enemy spotted in neutral territory?!
There isn’t any grand ceremony when he quits or anyone that invites him out for drinks after.
It’s a little disappointing, Harry thinks to himself when he’s alone in his office gathering his stuff. I don’t know why I was expecting anything at all, really.
Kingsely stops in for a while, talking about some official paperwork that he has to sign off on before he officially leaves but the rest of the hour passes by with no interruptions.
By the end of it, the office looks a little emptier than before. Harry traces his finger on the desk, catching a glimpse of something orange hidden under his books.
He tugs it out, dusting it off before turning it over in his hands. It’s a Chudley Cannons banner, and he pauses, lips tugging down into a frown. ”Did someone leave this here…?” He muses to himself, the bright orange color making him squint.
Before he can throw it out, the door opens and in a fit of panic he shoves it into one of his boxes before straightening up. It’s the secretary, Miranda, coming in to remind him of his appointment with the mind healers.
Harry almost groans, slumping down to the floor after she leaves. “I told them I was fine,” he mutters, glaring down at his watch. It’s a sleek design with a leather band, and the initials H.J.P engraved on its back. He remembers showing it off to Hermione when he’d got it a few weeks ago in the mail, and despite her strange stares when she thought he wasn’t looking, even she had to admit it was beautiful.
“I wish time could stop so I wouldn’t have to go to that stupid appointment…” He whispers, leaning his head against the leg of his desk. The boxes around him are splayed out messily and Harry realizes with a slow pang that he has to start cleaning up.
A cough makes him jolt and he looks up in surprise, mood souring even further when he sees who it is. “Malfoy,” He says tersely from his spot on the floor. “What brings you here?”
”It’s Healer Malfoy to you, Potter,” Draco shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around his office. “And stop moping unless you want Granger to admit you into St. Mungo’s permanently.”
Harry bristles at the remark, shooting him a nasty glare as he gets to his feet. “I’d like to request a different healer,” he declares, brushing past him to call Miranda. Draco rolls his eyes, jutting out his foot to stop him.
“No one else is willing, Potter,” he says, leaning against his doorframe smugly. “Beside’s, I’m the best there is.”
Harry thinks he’d rather have the worst of the lot as long as it’s not Malfoy, but he doesn’t vocalize the thought. Instead he raises an eyebrow, staring at him. “Then you should already know nothing’s wrong with me, no?”
“Are you serious about quitting the Aurors?” Draco asks instead, stepping inside to survey the office. He drops his bag on the desk, rummaging through its pockets before taking out a notepad and quill and settling down on the chair.
He jots down a few sentences and Harry cranes his neck, curious to see what he’s writing before the blonde scowls. “I’m not here forever, Potter.”
Harry raises an eyebrow, fiddling with his wand when the blonde sends a questioning look his way. “No, I just like to indulge in a little bit of spring cleaning during August,” he says dryly, the heat making stray strands sticking to his face. “Is this really necessary?”
“And this has nothing to do with what happened in the last expedition?” Draco probes, ignoring his last remark. He runs his hands over the desk engravings, raising an eyebrow when he glances at the messy scribbles.
Harry tries not to flush, a wave of fondness washing over him as he stares at the childish notes. They’re not from Hermione, the handwriting is too sloppy, with smudges of ink and he thinks it must have been from one of his previous Auror partners. They’re simple reminders to eat and sleep on time, and jots down a mental note to put them in his box to take home.
Unbidden, flashes of red hair flicker through his mind and he makes another note to owl the Weasley’s for dinner. “Nothing like the curse making you feel things you normally wouldn’t?”
He falters at that, thinking back to the last few weeks before shaking his head. “No,” he finally says, and the blonde watches him with hawk eyes, taking note of the pause. “Nothing of that sort.”
“And,” Draco grimaces, the scratching of the quill slowing down as he contemplates the next question. “Granger’s told me that you haven’t been sending letters ever since you came back injured.”
Harry ruffles his hair in irritation. “I don’t see the need for it,” he mutters and Draco opens his mouth to say something back but he cuts him off. “Just like how I don’t see the need to continue this any longer.”
Draco looks like he wants to say more before he looks at the clock, letting out a sigh and gathering his bag. “Well, I suppose this marks the end of today’s session,” he says wryly. “The next one is going to be next week, at around…hmm…two o clock?”
“There’s more sessions?” Harry asks and the blonde looks at him like he’s hearing something absurd.
”These are mandatory sessions required by the ministry,” he tells him, forcing a smile when the new interns pass by in the hallway. They look and whisper, and he waves them off, clenching his jaw. “I’d hope that at least you, of all people, take advantage of this, Potter.”
There’s nothing wrong with me , he wants to say but he stops himself, not willing to argue any longer. “Next week then, Healer Malfoy.”
Draco throws him one last glance before walking away.