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Draco wiped a streak of soot from his cheek with a sigh. Of course, he would have been the one to search the room with the exploding cauldron in it. They hadn’t even caught the Wrights, the criminal couple slipping through their fingers yet again. All their team had to show for the mission was a blast to cover up and a team member sans eyebrows, which meant paperwork and irritated bosses and, for Draco, that hair growth potion that itched. It wasn’t the best way to start the week.
“Are you alright?”
Draco turned and withheld a pained sigh. Of course, Harry Potter would be the one to check on him and get a nice close look at his disheveled state. He just had all the luck. “I’m fine,” he assured, but Harry’s concerned eyes were already examining his arm.
“You’ve been burned,” he noted, and Draco followed his eyes down. His arm had been stinging, but his whole body ached and he hadn’t really noticed. After seeing it, he could feel a pronounced throb that worsened when Harry touched him.
He hissed at the twinge caused by Harry moving his arm to examine the wound through his shredded cloak, and distracted himself from the pain by admiring the brilliant green eyes that were directly in view. This was definitely not the sexy touching that Draco often wished he’d have with Harry, but the proximity was something. A somewhat humiliating something, given how ridiculous Draco was sure he looked right now, but he’d been so completely gone for Potter for so long that it didn’t bother him as much as it should have.
“It’s from the potion, I think. We should get you to St. Mungo’s,” Harry decided, and Draco wanted to argue. He was tolerated at best in the office, outright disliked by a good number of their colleagues, and he avoided looking weak as much as possible so he could at least get some respect from the people he had to trust to keep him alive. Harry’s expression was determined, however, and Draco knew how stubborn he could be. There was no point in fighting it.
He nodded his assent and Harry left his side, heading towards the team leader. Draco could hear him explaining the situation and saying he would be accompanying Draco to the hospital to personally see that he made it there safely. Draco would surely get mocked for this behind his back, but he wasn’t going to turn down so much one-on-one time with Harry for anything, so he swallowed down that flare of pride that was still instinct from his youth. It hadn’t done him any good then, so why bother with it now?
He noticed a hint of green peeking out from the ash at his feet and leaned down, plucking up a four-leafed clover. He raised his eyebrows at the rarity, chuckling to himself when before he could even fully straighten up he noticed a galleon laying to his right. He tucked both of them into the one pocket of his robes that was still intact, glancing up in time to see Harry return to his side.
He rode Side-Along with Harry, finding St. Mungo’s to be surprisingly uncrowded when they arrived. The welcome witch told them that a healer would be able to see them immediately, and Draco patted his pocket with a curious smile, wondering if he was just attributing happy occurrences to some greenery or if the little clover really was bringing him luck. Whatever it was, his day certainly seemed to be turning around as Harry kept constant contact with him on the way to the third floor.
“We don’t know for sure what the potion was,” Harry explained once they had Draco settled in the ward and he was able to wipe the sticky soot from his skin. The healer cleaned around his burn, and he didn’t notice he was grasping Harry’s hand through the pain until the witch was finished. Harry didn’t look at all bothered by the contact, and Draco felt a pleased sort of warmth in his chest.
“What color was it?”
Harry looked to Draco, who thought for a moment. He’d only seen it bubbling in the cauldron for a moment before the explosion. “Green, I think. Yes, I’m fairly sure it was green.”
The healer took another look at the burn and nodded, leaving them for only a moment before she was back with a pink paste. Draco was glad he hadn’t released Harry as she applied it, though he was sure the other Auror was regretting not letting go as Draco crushed his hand. He took deep breaths as she wrapped a bandage around it, the painful burning sensation starting to settle back into the more manageable gentle throbbing from before.
“Leave that there for thirty minutes, and do not scratch it, Mr. Malfoy. You’re free to leave the hospital or wait in the tearoom, as long as you’ve returned in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Harry promised, so earnest that Draco couldn’t help but snort. Harry shot him a look that very clearly told him to keep his mouth shut, and Draco raised his hands in a placating surrender. “Come on,” he prompted after the healer left. “I’m in the mood for a cuppa.”
Draco pulled what was left of his robes back on and followed him to the fifth floor, letting Harry get the tea while he found a small table for them. If Harry wanted to dote on him, he wasn’t about to object. He knew he had to be careful not to let it go to his head – it made sense that Harry wanted to look out for him and make sure he was alright. Being on his mission team, they were all responsible for each other. Sure, none of the other wizards or witches would have cared, but Harry was different. Despite all the history he and Draco had, he never held Draco’s past mistakes against him. He was a better man than any of them, as well as a better wizard, and that wasn’t just Draco’s schoolboy crush talking.
Harry returned and set a tray on their table, presenting Draco with two cups of tea and a thick slice of chocolate cake. He held out one of the two forks he was holding, which Draco took with a raised brow.
“It’s a Mediwizard’s birthday today. They saw me and offered a piece,” he explained with a shrug, a light blush coloring his cheeks as it always did when his celebrity status came into question. “I thought you might want some.”
“Thank you,” Draco replied, his stomach rumbling at the sight of moist cake with frosting as green as the clover in his pocket. He eyed his tea and then the rest of the tray. “Where’s-”
“I put in two sugars. That’s how you take it, isn’t it?” Harry asked, able to guess what Draco was looking for.
“You know how I take my tea?”
“We work together. I’ve seen you make tea.”
Harry’s tone was dismissive, but Draco saw through it as Harry blushed a deeper red and hid behind his cup, which Draco had to admit was endearing. They drank their tea in a comfortable – if shy – silence, and Draco had just brought a forkful of cake to his mouth when Harry spoke again.
“Draco, while we’re here, I want to tell you – Merlin, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. I guess seeing you get injured today…” Draco chewed slowly while he waited for Harry to get to the point. “I suppose I’ll just – I fancy you,” he blurted, and Draco’s brows shot up towards his hairline.
"You-"
"I know we've got history," Harry said quickly, cutting him off. "And you might possibly still despise me. I hope that you don't, you've seemed alright around me lately, but I just needed to let you know. For some reason."
Harry frowned as if he really couldn't work out why he'd decided to say all of that, and Draco patted his pocket with a smile, knowing his clover was still safely in there and bringing him much more luck than he'd ever expected.
"You're quite the nervous talker."
Harry chuckled but was unable to meet Draco's fondly amused gaze. "Yeah. Always have been when it comes to this sort of thing. You can completely ignore what I said, you know. In fact, I think I'd prefer that."
"Really?" Draco tilted his head. "I'd much prefer dinner. Somewhere nice, Potter. I need to be wooed," he joked, laughing outright at the look on Harry's face. "Stop looking so frightened, you're beginning to hurt my feelings."
"I- You-" Harry stuttered, and Draco waited patiently. He'd waited this long and that was thinking Harry would never return his feelings. Now it was more like a game, and he was ecstatic. "You want to have dinner with me?"
"Ask nicely."
"Er. Draco, would you like to have dinner with me? Please?" His eyes were wide and hopeful, and Draco had a great view of the intense green irises magnified through his glasses. It was all he could do to play it cool against that.
"I would, yes. When are you free?"
"Now. Or, I mean, today. Tonight. Would tonight be good for you?"
"Tonight would be fantastic," Draco assured, and he couldn't hold it back any longer. He smiled and was sure he looked daft, his lips stretched so wide that it almost instantly started to strain his muscles, but the twinges of pain couldn't make him stop. Harry clearly didn't mind, grinning like a fool right back.
After the thirty minutes had passed, they were pleased to see that the paste had healed the burn completely. Draco had the chance to go home for the rest of the afternoon, but he transferred his lucky clover to his fresh set of robes when he changed.
He wasn't sure whether it was a little four-leafed magic or just unexpectedly fabulous compatibility that caused his date to go so smoothly, but he knew by the end of dinner that they wouldn't need any help to have something passionate and real develop between them.
And either way, at the end of the night, he still got lucky.