A Specialty Brew

Harry was not handling the new situation very well. He knew that, and he hadn’t needed both Hermione and Andrea to point it out to him multiple times, but there wasn’t much he could do to change it. As soon as Andrea had left his office after their last conversation, he’d made a list. Lists were good, right? Methodical, planned out, and not at all driven by emotion or desire. Harry’s list had three things:

1. Transfer contract
2. Fix Draco’s magic
3. Ministry contract?

The first had already been achieved, and Andromeda had agreed to take over the contract without questioning him. He’d still rehearsed an entire speech just in case, but he hadn’t needed it. She’d sent him a copy of the completed forms earlier that morning. His signature was nowhere on it. 

The second point was admittedly the most complicated and he’d tried to enlist Andrea to help, but she was still bitter and stilted around him so she’d merely said that she was investigating her own avenues. Whatever that meant. When she’d told him to back off, Harry had assumed she just meant the flirting but, given the looks she’d shot him during his last order pickup, she meant entirely. Which was… Something. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that because years of knowing Andrea said she had a reason, even if she couldn’t tell it to him, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow. 

Annoyed, he’d then turned to Hermione, who had chided him for relying on other people to figure it out for him. He didn’t think that was entirely fair, but it was Hermione so he let it slide. She’d done more than her ‘fair’ share of research for him over the years, so he could hardly complain or deny her the right to remind him of it every now and then. 

Which left the third point: Ministry contract(?). Andrea had made a very unwelcome but valid point about Draco’s magic, but Harry had gone a bit overboard in response. He wanted the entire situation neutralized and he wanted it now. Nothing was going to stand between him and Draco except the blond’s own wishes—which, Harry reminded himself, might very well be to get as far away from Harry as possible. He would be okay with that, if that was the case. 

But he didn’t think it was and stepping back from Draco just made it all that more difficult to imagine a world without some kind of connection there. Merlin… Draco had looked absolutely tortured when Harry had gone to pick up the potion and had barely met his eyes. Harry couldn’t blame him given the situation, but it still hurt. Especially considering how confident and sassy Draco had gotten comfortable being with him before all this came crashing down. 

It wasn’t all permanently ruined, though. Harry took comfort in that and in his list because, once all three things were checked off, he could go back to that easy flow of energy between them. ‘Dynamic’ was the typical word for any kind of power exchange relationship and Harry didn’t want to use that word—because they didn’t have any kind of power exchange relationship, at least not yet—but it was the only word that fit. 

Everything between them was constantly changing and moving. If Harry pushed, Draco would push back. But if Harry really pushed and pushed hard enough, Draco would fold. A single word could change the whole situation and the tiniest movement could give away an entire emotion. They fed off each other’s energy and each other’s tells like dancers weaving the sounds of an orchestra back and forth between their bodies during a performance. It was dynamic.

And Harry was not coping well in its absence. Twice now, he’d woken up with his skin tingling and a distinct, uncomfortable pressure in his gut that he’d determinedly ignored. Any time he closed his eyes, he was met with vivid images of Draco on his Quidditch broom, bent over a cauldron, rolling up his sleeves, or in that fucking beanie that had practically dared Harry to take it just so he could run his fingers through blond hair. 

No, Harry was not coping well. That small, childish part of him that had tried to throw a temper tantrum at the idea of giving up Draco had manifested itself in a different way. Like candy on a diet or a warm bed after a long day, the more Harry told himself (and was told, particularly by Andrea) that he couldn’t have Draco, the more he wanted him: petulantly, desperately, and all-consumingly. 

Yes, his dreams were typically more provocative and the Draco behind his eyelids always had some amount of skin showing, even if it was just his throat. But that didn’t mean that Harry’s desire was strictly sexual. He wanted to get drinks with the blond again—as himself, this time. Late night conversations, passing notes during class, quiet lunches as an interlude to a chaotic day, and especially touch… Harry wanted all of it. 

Even the most innocent touch was enough to make his mind go wild. He imagined tracing the blond’s jaw, watching his eyes flutter closed, and pressing his thumbs into the stiff muscles of his shoulders. Draco’s hand would fit perfectly in his own, he was sure. The most delicious clashing of skin tones that would make every picture of their intertwined fingers look like a black and white photo. 

He wanted to see if Draco remembered how to ballroom dance, and if he would let Harry lead.  Would he be too stubborn? If they were to dance barefoot around the living room, would he let Harry scoop him up bridal style just because he could? Harry wanted to feel the shake of laughter through the blond’s chest and memorize his heartbeat. He wanted to be the one making Draco laugh. 

Hermione said he was obsessing again, and Harry no longer disagreed with her. The same problem that had roped him in back in Sixth Year curled around his wrists and pulled him towards the blond like a magnet, though. It was the foundation of everything that happened between them: Harry wanted to be obsessed. He wanted his entire world to narrow solely to Draco’s soft breathing and he wanted every worry he’d ever had to fade into the background as he focused on melting the blond’s anxiety. 

His Mind Healer would say it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. Harry had moved past most of his ‘less good’ coping mechanisms (because anything that helped you cope was good, in some sense, she said) but he had trouble letting go of this one. It felt promising and hopeful the same way that Draco Malfoy felt inevitable. 

Which meant that Harry just had to get three little check marks on his list. Step one was done, step two was currently being worked on by people infinitely smarter than him, which left step three. Harry underlined step three before closing his notebook and stepping out into the hallway. He locked his office door, like always, and slid his wand into his sleeve as he made his way to the upper floors of the Ministry where the important offices were. 

“Morning, James.”

The assistant barely blinked at him. Harry was fairly sure that Kingsley had poached him from some exclusive university with the promise of an in at the Ministry, only to mainly give him coffee orders. James was certainly a far cry from the pro-Ministry fanboy he’d been upon arrival. 

“It’s two in the afternoon, Auror Potter.”

Was it really? Damn, time flies when you’re obsessing over your old rival. Harry nodded to the assistant, but didn’t comment on it because there was nothing he could say that would satisfy the current lull in conversation. He was bad at keeping track of time, and James did not particularly care.

“Is Kingsley in?” 

Again, James didn’t look up from his laptop. It was surprising that the thing could even work in such a magic-laced building, but then again maybe it had some kind of insulating charm around it. Harry knew by now that asking was only a formality and that James would only stop him if there was something of the utmost importance happening. James didn’t say a word, so Harry knocked on the door and opened it.

“Ah, Harry, I wish I could say I was surprised. You’re the only one brazen enough to barge into my office at all hours, though, so perhaps I should have expected a visit. What can I do for you?”

Harry closed the door behind him, taking his customary seat. He was unreasonably pleased that Aidan hadn’t managed to take it or hide it somehow, even though that would have been ridiculously unprofessional. It was his chair, even if the psycho-git was lurking somewhere nearby. This was about the list. 

“I have a request.”

Kingsley inclined his head and summoned his coffee as if he’d expected nothing less. Very few people were allowed to be so forward or so informal with the Minister, but Harry had earned that right entirely through his own actions—not his reputation. He liked indulging in it, and Kingsley seemed to enjoy taking on a subtle fatherly-mentor role. 

“I want you to officially hire Draco for the case. Nothing to do with me.” 

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, probably waiting to hear Harry’s justification or reasoning that Hermione had helped him memorize, but Harry didn’t offer any. Hiring Draco was the right thing to do regardless. Harry wasn’t here to argue for his point, he was here to watch the Minister attempt to argue against it and realize how shitty it made him look. 

“Alright, I’ll draft up a consulting contract and send it over, but that means no more taking him to crime scenes. Deal?”

Well, that had been… suspiciously easy. Harry had been planning to fight tooth and nail to get the Ministry to even recognize that they were working with Draco at all. An official contract had been, secretly, out of the question in his mind because it would mean putting the fact that they were working with a former Death Eater on file as public record. Kingsley hadn’t even blinked at the suggestion, though. Maybe Harry had been too quick to assume, or maybe things were getting better finally?

“Deal. Thank you, Minister. And if he asks—”

“You had nothing to do with it, I know,” Kingsley cut him off, but the man was smiling. “Get out of my office, Potter, and go do your damn job.” 

Harry had not been expecting to receive an urgent, formal summons to the office of Hermione Granger-Weasley. He went of course, because it was Hermione and because she never used urgent memo forms unless it actually was something urgent, but he was anxious for the entire trek. When he knocked and entered the office, he was bracing himself for some kind of internal affairs inquisitorial squad. What he saw was perhaps even worse. 

Andrea was sitting in one of the two chairs that Hermione had obviously gotten out just for this meeting. She looked angry—deeply angry, in a way that Harry had only seen once or twice in his history of knowing her—and a flush of indignation colored her face. Hermione was sitting behind her desk as usual, looking stern but otherwise unaffected. 

“Welcome, Harry, so glad you could join us. Please sit.” 

Harry sat, because there was really no other response one could give when Hermione used that tone. That was her ‘so-help-me-I-will-hex-you’ tone. Ron had made the mistake of pushing her when she’d been in this mood only once before. He’d been sent crawling to Molly, having to explain that someone had hexed his dick to itch and burn incessantly whenever he even thought about saying anything negative towards Charlie’s sexuality. Needless to say, the word ‘asexual’ had not come easily to the redhead, but he had learned fast. 

“Thank you both for joining me. I’d planned to have this meeting in a few days after I’d had time to research, but someone,” A pointed glance at Andrea. “Decided to speed things along by attempting to rob my office.”

“Andrea!” 

“Well it’s not my fault that she’s the only bloody witch in the entire city who has a fucking shield bracelet that’s strong enough!” 

She looked sufficiently chastised and Harry could guess that Hermione had given her an earful before she’d sent for him, especially since she could have just asked for the bracelet. Honestly, Harry was still a bit stunned because it had never once seemed like it was in Andrea’s nature to steal. And from Hermione of all people?

“As I was saying,” Hermione continued, shooting them each a look that clearly said shut up. “As the three people involved in this case, I felt it was necessary that we all make sure we’re on the same page. Obviously, we are not. And, because apparently you two have the combined sense of a moldy walnut, I think I’ll do most of the talking. Any complaints?”

Neither of them were stupid enough to say anything, even if Andrea still looked like a toddler who had just been told ‘no’ for the first time. What had gotten into her? This was not the kind, down-to-earth witch that Harry had first met in a BDSM club on the other side of London. Sure, people were entitled to have bad days or even bad weeks, but this? 

“So, since both of you took it upon yourselves to start doing things without even talking to Draco—I’m looking at you, Andrea—I’ve decided that I will be the voice of reason for this little group. Therefore, I’ve invited Draco here as well since I think it’s only fair that he knows too. Do I hear any complaints now?” 

Silence, though it was notably more tense than before. As if on cue, Hermione waved her hand and the door opened to reveal Draco Malfoy in his potioneer robes. Immediately, Andrea started to stand and put herself between the blond and the others, but Hermione shot a quick sticking charm at the Gatherer’s pants which quickly stopped her. She looked flabbergasted, as if she couldn’t believe that Hermione had had the nerve. Then angry. 

Okay, Harry definitely should have come to Hermione about all of this long before now. He’d been a bit distracted between everything with the case and with Draco, but this was not normal behavior for Andrea even on her worst days and he should have seen the signs. Was she sick? Had being around the potions for so many hours each day somehow messed with her temperament? 

“Draco, thanks for coming. Feel free to take a seat, or stand if you’d prefer.”

Hermione’s voice was full of her usual diplomatic grace and she summoned a third chair to sit beside her on her side of the desk. Draco sat, looking terrified. For a split second, Harry wondered what it would be like to reach out and squeeze the blond’s hand. Would it make him relax? Or would it just spark more fear in those already overwhelmed eyes?

“Great, now that we’re all here, let’s get started. First, silencing charms,” Hermione raised her wand and cast at least seven that Harry didn’t recognize. “Second, would anyone like some tea? It’s great for the immune system and I find it can help relieve stress in even the worst situations.” 

Draco meekly accepted a cup, and Harry held out his hand for one, knowing it would be forced on him either way. He would just hold the cup and not drink it. But Andrea turned up her nose at the very idea and crossed her arms, evidently still annoyed by the sticking charm. Seriously, what was going on with her?

“Ah, you misunderstood me. I wasn’t making a request, so drink the fucking tea.”

Harry could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard Hermione swear, and that alone got the cup to his lips. He took a big gulp and watched the others do the same. Immediately, something shifted. Andrea relaxed in her chair. Hermione might have put a Calming Draught in the tea, but it had all come from the same pot which didn’t explain why Draco looked more energized than he had in days. Harry felt something frantic in the pit of his stomach finally settle. 

“There,” Hermione declared. “Much better. Now that we’re all back to our old selves hopefully, let’s begin today’s discussion. First, I would like everyone to go around and assure Draco that he has done nothing wrong.”

Draco looked supremely uncomfortable with this idea and Harry got the feeling this was Hermione’s famous ‘intuition’ rather than any private knowledge she’d been given. To his surprise, Andrea sat up as if to speak. Her entire expression had calmed and she seemed almost at ease now, not reaching for Draco even once. Rather than say the required line, though, she turned to Hermione.

“What’s in this tea?” 

“Oh, you noticed that, did you? I’m not surprised considering you were the one it most affected. Are you familiar with the concept of insulation?” Various nods. “Well, think of this potion as insulation for your magical core.”

Harry wanted to ask, but given Hermione’s current mood he kept his mouth shut. Andrea too, apparently, had had her fair share of being absolutely destroyed by the former Gryffindor because she kept quiet as well. Which left Draco.

“Why do our magical cores need to be insulated?”

“Yours in particular, I’m afraid,” Hermione answered, keeping her voice calm and level towards him. “I got the idea when we first had our little chat, but my recent encounter with Gatherer Moody here has confirmed some of my suspicions. You don’t use your magic, Draco. Which means it’s constantly building and simmering inside you, just waiting to lash out or, in some cases, to leak.”

Draco’s magic was leaking? That vaguely made sense, the same way that Runes or Arithmancy made sense when Hermione said it, but what did that mean? And why had an ‘insulating’ potion changed Andrea’s whole demeanor?

“‘Mione, are you saying that Draco’s magic is leaking out and planting Dysprosium in his cauldrons?”

She shot him a glare, but it was weak at best and didn’t have any true anger behind it. Draco still stiffened regardless. Merlin, even with the potion Harry could feel the blond’s magic in the room if he felt for it. It was wrapped around everything, seeping into the smallest of cracks, and it thrummed along the edge of his own as if welcoming an old friend. Harry kept that to himself, but he noted it down for later. 

“No, and I will admit that I am still unsure what’s happening with the Dysprosium. I also don’t know what’s going on in your case, or why both of you are so convinced that you’re doing the right thing. But life has its mysteries, doesn’t it? What I do know—or at least think I know—is that Draco’s magic has been leaking and causing some… effects in you both.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. If Hermione was about to say that Draco’s leaking magic was the reason that Harry was ‘obsessing’ again or the reason that neither of them should get close to the blond, Harry might actually flip a table. He had two out of three checkmarks on his list and he was not going to let Hermione tear it up. She wasn’t looking at him, though, she was looking at Andrea. 

“Andrea, how much time would you say you’ve spent with Draco over the last month?” 

“Nearly every day. At least ten hours.” 

Hermione nodded, jotting that down, and motioned for her to drink more tea. Andrea did, which seemed to help the situation even more and Harry was beginning to wonder if an ‘insulating’ potion was the only thing Hermione had spiked it with. The Gatherer looked downright peaceful. 

“Then it makes sense that it would be more extreme for you. Draco, would you like to tell them what you told me? Or do you want me to do it?” Fear immediately flooded Draco’s expression, which was answer enough for Hermione. “Alright, me then. According to Draco’s release paperwork, he is banned from performing any ‘superfluous’ magic, which is just about anything other than a very small number of specific spells. Remind me, Draco, what the consequence is for performing ‘superfluous’ magic?”

“Electric shock.”

Harry’s stomach fell through the floor and he thought he might throw up then and there. Electric shock?! What kind of fucked up medieval bullshit was this?! Who had signed off on this and why had—

“Calm down, Harry, anger won’t do anything for us right now.” 

He realized with a jolt that objects around the room had begun to spin and clank against the walls. Hermione spelled them all back into place and he shot her an apologetic look, but his focus landed on Draco who looked like he was about to shit himself. Oh, that was rational. Andrea was used to his magic and his semi-controlled outbursts, even though he’d gotten them under control for the most part. But Draco had never seen that before, so of course he was anxious. 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. 

The blond didn’t look comforted in the least but, for a moment, Harry’s voice seemed to resonate. That was good. He already felt bad enough for building a brick wall between them and for not giving a reason. Speaking of which… Andrea was not leaving this room without explaining herself. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Andrea, but you had already guessed as much about the magic. That’s why you’ve been enforcing this distance rule?” Andrea flushed a horrid shade of red and stared at the floor, but nodded. “That’s what I thought. Care to explain to the boys what your reasoning was?”

Andrea did not look like she wanted to explain her reasoning at all, but she was in the hot seat and did not get the same luxuries as Draco had. Rather than offer to do it for her, Hermione cast a refilling charm on all their cups and sat back. She took a slow sip, gesturing as if to say I’ll wait. Andrea took a deep breath.

“I was in Glasgow and I performed a rather… questionable unlocking spell. I’d done it before and the whole place was warded so I wasn’t worried about it. Except, as soon as I cast it, two British Aurors popped into the room. They’d Apparated straight from England, it seemed, and they had their wands drawn, demanding to know where Draco was. I told them he wasn’t there. One of them scanned me, called it a false positive, and implied that it would be best for me if I stayed away from Draco for a few days. Just until I cleared Customs, they said.”

“And why was that?” Hermione prodded.

“Because I was absorbing his magic. They said emotional closeness was just as bad as physical so I tried to create distance, just to see if they were right. After three days, they scanned me again and said I was fine. I figured out the release clause and that his magic was overflowing, but I was trying to find a way to handle it that wouldn’t cause more problems for him. Thus, the shielding bracelet.” 

That made a shocking amount of sense and, even just from her tone, Harry was beginning to see the old Andrea shine back through. Had Draco’s magic done that to her? Nothing about it should have been malicious or full of ill-intent, especially because the two of them had been so close—so why would it have turned her into an asshole? Had it turned him into an asshole?

“While I admire your initiative, you were not completely correct,” Hermione chided. “They lied, first of all, about emotional closeness being the same as physical and whatever told you that that shielding bracelet would help was also wrong. All it would do is block offensive spells, which I’m sure Draco isn’t casting. But there’s more.”

Of course there was more. There was always more, especially when it came to anything that involved the Ministry and former Death Eaters. Frankly, Harry was shocked that they hadn’t managed to bury Draco under entire tomes of paperwork by now and make the whole problem ‘disappear’ the way things so often did. They might have, he realized, if Harry hadn’t sought him out. 

“Does everyone know what an EEG is?” No one did. “ Right, well, an electroencephalogram or an EEG is a test that shows electrical impulses in your brain. It’s just a theory at this point, but I think this insulating potion supports it. Andrea, in particular, has absorbed a lot of Draco’s overflowing magic over the last few months—enough that the Ministry’s alert system even detected it as Draco when she cast a strong spell. The underlying system, which is the one that promises an electric shock, might be picking up on that too.”

“What does that mean?”

For the first time in at least five minutes, Harry managed to look at Draco and truly see him. His body language was somewhat hidden behind the desk, but from what he could see Harry knew the blond was incredibly on edge. He’d curled both legs up onto the chair with him, not quite to his chest but in something resembling a side-saddle position. It made him seem small and fragile. 

“Again, this is just a theory,” Hermione prefaced. “But I think that the system is picking up enough of your magic in Andrea and somewhat in Harry that it’s sending tiny electric shocks. Similar to what might happen if you tried to do a very small, but forbidden spell, Draco. Not enough to hurt you, and maybe not even enough to be noticeable. But, over time—especially over many hours and many months—those tiny electrical shocks could have the potential to seriously mess up a person’s brain.” 

“Mess up how.”

Draco wasn’t asking anymore, but there was no force behind his tone. Just fear. His eyes were wide and scared, his skin was paler than usual, and his posture was hunched. Everything about his current appearance made Harry want to hug him. He looked so bloody torn up at the mere idea that he might have somehow caused Andrea to get hurt. 

“Well, it could cause anything from decreased concentration and slower reaction times to general fatigue or body pains. General forgetfulness is also possible, or even depression-like symptoms. On a more mild side it would likely cause headaches and… emotional and behavioral changes.”

They all looked at Andrea. 

“Okay, yes, I do feel a hell of a lot better having drank this tea but wouldn’t the residual magic still be there? Wouldn’t it still be shocking me? Also, why is no one looking at the man who has become obsessive over the last—”

“Obsessive is what we do,” Harry was quick to counter, but he realized too late that he might have crossed a line and he looked to the blond.

“Yeah,” Draco said quietly. “It’s what we do. Always has been.” 

That, at least, was something right? Harry wasn’t sure how much of a dick he’d been over the last… however long, but if he’d been anything like Andrea he would take any olive branch he could get. Draco didn’t look angry, to his credit, but he did look confused. Harry was also confused, but he wanted Hermione to focus on the first question Andrea had asked rather than the ‘obsessive’ part, which she probably also had a lot to say about.

“Yeah ‘Mione, wouldn’t the electrical impulses still be hitting us?” 

Hermione smiled and cast another refilling charm all around, gesturing for more drinks. When everyone had complied, she straightened. She looked quite proud of herself actually and Harry realized that this kind of thing was not easy to figure out or counteract, especially in only a day or two. Had she just abandoned every other responsibility in favor of this?

“That’s a great point, and one that I hadn’t originally been able to account for. However, I managed to get my hands on a relatively easy swapping spell, and I exchanged the foam insulation in the walls, ceiling, and floor of this office with turf rubber. It’ll be hell to clean up, but it should be thick enough to insulate us from the signals, since they’re so faint.  If Draco casts a spell, he’ll still be shocked, of course. But, since it seems to be having a positive effect, I think we may be able to create some kind of insulating potion which includes the electrical signals, though that’s just a hope.”

Draco nodded, as if that responsibility fell on him. Harry wanted to reassure the blond that it didn’t and ask if this meant that he was allowed to at least be somewhat friendly towards Draco again, but he was still afraid of Andrea. She’d flipped like a switch the second she’d drank the tea, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t flip again.

“So, Harry and Andrea, I believe you owe Draco here an apology.” 

Andrea gave a deep sigh and took another long sip of her tea before finally twisting in her chair to face Draco. She looked exhausted, suddenly, but a lot more authentic as well. Draco’s magic and the resulting shocks seemed to have really done a number on her, which was almost enough to make Harry feel bad for her. Almost. He was still pissed that she’d told him to back off from Draco and completely distance himself too. 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she said softly, with true emotion in her voice for the first time in probably weeks. “I know we need to talk and we can later, once this is more figured out, but… I’m sorry. Can we maybe get coffee sometime?”

Draco shrugged noncommittally, which Harry didn’t blame him for but which struck him as decidedly un-Malfoy-like. He liked it, upon further reflection, because it didn’t feel practiced. Hermione turned on him though and it was apparently now his turn so Harry swallowed that thought and tried to form words. 

“I’m sorry too. I should have known something wasn’t right and I should have stepped in rather than blindly listening to Andrea when she told me to cut myself off from you. Not that this is her fault of course,” he added, glancing at the Gatherer. “But I’m still sorry.”

Harry didn’t ask if they could get coffee because he was afraid the answer would be no. Draco had every right to be mad and to refuse, but that didn’t mean he wanted to rehash that in front of an audience right now when everything still felt so raw. The blond still looked like someone had hexed him. 

“Why did you transfer the contract?” 

Both Hermione and Andrea looked up at that. He hadn’t told either of them about his checklist or about his progress on it because admitting to the checklist meant admitting that he wanted Draco—badly. But the blond deserved an answer, and their audience would just have to live with their curiosity.

“Because I don’t want you to feel like you depend on me for one of your bigger contracts. The money is mine, yes, but I’ve put it in a trust for Teddy that Andromeda has access to and there is more than enough to fund any potion you might create. I still want to see you, if you’ll let me, but not as your employer.”

“Then as what?” Hermione cut in, narrowing her eyes.

Harry could have shattered every piece of glass in the entire office. Draco never would have asked that question. He wouldn’t have pushed right now, first of all, and he wouldn’t have demanded something so explicit because their entire relationship lived on the tiny twitches of a person’s hand and the slightest shift in tone. 

“As someone that I used to know.”

Harry was very intentional there and he felt the rest of the room catch it. Somehow, in a room of his friends (and Draco), Harry was the least overtly intelligent one there. He didn’t mind it, necessarily, but Draco was the only one that mattered. Someone Harry used to know. Harry fully admitted to not knowing the blond anymore—though that was debatable in certain areas—but he wanted to. Merlin, he wanted to. 

“Alright,” Hermione interrupted that train of thought. “So now that we’re all on the same page, let’s talk planning. Draco and I are going to work on developing a potion which can insulate the electrical impulses as well but, in the meantime, I’m recommending you both take regular doses of this magical insulating potion and wear material made from good insulators like rubber. Andrea, I’ve already made you a rubber knit beanie for the meantime. Any questions?”

Harry had a million questions, but didn’t feel ready to ask any of them so he stayed quiet. The rest of the room did as well. 

“Great! In that case, I think we can all get back to work then. Harry, I know Aidan had a lead he wanted to address with you,” Harry winced, and noted immediately how Draco stiffen at the name. “Draco, I’ll send over my preliminary research and you can start trying to make a recipe for our double insulating potion, okay? Andrea, stick around. I want to give you your new hat.”

Hermione had gone into full Headmistress McGonagall mode and doled out their respective assignments like she was handing out detention slips. Draco stood and quickly disappeared through her floo. Harry paused, considered the situation, then decided he really didn’t want to deal with whatever Hermione was about to do to Andrea for trying to rob her so he ducked out into the hall. He didn’t hear any screams as he left, but that was probably just because of the silencing charms. 

For the first time since Andrea had come and talked to him, Harry felt vaguely hopeful about the situation. Why hadn’t they just gone to Hermione in the first place? He knew there were concerns about confidentiality and privacy, especially for Draco, but she had just made everything seem so… possible. They didn’t have the answers or the cures yet, but they could have them very soon. 

And, best of all, Harry no longer had to avoid Draco. There would be damage control required, of course, but after everything else they’d been through this was hardly a blip on the radar. Harry knew he shouldn’t have blindly listened, but he’d trusted Andrea. Well, that was in the past regardless. Now, they just had to find a way to get Draco full control of his magic again and then he could actually form a relationship with the blond, even if it was just a tentative friendship. They could be friends!

As soon as he walked into the conference room that Aidan had taken over as his temporary office, though, Harry’s optimism disappeared. The room was filled with their entire team sorting through boxes of evidence.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Harry. We’ve got two new bodies.”