Better
“Good morning, Draco. How are you doing today?”
Draco sighed, flashed a fake smile, then sighed again when it didn’t change Elle’s expression. She’d stopped responding to his deflections and social niceties years ago, which Draco usually appreciated because it forced him to be more honest. Today, though, it was just another source of frustration.
“I’m fine.”
That was the answer he always gave—sometimes with varying intonations or pitch changes to denote sarcasm or honesty, but always the same word: fine. Because he was fine. He was here, he was dressed, and he’d even eaten that morning. So, all in all, he was fine.
“Care to be a little more specific? How has your anxiety been?”
Draco shrugged. After almost four years of therapy, they’d moved past coping strategies and symptom-mitigation to generally get at the root issue of things. It was a luxury of long-term therapy according to Pansy, who had stopped her own Mind-Healing appointments the moment they were no longer required so she could afford a nicer apartment. Draco wasn’t sure if ‘luxury’ was the word he would use, but it felt like more significant work than his original survival techniques had.
Sure, things like setting alarms to remember to eat or meditating before bed (in theory, Draco was still not sold on the whole ‘being alone with your thoughts’ idea) were great for short-term progress, but routines could fail. Habits could fall by the wayside and carefully crafted coping mechanisms could go bottoms up if the root issue wasn’t addressed. And root issues were hard which, according to Elle, meant they were important.
“It’s been okay. Things are a bit more settled with… ‘Mr. Doe’ and Andrea now which helps. It wasn’t all intentional either, apparently.”
Elle nodded, quickly jotting something down, but didn’t jump in or comment immediately. She always waited to see if he was actually done with his thought or if he was just struggling to find the right words—another thing he’d learned to appreciate. Sometimes even he wasn’t sure if it was the end of his thought until his mouth decided for him.
“Are you angry?”
Draco hadn’t told her a lot of the specifics of the situation, but he’d mentioned the parts he thought were important. The distance, the lack of explanation, the lying (on Harry’s part), and the strange behavior (on Andrea’s part). He’d talked about feeling isolated all over again and about how losing Andrea felt like a tiny repeat of losing Pansy after the war—because Merlin there were connections there.
For Harry, he hadn’t ever used the man’s given name with his Mind Healer but he’d explained a bit. Elle knew too much about Harry from Draco’s own stories and memories for him to give much detail, but he’d explained that they knew each other and that the identity reveal had hurt. She’d pressed him on why, but he’d shut down and refused to answer. Everything with Harry always felt so raw and fragile, as if it had happened mere days before or as if they were still those schoolboy rivals.
Draco didn’t like to talk about Harry in therapy. But Elle had asked him a question so he forced his mind to try to focus on that: was he angry? Hurt, yes, and more than a little on edge now that he didn’t know what version of Andrea he’d get on any given day and because he had no idea where he stood with Harry. But angry?
“They both apologized.” Draco shrugged. “And Andrea came and talked to me after. I genuinely believe that it wasn’t her fault and she didn’t realize what she was doing. For Mr. Doe… I’m not sure how much was intentional or if he really just believed he was doing the right thing, and I’m not sure if that matters.”
Elle nodded, making another tiny note, and paused for the customary amount of time. She seemed quieter than usual today and Draco had to wonder if it was something in her own life, or if she’d been told something about him. After four years, he’d grown to trust her. But that paranoia crept in every now and then, reminding him that she was an employee of the Ministry even if her code of conduct said she was a Mind Healer first and foremost.
“I hear you,” Elle acknowledged in that soft, reassuring way that always made his words seem so important. “But that’s not what I asked. Are you angry, Draco? At one of them, both of them, or even at the situation itself?”
He tried to think and to dig down deep inside his gut but he wasn’t sure he even remembered what anger felt like. Anger at external things, that is. Draco was very well-versed in anger when it came to things like his own emotions or any anger directed at himself. But was he angry at Harry and Andrea?
“No, not really.”
“Do you want to be?”
That caught Draco off guard. He looked up, trying to read Elle’s expression or gauge where she was taking this topic, but she was passive as usual. Just waiting for an answer, he realized.
“Why would I want to be angry? When we talked about my father you said that holding on to anger was like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die.”
Elle smiled. She crossed, uncrossed, and recrossed her legs as she gave those words a few seconds to dissipate. They’d been more forceful than Draco had originally intended. He still meant them, though, because he’d fought her tooth and nail to let go of that anger towards his father and now she wanted him to be angry?
“You might not want to be, and you certainly don’t have to be. You’re right that, when it comes to your father, I don’t think holding on to anger is the path that best serves you. One, because he’s dead—things can’t be adjusted or resolved anymore. Two, because, in that case, you’re holding on to anger for things that happened pretty far in the past comparatively. This is recent. New, reactive anger can be useful. It might be trying to tell you that you’ve been hurt, for instance, or it might tell you when a boundary has been crossed.”
Oh. Draco could understand the difference there—conceptually, at least. He could guess where Elle was taking this now, and that she’d suggest that he would be justified in being angry because a boundary had been crossed. Harry and Andrea had both acted out of line. Apologizing didn’t mean that that boundary became ‘un-crossed’ suddenly (Elle was big on that) it just meant that the person felt regret. But did he want to be angry with them?
“Maybe, but not really. I want things to go back to the way they were and I want my friend back. Or, friends… I guess. I want to forget it ever happened.”
Another nod and Elle pursed her lips. Draco had learned to read that gesture over the years and he knew that their discussion had just officially become oppositional. Not in a bad way, necessarily. Usually, it was oppositional in a way that suggested Elle felt the need to push him on something and, more often than not, it was ‘for his own good’. Sometimes he agreed, and sometimes he didn’t.
“Do you think doing that would be fair to yourself?”
What kind of a question was that? He was the one who wanted to pretend it never happened, how could it possibly be unfair to him? Clearly, Elle read the thought on his face before he even opened his mouth though because she jumped in before he could argue.
“Let me explain. A boundary was crossed—is that fair to say?” Draco nodded. “And you were hurt by that, correct?” Another nod, albeit more hesitant. “So, would pretending it never happened be honoring that part of you that was hurt? Or would it just be ignoring your own pain in favor of getting those connections back and avoiding conflict?”
“...ignoring, probably.”
Elle shrugged, but didn’t make a note.
“Probably. And maybe those connections are more important for your overall mental health right now than honoring the part of you that was hurt. That’s also completely valid. I’m not saying you ‘should’ be angry and I’m never going to tell you how you’re ‘supposed’ to feel. But, I also know we’ve been working on building your own trust in yourself and this might be an opportunity to show the little voice in your head that you’re capable of enforcing your own boundaries. Just food for thought.”
Draco did not feel ‘fed’, he felt overwhelmed by the sudden idea that he might be hurting himself by trying to get back to a state of least-possible-anxiety with Andrea and Harry. How was he supposed to be better if he didn’t even realize when he was hurting himself? Merlin, this was impossible!
Elle’s lips relaxed and Draco knew she was done pushing him, at least for now. She was back to the calm, guiding presence that she usually brought to their sessions and she let the silence hang in the air for as long as he wanted it to. Now was where he had the choice of continuing that strand of conversation, or changing the subject entirely.
“I’ve sort of made a new/old friend…”
Elle perked up and made another note, smiling easily as if she hadn’t just dropped a colossal bomb on his entire way of thinking. Draco sank back into the couch and took a deep breath. He’d chosen to bring up Hermione. Somehow, through all of this, his semi-friendship/semi-alliance with the former Gryffindor who had punched him in Third Year had become the safest topic for discussion. Ironic.
After therapy, Draco went and treated himself to coffee at the cafe a few blocks from Whirlwind. By the grace of Merlin and Salazar Slytherin, he didn’t run into any of his ‘coworkers’ and, by the grace of every other deity or idol in existence, Kaiser had decided to take a personal day. Which meant that Draco had an entire ten hours free from interruption or personal attack.
Or so he’d thought.
The knock wasn’t particularly rushed or loud and it was hardly a unique pattern, but Draco knew without even touching the door that it was Harry. Andrea was in Thailand to meet with a dealer so it wasn’t her, Kaiser was gone for the day, and none of his coworkers ever knocked, but even without those guarantees Draco would have known. He could feel Harry’s magic from across the room.
“It’s open.”
Slowly, tentatively the handle turned and Harry poked his head into the room. He didn’t immediately enter or assume he was allowed to, Draco noted, and instead hesitated in the threshold.
“Can I help you with something, Potter?”
After his conversation with Elle that morning, Draco had managed to quell his inner urge to shut down any and all conflict before it could emerge. He couldn’t quite force himself to be angry, even if he knew he ‘should’ be—though there was no ‘should’ when it came to emotions, as Elle always said—but he’d grudgingly come to agree with the theory of why he ‘should’ be. Caught between the two, Draco had decided to settle on polite indifference. He could be indifferent, right?
“Um, yeah. I was hoping you’d have a chance to talk for a minute and I assumed it would be your lunch break soon, but if you’re busy I can totally come back another time. I also understand if you don’t want to talk to me at all.”
This was new. Draco had vaguely seen this tail-tucked-between-his-legs version of Harry Potter before and it was usually only when some combination of the Golden Trio had been fighting. But it had never been directed at him before, even after that curse in the bathrooms. Though that made sense in hindsight because Draco had tried to hit Harry with the Cruciatus curse and he’d merely defended himself. Of course he wouldn’t feel guilty or apologetic about that.
“You can come in, but I start late every other Tuesday because I have a morning appointment so I won’t be taking a lunch today. If you don’t mind me working while we talk, then by all means.”
Draco cringed internally at himself—if you don’t mind me working? Harry was supposed to be the one begging for his forgiveness! But he’d already said it and it would be worse to take it back so he tried to look like he’d meant it all along. Harry didn’t seem to notice. After another beat of silence, the Gryffindor stepped into his office and closed the door behind him, but he didn’t move towards the settee. He wasn’t assuming he had any right to Draco’s space anymore. Interesting.
“Of course, that’s fine. I’m sorry to accost you at work, I just didn’t think you’d answer an owl from me and I didn’t want to show up at your apartment like a creep. You’re sure you’re okay with talking right now?”
Draco shrugged and turned his back to the man, trying not to feel the sudden vulnerability as it prickled all over his skin. He unbundled the small blueberry bush that Andrea had just delivered. For this potion, he only needed the leaves and he’d debated not even asking the Gatherer for them because he was still unsure where they stood.
But, they’d gotten coffee like she’d asked and they’d talked for a long time. Long enough that Draco’s inner defensiveness had relaxed, and long enough that she’d run out of ways to say how sorry she was. She’d resorted to going well out of her way and getting him the best possible ingredients. A whole bonsai-sized bush, for instance, that had been grown in a charmed greenhouse by a Romanian botanist who specialized in high-quality potions ingredients.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the extravagance, but he knew from their conversation that Andrea was not trying to buy his forgiveness. She’d made it clear that she knew she’d fucked up. Expensive potion ingredients wouldn’t make him forget what had happened—and, she’d insisted, she didn’t want him to forget or immediately forgive her—but it was still a nice gesture. He appreciated it.
“You can talk as much as you want, Potter. I’m capable of listening while doing other things as well.”
Okay, so maybe ‘indifference’ was a bit of a stretch when it came to Harry Potter. Draco had never been able to be indifferent or apathetic towards the Gryffindor and he wasn’t about to start now, apparently. Maybe a bitter-less, slightly antagonistic attitude was a more reasonable goal.
“No, this isn’t just about me. We need to talk, Draco.”
That got his attention and he turned his back to the bush, leaning against his work table as he crossed his arms. It was a defensive position—he saw Harry immediately notice and catalogue the body language—but he didn’t particularly care if it gave anything away.
“About what, Potter? About how you lied, accused me of trying to kill my own cousin, and brought me in on a case that I didn’t even want to be a part of? About Aidan? Or about how you transferred the contract and started giving me the cold shoulder for no justifiable reason?”
Harry winced. Good, Draco couldn’t help thinking, let the weight of it impact someone besides me for a change. Externally, he kept his face blank and merely raised an eyebrow. If Harry wanted to ‘talk’, then they would bloody well talk—but not without addressing all of it.
“Yes, about that,” Harry conceded, rather unexpectedly. “And other things. About why you use my wand, for instance, or about how you were able to use my magic—yes, Hermione told me about that. We also need to talk about the contract, about Teddy and Andromeda, and about you. You had a panic attack.”
Draco bristled, clenching his hands into fists without even realizing what he was doing. Harry saw the motion but didn’t comment on it.
“I’m fine, Potter. I’m also not any of your concern.”
He expected Harry to push and to argue that he was just being a good person, or even that helping Draco that first time had given him a sense of responsibility. Harry did neither, though. Instead, he just nodded and took a slow, deep breath.
“I know you’re not, but I was there and it still happened. However, most of this is my fault so it’s only fair that I go first. If you’re alright with that…?” Draco gestured for him to continue. “Well, first of all, I’m sorry. The glamour was entirely to protect Teddy, but I still shouldn’t have done it because I knew it would give me an advantage. I should have sent Andromeda from the beginning and let her make the contract with you but I didn’t because I didn’t trust that you were different now. Obviously, you are. And, regardless, I’m not his guardian and it wasn’t my place to make that judgement, so I’m sorry.”
This was very unexpected. Draco had been preparing himself for a fight or, at the very least, for another emotionally constipated conversation where neither one of them really said what they meant but… this? This sounded like something that had gone through the filter of a Mind Healer and had been thought out ahead of time. Had Harry talked about this in his own therapy first?
“I appreciate your apology.”
Never say ‘it’s okay’ because it means the behavior was accepted. Pansy had taught him that during a ballroom dancing lesson as kids and he was fairly sure she was just repeating what her mother had taught her, but it had stuck. ‘It’s okay’ validates the behavior and erases the impact, but ‘I accept your apology’ is just an acknowledgement and a way to move forward.
“Thank you, Draco. Would you like me to go on to the next thing, or shall we trade off and take turns?”
Again, Draco bristled because who was Harry to suggest that he needed to apologize? But then he remembered the points Harry had listed. The panic attack was off the table and he would not apologize for that—nor did he need to, his brain reminded him, even if he still felt like he should—but there were other, more… valid things. Like using Harry’s magic without telling him and without his consent.
“We can take turns. I’m sorry that I used your wand and didn’t give you a reason why.” Draco paused, trying to imagine what Elle would say because ‘sorry’ felt empty and rehearsed on its own. “I didn’t want to tell you that I couldn’t really use my magic because I was afraid you’d take advantage of that. Or, at the very least, that you would pity me. I shouldn’t have tried to predict your behavior or manipulate you into the reaction that I wanted though, and for that I’m sorry.”
Harry’s turn, thank Merlin. Draco took a breath and tried to look nonchalant but his heart was racing at the sheer emotional vulnerability in this conversation. Everything in him was screaming that he shouldn’t have told Harry any of that—he’d just given the man more ammunition, for fuck’s sake!—but Harry didn’t look well-armed. He looked… pained.
“You thought I would…” Just as quickly, the Auror seemed to realize that this was a back and forth, not a discussion, and he switched topics. “I’m sorry that I transferred the contract without telling you or talking to you about it first. Like I said, it should have been Andromeda working with you from the beginning so transferring it now felt like I was fixing that first mistake rather than making a new one. I should have communicated my thoughts and emotions better, and I should have considered how it might affect you. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
“Yes, well, you’ve always been shit at recognizing your own feelings so I’m hardly shocked that you failed to communicate them.”
Draco froze the second the last word left his mouth and he scanned Harry’s face, searching for hurt or anger or any kind of reaction. He hadn’t meant to say it and he hadn’t meant to put that old, almost-playful spin on it. But it didn’t seem to land as an insult. Instead, Harry’s face broke into a small smile and, for the first time in a long time, things almost felt normal between them.
Almost.
“I like to think I’ve gotten better over the years, but I suppose you have a point. You have fewer things to address, I think, so I’ll go again. I’m sorry I accused you of intentionally hurting Teddy or of trying to hurt anyone at all. I had no right to think that and I shouldn’t have, especially after watching you that day in the Astronomy Tower… You’ve never been a killer. And, not that it makes it any better, but I honestly didn’t know that you were related until ‘Meda told me that night—so, by extension, I’m also sorry that I didn’t tell you it was your own cousin you were making potions for. But I also didn’t know, so…”
Draco couldn’t help it. He’d known, of course, that Harry had been there when he’d tried to kill Dumbledore (and failed to, his brain reminded him) because the Auror had brought it up when he’d testified at Draco’s trial. Even then, he’d used it as evidence that Draco had never truly wanted to hurt anyone. But hearing Harry say it after all this time made him feel exposed and vulnerable in a way that crawled under his skin and he wanted to deflect. Rather than dodge entirely, he focused on the second part.
“You want an award or something for apologizing for not telling me something that you yourself didn’t know? I’m not sure if that’s even more Gryffindor of you, or if it cancels out. I’ll accept an apology for chosen ignorance, though, and for the fact that you could have easily figured out the relation if you’d just picked up a book.”
Harry was smiling again. It made Draco’s stomach flip and his hands unconsciously clenched tighter, digging his nails into his palm to form little red crescents. He didn’t mind the sting. If anything, it was the only thing grounding him in the current tsunami of emotions he was experiencing.
“Again, fair point. I’m sorry for not being as dedicated of a researcher as you would have been, given the situation. Are you going to address the whole ‘using my magic’ thing? Or should I go again?”
Dammit, that was—unfortunately—a valid point. Using someone else’s magic was a bit of a grey area given that, in ninety nine percent of cases, it wasn’t even possible. But it was still incredibly intimate and Draco wouldn’t have blamed the Auror for being angry at the intrusion, or even for feeling violated. It wasn’t a very morally ‘good’ thing to do. Especially without asking.
“I’m sorry I used your magic without asking and without telling you what I was doing. To be fair, that first time I didn’t even know what would happen and I didn’t intend to use your magic, I just wanted to fix the situation. I didn’t actually realize what had happened until after, when I saw the traces in the air. They were green.”
“So?”
Draco wanted to laugh at how petulant the Auror sounded in that moment. He clearly didn’t realize the significance of that color, though Draco shouldn’t have been surprised because, if he had, he would have known what had happened. Harry had needed Hermione to tell him, though. Which Merlin meant that Harry hadn’t even noticed someone else drawing from his magical core. Jesus.
“So my magic isn’t green, Potter. Yours is.” Harry gaped at him, swallowed, and seemed to process that so Draco continued. “But, regardless, I knew what would happen the second time and I did it anyway without talking to you first. I had no right to, even if it was for the case, and I’m sorry.”
Harry nodded, but there was no anger or betrayal in his expression and, if pressed, Draco might have even described it as ‘lighter’. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Did Harry just feel better having gotten some of these things off his chest? Or had Harry hated the conflict between them and missed their familiar energy just as much as Draco had?
“For the record, going forward,” Harry paused to make sure he was listening and Draco winced, expecting a threat if he ever even considered using the Auror’s magic again. “As long as you ask or let me know, I don’t mind. Especially until we get your magic figured out.”
Well. Harry was just full of surprises today, wasn’t he? Permission to use his magic? Draco didn’t know how to even begin to process that so he put it in a box in his brain to be dealt with later. They were still going back and forth and it was Harry’s turn.
“What about the case? Or Aidan?”
Harry sighed, but it didn’t feel annoyed or exasperated. More like an acknowledgement, Draco thought, or a shift in tone from the almost pleading, connecting way Harry had just offered his own magic.
“I’m sorry I suggested you for the case without asking you. Kingsley asked me for a potioneer recommendation and I honestly didn’t even think before giving him your name. I didn’t think about how uncomfortable you are with the Ministry, about how it might impact your workload, or about how it might affect you emotionally. If you want my full, honest reason for suggesting you—which I think you do—” Harry paused, and Draco nodded. “People are dead and we need the best if we’re going to have a chance of stopping this ‘Broken Crown’ guy. That’s you, Draco. You’re the best.”
He didn’t know how to take that but oop. His brain decided for him that that was a compliment and a compliment from Harry James Potter was apparently better than morphine. A flush spread out over his skin and Draco struggled not to shy away or preen under the attention. God, he loved being the center of Harry’s attention. Positive attention was even more addictive evidently and he would have to be careful with that. Very careful.
“And Aidan?”
To the best of his memory (which, admittedly, was a bit preoccupied by the fact that Harry had just complimented him) Draco did not have anything else to apologize for besides the panic attack. He wasn’t going to apologize for that, though. And, if he had his way, it wasn’t even going to come up so he didn’t feel at all guilty for pressing Harry to go again. Harry didn’t seem to mind either.
“Ah, yes. My absolute favorite person in the world. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about our past and I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about him, though I know that isn’t technically my responsibility. But as for who he is… only god can apologize for that.”
Draco snorted and immediately tried to morph it into a cough in case that hadn’t been meant as a joke—he had no idea if Harry believed in a Muggle religion, or what the rules of etiquette there were—but Harry just flashed him a grin. Maybe Draco had had the right idea from the beginning: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. He’d just had the wrong enemy in mind, then.
“Draco,” His first name made him jump. “I’m not going to push you to talk about Ariana, about that night, or about the panic attack. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation.”
He swallowed hard, all jokes and light-heartedness evaporating the second Harry said those words. With how well this had been going, he’d almost forgotten Ariana. And the crying.
“So what do you want, then? Want me to apologize for inconveniencing you or—”
“No!” The force of it made Draco’s blood run cold, but then Harry seemed to realize and he tried again. “No, not at all. I would never ask you to apologize for anything like that. I’m honored that you trusted me in the first place, actually. I was just going to ask if we could talk about it in the sense that I want to be able to support you in the best way that I can. Whether that means leaving you alone, or calling someone in particular, or… I don’t know. I just wanted to know what to do if it happens again.”
Draco had reached his daily limit of shocking, life-altering, out-of-the-blue things that he could hear from Harry Potter’s mouth. He gaped in a way that he knew was incredibly unattractive, dug his nails into the flesh of his palms even harder, and tried to remember that he needed to breathe. Harry wanted… to support him. And his first suggestion had been leaving Draco alone, so this couldn’t possibly be a ploy to just embed himself further in Draco’s life. Right?
“Bring me hot chocolate,” Draco said slowly, surprising himself even more than Harry. “And just… be normal in the future. No cold shoulder, no surprise Aurors, and preferably no more interrogations-turned-suicide. But the hot chocolate is the most important part.”
Draco didn’t have it in himself to ask for touch, or to explain to Harry how grounding his mere presence was when his mind was spiraling out of control. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted Harry to know those things either. So he kept his mouth shut.
“If I’d known you were this easy to bribe, I would have bought you the entire coffee shop weeks ago.”
Harry was smiling, but something about it hit wrong. It wasn’t insincere or malicious and Draco understood, logically, that it was a joke but something twinged in his chest. Maybe it was the offhand display of wealth—I would have bought you the entire coffee shop—or maybe it was the suggestion, even jokingly, that Harry could buy his forgiveness. That felt far too familiar in all the wrong ways. Lucius had constantly bought his forgiveness and coaxed Draco into letting almost anything slide as long as the price tag was high enough.
“I can’t be bought, Potter.” He could—he absolutely could—but no way in hell was he going to admit that to the Gryffindor. “Don’t mistake my acceptance of your apologies as forgiveness. You are not forgiven. Not even close.”
The words came out harsher than Draco had intended, but he didn’t backpedal. Even if that anger wasn’t completely genuine, hadn’t he just finished rationalizing to himself that he shouldn’t immediately forgive Harry? Hadn’t Elle said something about honoring himself by expressing the boundary violation?
Regardless, Harry’s face fell. Draco recognized negative emotion and immediately wanted to fix it, but he forced himself to stay quiet. They’d cleared a lot of the air between them, at least from his perspective, but he couldn’t let it all be forgiven yet so this was his compromise.
“Of course, I’m sorry, that was out of line. I can get out of your space and let you get back to work now, I just wanted to address those things. Thank you for talking to me, Draco.”
Harry retreated like a dog who had been hit over the head with a slipper. He didn’t necessarily seem sad, but there was something distinctly less-happy about him with the reminder that he was not forgiven. Draco wondered if he’d been too harsh. Before he could second guess himself or try to rephrase, Harry had given him a small, shrug of a smile and moved towards the door.
“I’ll send Andrea this afternoon with a hot chocolate. If you still want it, that is.”
Draco nodded, still reeling, but that was it. Harry bowed his head the way one would tip a hat in farewell, then disappeared out the door. There was no crack of Apparition, though that was hardly surprising given the fact that Harry seemed to have an odd amount of respect for the rules at Draco’s workplace. Odd, especially, because he had demonstrated a complete disregard for the rules in his own workplace. And Hogwarts.
Draco turned back to his work table, finally, and tried not to smile. It was ridiculous because he was still upset (maybe not angry, but hurt at least) and they’d left the conversation on a bit of a sour note, but he was relieved. That was probably the most productive conversation he’d ever had with someone who wasn’t his Mind Healer. He felt much more okay than he had that morning—calmer, even, though he wouldn’t have gone as far as to say relaxed. Definitely relieved.
Things weren’t fixed, of course, but for the first time since the Dark Lord’s return, Draco saw a real chance that things might get better.