Confisio Suprema

Auror on a house search

Harry had made up his mind not to call Draco until the evening, but after a few minutes, he realised he was thirsty again. He could have asked for the services of a house elf, surely Draco would have assigned him one – why hadn't either of them thought of that? Harry decided to take care of himself, he was used to being self-sufficient all his life and asking for help was not easy for him. He made his way around the mansion, hoping that he would soon come across a room that either stored drinks (non-alcoholic!) or at least running water. Looking around the mansion was fun, and for a moment, Harry forgot about the pain in his hands as he curiously looked around the former Death Eater sanctuary. The house looked different. The rooms were brighter, airier, and more modernly furnished. For sure, Draco has a really good taste and enough funds. Harry was opening one door after another without his wand as if he had forgotten that he was not an Auror on a house search but a guest; therefore, his behaviour was extremely impolite.

The living room reminded him of the morning he drank coffee with Draco. The memory was pleasant, whether he liked it or not. The bedroom he slept in the other day. Unbelievably, Malfoy hasn't been able to make a bed here yet. Draco's bedroom! Harry really hadn't expected such a normal, cluttered room. An unmade bed, a few magazines – What is he reading? Potions? Harry's jaw dropped when he found the book Wise Counsel for Parents of Little Wizards on the bedside table. He is so keen on parenthood! However, the desk was filled with specialist literature on curses: Forgotten Curses, Exotic Curses, Curses You Didn't Learn About in Wizarding School... A potionist doesn't need this for his job! There were bookmarks on pages dealing with hand injuries. Harry realised with emotion that Draco was reading these books because of him. "Oh, Draco..."

It didn't take long for Draco to appear beside him. His lab was on the other side of the mansion, so it wasn't far.

"Did you call me? What are you doing here?"

Harry realised with horror that he had said Draco's name out loud, calling him through the locket. What is he doing – he is in the middle of his bedroom and looking through his personal belongings...

"I was thirsty." That's a lame excuse.

"You know Harry, I understand you're bored, but don't you think you crossed the line a bit?"

"Draco, I'm so sorry. I really just wanted to find something to drink, but then I just couldn't resist and started looking around... I seriously wasn't planning on snooping in your room."

"Apology accepted. It's my fault, too. You will, of course, have an elf at your disposal."

Harry thanked him, and Draco gave him a small smile.

"Is there anything else you need before I leave?"

"Touch my hands, please," Harry whispered. It really was the only thing that relieved his pain.

"Lie down," Draco ordered. Harry stretched out on Draco's bed. It was strange, Draco allowed him to invade his intimate space. He sat down next to him and took his injured hands in his. This is more important than potions. Seeing the immediate effect of his care on the patient's health, he decided to administer this treatment to Harry as often as possible. He left it after an hour. Incredibly! Lighter spots appeared on the charred blackness of the hands.

"I don't know how you do it, but it really helps."

Draco would like to find out why his touch helped Harry. It would be interesting to see if someone else's touch would have a similar effect. He would probably have to endure a visit from Harry's friends. He would survive Hermione's visit quite easily, but he would probably have to invite Ronald Weasley. He didn't like the idea of someone else touching Harry's hands at all, but he was willing to do anything to heal him.

"I'll come see you again in the evening," he promised, stroking Harry's hand. Harry felt like he could feel the caress – not strongly, but still. Maybe he's only imagining it, but maybe the feeling is slowly returning to his hand.