Confisio Suprema

All Roads Lead to St. Mungo's

Draco couldn't get Potter out of his head. Thoughts of him popped into his head every time something reminded him of him—the morning newspaper, semolina porridge as a snack, a chocolate bar. He was thinking of him while preparing the potions against pain. He found himself looking at his photo several times. He did not allow the house elf to change the sheets in the guest room. Ah, Malfoy, you're acting strange, forget about him, he's Potter! You don't have to beg for his forgiveness. You're not going to stalk him, are you?

Draco decided to focus on work. Potions for pain and sedation needed to be mixed for St. Mungo's Hospital. As a result of the battles with the Neo-Death Eaters, injuries to aurors were now more frequent. Draco was carefully preparing the ingredients, his mind wandering back to his memories every now and then. Why would Harry not write to me about how he was doing? Even the potions I gave him can't be obtained without a prescription. Damned Potter!

---

Draco carried a new batch of freshly prepared potions to Saint Mungo. He was handing them to one of the nurses when he witnessed a conversation that startled him so much that he almost dropped the entire batch on the floor.

"Great, we're going to need painkillers and sedation potions. Mr Potter is very unwell," said one of the healers.

Draco's legs buckled. Harry, what have you been doing again? Fear gripped him like an icy hand.

"What happened to him?" Draco asked.

"Are you his relative?"

"I'm his... friend. We studied together, and now our children are studying together."

"Mr Potter's hands are seriously injured. I can't tell you more."

Draco made puppy dog eyes. "I'm a potion master, if I had more accurate information, I could prepare a healing potion."

The healer recognised that it may be true.

"Unfortunately, we don't know what curse caused the injury. It was non-verbal magic. At the moment, we can only numb the pain and administer calming potions.

Draco's heart pounded like a bell.

"How long has he been lying here?"

"About two weeks."

"Two weeks, and you still don't know how to treat it?" Draco was completely taken aback.

"Could I see him?"

The healer led him into the room. Harry lay here alone. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't fully conscious, either. Apart from the bandaged upper limbs, he appeared unharmed.

Draco sat down by his bed.

"Harry..." Draco couldn't do anything more.

Harry opened his eyes. He was so dazed from all the potions that he had trouble speaking.

"Malfoy?"

"My name is Draco," the potions master smiled sadly.

"I should have followed your advice..."

"Harry, I'll help you. I'll do everything I can."

With the healer's permission, he unwound the delicate bandage. What he saw brought tears to his eyes. Harry's arms were completely black up to the elbows, looking like they were made of anthracite, only the fluorescent green veins showing through. Draco had never seen anything like it. He created several images with his camera.

"Can you move your arms?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you feel the touch?"

A negative answer again.

"What's the pain like?"

"Like I had them on fire. Nothing has ever hurt me so much."

Draco cautiously touched his left hand. Strange, it felt completely normal to the touch, like a healthy human hand. Soft skin, normal temperature.

"Harry, I promise I'll find out how to help you. I'll come to see you again tomorrow. Hold on, please." He smiled encouragingly.

Harry didn't have the strength to react in any way, let alone think about whether it was a good thing that Malfoy knew about it. All that remained was a kind of pleasant, indefinable feeling...