"Alright, I'm just going to start with your left hand, okay?"
                              
Nothing, but more shaking. In an ideal world, he'd wait until the patient was calmer, but he had a feeling that it wasn't going to happen. Harry pulled up a stool and gently took Malfoy's clenched hand. He could see the scars from the restraints, metal if he had to guess. Malfoy was getting more distressed, and Harry tried to whisper reassurances, but he was starting to suspect that actually touching him was making it worse.
                              
Harry could feel for him. When he was beaten as a child, any touch felt like physical pain. He knew the darker things in his past made him touch-sensitive, too. But he had to physically touch him to heal him, and maybe, if Draco associated his touch with pain-relief, he might get more comfortable. Harry slowly straightened out his fingers, and Draco hissed in pain. Harry wondered how long they've been broken. He reached out when his magic and felt several fractures and healing attempts. Too many to count. Torture. And what dismayed Harry was that they weren't six years old, when Voldemort was around. They were only a few years old, some as recent as a month. The fall didn't cause it.
                              
He closed his eyes and started to murmur the healing chants and repair even the tiniest microfracture in each finger and metacarpals. He spent over an hour just weaving the healing spells in the bones and then repaired the tears in the muscle and tissue around it. He was sweating by the time he was done. He finally opened his eyes, and Malfoy wasn't shaking anymore and looked away quickly like he hadn't been watching.
                              
Harry took a deep breath. "Well, let's see where we are at. I'm going to remove the Immobulus Charm on your hand, but not your wrist. I haven't healed that yet. I just want you to flex and move your fingers, okay?"
                              
Malfoy looked at him like he was crazy, but he lifted charm from his fingers. Harry placed his palm up and made the fingers move.
                              
"You try, Draco."
                              
Malfoy glared at his given name, but slowly complied, moving each finger one at a time. He seemed fascinated with it like he hadn't seen his fingers do that in years. It made Harry's heart ache more just thinking that.
                              
"There you go. One hand down," Harry said, with a cheerful voice. No reason to bring Draco down more.
                              
Malfoy turned his head over to the wall, again. Harry wasn't going to expect him to open up so early. He was surprised that he had spoken at all with what he had been through.
                              
"I'm going to start on your wrist. There's a lot of damage, and it'll take several sessions to fix that."
                              
"They said it couldn't be healed," he whispered.
                              
"They couldn't heal it. That's what I do. I'm very good at it, but it takes a lot of magic, and I can only heal so much at once. That's why you're going to be staying here for a long time. Tomorrow, I'm going to have to give you some Skele-gro before we start. There are so many bone chips," Harry said, feeling them and vanishing the small bits. They were smashed to pieces. He fingered an incredibly out of place one, and Malfoy sucked in a breath.
                              
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll have the floor warden bring a pain potion."
                              
"No!" growled a voice from the door.
                              
Harry didn't want to jostle Draco, so he only glanced at the door, with a low-level Department of Magical Law Enforcement peon was standing. He hadn't knocked.
                              
"That Death Eater is prohibited from any potions, including pain and healing potions."
                              
Harry freeze when he realized that Draco was without any medical potions since his fall. How to the trauma ward allow that? The Department of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't have that much power.
                              
"I don't care who you are. I'm his healer and he will get whatever potions I deem necessary!" Harry spat, not looking at him, but instead was looking at Draco's reaction, and he wasn't responding well.
                              
"Maybe you don't know who I am! I'm Officer McGrath, his parole officer! I decide his medical care and restrictions! You will not give him any pain or healing potions, and he's a dangerous criminal. In fact, if he's stable, I want him released! We don't need to waste any more time on him."
                              
Draco had nearly stopped breathing. He looked petrified. Tears were streaming down his eyes and, if he could, he'd be huddled in the corner of the room. He was afraid of this man, who was at least one of his abusers, in some capacity. Harry didn't turn yet. He was gripping Draco's hand.
                              
"You're just a parole officer for the Ministry. You have no authority here! You will leave and, if you ever set foot in this building, I will call the Aurors to have you trespassed. Leave now! Mr. Malfoy is now under our care and will be for the next foreseeable future!"
                              
"Are you a male warden or something? I've met his healer, and they understood their place! I'll have you fired for talking to me like this! Where's your manager?"
                              
Harry gently put Draco's hand down and stood up. He turned and rounded on the malicious asshole. "Listen here. You have five minutes to clear the building!"
                              
"Shut up! You can't threaten me! What's your name, punk!?"
                              
Harry hadn't realized that people had forgotten what he looks like. Anonymity at last! "Harry Potter. Here's my scar if you don't believe me."
                              
He lifted his bangs and the officer's jaw dropped. "Wait... I apologize...."
                              
"Oh... I see you realize how fucked you are? I'm Healer Potter and I'm in charge of this ward. My manager is the head of St. Mungo's and we are on great terms. I'm also friends with yours... Ernie Macmillan, right? Ron Weasley is in charge of him and running the Aurors, and Hermione Granger is in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I trust you know that they are my best friends? I eat over at their place at least twice a week, you know? Their son's middle name is Harry. I also have dinner with Minister Shacklebolt every so often."
                              
"I'll be leaving. I didn't mean...."
                              
"To what? Overextend your reach? Deny medical treatment to parolees in your care? You should have run when you had the chance. Well, I suggest you find a new job quickly. I'll only be too happy to pass along this conversation. I'll also go find the other trauma healer, too. If you, in any way, made my patient's condition worse with your restrictions, I'll want more than your job!"
                              
"B-But... he's a Death Eater!"
                              
"He's a person first and deserves prompt and immediate medical care. And you should know he saved my life during the war, so I'm particularly pissed that this happened. Two minutes before I call the Aurors."
                              
"I'm not doing anything wrong! You can't...."
                              
Harry sent a Patronus through the wall with his thoughts alone. "We will find out."
                              
The officer turned and left. Only a second later, the floor warden arrived. "You called, Healer Potter?"
                              
"Yes, please update security that that man... McGrath... is not allowed in the hospital. Also, no one is to see Mr. Malfoy without my direct consent. Am I clear?"
                              
"Yes, Auror... I mean Healer, Potter," she said, with a smirk.
                              
"In another life, Natalie. Thank you."
                              
"No problem. I'll set the wards myself."
                              
"Yes, bring me these three potions, please."
                              
"Right away."
                              
She left and he turned back to Malfoy, who looked a little calmer. Tears were still in his eyes, and he was looking away.
                              
"I'm sorry about that, Draco. I won't let him or anyone else come here to disturb you in your recovery."
                              
Malfoy's grey eyes flinted over to him and back to the wall. He could still see the tears in them. But he didn't say anything. Harry just murmured his healing spells while they waited.
                              
"Thank you," Draco whispered.
                              
"You're welcome, Draco. I will protect you, now.