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The bed was lumpy.

He sneered as he glanced around the room, gaze bouncing between the expensive linens surrounding the enchanted windows and the gilded frames containing costly works of art. Returning to the bed, his narrowed eyes landed on the mysterious stain spread over the cuff of the threadbare duvet. His lip curled higher as he considered where the donations should have been directed instead of where they were obviously applied.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted closer to the edge of the thin, uncomfortable cushion. He couldn’t leave, aware his every move was being monitored. Standing would be pointless; he had nowhere to go. He looked away from the bedding, unwilling to think more deeply on what the stain might possibly be. His jaw tensed as he replayed the last few hours of his life. He could feel his conviction beginning to slip away, and he tapped his fingers against his elbow impatiently.

“Malfoy!”

Draco jerked his head up, shooting a glare toward the bars that separated him from the two Aurors.

“Time to go.”

Draco’s jaw flexed, and he stood slowly from the hay-stuffed bedding Azkaban called a mattress. It had taken him months to ignore the prickling, finally discovering an agreeable-but-no-one-would-call-it-comfortable way to sleep on the only piece of furniture. He brushed his fingers over the new robes he was given that morning, picking a stray bit of dried grass from the material as he moved toward the cell door. The one benefit he’d experienced after his reluctant agreement had been due only to unease. The Ministry didn’t care to have any unwelcome noses in their business, and had not only provided fresh, clean clothing, but a shower, something Draco hadn’t had in longer than he cared to recall.

“I didn’t realize you lot got clothes,” Smith smirked as he brandished his wand. “Hands,” he commanded gleefully.

Draco rolled his lips inward as he raised his hands, pressing the inside of his wrists together. He knew the drill, having been removed from Azkaban a number of times for various reasons.

Smith flicked his wand, encircling Draco’s wrists with a golden rope, and smiled smugly. “Can’t wait to see what happens to you.” He nudged his companion, who had stepped forward to unlock the cell door. “Too bad I can’t be there. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

Harry flicked his eyes briefly to the side, brows furrowed. He cleared his throat and returned his attention to their ward, his gaze sliding down Draco’s pristine black robes.

Draco lifted his chin, his customary sneer firmly in place. “What are you looking at, Scar Head?”

Harry took a deep breath and turned his back, moving toward the stairs. Smith glowered and jabbed Draco in the side with the tip of his wand. “Show some respect to your superiors, Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed, stumbling forward when Smith shoved him in the back. “Happy to; if you’d be so kind as to point me in their direction?”

Smith shoved Draco again, and Draco swore as the toe of his boot caught on an uneven stone. He flung out his bound hands to catch himself, reaching for the stair railing. What he caught instead was Harry’s hand, offered automatically as he turned toward the commotion. Draco gasped, lurching out of Harry’s grasp with a look of disgust the moment his feet were stable. Harry arched a brow but said nothing, resuming the journey toward the surface.

“Lucky Harry was there to catch you, or your face wouldn’t be so pretty anymore,” Smith snarled at him, catching Draco by the upper arm and hauling him up the steps.

“You think I’m pretty, do you, Auror Smith?” Draco drawled, fluttering his lashes as he turned his head to the left.

Smith growled and released him, stepping closer to the wall as he lifted his wand. “I think you’re about to—”

“Leave him alone, Smith,” Harry groaned.

Draco looked up, breaking his glare to find Harry looking tiredly down at them from two steps above.

“Can we please just do our jobs without the bickering?”

“Up to him,” Smith sneered, jerking his thumb to the right.

Draco glanced at Smith, eyebrows raised as if to say you started it, then turned back to Harry. He climbed the next step, maintaining eye contact, and Harry tilted his head to the side. “Don’t pretend that you aren’t enjoying this,” he hissed, upper lip curled.

Harry rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, leading the way without a backward glance. “Whatever, Malfoy.”

The remainder of the excursion was uneventful, save for the erratic jabs from Smith’s wand to his back, and Draco took a deep breath as they finally emerged into the weak morning sun. He closed his eyes, tilting his face up as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair.

“Don’t get used to it,” Smith snapped, interrupting Draco’s reverie, “You won’t be free for long.”

Draco hummed, tilting his head back down to meet Smith’s eyes. “I think you’ll be my first social call, once this is over.”

Smith bared his teeth and raised his wand. “Is that a threat, Malfoy?”

“Gods, that’s enough, Smith!”

Smith scoffed. “He threatened me and my family! You heard it!”

Harry shook his head. “Let’s just get him to St. Mungo’s, then you can be done with this.”

Smith snapped his jaw closed and lowered his wand, glaring at Draco as he wrapped tight fingers around his upper arm.

Draco tensed, flicking his gaze between Smith’s vindictive eyes. “I think I’d rather have Potter Apparate me. You’ll splinch us both.”

Smith snorted. “If I could choose, I’d splinch you no question, but I’m quite attached to all of my body parts.”

“I don’t think you’re in any kind of state—”

“I don’t give a damn what you think about—”

Harry let out a growl and stomped toward them, fitting his hand around Draco’s other arm and tugging him roughly from Smith’s grasp. “For the love of Merlin, just go!”

Smith’s mouth popped open, and he shifted his gaze between them before angrily spinning on the spot. Harry sighed as an echoing crack broke the silence and Smith disappeared, then he lifted his other hand to press his fingers against the bridge of his nose. Draco watched him in amusement, then tested Harry’s hold on him as he shifted his weight to the other foot.

Harry opened his eyes, his glasses falling crookedly back onto his nose as his hand fell away. “Why do you have to rile him up like that?”

Draco huffed a laugh. “You don’t agree with him?” He lifted a brow as Harry pressed his lips into a thin line. “Don’t you think this is what’s best for everyone?”

Harry tightened his grip and looked away, tugging Draco into a side-along without notice. They landed in the special Aurors Only lobby of St. Mungo’s a second later, and Draco ripped his arm free from Harry’s lax grip.

“Where are your manners, Scar Head? Haven’t you ever heard it’s customary to warn someone before you Apparate them? I could’ve been seriously injured!”

Harry sighed tiredly and took a step back. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

Draco watched as he turned toward one of the open doorways and stepped through without a backward glance. He didn’t move as Harry got further away, his eyes narrowing as he wondered which of the remaining paths might lead to the outside world.

“Don’t even think about it, Malfoy,” Harry called over his shoulder. Draco snapped his gaze to the right to see that Harry had paused in the corridor and turned back to look at him. “You’ve a monitoring spell on. You wouldn’t get far.”

Draco huffed and crossed his arms, dragging his feet as he moved to join Harry.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” Harry asked curiously. “You’re not being forced, are you?”

“Would that matter to you?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Look, we might not get along,” Draco interrupted him with a scoff, and Harry frowned, “But no one should be forced to participate in something dangerous.”

“I’m not being forced,” Draco mumbled.

“But do you want to do this?” Harry pressed.

Draco’s jaw shifted from side to side as he avoided Harry’s gaze. “It’s the only way to achieve my freedom.”

“You’re willing to risk being completely changed?”

Draco flicked angry eyes up at Harry. “To get out of Azkaban? To not end up like my father?”

A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the crumpled, weak man he’d caught a glimpse of just before the offer was presented to the prisoners. Lucius had only been incarcerated for three years, yet he’d deteriorated into a frail, meek bloke, utterly unrecognizable by anything but his matted platinum hair. Draco had been the only one to volunteer, willing to put his entire sense of self on the line if it meant a chance to live out the rest of his life on the other side of the bars.

“I’d risk everything,” Draco finished, his mouth set.

Harry’s eyebrows pressed together briefly, and Draco imagined it was because he couldn’t understand the desperation. He sneered, looking Harry up and down indignantly. “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? The Savior hasn’t ever had to make a decision like this, has he?”

“Why are you always such an arse?” Harry snarled.

Draco scoffed. “No answer? Obviously, I’m right, aren’t I? You just don’t want to admit it.”

“You don’t have the first clue about my life,” Harry sneered, the familiar ire from their school days finally bubbling to the surface. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, what choices I’ve had to make, what hardships I’ve faced.” He curled his fingers around Draco’s upper arm and wrenching him forward. “Now come on, they’re waiting.”

Draco turned his head at the sound of the door opening, sighing as the healer finally entered the small suite.

“About time,” Draco sneered, attempting to shove down his anxiety.

The healer smiled kindly as he approached the worn bed. “Apologies, Mr. Malfoy. There were some last-minute tests to run. Surely you’re appreciative of our attention to detail?”

Draco huffed and dropped his arms, his fingers beginning to numb from how tightly he’d had them crossed. “Can we just get on with it?”

The healer hummed softly under his breath. “You’re very disagreeable, aren’t you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for?”

The healer pursed his lips and nodded. “Someone with your particular personality will indeed make for quite an obvious case in support of this spell, should it work. But tell me, why have you volunteered to be the first to test such an extreme form of modification?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone suddenly so concerned with my decision? No one batted an eye when I first signed up months ago. No one asked me if I was certain during the exhaustive tests, the visits, the exams. No one cared why I agreed, happy to have a test subject at last. Why do you care now?”

The healer exhaled softly, moving to the foot of the bed. “Pitfall of my profession, I’m afraid.” He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and raised his wand. “Alright then, are you ready?”

Draco’s heart pounded in his chest, and he lifted his chin to hide the apprehension in his eyes. “Yes.”

The healer nodded and swished his wand. Draco watched him twist the implement in an unfamiliar pattern, the chant too soft to reach his ears. He tensed as the magic washed over him, his heart rate rising as he waited to feel the effects. As the healer ended the spell, the thrill of fear was the only emotion Draco could discern.

The healer lowered his wand, eyebrows arched expectantly. “How do you feel?”

Draco didn’t feel anything. Did it fail? Would he be ferried back to his cell, forced to remain in captivity as the new laughing stock of Azkaban? He turned his head sharply as the door to the small room opened again, watching silently as Harry stepped inside.

“Did it work?”

Draco felt the sneer slide from his lips, blinking slowly as his brows relaxed. His shoulders eased, his fists unclenched, and he was filled with conflicting, foreign emotions.

Peace. Compassion. Relief.

The corners of his lips tipped upward in a pleasant smile, and he turned back toward the healer. “I feel wonderful, thank you for asking.”

Harry gasped softly and took another step into the room. “Malfoy?”

Draco turned, his mouth spreading into a warm grin. “Please, call me Draco.”

Harry leaned backward, physically reacting to the uncharacteristic tone. “I’d rather not.”

Draco pushed his brows together and nodded. “As you wish, Auror Potter.”

Harry shifted his gaze swiftly toward the healer. “Is this real?”

The healer grinned and turned toward Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, would you mind terribly if I performed some tests?”

Draco slid backward on the mattress, settling against the metal headboard. “Go right ahead.”

Harry sucked in a breath as Draco threaded his fingers together over his stomach and closed his eyes. The warm rush of diagnostic spells blanked him, and Draco hummed appreciatively. He listened attentively as the healer confirmed his good health, smiling and blinking open his eyes as he finished the last of the spells.

“All good, I hope?” Draco asked merrily.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you’re as fit as a Hippogriff.”

“Wonderful news, thank you, healer-,” Draco cut off with a frown. “I don’t believe I got your name.”

The healer smiled warmly. “It’s Chapman.”

“Ah, thank you, Healer Chapman,” Draco said, standing from the bed and offering his hand. “It has been a pleasure.”

Chapman shook Draco’s hand, shooting Harry a smirk as Draco turned to face him.

“Now what, Auror Potter?”

Harry looked between the two of them nervously. “There’s no way this is an act?”

“None whatsoever,” Chapman confirmed. “The spell has been a complete success!” He moved toward the door, stepping around where Harry stood in the middle of the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a report to write!”

Harry took a deep breath as the door closed behind Chapman, slowly turning back to Draco. Draco beamed at him, clasping his hands behind his back and waiting patiently for a response, and Harry swallowed harshly. “I’m not sure I like this,” he muttered softly. “Is it reversible?”

Draco’s face fell, his eyes widening as he blinked at Harry. “You don’t like me? What have I done?”

“Uh,” Harry stuttered, his gaze turning panicked, “That’s not, erm,” he sighed and turned toward the door. “Come on, the Wizengamot will have questions for you before you can return to Malfoy Manor.”

Draco’s smile returned, and he nearly skipped as he followed Harry out of the room and down the corridor.