Drarry AI Oneshots

Healing Touch

Eighth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be about healing. Everyone had come back to finish their education after the war, to try and rebuild their lives and find some semblance of normalcy. But for Draco Malfoy, healing hadn't been as simple as he'd hoped.

It wasn't just the emotional scars-though those were plenty. The tension from being on the wrong side of the war, the guilt, the constant whispering behind his back... all of that was exhausting enough. But Draco had also been carrying physical pain with him since the war ended, and no amount of healing spells seemed to fix it. His back and shoulders ached constantly, muscles knotted up from the stress and trauma he had endured over the past year.

He never complained, though. Not out loud, at least. He was Draco Malfoy, and he wouldn't let anyone see how much pain he was in. He carried it silently, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to move through the day despite the persistent ache in his body.

That was, until one evening when everything changed.

Draco was sitting in the common room late one evening, hunched over one of his textbooks, when he felt the familiar tension creeping up his neck. His shoulders throbbed, his back tight and sore. He rubbed at his neck absentmindedly, wincing as he tried to focus on his work.

It had been a long day, and all Draco wanted to do was collapse into bed, but he knew the pain wouldn't let him sleep. He had spent the last few nights tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position.

Just as he was about to give up on his studying, the door to the common room creaked open, and Harry Potter walked in.

Draco glanced up, surprised to see Harry at this hour. They weren't exactly friends, but over the past few months, there had been a kind of unspoken truce between them. They talked occasionally, exchanged polite nods in the corridors, and worked together when necessary. It wasn't friendship, but it was something close to it.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry greeted casually, sitting down in one of the chairs near the fire.

"Potter," Draco replied, his voice tight from the discomfort in his back.

Harry raised an eyebrow, noticing the tension in Draco's posture. "You alright?"

Draco frowned, hating how obvious it was that he was in pain. "I'm fine."

Harry studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't look fine. You've been hunched over like that for days."

Draco huffed, annoyed that Harry had noticed. "It's nothing. Just... back pain."

Harry's expression softened, and for a moment, he looked like he was considering something. Then, with a small shrug, he said, "I can help with that, you know."

Draco blinked, confused. "Help with what?"

Harry smiled slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Your back. I've, uh, picked up massage therapy as a hobby. It's helped me deal with a lot of... things after the war. You know, stress, tension, that kind of stuff."

Draco stared at him, completely caught off guard. "Massage therapy?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I started practicing over the summer. Helps me relax, clears my head. And, well, I'm pretty good at it now."

Draco raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "And you're offering to... what, give me a massage?"

Harry shrugged, his tone casual. "Yeah. If you want. You look like you could use one."

Draco's first instinct was to refuse-he didn't need Harry Potter offering to rub his back, of all things. But the throbbing in his shoulders was becoming unbearable, and the idea of someone-anyone-relieving some of the tension was tempting. And if he was being honest with himself, there was something about the idea of Harry's hands on him that made his stomach twist in a way he couldn't quite explain.