Healing Draco Malfoy

Chapter 17

Published 1/8/2021

Life without Joel took some getting used to, in the days that followed. Natalie helped replace some of the hole he had left, but Harry had felt sadness that he couldn't talk to someone so neutral and friendly as Joel. Natalie wasn't the same. She didn't know how to calm him down, and he was never going to accept another drink from her without testing it.

"Draco... I need to heal your shoulder," he told Draco.

"Okay," he responded, looking right at him. He was coming far.

"I need to put you on your stomach," he said quietly.

"Oh," Draco murmured. Harry had a feeling that he would not be comfortable like that. "It'll be fine," Draco claimed.

"It's going to hurt a bit, but it will feel great after, okay?"

"I'm not a child, Harry," he snapped.

"Draco. I'm about to cause you pain. It distresses me. I need you to understand what is happening."

Draco sighed. "I understand. I'm sorry. I just... I'm not weak."

"No, you aren't, but you are allowed to feel scared and nervous. Your hips will be the same way... and I'll have to... umm... get on the bed... and touch your lower back, and... we'll talk about it then. But I want you to trust that I won't hurt you, needlessly."

"I do, Harry."

Harry stared at him for a few minutes, before he rolled him over and let him adjust. He then lowered the bed and slipping his hands under the blanket and found the crushed tip of the blade. He had Vanished the smaller chips, but the larger sections had cracks. They would never have supported weight properly. Harry warned Draco and pushed down hard. Draco gasped as the bone gave and reset properly. Harry massaged in out and healed it. About a half-hour later, he walked around and did the other side with a similar result.

"It's all healed up. You want a back massage, or I can face you back up?"

"Well, if you're offering... a massage would be great," Draco drawled. Harry was glad that he was too upset. I could have been bad.

Harry worked his muscles, and Draco just melted. Harry took off most of the Immobilius Charm. He couldn't deny the absolute satisfaction he felt as he kneaded Draco's kinks and sores out. Draco had been broken in so many ways. But his body responded to him and was well on the way to recovery. Draco was lifting his potions without shaking and was eating, at least when Harry was there.

Draco appeared to only trust food that Harry gave him. Harry always wondered about things that Draco didn't talk about. The food thing, the potion remnants in his liver and, most of all, the eye contact and no talking. He could only assume that it was beaten into him. Perhaps the food issue and the potion in his liver were the same thing. They forced him to take it, that Harry was sure of.

Natalie knocked and came in. "You got an owl. From the head honcho herself."

"Come to dinner or else?" Harry asked.

"Something like that. Somehow she managed to sound nice and threatening in one message."

"Guess that's why she's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Going to be alright if I leave?"

Since Natalie was still there, Draco only rolled his eyes.

"Well, you could kidnap him. Just Apparate him right through the wards."

"Yeah, let's try that," Harry laughed and said goodbye to Natalie as she left. Then he slowly rotated Draco onto his back. "Seriously, are you going to be alright?"

"You leave me here every night, Potter. No point asking me that, now," Draco snorted.

"I meant your shoulder."

"Oh..." he said, moving it. "Yeah, it feels great. Thanks."

"Yeah... it's mainly just your hips left and working out the soreness. Give me a week and you'll be practically pain-free."

Draco looked at him with watery eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Draco. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Harry. Have fun playing Dragons and Wizards."

Harry smiled at him and walked out the door. Draco didn't push him to talk about what happened five years ago. He didn't bring it up, again, since that night. He thought that maybe Draco was just letting the matter settle a bit. Harry had felt good, really good about telling someone, like it wasn't consuming him. Plus, Joel was a smart kid. He could probably figure out what had happened. Harry wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Joel hadn't stopped by, but that wasn't surprising. Most trainers work their peons as much as possible, under the guise of training. It was free labor to do the unwanted tasks that healers hate doing. Filing, sample draws, cleaning and dealing with family members of the patients. Harry hated it when he went through, especially when some went either full-fanatic mode or just wanted to make him suffer for being famous. They had obviously been channeling Snape.

In the areas he struggled in, he was ridiculed and laughed at, instead of taught. He vowed never to treat others like that. He was glad that Joel had grown under him. Not the scampering adolescent that first came to his ward, but now a head-high intern, full of curiosity and strangely sage advice. Joel wouldn't be afraid to speak up anymore.

Pratt had lumbered down from his high office to scream about Joel's evaluation, and Harry told him to go stuff his butt and if he wanted an eval, he should have asked for one beforehand. Harry had guessed that he did need to do one, but made a point that this was his first trainee and how the hell would he know what was needed. Harry spent a good part of the day writing his eval and sent Joel a copy, too. He wanted him to know that his attention to detail and willingness to learn new tasks was greatly appreciated.

The next day, Pratt had grudgingly sent a parchment form filled with some kind of numbering system that lacked any intrinsic valve. Ten out of ten for potential. One out of ten for bowing down to the ruling elite. Harry laughed at that made-up question. He scored Joel in the highest percentages and attached a reference sheet for his justifications. For good measure, he sent a copy to Joel, again. He didn't trust Pratt to give feedback. Harry thought everyone needed to know their strengths and weaknesses.

Harry flooed into his best friends' house and was promptly greeted by his niece and nephew. "Uncle 'Arry!" they cried and hugged him. He gave them big, tight hugs.

"You know... you don't greet us like that when we come home!" Ron grumbled.

"We see you every day though!" Hugo said.

Harry laughed and picked them both up. Rose squirmed, "Uncle, I'm not a kid! Babies get picked up!"

"I like getting picked up, and I'm not a baby!" Hugo said, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck.

"Yeah, you are! You're my baby brother!"

"Am not!

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Kids!" Hermione called out from the kitchen. "Stop arguing!"

"Yes, momma!" Rose said, and leaned into Harry, who would protect her from his mother's wrath.

"Now, who wants a hug," Hugo giggled.

Rose lowered her voice. "I'll fill your bed with worms if you don't shut up."

"Rose," Harry said. "That is not nice."

"Really? I like worms. Where do you get them from?" Hugo asked.

"Magic, duh."

"Wow... you can do spells? When do I get to do magic?" he asked Harry.

"When you turn eleven, young man. Rose can't do spells, either."

"Yes, I can!" she huffed. "When Hugo broke my favorite toy, I turned his hair pink."

"Grandmum said it couldn't stay like that."

"Really?" Harry deadpanned.

"It clashes with my freckles!" Hugo explained.

Harry laughed and carried the kids over to the table. He set Hugo down first and then kissed Rose on the head, before dropping her in her seat. Harry always sat between them.

"Uncle 'Arry! I almost forgot! Mum said you can fix my boo-boo!" Hugo said and showed Harry his skinned knee. He looked at Hermione, who could've healed it in an instant.

"Don't think I didn't try! Uncle Harry had to do it!" she exclaimed, but staring at her son with love.

"I'll make it all better," Harry said and kissed it.

"Did it work?" he said, trying to see it and Harry rubbed it a little, healing it.

"All better," he said and Hugo kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Uncle 'Arry. You always kiss and make it better!"

"Alright, eat your supper."

"But there's green stuff!"

"Hugo, eat your veges. They are important," Harry said, before Hermione could.

"Okay... for you, Uncle Harry."

Ron and Hermione gave him envious looks, and Harry smiled and winked. After dinner, the kids did indeed pull him into Dungeons and Wizards. They played until Hermione said it was bedtime. Harry tucked them in, checking for worms, just in case. Rose had her mother's temper. When Harry came out, he collapsed on the couch.

"You guys relax some?"

"While you tackle the kids? Absolutely," Ron said, and Hermione tapped him on the head. "What... they're exhausting. I don't know how mum put up with all of us."

"We don't need to saddle Harry with them every time he comes over, though."

"I don't mind. I never got to play games when I was a kid."

"Really?" Ron said, though he had heard (and seen) how bad the Dursleys were, he never really believed it.

"And you both could use a moment to breathe."

"You're working so much though, Harry," she said.

"Subtle, Hermione," he grunted. "Draco said I could talk about his case."

"Draco?" Ron said, again.

"I'm not going to call him Malfoy forever. He's my patient."

"So, what happened?" Hermione asked. She wanted to know.

"First you, what'd you get from Azkaban?"

"Nothing. It's locked up good. We'd have to sneak in... which I wouldn't do, because I'm Head Auror," Ron said, after a look from Hermione.

"Harry... what happened?" she said, again, firmer.

Harry lowered his head. "Whatever you can think of, it happened, Hermione. They tortured him, the whole time. Six years of daily abuse."

Her mouth opened and shut. She frowned. Ron sighed heavily and lowered his head. "Mate... I'm sorry."

"Is he going to recover?" she asked.

"I don't know. Physically, yes... in a month or two."

She raised an eyebrow at the time. "Why so long?"

Harry looked at her. "He can't walk, Hermione. He doesn't have the strength. They kept him chained down the whole time."

"Chained?" she gasped. Wizards and witches didn't need chains. They had magic.

"Yeah. I counted nearly 200 breaks on his right hand and wrist alone, from the chain, from impact trauma and spells. His arms and legs were wrecked. He has no muscle strength. They starved him, used potions on him, and hurt him in the most painful ways. I don't know how he survived, honestly."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry," she said, moving to the seat next to him.

"That's why I'm working so hard, so long. He's been in constant pain for years, Hermione. I can take that away. He... he looked at me... so... thankful when I fixed his hand, and he could move his fingers, again. It's indescribable how I feel, knowing that meant so much to him."

"That's terrible, Harry. Of course, we'll investigate it... them. If we have to sneak in... I'll sanction the incursion."

"I'll go myself, Harry. Just let me borrow your cloak," Ron said, and Harry nodded.

"Thank you... for supporting me... him. I know he was a... prat, but he's so broken. The smallest act of kindness makes him so... emotional."

Hermione shook her head. "How could anyone do that? You're sure it's the guards?"

"Unless the prisoners have wands in prison. He was healed in the most, shittiest way possible. He was Crucioed, too. Extensively. And not from just when Voldemort was around. Some hits are not even a year old."

Hermione bit her lip. "I thought we stopped this kind of stuff when we won the war."

"We did. It just went underground. I don't know who is supposed to check up on Azkaban and the conditions there. But no one did. He was left like that the whole time, and he implied that others went through it, too. 'No one cares about Death Eaters sentenced to life', is what he said."

"They could all be hurting right now," Hermione whispered and looked to Ron.

"I'll go tomorrow, recon it."

"The fact that Lucius did die, the signs of staggered starvation and the attempts to heal Draco's wounds shows that they are proficient at covering their crimes. I don't recall his parole officer reporting anything about his weakened condition and frailty, do you?"

"Fucking hell! I leashed that fucker for you, Harry," Ron growled.

"Ron! You can't do that!" Hermione said. Placing the Trace on people without a warrant was a little illegal for the Aurors to.

"Well, I did. Harry didn't like him. I trust Harry and that was a little fishy about the pain potions. Leaving him for an hour? He wanted him to suffer."

"Or die. No one would question a suicide of an ex-Death Eater just out of prison. His fall also would mask his abuse."

"Harry? What are you saying?" Hermione said, her eyes widening.

"I'm saying that Draco couldn't walk, climb or pull himself up before he fell. His muscles are still completely atrophied. There were only three ways he made it through that window. He was magicked through it, a house elf helped him, or he was thrown out of it."

Ron and Hermione stared at him in shock. "Harry, you're sure?"

"Absolutely positive. His legs, knees... were so fractured that he would have barely been able to move them. His wrists... he couldn't even move his fingers. The fall didn't do that. I have his scans from his initial entry. I can see how long the breaks have been there based on the remodeling and healing of it. I don't know how he got home, but that's probably why there was a house elf. He wouldn't have been able to move even if he had a wand."

"Alright, I'll reach out to the House Elf Commission and Labor Board, then. And we'll get to the bottom of this."

"Thank you... really. Thank both of you," Harry said, running his hand through his hair.

Hermione took his other hand. "Harry...umm... you said... physically, you could heal him. But Draco could be... mentally gone. From all reports I read, he doesn't talk."

"He's not gone. He talks to me."

"Does he?" Ron said, looking oddly hopeful. "So, he's alright?"

"I wouldn't qualify it as being 'alright', but he's... there. He just... can't talk to other people. He looks away whenever anyone besides me enters. He doesn't trust anybody, and he's scared of going back to that hell."

"I could imagine, but he needs a mind healer," Hermione stated.

"He won't allow it. He'll stop them. Occlumency saved him in prison."

"Harry... I'm glad you're helping him. You're doing a great job, but what's going to happen when you finish his physical therapy? We talked about this."

"I'm working on it."

"Harry, you aren't trained to work on it," she whispered and he sighed.

"I know, but he trusts me. I want to help him."

"You aren't qualified. You don't have the license to clear him from Mental Health."

"The mind healers? Those damn mind rapists? I still remember them crawling in."

"They could have helped you, you know. If you hadn't begged me to take you away..." she paused. "Harry, it isn't as bad as you think. That PTSD you have from the war... they can make it not hurt you anymore. They can reconcile the shock you went through, ease you through it. Both Ron and I went to one. It helped with my anxiety and hypervigilance."

Harry grimaced and lowered his head. Tears came out. Maybe Draco was right. It was time.

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione almost shrieked in alarm.

He wiped his eyes. "Sorry."

"I'm just worried about you. Harry? Why are you crying?" she asked, now looking more alarmed than she ever had before. Ron just watched, torn on whether to say something or let his wife handle it.

"I have... s-something to tell you."