Chapter Text
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Harry sat on the edge of the examination bed, his legs hanging limply. A pulsing pain throbbed at his temples. His hands were shaking—not with fear, but from a state of total exhaustion.
"Back again," a voice came from the doorway. Draco Malfoy was wearing a snow-white Healer’s robe. He looked absurdly clean compared to Harry, whose face was streaked with soot and whose robes had a singe mark on the shoulder.
"I just need a Pepperup Potion. I have to get back to a briefing," he mumbled. His head hung low under the weight that had been troubling him for a long time.
Draco didn’t go to the medicine shelf; he stepped closer and hooked his wand under Harry’s chin to tilt it up. "Look at me. In the eyes."
He reluctantly raised his gaze. The blond examined him with cold professionalism. "You’re in a terrible state. Your magical signature is as shaky as a torn spiderweb in a draught. I’m not giving you any potion."
"Don’t be a pain, Malfoy. It’s my job..."
"Your job is to catch criminals. Not to voluntarily send yourself to the grave," Draco interrupted, placing a hand on Harry’s forehead. He shivered at the cold touch. "You have a fever and your pulse is too fast. When was the last time you slept more than four hours?"
Harry didn’t answer. He usually returned home late, settling on the sofa so as not to wake anyone. By five in the morning, he was already back at the Ministry. Work and his children were the only things that gave his life meaning, even though it was consuming him from the inside.
"Doesn't Ginny worry about you?" Draco asked quietly as he applied a cooling salve to his shoulder.
"Ginny... she has a lot on her plate. With the kids, with work. I don’t want to burden her," the dark-haired wizard blurted out, more defensively than he had intended.
Harry could only ever catch his breath in the infirmary. It was peaceful there, unlike the clamour at the Ministry and the strained silence at home. He felt safe here. "Can you give me at least half an hour of silence?" he asked softly.
Draco remained quiet. He pulled out his wand and, with a wave, drew the curtains around Harry’s bed. He pressed a cup of herbal tea into Harry’s hands. "You have one hour, Potter. Then I’m throwing you out. And if I see you in the field tomorrow, I’ll personally report you to the Minister as unfit for work."
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A biting frost intermingled with the swirling air. Harry rubbed the cracked skin on his knuckles. He looked up at the sky and saw only grey darkness. The first snowflakes landed on his eyelashes and immediately melted into water from the heat. They were the only tears his face had known in years.
The moment he stepped through the door, he was greeted by James’s wide smile. "Dad, look what I built!" the boy cried proudly.
Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of the towering structure in the middle of the living room. The coffee table, cushions, books, and even dishes were sagging under the weight of various items, held only by the invisible force of James’s magic.
"Wow, it’s... tall. Let's put away the things that might be dangerous," he suggested carefully, levitating a flowerpot back to its corner. "Ginny?" he called into the house.
His call was drowned out by James’s angry cry. With a massive crash, every object from the tower tumbled to the floor. Shards of glass scattered across the living room.
"What happened?" Ginny hurried in, carrying little Albus, still fastening his nappy as she walked. She sighed and just flicked her wand. Everything tidied itself up, and the glass fragments flew into the bin.
Harry knelt down to James. "Sweetheart, that tower was great, but you can't use some things for play," he explained patiently, stroking his son’s messy hair. The little boy crossed his arms and scowled fiercely.
"I’m going to shower." Ginny handed Albus into his arms. The baby gave a wide, toothless smile, and Harry affectionately pulled him close. "Did you buy the nappies?" she called from the bathroom.
He rolled his eyes at himself. "I forgot," he admitted.
"We’re on the last ones," Ginny poked her head out of the door. "Tomorrow evening I’m leaving for Holyhead with the team."
"Four days?" Harry checked.
Ginny nodded. "Should I get Molly to babysit?"
He thought for only a moment. Malfoy had forbidden him from working anyway. "No, I have time off. I’ll manage," he replied.
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"James," Harry said aloud. It was pointless; the boy couldn't hear him anyway. His face was all red, his mouth wide open, and he was crying through the whole shop.
Harry took several deep breaths. He would have liked to just turn away and leave. In reality, of course, he never would. He knelt by his son, momentarily losing his balance as Albus in the sling weighed him down. He stumbled and caught himself on a shelf.
He stroked James’s back and pulled him into a clumsy embrace. Then the sleeping Albus stirred and started crying too. Harry let out another frustrated breath and closed his eyes.
"Daddy," James whined, reaching his arms out to him.
Harry shook his head. "I can't carry you while I have Albus on me," he refused gently. James began to cry even more piteously. He stood up and started swaying to soothe at least Albus.
"Potter, have you come here to traumatise the Brussels sprouts?" Harry jumped and saw Draco. He was wearing an expensive wool coat and that composed expression he had always envied.
He looked at the green sprouts on the shelf, which were plugging their ears and grumbling quietly. "Get stuffed, Malfoy," he snapped irritably.
Meanwhile, James stopped crying, clung to his father’s legs, and stared distrustfully at Draco.
The blond flicked his wand, and the oranges scattered on the floor zipped back into Harry’s paper bag. "I thought you were supposed to be resting today," he remarked.
"When I’m off, I want to give my time to the children," he explained, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. The circles under them were so dark that even magic couldn't mask them anymore.
"Admirable. But if you collapse in the middle of the vegetable aisle, it will probably cause James a lifelong trauma of sprouts."
"What did he say?" James whispered. Harry rolled his eyes and made his exit, his shopping trailing behind him in mid-air.
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