Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any recognizable people/places/plotlines, nor am I making any profit from writing this!

Notes: This is the sequel to The Redemption of Draco Malfoy. You'll want to read that first if you haven't. :3 This story is a little more AU than Redemption, considering there's a lot of OCs and the direction the plot's taking, but I'd like to think to the settings and story are relatively canon appropriate. So, it's not too crazy. There's not much in canon that I was able to find about healers other than some spells and whatnot, so I should probably mention that almost everything about their hierarchy, culture, etc. is my own invention.

Have fun reading and please review! I can't improve my writing without feedback, and I appreciate every comment!

Warnings: Swearing, inernalized homophobia, references to PTSD and depression, disgusting amounts of fluff, implied m/m sexual content (if you want to read the version with actual porn, go to my account on Archive of our own under the same username!), canon-typical violence

Chapter 1: Not a Total Disaster

Draco knew he'd made more than a few bad decisions in his life. This, he decided, had to be one of the worst. It was the night before the start of his first term at Loxley Academy of Healing Arts, and he had a dinner date. With Harry. ...And his mother. It might not have been so bad if they'd planned for it at the manor, or something. Harry, however, had other ideas. Which is how Draco found himself in some swanky muggle restaurant, staring murderously at the wine menu while Harry went to the manor to drag his mother there. They would be surrounded by muggles who had no idea who they are. That was the logic behind Harry's choice of venue – so that when Narcissa Malfoy lost her shit when they announced that they were officially together, it might not wind up in the morning edition of the Prophet. Draco was fucked and he knew it. He never could trust his judgment when anything to do with Harry Potter was involved, and sharing a bed with him didn't seem to change that in the slightest. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. Maybe he'd get lucky and Narcissa would refuse the invitation.

...Or not.

"I can't believe this is happening," Draco groaned under his breath as he saw Harry walk into the busy dining room with his mother in tow. Harry was actually dressed somewhat respectfully in a green collared shirt and black slacks, instead of his usual ratty muggle jeans and t-shirts. Narcissa, as usual, looked extravagant and reeked of old money, no matter what she wore – which was a short black dress with silver embroidery, and a fox fur shawl. Thankfully, she didn't stand out too much as the restaurant was very formal and many of the muggle women were also dressed to the nines.

"Good evening, mother," He said, with a nod of his head as she took a seat in the chair across from him.

"Draco," She replied, and looked around the restaurant warily.

Narcissa Malfoy, in a muggle restaurant. Draco was relatively sure that had to be a sign of the apocalypse. The whole thing was bloody mental. How would she even react when they brought up their relationship? She'd taken it fairly well when Draco had finally owned up to having feelings for Harry, but admitting that they were actually together was something else entirely. If it were his father, Draco at least knew he could count on a spectacle full of ranting and swearing about how much of a disappointment he was. Narcissa, on the other hand, might make her peace with it. She also might get up and leave without a single word, and pretend the whole thing never happened when he tried to bring it up later. Draco took a deep breath and ordered a glass of wine.

He hardly paid attention to the conversation they were having, and didn't remember what he ordered for dinner in the slightest. He would nod his head or smile in agreement whenever it was obvious that he was expected to participate, until Harry rested his hand on his thigh under the table. He gave Harry a dirty look, wanting to say something along the lines of 'fuck off, not in front of my mother', but all that came out was an aggravated sigh.

"So, you're seeing each other," Narcissa finally said, making eye contact with Draco who wished he could go die in a hole someplace. It had been a statement, not a question. They hadn't even needed to bring the subject up. Of course not. Harry had basically been eye-fucking him the entire night.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy." Harry's grip on Draco's thigh tightened. Draco had meant to pry it off, but laced his fingers with Harry's instead.

"Draco," Narcissa said in a flat tone, her face unreadable. She delicately took a sip of her wine. "I believe I advised you to shag men with more class than Zabini."

Draco wished he could drop dead on the spot. "Sorry to have disappointed you, mother." The words came out with a sarcastic, condescending edge and Harry coughed to hide a bark of laughter.

"I also believe I told Mr. Potter, after the attack at the manor, that I would strangle him with his own entrails if he ever hurts you," Narcissa said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I am not blind, but neither is the rest of the world. You can't keep it a secret forever."

"I know that," Draco mumbled, suddenly very interested in the lace tablecloth.

"I promise I'll take good care of him," Harry smiled and squeezed Draco's hand reassuringly. "I would rather not die painfully."

"Good. I am glad we understand each other," Narcissa replied with a smirk. "Lucius will not take kindly to this."

"When has he taken kindly to anything I have done since the war?" Draco complained. "I couldn't care less what he thinks anymore. Honestly, mother, I think I'm proud to be a disgrace to my ancestors."

"He may feel differently once he learns that he is a half-blood at best, if Spica's journal is to be believed," Narcissa replied icily.

"Half-blood?" Harry said incredulously. "That was so long ago, in the middle ages; does it even matter now?"

"Blood purity is a matter of pride for Lucius. It may be all he feels he has left, considering circumstances. Lucius won't approve of this, that goes without saying, but he will eventually come to tolerate it, I assume," Narcissa said, looking to Draco who was pointedly avoiding her gaze. "You are my only child. I lied to Voldemort to keep you safe. If you honestly think that this will change my affection for you, then you are even more naïve than I thought you were. ...Stop picking at your food and eat it! Where are your manners Draco Lucius Malfoy! Did I raise you in a mansion or a barn?!"

Draco choked on his wine and Harry snickered, which earned him a sharp kick in the shin.

All things considered, it hadn't been a complete disaster. Narcissa even gathered Draco up in a hug before disapparating back to the manor. Draco wasn't sure how to process that, and stood there with his mouth hanging open in shock while Harry laughed at him. Narcissa Malfoy did not just randomly hug people on muggle street corners.

"Your middle name is Lucius," Harry said, unable to keep a straight face.

"Shut up, Harry James Potter," Draco said with a grimace. "Let's go home."

The following morning, Draco woke up nose to nose with his least favorite kneazle. Princess glared at him unblinkingly with her beady yellow eyes from her perch on his chest. She purred and pressed her nose against his.

"Potter, feed your bloody kneazle," Draco grumbled, nudging the sleeping man next to him with his elbow.

It was still early, just before sunrise. He had about three hours before he had to leave for class. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little apprehensive. Hopefully his fellow student healers would be less judgmental than the self-important wankers he attended Auror training with. Draco yawned and shoved Princess off of him. He leaned over and brushed a few strands of messy black hair away from Harry's face, and kissed the iconic lightening bolt scar on his forehead. Harry came awake with a startled gasp, and rolled right off the edge of the bed. Draco winced as he hit the floor with a thump.

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Draco drawled. Harry didn't reply. "Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry grumbled and climbed back into bed. "Piss off, Princess," He growled as the obnoxious kneazle started kneading his thigh. She glared at him, and pranced out of the room, twitching her tail angrily

"Is something wrong?" Draco asked and moved closer, but Harry shoved him away. Wonderful, he thought dismally. He's finally come to his senses and realized having an ex-Death Eater in his bed was a bad idea.

"Not right now, I need..." Harry rubbed his eyes, and didn't finish the sentence. He stared vacantly at his hands that were shaking slightly.

"..Nightmare," Draco realized, and relaxed. Harry nodded, and took a deep breath.

"Sometimes I don't know where I am when I wake up," He mumbled. "Sorry for pushing you away."

Draco moved closer and gently took Harry's hands in his. Draco tried not to wonder what he was dreaming about. He wouldn't ask. He had enough night terrors of his own to know better than to badger Harry for the details. If anything, it had been a miracle that he'd gone nearly four days without one. Harry dragged Draco against him and buried his face in his shoulder. Draco carded his fingers through Harry's hopelessly disheveled hair, wishing he had some idea how to comfort him. He knew how to tear a person to metaphorical shreds with a few well-chosen words, but when it came to something like this...

"...And I want to be a fucking healer. I must be mental," Draco thought aloud as Harry practically clung to him. Harry didn't reply; Draco didn't expect him to. Maybe it wasn't necessarily about words. Maybe it was enough just to hold him. Maybe empathy would come to him eventually. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and held him tight. How was he going to make it as a healer if his first reaction to seeing someone in pain was to either laugh or tell them to grow a pair? Well, when he wasn't completely indifferent to it.

Harry ruffled Draco's hair affectionately. "You need to get ready for class."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," Harry said with a thoroughly fake smile. "It's just... How many years has it been since the Triwizard tournament, and I still have nightmares about it? Not just Cedric – all of it."

"If it's any consolation, my mother didn't think anything was amiss at the Manor the first time the nocturnox was there, because she's used to hearing me scream at night," Draco replied dully. "I need a shower. Want to make breakfast?"

"Only if I can come with you," Harry said mischievously.

"No," Draco said firmly, unable to stop the flush that he felt creeping into his cheeks. "I don't want to go to my first day of classes at Loxley Hollow smelling like sex."

"So the jury's still out for the second day, then?"

Draco pushed Harry down on to the bed and tossed a pillow at him. "We'll see."

"Or you know, we can take that shower anyway because that's what soap is for," Harry retorted, pulling Draco down on top of him. Draco let out a very undignified yelp and fell flat on top of him. "I can't promise you won't smell like my shampoo, though."

Harry nudged Draco in the groin with his thigh, and nipped at what he knew was a sensitive spot near his collarbone. He moaned and closed his eyes as Harry trailed fluttery kisses across his chest that was exposed through his half buttoned silk pajama shirt. They hadn't gotten much further than this – a few kisses and exploratory touches. Draco had a habit of having a crisis whenever it got too steamy. He still struggled with his insecurities about being with a man, but the easy, comfortable routine they'd fallen into over the last few days had helped him come to terms with some of it. … So had the ridiculous dinner date with his mother.

"Stop," He said and gave Harry a light shove. "I'll be late for class..."