Chapter 14
“Oh Harry,” Hermione cooed at him over their drinks, “has someone got a little crush?”
“Shut up, ‘Mione.” Harry grumbled, feeling himself blush. He busied himself by draining the last of his pint, but her face remained mischievous.
“I think it’s adorable, honestly. I mean, Ron might not but you have my full approval.” she laughed as Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“No telling Ron.” Harry said into his palms, the sound coming out muffled.
“But I want to see the look on his face!” Hermione teased, pouting and laughing when Harry pelted her with peanuts.
“No telling Ron if nothing happens.” Harry said firmly. “If- and its a big if- anything goes on between us beyond what is happening right now, you may tell him, okay?”
“Okay, deal. Now, whats your plan of action?” Hermione said, leaning across the table, looking as intense as she does when faced with a new political issue. It secretly made Harry very happy that she took his love life- of lack thereof- as seriously as she took her work, but he liked to make too much of a song and dance about her annoying him with her questions, so he’d never tell her.
“There isn’t one, ‘Mione! I can’t even reach him, and I’ve helped him as much as I can.” Harry groaned again, facing the futility of the whole situation.
“Right, I hate to be crass but Scorpius is still sick, isn’t he. Whether he wants to or not, he’ll need to return to Mungo’s, and there’s your chance. You know, when someone cooks you dinner, it is only polite that you return the favour.” Hermione had a grin on her face that Harry really didn’t like, but he had to admit that her words held truth, even if she was trying to use childhood illness to get him into Draco’s pants, and maybe even heart.
“True. I mean, I also still need to figure out what’s wrong with Scorpius. I’m betting Narcissa is sitting on the answer, but the warrant to search the Manor records is taking ages to go through, and there’s not much I can do in the meantime. McGonagall sent me through everything Hogwarts has on the Malfoy and Greengrasses but its not much. I’m going to start reading through it tomorrow though, and see if it offers any insight.”
“There you go! Invite Draco round to discuss your findings! Say something like you appreciate Mugo’s is a traumatic space for Scorpius now, so would they instead like to join you in your home as a neutral place?” Hermione looked too pleased for herself given that she was proposing breaking the hospital protocol between Healers and Patients, but Harry had to admit that her idea had a lot of merit. Only….
“He’s still warded against Owls, ‘Mione. I have no way of contacting him.” Harry sighed, feeling defeated.
“Leave a note with Imogen. It might not be the most professional, but I’m sure it would work.” Hermione responded, and Harry wondered at how she had a solution for everything, and also at her commitment to using the most unconventional routes possible.
****
Draco really liked Imogen. The first appointment with her had been a bit of a nightmare- he had apparated Scorpius into her waiting room, a very calming space with comfy sofas and pretty art on the walls and wide windows that overlooked a well-kept garden, and Scorpius had had a complete meltdown at the unfamiliar surroundings. Imogen had been incredible though, helping to calm him down and waiting until he was completely calmed before beginning the session. Scorpius had refused to leave Draco’s lap so she had allowed Draco to attend the first session, which had mainly consisted of asking Scorpius about his school and his friends and his interests to acclimatise him.
Over the course of the next two sessions, she had formed enough of a bond with Scorpius that by his third he had agreed to go into her office alone, providing Draco double promised to stay in the waiting room. Imogen had even spelled the door glass so Scorpius could see that Draco stayed in the waiting room, doing some reading for his work. By their fourth session, a week and a half later, Scorpius was even looking forward to seeing her, and was babbling about how much he loved her as Draco got him dressed and ready. They arrived in her waiting room and Scorpius dutifully read his picture book as they waited.
“Scorpius? Would you like to come in, dear? Oh, and Mr Malfoy? I have a letter for you.” Imogen called from the open doorway into her office. She was dressed like she always was, in a floor length floral dress that screamed ‘mum’ and made her look kind and approachable. Assuming the letter was an invoice for her services, Draco took it and opened it without examining the envelope too closely.
Dear Draco,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that Scorpius’ sessions with Imogen are good. I am writing to inform you that I have received the Malfoy and Greengrass Hogwarts medical records, and wish to discuss their contents with you. If you are amenable, as I am aware Mungo’s may be a stressful place for you right now, you are invited to my home on friday evening for dinner. Scorpius is of course more than welcome, however if you wish for a small break, feel free to turn up alone.
Best, Harry
Draco hadn’t anticipated the way his heart rate sped up upon reading the invite from Harry. He firmly told himself he was overthinking it, even as he planned to send Scorpius to Maryam’s for a sleepover, his whole body yearning for a break. Scorpius came out of Imogen’s office looking pale, and a bit shaky, but his demeanour was happy enough. As he munched on some of the biscuits Imogen kept in a special tin, she gently told Draco that they had begun to cover what had happened with his mother, and that Scorpius was making good progress relaying to her the events of the incident. Flooded with relief, Draco thanked her profusely before taking them both home.
“Hey, Champ. How does a sleepover this Friday sound? With Zara? Would that be nice?” Draco asked as he served up Scorpius’ dinner, trying to sound as casual as he could. Scorpius looked wary, but didn’t outright reject the notion, which made Draco’s heart rate speed up again with anticipation of maybe being able to see Harry alone. He felt guilty at being so excited to be without his son after having come so close to nearly losing him, but he was also reaching his breaking point and he knew he needed a rest if he wanted to continue parenting to the standard he held himself to.
“Think about it, yeah, sweetheart? You don’t have to make up your mind just yet.” Draco said, sitting down to watch Scorpius eat his pasta.
****
Harry nearly had a bit of a breakdown when Imogen hadn’t had a response from Draco for him after Scorpius’ session, and he threw himself into his research and badgering the auror department to get him access to the manor files so that if Draco did accept his invitation he’d have some substantial information to offer. He guiltily hoped Draco would respond saying he would come for dinner alone- not because Harry didn’t like Scorpius, but because he wanted the intoxicating feeling of being the centre of Draco’s attention for a whole evening.
When he anxiously floo’ed to Imogen’s office after Scorpius’ second scheduled appointment since he sent the letter to Draco, he nearly sagged with relief when she gave him a sly look and handed him a muggle envelope with his name carefully written on it in purple ink.
Dear Harry,
Dinner on Friday sounds great. I am trying to see if I can arrange Scorpius a sleepover, but I can’t make any promises, and may turn up with him in tow. You didn’t give me a time so I will arrive for seven and hope that’s acceptable.
Best, Draco.
Harry was grinning like a kid in a sweetshop as he returned home to assess his cupboards, which were decidedly empty. He immediately pulled out all of the cookbooks Molly had bought him over the years and sat down to plan a meal for Draco that would hopefully seduce him silly. He should be spending this time researching for Scorpius or one of his other patients, but Harry works eight-hour shifts at the hospital most days, so he thinks he’s allowed a little reprieve when he’s at home. And besides, he rarely has such handsome men round for dinner, and its embarrassing how much he wants to impress Draco.
****
After much crying and cajoling and bargaining and promising, Scorpius finally agrees to go to Zara’s house for a sleepover, and Draco thanks Maryam profusely before rushing back to his house to dress himself in something that he hopes Harry will consider somewhat attractive. He settles on wide-leg linen trousers and a purple-grey flowy button down that he hopes highlights the column of his neck and doesn’t make him look too pale. He apparates to the coordinates Harry had left on the letter at three minutes past six and finds himself in a somewhat cramped but cosy living/dining room with a sofa and a round table in matching shades of dark teal. Harry comes bustling in nearly immediately, his hair in disarray and a smudge of something Draco assumes to be sauce on his cheek.
“Draco! You made it! Please, take a seat, take a seat!” Harry babbles as he ushers Draco into a chair at the table and graciously accepts Draco’s offering of a bottle of red wine before disappearing into what Draco assumes is the kitchen, and reappearing seconds later holding two steaming plates, sauce still smudged on his cheek. The two sit and eat in silence, as Draco is too busy inhaling the incredible food to hold conversation. He is more than pleasantly surprised, and whilst he wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting when he was invited to Harry Potter's personal address for dinner, Michelin star worthy food was definitely not on his list.
“That was…. Astounding. I had no idea you were such a talented chef, Potter. My couscous is paltry in comparison.” Draco said when they had both finished, watching with glee as a gentle blush darkened Harry’s cheeks and the other man babbled something about learning how to cook with the Weasley mother in the years after the war.
“Your couscous was lovely.” Harry said after a beat of silence, and bubbly warmth spread through Draco like champagne.
“Right, do you want to explain to me what you’ve found?” Draco finally asks, not wishing to dampen the moment growing between them, but more than desperate for answers about his son.
Right, yes, Well. This is only from the Hogwarts records, mind you. The DMLE assured me my warrant for the Manor archives should be granted in time for Monday, so then hopefully this time next week I’ll have more concrete answers for you. Anyway, if I go and fetch my notes…” Harry trailed off and stood up from the table, disappearing into a dimly lit corridor before returning with a large muggle ring-binder file in his hands. All of Draco’s pleasant first-date type nerves were suddenly replaced with sharp cold fear of what Harry may have discovered, or the worse possibility of no answers at all.
“Okay, well. The Greengrass records offered little information that was of any note, which ties in with my theory that if this is genetic it will come from the Malfoy line. There was a Greengrass maybe fifty years before we were at Hogwarts who experienced similar symptoms to Scorpius in his first year; lethargy, flu-like illness et cetera, but he was fixed by a course of pepper-up potions and bedrest. The Malfoy records are a bit more interesting…” Harry trailed off and furrowed his brow, flicking through the file, running his finger down the pages within. Draco found it impossibly endearing.
“Ah, here. Multiple accounts of younger children- first and second years- falling ill, and then when the parents are alerted, the parents come and take them home for what they’ve called ‘extended sick leave’, and then the children come back to Hogwarts after about two weeks, good as new. It happened to your uncle, Delphinius. I didn’t know Lucius had siblings, actually.”
“Uncle Delphinius moved to France after graduating Hogwarts, and still lives there, I believe.” Draco injected, staring at the line of Harry’s jaw, and the way it glowed in the lamplight. If Draco was feeling particularly sentimental, which he often seemed to be, around Harry, he might even say that Harry looked like an angel.
“So, hopefully, when I have access to the Manor archives, we’ll know exactly what's wrong and how to fix it!” Harry said cheerfully, closing the binder and looking up at Draco through those thick bottle-glass specs of his. Draco didn’t even know he’d made the decision until he’d said it.
“Go for a drink with me.”