My Happiness Is a Shade of Blue

Harry Potter arrived at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries with his chart listing him as D.O.A., Dying on Arrival. Harry Potter just happened to arrive at St. Mungo’s on a night when Draco Malfoy was the Head Healer on duty. After assessing his patient, hearing what the Healers from the front line had to say and banging his head against the wall at the unfairness of it all, Draco concluded that Harry had been poisoned. The good news was that it was obviously a slow acting poison, and since it had been caught in good time it probably could be cured. The bad news was that no one knew which particular potion had poisoned Harry.

Draco did not know for sure which of his cures would work, and the stress of that was killing him. He needed some stress relief and just like that, Longbottom came into view. Besides it was fun to mess with him.

“What do you mean you don’t know which potion he could have drunk, you moron?” Draco screamed at Neville Longbottom. Neville was the Head Healer for the front line of the Light during the war and was currently in a screaming match with the Head Healer from St. Mungo’s, who happened to be a childhood enemy.

“Oh, lay off yelling at me, Malfoy,” Neville volleyed back. “The days of intimidation are over. You claim you’re the best. Now prove it.”

Rolling his eyes spectacularly, Draco said, “It’s not that easy. You don’t know who poisoned him, when it was done, which ingredients were in the potion or have any idea for a counter potion. I’d say you’re good and fucked. Too bad I don’t care”

But the truth was, Draco did care. He had had a secret crush on Harry Potter for years. And he did know what the poison was, for the most part. He even had his assistant making the counter potions so they could test Potter’s blood before issuing an antidote. But Longbottom didn’t need to know that.

“Harry’s going to die?” Longbottom looked crushed and for a split second, Draco felt bad. “How can he die? Voldemort’s not dead yet.”

Longbottom looked at Draco and said something that reawakened many of Draco’s demons. “You’d better not fail at this like you did everything else. Don’t be responsible for his death, too.”

On his way back up to his lab, Draco was overwhelmed with emotion. He had thought that the Wizarding world would forget his mistakes now that he was a great Healer. But it seemed that no one had forgotten.

The Wizarding world did not look kindly upon Draco Malfoy in the summer of 1997. He had just finished his sixth, and final, year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As everyone in the wizarding world now knew, he had been given the task of killing Professor Dumbledore, and he had failed. Miserably. Not that Draco wished that he had been the one to kill him! He just wished that no one knew he was a failure.

Draco had discovered, not long after leaving Hogwarts on that cool evening in June that Snape had been working for Dumbledore’s “Order” for years, not that he understood what that really was. He just knew that Snape was not blindly working for the Dark Lord. It brought him more comfort than could be explained. Snape knew, without Draco ever telling him, that Draco had no desire to work for Voldemort. How he knew this was a mystery. Draco found out that Snape had made a pact with his mother to protect him the summer before Dumbledore was killed. She was dead by the time Draco had failed to carry out his task, and Snape had to do it for him, making him wonder if Snape would have followed through knowing that Death Eaters had already killed Narcissa. After all, was an Unbreakable Vow was still unbreakable after one of the parties had died?

It wasn’t a difficult choice for Draco to join the Order of the Phoenix; once he had learned that his father had been killed trying to escape from Azkaban. While both sides wanted him dead, at least one side was willing to let him live as long as he worked with them. Being a Slytherin, the choice was clear. With both parents dead and no NEWTS to speak of, Draco had to go to work, something he found most distasteful. The Order members were actually the ones who found him a job working as an orderly at St Mungo’s.

Five years flew by and Draco climbed his way up the ladder and had become a very successful Healer by the age of 23. He had fought hard to earn respect and, like a true Malfoy, often demanded it when it was not given. He was smart, speedy and on the fast track to becoming a Potion master himself. He had not seen Potter since the night he had sworn his allegiance to the Light. This was actually a good thing because, although his sexuality was not in question, his secret crush was definitely not public knowledge. Since the first dragon task in fourth year, Draco Malfoy liked Harry Potter.

Harry also had strong feelings. Draco was sure they were strong feelings of hate. In the five years since he had last seen him, Harry had also made his sexuality known. His was done on a much more spectacular level when the press had literally caught him in bed with Viktor Krum. Since then, Harry had been on every gay man’s top five list. His role in the war left little time for dating and even less time for thinking of childhood rivals.

That was until fate decided to intercede. When Neville’s team brought in the newly injured, Draco was at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Seeing that one of the casualties was Potter nearly rocked Draco’s world. The potion required to heal Potter was not a difficult one. That was if, in fact, Draco had indeed figured out the correct poison.

Draco was in his lab double-checking his assistant’s brewing skills and his own research when he heard a voice yelling obscenities and coming closer to the door. Unfortunately it was a voice he recognized all too well.

“Where is that bloody ferret? How in the hell did he get to be Head Healer?” Ron Weasley’s voice bellowed down the hall. “We’re putting Harry’s life into the hands of a want-to-be Death Eater?”

Although Draco couldn’t be certain who it was, he was quite certain that it was a woman who quickly corrected him. “He’s not a want-to-be Death Eater, Ron. For the Gods’ sake, he swore his allegiance to the Light in front of you! He’s a Healer, and by all accounts a good one. Let’s let him help Harry.”

“I can’t believe Harry’s life is in the hands of a Malfoy and you expect me to be calm about it!” Ron said, a bit quieter this time. “If his father…”

Draco winced before he heard the woman interrupt. “But he’s not his father. He’s proved that. Don’t you find it ironic that Draco has been chosen to save Harry’s life?”

‘Why is that ironic?’ Draco thought.

“Why is that ironic?” Ron asked.

Draco smiled as he heard his thought being spoken, and then shuddered when he realized Ron had had the same thought.

“You know as well as I do that Harry has always had a passion for Draco Malfoy,” the female voice stated. “As kids it came out with physical fighting. But now, I think it would manifest itself quite differently.”

Again, Draco found that the Weasel voiced his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Ronald Weasley. Don’t start that crap about Harry dating your sister again…”

“That’s not what I mean, Hermione.”

‘Well, that solves who the mystery woman is,’ Draco thought. He got off of his stool and opened the door to the hallway where one tall, gangly redhead stood with a petite, bushy-haired brunette. ‘Good to see things haven’t changed,’ Draco thought.

Ron suddenly advanced, grabbed Draco by the front of his lab coat and snapped, “Where is he? Where’s Harry?”

Hermione tugged on Ron’s arm until he let go. She turned to Draco and said, “Hello, Draco. It’s nice to see you again. What’s Harry’s condition?”

Although he’d been on the side of the Light for years, he was still surprised when people treated him cordially. It took him a few moments to recover. When he did he was all business.

“He’s resting well in room 331. The exact nature of the poison is unknown as is the counter-potion. I have several different antidotes brewing and when they are ready, we’ll have to place a drop of blood from Harry into each and determine which route to go,” Draco responded in his most clinical tone.

Ron’s face turned red almost immediately. “You don’t know which potion to give him? I thought you were the best?”

“I’m not ‘Miracle Max’, Mr. Weasley,” Draco said, painfully wincing when he called Ron ‘Mister’. “And I need not remind you that we are in a hospital. You must keep your voice down.”

Hermione was between the two men and she could see into Draco’s eyes. She could tell he was making an effort to be professional, even with people he did not care for, and she appreciated it.

“Can we see him? We’d like to sit with him,” Hermione said, placing her hand on his forearm.

Draco looked down at the hand and said, “I do not see any reason why not. I’ll have one of the orderlies conjure you some chairs.” He quickly turned and closed the door to his office, quite confused by what had just happened.