. The centre of the room had a few tables and chairs, puzzles and simple game boxes were scattered across the tops.

He spotted Iris in the corner. She was sitting on top of someone's bed; the woman it belonged to was curled up in an oversized armchair nearby. Iris was casting diagnostic spells as she talked avidly to the patient.

Draco didn't want to interrupt, so he wandered along the opposite wall. He paused where two people were sitting by the windows. The woman had a handful of candy wrappers in her hand that she rubbed between her fingers as she stared outside. The man had a puzzle in front of him, the large pieces meant for a small child. He had managed to put a few of them together. Both of their hair had gone white and brittle.

The woman looked away from the window, spotting Draco and smiling faintly like a reflex. She opened her hand and took out a single candy wrapper, giving it to Draco like an offering.

Draco shivered. But once it passed, he sat down at the table with them.

"I know a way of folding these up, you know," Draco said, keeping his voice soft in the quiet room. "You fold them like this..." He used the edge of the table and his fingernail to crease the wrapper and fold it into one long piece that he folded in on itself.

"I know it doesn't look like much now," Draco said, "but if you have more of them, then you can put them together." He tried to mime what he meant, but the woman only continued to look pleasantly confused.

Draco held out his hand, "Can I have a few more? I'll show you."

The woman hesitated, her mouth twitching down.

"I promise I will give them back," Draco said.

Very slowly, she slid her handful of wrappers onto the surface of the table and left them between the two of them.

Draco took another and folded it slowly, showing each step and then slotting the two folded pieces together. "Do the next one with me?" he asked, pushing a wrapper toward her.

The woman took a wrapper with a confused furrow to her eyebrows. Draco moved his chair closer and walked through each step with her. He noticed that the woman's hands shook with a noticeable tremor and her motor skills were wobbly at best.

The mediwitch had said that this ward was St. Mungo long-term spell damage ward. Draco had seen side-effects like this before, from the long term use of the cruciatus curse. Voldemort hadn't only used it against his enemies or the muggles he kidnapped; it was also inflicted upon his followers who displeased him. Except they didn't get to die afterwards.

Draco showed her how to thread the folded wrappers together. They were actually starting to look like a chain or a set of small paper stairs with three pieces.

The woman fumbling tried to insert her own wrapper into the chain but couldn't get it to go between the fold.

"You can use the edge of your fingernail," Draco said. He showed her how to do it but didn't take it from her, even though he could see her frustration growing.

The other man at the table paused from slowly turning a puzzle piece in his hands to pat the woman's hands. She stopped, took a deep breath and then tried again.

"Do you know Alice and Frank?" Iris asked as she walked over.

Draco shook his head.

"You're remarkably patient with them," Iris said, pulling out another chair and sitting next to the man.

"Don't sound so surprised," Draco said.

"I am, a bit," Iris said. She pushed a puzzle piece closer to the man, Frank's, hands. "It's my own bias, though."

Draco gave her a look.

Iris shrugged, "It's the way you sound, your accent, and the way you carry yourself. There's a part of my mind that automatically thinks, 'aristocratic asshole'."

Draco grinned, "You know, I always thought therapists were supposed to be nicer."

"Some people need a nice mind healer," Iris said, "I generally refer them to one of my colleagues."

Draco laughed.

"I'm never cruel. But a little mean? Sometimes. My brain to mouth filter isn't always the most robust. But I find that honesty has its own value." Iris said.

"I sympathise with that," Draco said. "Except that I can be exceptionally cruel if the mood strikes me."

"Are you naturally so patient?" Iris asked.

Draco shook his head, "No. Not at all. I was an incredibly impatient, spoilt child."

"What happened?" Iris asked.

"...My friends," Draco said. "They were... They had trouble with school."

"So you helped them?" Iris said.

"I tutored them all through sixth year. It wouldn't have looked good if they had to repeat a year," Draco said. Though that wasn't all of it.

Iris seemed to sense that and looked at Draco expectantly.

Draco took another candy wrapper to fold so that he would have something to do with his hands. "Greg and Vince were not academically gifted."

"That's a nice way of putting it," Iris said.

"They could do the spells just fine. Vince was especially good with magical plants. He had a knack with them. Not that anyone noticed. All they saw was that Greg and Vince were fat and stupid," Draco said with a frown.

"Hmm," Iris said.

"What?" Draco asked.

"My bias, again," Iris said, "It's hard for me to imagine you being friends with the people you just described."

"They were more the minion type," Draco said dryly. "But that suited us just fine."

"How so?" Iris asked.

"They protected me, I protected them and no one messed with us," Draco said.

"How did you protect them?" Iris asked.

Draco shrugged, "I tutored them. And made sure no one made fun of them or mocked them." He frowned to himself, "That didn't stop me from doing it. Because I was an absolute ass. But it seemed to work, at least, until the end."

"What happened?" Iris asked.

"In seventh year, the Carrow siblings took Vince and Greg under their wing. They... they..." Draco sighed, "They weren't nice to Vince and Greg, but they gave them a lot of power."

"You seem conflicted," Iris said.

"Of course," Draco said, "If I had been a better friend to Vince, then maybe he wouldn't have- maybe he would have listened to me instead...." He clenched his jaw.

The woman, Alice, gave Draco a candy wrapper to make him feel better.

Draco took it and slowly began to fold it.

"And how much would you have had to change in order to change Vince?" Iris asked. "Would he have changed even if you were the nicest person in the world to him?"

Draco absently chewed on his bottom lip.

"Was kindness even what he wanted? Or was it the power the Carrow's offered?" Iris said.

"I don't know," Draco said.

"And could you have given Greg and Vince power? Or would they have had to remain your lackeys?"

Draco winced.

"And of course, would the you that was a better friend to them have even been you?" Iris asked. "How would that person even come to be?"

Draco couldn't imagine it. He tried to think back where he might have learned to be nice to someone he perceived as less than him. The house elves were the only ones who went out of their way to be nice to Draco growing up, but he never respected them. His parents didn't, and he always followed their example.

Draco felt a sudden, mourning ache in his heart for the child who had never been taught to care about anyone other than himself. And his father.

Draco breathed out heavily.

"And," Iris said, "it's important not to forget that Vince and Greg were their own people, who made their own choices. And those choices were made up of more than just you and your effect on them." She gave Draco a comforting smile, "You were just one of many people in their lives. I'm afraid you weren't the centre of their universe."

Draco laughed awkwardly, "That sounded wrong."

"Hmm," Iris said thoughtfully, "Perhaps my word choice was slightly... romantically coded."

Draco grimaced theatrically.

Alice laughed faintly, and Iris smiled encouragingly.

"Can I fold one?" Iris asked Alice.

Alice nodded, picked out a candy wrapper and slid it over to Iris.

"Show me how it works again?" Iris asked.

Draco took another wrapper and walked Iris through the steps.

"Alice and Frank were injured in the first wizarding war. They endured the cruciatus curse to the point of permanent damage," Iris said.

Draco nodded. "I guessed as much."

"It's something you've seen before?" Iris asked.

"First hand," Draco said grimly.

"I'm sorry," Iris said.

"It wasn't done to me," Draco said.

"I'm sorry you had to see it," Iris said.

Draco tried to change the subject, "I didn't know it was from the first war. They've been here that long?"

Iris nodded. "Magic is so... limited when it comes to healing something so delicate and complicated as the human mind."

"No potions to fix all your ills?" Draco asked.

"No," Iris said, rolling her eyes, "Potions and most healing spells are very... They're like a switch; they fix what is broken, mend what is torn, but the mind isn't like that. Magic can restore the tissues, replace the synapses, but it can't bring back the connections that were once there."

"Physically, Alice and Frank are as healthy as we can make them. But their whole lives were erased, all their memories, thoughts and dreams."

"What about the shaking?" Draco asked.

"That, at least, I think we ought to be able to fix. But the connections in the motor cortex get reset as well, and, well... in a muggle setting, they would get physical therapy which I think would help immensely but-," Iris shook her head in frustration, "It's not just the magic that's like a switch. It seems our whole culture is stuck in either an on or off position with no in-between."

Draco nodded in agreement. "What about their family? Could you talk them into it?"

"Their son is very on board. He wants to try everything," Iris smiled, "Every week, he comes by with candy and flowers, little puzzles and games for his parents. It's rare for our patients here to get such regular visitors."

"If their son wants to do all that, then why-?" Draco started.

"Frank's mother doesn't, and she holds both of their Lasting Power of Attorney. Unfortunately." Iris said.

Draco frowned.

"And if you're thinking he should just request a transfer of LPA; once they found out he wanted to try muggle medical therapies, he'd be laughed right out of the Wizengamot," Iris said.

"That's... unfortunate," Draco said.

"And very frustrating," Iris sighed.

Draco looked around the room, "I didn't mean to interrupt your work."

"You are a bit early," Iris said.

"The meetings are usually in the afternoon, aren't they?" Draco said.

Iris nodded, "Mhmm. Our meeting is at three, tomorrow."

Draco blinked, "Ah... that's-"

"A ways off," Iris said, a teasing tone in her voice. "But it was nice to have a chance to talk. And I'm glad you plan on coming to the meeting."

Draco ducked his head in embarrassment.

"You're welcome to stay and visit as long as you like. I'm sure many here would be glad for the company," Iris said, standing up from her chair.

Draco nodded, "Sorry for-"

"There's nothing to apologise for," Iris interrupted him, "There's a mediwitch always on duty in the office when you're ready to leave and if you need anything."

Iris gave a little wave and walked over to a patient across the room.

Alice passed him the last candy wrapper from her pile as she finished folding her own.

Draco took it, folding it together and adding it to the chain.

Without any more candy wrappers to fold, Draco started looking through the other puzzles on the tables. But while Frank seemed very happy to do puzzles, Alice quickly lost interest. The mediwitch in the cubicle shaped office by the doors let Draco use the supplies in their cabinet. Among the changes of sheets and spare pyjamas, there was a shelf filled with papers, paints and other inoffensive crafting supplies.

Draco took paper, paints and some other colouring implements to the largest table. By the time he managed to cajole Alice and Frank into moving tables, several other patients had come over and joined them.

Frank seemed happy to keep doing his puzzles at a new table, while Alice used her fingers to smear pretty colours across the papers in front of her. There didn't seem to be a design to her colouring, but she never mixed any colours into muddy shades. Draco taught a few of the other patients how to fold paper boats and aeroplanes. When lunchtime came, an extra tray was brought for Draco, and after lunch, he read some stories aloud from Beedle the Bard.

Iris returned in the late afternoon. If she was surprised to see Draco still there, she didn't show it, simply roped him into helping her with her rounds amongst the patients. He ended up staying in the Janus Thickey until visiting hours were over.

Draco went back to his old building to see if anyone was around to chat. Naja invited him over for dinner. He was supposed to watch her kids while she cooked, but they hardly needed watching. Aleena read quietly to herself. Darain watched a tv show about five people in bright pyjamas fighting monsters that Draco suspected to be other humans in costumes. Some of the costumes were quite clever.

Draco tried to talk with Darain, but he was sullen and quiet, and Draco was never sure what to say to small children; he was much better at asking questions and then listening.

It was dark when he finally left, having definitely overstayed his welcome, though Naja had been too nice to say so. Draco was tempted to find somewhere else to loiter, but as it got later, and Draco had no money on him, there were few choices that weren't bars.

Draco sighed and reluctantly apparated back to Potter's flat.

"For fuck's sake," Draco muttered sourly as he landed inside the door.

Potter was sitting at his little table, looking for all the world just like Draco had left him this morning.

Potter smirked faintly, looking far too pleased with himself, "Took your time." He had changed from his work robes into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt over a baggy t-shirt.

"Obviously," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He had been hoping Potter would have just given up and gone to bed.

Potter brandished a pencil at Draco and put it to a piece of paper, "Right. So where did we leave off?"

"Me telling you to fuck yourself?" Draco said flatly.

"Job ideas," Potter went on, writing that at the top of the page in his tragic excuse for handwriting.

"I'm not getting a job," Draco said. "Nothing you can say will change my mind."

"Sit. I made tea," Potter said, gesturing to a gently steaming mug sitting across from him.

That wasn't enough to move Draco, even if it was tea made just how he liked it. But the open packet of jammy dodgers sitting in the centre of the table was.

Draco dropped into the chair across from Potter and took a biscuit. Nothing Potter said would change his mind, so he could just ignore him, eat sweets and then leave. Preferably in a way that would make Potter furious.

"What do you want to do? Or what do you think you'd be good at?" Potter asked.

"Well, I was exceptionally good at drinking, but you put a stop to that," Draco said.

"Probably not customer service," Potter said.

Draco snorted in amusement. He pointed at Potter with a jammy biscuit, "You know what I was very good at-?"

Potter put the pencil against the paper expectantly.

"Getting fucked up the a-"

 "No," Potter cut him off, shaking his head, "That's not-"

"I mean, if I'm not going to get free drinks for it, I might as well get paid," Draco said idly. "It makes sense."

There was a faint snap as the tip of Potter's pencil broke, and the muscle on the side of Potter's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.

Draco hadn't thought it would be this easy. He smirked faintly and pushed his chair back from the table, going to stand up.

"We're not done, "Potter said firmly, taking a deep calming breath.

"I'm going to bed," Draco said.

"If you think I won't follow you and just sit next to your matress, you're wrong," Potter said.

Draco made a face, "You're a ghoul."

"Drink some tea," Potter said.

As slowly and noisily as possible, Draco dragged his chair back up to the table and then slumped over it like a child being forced to finish their brussel sprouts. "This is fucking pointless."

"I take it you're not going to answer my question-"

"I did," Draco muttered.

"-seriously," Potter said, as he pointed his wand at his pencil and cast a strange, fiddly sounding charm. It took three tries before the charm actually worked, resharpening the pencil to a point.

"You were always good at potions," Potter said, writing 'something to do with potions' on the top of the list.

"Even if I had my NEWT's no one in the wizarding world would hire me," Draco said.

"Not everyone is a complete prejudice dickbag, you know," Potter said.

"Tell me when you find one," Draco said.

"Me," Potter said.

Draco turned his head to see Potter, his cheek pressed against the warm unfinished wood. And more importantly, so Potter could see Draco give him the most 'that's bullshit' expression he could manage.

"What else? Potter said, ignoring him.

Draco responded by grabbing another biscuit.

Potter sighed, "... Transfiguration, I think? And charms and... were you any good at herbology?"

Draco continued to eat his biscuit, holding it between his lips and slowly eating it without hands. Like a slug.

Potter scrubbed his hand in his hair, "I don't remember you liking it much, so I won't write it down."

"Now that matters?" Draco tried to say, but it came out garbled.

"Definitely not magical creatures; you hated that class," Potter said.

Draco plucked the biscuit out of his mouth and sat up so he could say, "I don't dislike all magical creatures. Just the ones that can kill me."

"So everything but pygmy puffs then?" Potter said sarcastically.

"I think I could win a fight against the Asiatic Opalescent Carp," Draco said dryly.

Potter hesitated, unsure.

"It's a colour changing koi," Draco said. And then added in case Potter was really that slow, "An overgrown goldfish."

Potter glared at him, "I know what a koi is."

Draco shrugged.

Potter tapped his pencil against the paper, "So, what sort of muggle things do you like to do?"

"Drinking and fu-"

"Not those," Potter said impatiently.

"Chatting," Draco said.

Potter looked at him.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "I'm very personable."

Potter's mouth thinned into a faint scowl.

Draco reached for another biscuit, and Potter pulled the packet to his side of the table. Draco sniffed imperiously and picked up the mug of tea instead. Potter had kept it hot with a stasis charm.

"What do you want to do?" Potter asked.

"For fucks sake, Potter," Draco said, "I have been sober and sleeping on your floor for... all of a week? Some people take time to think about these sorts of things."

Potter bristled, "Some times thinking about things only makes it worse. It's not like I'm asking you to pick a job for life, just something-" he waved his hands, "something to- to-"

"To what?" Draco asked.

"To do. To keep busy. A distraction," Potter said.

Draco laughed in disbelief, "You think if I'm distracted enough, I won't drink?"

"So you won't be tempted-"

"I'm always tempted!" Draco snapped. "I think about it all the fucking time, and when I'm not thinking about it, I still feel it. How much fucking easier it would be, every moment of every fucking day if I could just take the edge off of- of everything!"

Potter stared at him.

"And you're fucking mad if you think getting a job in the wizarding world would work," Draco snapped, "Like if I just try hard enough, people will look past who I am and learn to like me eventually. Except that for every person I managed to convince I wasn't an evil dark wizard, there are twenty more that would happily spit in my face!"

"It's not like-" Potter started.

"It's exactly like that!" Draco shoved his chair back, his mug splashing hot tea over his knuckles as he got to his feet. He snarled at the sting of pain and threw the mug blindly. It shattered on the kitchen tiles, shards of ceramic skittering across the floor.

He went to the door, throwing open the lock and hurrying outside, down the stairs and outside the building. Draco shuddered as he breathed in the cool night air, heading blindly down the pavement in an unfamiliar neighbourhood.

He didn't care where he went, as long as it was away from Potter.

Potter had talked about the shops near his flat, but Draco had never visited them. Nothing looked familiar. It seemed like a small quiet neighbourhood. It wasn't the sort of place Draco would have imagined Potter living in before, but Draco knew it fit him perfectly now.

Stupid stodgy Potter and his jobs. Was work all he cared about? Didn't he have anything better to do?

And why the fuck was Draco still- He shook his head. What was he doing here? What was he even getting out of this? Danish?

Draco laughed to himself at the absurdity.

He should have just taken Potter's money and stayed with Elle. Then none of this would have ever happened.

The sound of muffled laughter and conversation made Draco look up. His feet stopped without his permission outside the entrance of the pub. The door was just swinging closed, and when Draco breathed in, he could smell the spilt beer and cheap whiskey mixing with stale smoke from outside. He felt a longing that swayed him on his feet towards the door, mixed with a vague sense of nausea and unease.

Just one drink. It's not like it mattered.

The door swung open, and two lads stumbled out the door. They were barely holding onto one another even as they tipped drunkenly in one direction, then the other, running into Draco and nearly falling over.

Draco grabbed the nearest of the lads to keep him from knocking them both over.

"Woah there, shirt lifter, ain't lookin' for anything from you, am I?" the bloke said.

His friend laughed, pulling them both in the other direction and headed off down the middle of the street.

Draco turned away. It wasn't the type of bar he could convince anyone to buy him a drink. He would likely end up with a black eye instead. And he had no money to buy his own drink.

He kept walking until he spotted a small park at the end of the lane, though calling it a park was generous. It was more like a tiny patch of packed earth and scrubby grass with an old metal slide and a set of swings, most of the paint chipped off and slowly being replaced by rust. The only reason Draco could imagine that it hadn't been replaced with something made of plastic and rubber mats was that it was too small to bother with.

Draco dropped into one of the swings, his hands curling around the cold metal chains. The swing squeaked faintly as he kicked himself into a slow back and forth, letting his feet drag across the dirt then pushing himself again. Draco shivered as a breeze blew past, his cheap t-shirt doing almost nothing to keep him warm.

He tipped his head back, looking up at the grey night sky, trying to pick out the few stars that managed to cut through London's light pollution. That was one of the few things he missed from Wiltshire; the stars had always been mesmerizing, almost more magical than magic.

Draco looked down at the sound of footsteps. Potter was coming down the road towards him, his wand balanced on his palm and pointing in Draco's direction.

Draco narrowed his eyes, dragging his feet through the dirt to a stop, "Did you put a tracking spell on me?"

Potter hesitated on the edge of the park, "Not on you. I had a tracking spell on the shoes I gave you."

Draco pulled off a shoe and threw it at Potter's head.

Potter managed to dodge out of the way, holding up his hands placatingly, "That was from before, right after- after-"

"You kidnapped me and stole my wallet," Draco said. He pulled off the other shoe and hurled it at Potter's face.

Potter tried to catch the second shoe, but it glanced off his hand and hit the side of his head, which made Draco feel very slightly better.

"I won't do it again," Potter said.

"That's because if you do, I'll light your bed on fire while you're still in it," Draco said.

Potter hesitated and then nodded, "Yeah. I deserve that. Probably."

"Probably?" Draco said.

"Okay, not probably. Definitely," Potter said.

Draco nodded, looking down at his feet.

The swing next to him clinked softly as Potter sat down.

Draco tightened his hands on the chains, pressing his socked feet against the dirt, swinging very gently forward and back.

Potter took a deep breath. "It was me."

"What?" Draco asked, glancing over.

Potter made a face, "....I was talking about me, I think."

Draco waited.

"Everyone told me I was rushing into joining the aurors. Even Ron. He took the summer off before starting. But I went right in," Potter said. "Hermione went back to school to finish her studies. I don't know how she did it."

Potter trailed off, scuffing the toe of his shoe in the dirt. "Anyway... I'm sorry."

Draco looked up in surprise.

"I shouldn't have pushed. I want to help. But it seems like everything I try is the wrong thing," Potter said.

Draco sighed in dismay, "You make everything difficult. I had just made up my mind to leave."

"...I wouldn't blame you if you did. It's fine. I'd I take the loss for breaking our deal." Potter smiled ruefully, "I really fucked up the 'everything you want' bit."

"I'll say," Draco said sourly.

"Erm... are you okay?" Potter asked.

Draco scrunched up his nose, "I hate that question. The answer is never going to be yes; it hasn't been for years."

"....I meant your hand. I was worried the tea burned you," Potter said.

Draco sighed, "I fucking hate you."

Potter smiled faintly, "Yeah, but what about your hand?"

Draco let go of the chain and looked at his hand. The back of his knuckles were faintly red. On anyone with even a drop of melanin in them, it probably wouldn't even show.

"Here, let me cast an episky," Potter said, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"It's fine," Draco said, "It doesn't even hu-"

Potter gently took his hand, silently casting the healing charm. And just a quickly let go.

"Uh, erm, better?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded, his hand curling into a loose fist that he set carefully on his thigh.

"Here," Potter took off his flannel shirt and tossed it to Draco.

Draco caught the shirt.

"Your hand was freezing," Potter said, very pointedly looking out at the street rather than at Draco.

Draco silently pulled the shirt on, still faintly warm from Potter's body heat.

"I do want to help you though, somehow," Potter said, "So you'll have to tell me what I can do."

Draco felt like he was dreaming. Except that somehow it was a good dream.

Potter backed up as far as he could before swinging forward, his legs outstretched until he started back down and curled them back under himself. He quickly rose, higher and higher, and Draco watched, waiting for him to jump.

It was the most reckless thing a person could do on a swing so, of course, Potter would do it. Draco would have done the same to try and best Potter when they were back in school. And then it would have turned into a contest and inevitably one of them would have gotten hurt or started a fight.

Draco leaned against one of the chains, the metal cold on his cheek. He felt almost light-headed with a dizzy warmth that seemed to come from the squeezing pressure in his chest.

Potter reached the top of a perfect arc, let go, and kept going over the ragged grass as easily as if he were flying. Potter always looked good in the air.

Ah.

Draco drew in a startled breath as Potter landed.

What a shame. What a waste of a feeling, when nothing could ever come of it.

"Malfoy?"

"What? Did you want me to applaud?" Draco said flatly.

Potter hesitated and then shook his head, "Are you okay? Your expression just now-"

"Just ruminating on what an idiot I am," Draco said. He stood up, "It's getting late, and I have no idea how to get back to your flat from here."

"You're coming back?" Potter said.

"Don't sound so surprised," Draco said, "I told you you make things difficult."

"Alright, uh, it's not far," Potter said, looking around and collecting the shoes Draco had thrown at his head.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Just until we get back," Potter said. "I'll buy you new shoes tomorrow."

"I'll buy me new shoes tomorrow; you have terrible taste," Draco said, pulling the sneakers back on.

Potter put a hand on his arm so Draco wouldn't lose his balance, and Draco once again wondered how he could be so stupid as to have feelings for someone like Harry Potter.

Draco pulled Potter's flannel shirt tighter around himself, "Come on, let's go."