Confisio Suprema

It is just Draco's touch, isn't it?

Harry didn't miss the opportunity to invite Ron and Hermione and planned his friends' visit for the very next day. Draco wasn't happy about it, but he recognised that he couldn't cut Harry out of his former life, in which he himself hadn't exactly played a positive role. And then there was the need to try the touch of other people. Draco was even willing to personally welcome the Weasleys. Hopefully, there will be some goodwill on the other side as well.

It was exactly as he had anticipated. Hermione could be talked to sensibly, but Ron glared at him with animosity from the start. He greeted him half-heartedly, and that was the end of his contact with Draco.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, what were you thinking, moving in with Malfoy?"

Draco didn't want to listen behind the door, but he was extremely interested in the answer.

"Malfoy is a potions master, maybe he could help me," said Harry.

"It doesn't look like you're getting any better," Ron stated when he saw Harry's hands.

"I wanted to try something," Harry suggested. "It seems to improve with the human touch. Can you hold my hands?'

You could see that both Ron and Hermione were a little apprehensive about the touch, but eventually, they each took one of his hands.

"Wow, that hand feels perfectly normal!" Ron squealed.

That is impossible; they were afraid even to touch him in the hospital! To his surprise, Draco felt a certain satisfaction that he was taking better care of Harry, providing him with what he needed. Only him and no one else. He secretly hoped that only his hands were healing Harry...

Leaving the Weasleys in Harry's company, he set about preparing potions for the hospital. Working quickly and efficiently, he soon delivered a full dose of the painkiller to St Mungo's Hospital. He met one of the prominent healers in the permanent damage ward and asked him for a consultation on Harry's injury. This delayed him somewhat so he returned home quite late. He didn't get any new information anyway. Hopefully, the Weasleys will be gone by now.

"How are you? Did it help you?"

Harry shook his head. He looked completely devastated. "Seems like all I need is your touch," he said almost guiltily.

A pleasant feeling spread through Draco's body. He sat down next to Harry and took his hands in his.

"'Forgive me for coming back late. I will never keep you waiting so long for your medicine again."

Harry was instantly relieved. The burning eased, but he started to feel anxious. Ron's visit worried him. The questions that had been in the back of his mind so far came to the surface after the conversation with his old friend.

"Draco, how do you imagine it from now on? I can't be with you forever and wait for you to hold my hands."

"I don't imagine anything. I'm trying to figure out how to heal you, but I don't have a single clue yet. It's a miracle that I can help you at all.''

"I can't use you like this."

"And what do you want to do, Harry? Being almost unconscious under potions all the time? Develop an addiction to them?"

Harry sighed.

"Whatever Weasley tells you, I'm not bothered by your presence."

"Why do you care about me? Ron is right. It is suspicious."

"I owe you for the way I treated you. You can't imagine how I've been tormented all these years by the remorse that I hurt you and was on the wrong side..."

"Don't try to impress me. So, you're doing all this for yourself to ease your guilt?"

"Of course not. Is it so hard for you to trust me a little?"

"Yeah, it is," Harry admitted.

Draco didn't know if he felt more angry or regretful.

He left Harry's room without a word, locked himself in the living room and poured himself a glass of fire whiskey. He was neurotically checking the locket to see if Harry would call him.

Well, Potter, you made your own choice, I won't beg you.

Harry felt a pang of remorse. Why did he even listen to Ron's suspicious speech? Now his hands are burning him intolerably. He could call Malfoy. No! Never! No way! He tried to fall asleep and forget the pain, but it was simply impossible.

Minutes of agony passed, then hours. Harry's hands were burning more and more. Suddenly, the door opened, and he could see – Malfoy. Without a word, he sat down beside him and held his hands.

"Thank you," Harry said sheepishly.

"We don't have to talk, we don't have to be friends, but I won't let you suffer," Draco said. Harry noticed that he was a bit drunk, he was having a bit of trouble articulating. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have come. Thanksmerlin, he came. Harry relished the slow fading of the pain. Draco fell asleep in no time but didn't let go of his hands. He dutifully held them until they both woke up late in the morning.