Of all the things Draco had said, it was the step out of Harry’s reach that finally seemed to break Harry, the hurt and realisation blooming across his features as if he’d been slapped. The fear and rejection muddled deep in the pit of his stomach, and Harry was ready to disregard his own safety, however Draco’s guilt was palpable, and it stalled him in place, never wanting Draco to feel at fault for how this had panned out.
For a moment, Harry just stared helplessly at Draco, before scrubbing his hands over his face, pushing his fingers underneath the rim of his glasses to stop childish tears from filling his eyes.
“I, uh-” he said, voice muffled. “****. No, I’m glad it’s you.”

Despite everything, Draco was also happy that they at least got to have this moment together. It wasn’t the news that he had ever wanted to give Harry, but now that it was inevitable he was glad that they at least got to be alone in this; just the two of them one last time.
Now, far more than ever before, Draco wished that he could just be honest with Harry about how he felt for him. It was pure selfishness, having just shared with Harry the consequences of them being too close for too long, so there really was no logical reason for him to share that, other than him knowing that this was his last chance to do so.
“Harry, I-“ he cut himself off, the words that he had been fighting so many times before now stronger than ever and Draco was having a hard time fighting them.
“I’d like to take a final test, if you are not opposed, just to get an idea of just how severe a situation we are looking at.”

_________________

Letting his hands fall, Harry blinked at Draco, eyes pink, though it wasn’t obvious whether with tears or with irritation. There were so many other things he wanted to say and do, but if this at least extended their time together, then Harry would do it a thousand times over.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice far off.
Forcing himself to turn slightly away from Draco and back towards his desk, Harry’s hands found the buttons of his coat, but he had lost feeling of the tip of his fingers, making for slow progress.
“I, uh-” he started, too, but decided on a different question. Eyes returning onto Draco, there was a helpless furrow between his brows. “Draco, you’re absolutely sure?”

The question felt like a punch to the gut for Draco, knowing that Harry didn’t ask it out of any ill will, but it had taken everything in him to even tell him in the first place, so it felt almost cruel to confirm it. However, Draco also knew that they both needed it, both of them needing to know for sure that this was real.
“I wouldn’t have told you this unless I was absolutely certain,” he stated, knowing that they both knew that, but despite that there was no malice or venom in his voice; just a feeling of being tired and dejected.
“Trust me, this is not the outcome I was hoping for either,” Draco added, knowing that they were both aware, but it was the closest thing he could come to say what he actually wanted to say.

_________________

Harry’s eyes flickered across Draco’s expression, desperate to find any sign of doubt, any possible opening for a different fallout. He didn’t find any.
He had to duck his head back towards the table to keep his eyes from glazing over, finding this entire thing so bitterly unfair. With some reluctance, he continued to work on unbuttoning his coat.
“I’ll get a second opinion from St. Mungo’s tomorrow,” he said, not out of distrust but of the absolute need to exhaust every possible option, wanting to take Draco up on his offer to forward it there. He glanced back up at Draco, hoping to convey just that, but not knowing how to phrase it.

Normally, Harry’s insistence on a second opinion would have wounded Draco’s professional pride, however, he so deeply understood Harry’s desperation for another way out that he couldn’t exactly blame him for it.
“I’ll send my findings to your primary healer as soon as we are finished here,” Draco stated, finding the professionalism suffocating, but he also knew that it was something that he had to cling to, otherwise he might end up doing or saying something that would further doom the both of them.
“Are you ready?”

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Harry wasn't ready; in fact, he doubted that he would ever be. Draco had laid out the cards for him already, and the test was nothing but a way of confirming what they already knew, offering little opportunity for a new discovery. It all felt so final, a goodbye stretched out into eternity.
It stalled his hands, for a moment feeling so young and helpless, before getting on with the inevitable.
"Yeah, hold on," he muttered, finally able to peel back some of his layers of clothes to bare the line of his sternum.
Needing to steady himself, Harry leaned against his desk, the back of his thighs resting against the edge. "I'm ready."

There was absolutely no denying that every single interaction between them was tinged with the deep melancholy of goodbye. Even if Harry intended to get a second opinion, Draco knew that both of them knew that no one was going to know more about this than him and that this was indeed going to be goodbye.
Rather than linger on his own sadness though, Draco went through the familiar movement of pulling out his wand and casting the spell he had done so many times before.

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The sting of Draco's spell was bitterly familiar, especially at the face that it might be the last. This case - his illness - had felt like it was neverendig to the point where it had mistly felt stagant, and the prospect of it all being over within a few days of Draco's breakthrough discovery filled Harry with a growing sense of anxiety, his mind. Body and heart struggling to match that tempo.
Standing just out of reach, Harry reached out towards Draco's hip, pleading him closer.

Draco thought that he would have gotten used to disappointment and heartbreak by now, but nothing could have prepared him to see Harry reach out for him. It took everything in Draco to not step closer, allowing for both of them to have that last bit of comfort, but as his spell slowly revealed just how bad the magic in Harry’s chest was getting, Draco found himself stepping back; feeling sick at the action but knowing that it was the right thing.
Grateful for his many years of practice in not getting what he wanted, Draco finished off his spell with a pit deep in his stomach, hating the glowing golden light emanating from Harry’s chest, knowing that that was what was keeping them apart definitely.
“Just as I thought,” he stated, feeling bile rise in his throat as he noticed just how close to Harry’s heart it was and feeling guilty for even being in the same room as him.
“I best be leaving now, I don’t want to expose you to unnecessary risk.”

_________________

Draco shying away from his touch struck Harry with a panic rather than the sting of rejection, making his mouth fall open in an unspoken objection. The gravity of Draco's recommendation, and his commitment to upholding it, was a punch in the gut; they had ended things before, but even that had been soothed by touch, making this all feel so final.
It felt desperately unfair not being able to touch Draco when he so clearly felt the bloom of Draco's magic deep beneath his skin. A rush of adrenaline took its place when Draco insisted he leave.
"You have to mark its placement," Harry blurted out, a fragile desperation in his voice.
He hadn't even known what he was going to say when he started the sentence, oblivious to anything beyond the fact that he couldn't bear not ever being touched by Draco again.
Having said it, it gained conviction, pleading that the guise of professional necessity would be enough to keep Draco, even for a moment longer. "I have to show them at St. Mungo's."
Turning, Harry clumsily reached for the ink vial on his desk, offering it to Draco once he straightened his posture.
"Please. You have to."

Hearing Harry pleading him for that last connection shattered what little remained of Draco’s heart, knowing that he should reject that request as well, but also utterly unable to find it within himself to do that.
It wasn’t fair.
Nothing about their situation was fair, however, Draco had been through too many of his notes, and even what secondary material he had been able to get his hands on, to still believe that there was anything to be done, other for than for them to be apart.
Draco had been certain that he would be able to be strong and cut himself off from Harry entirely, but seeing Harry in front of him, begging him to be gifted with that simple touch, Draco found himself entirely unable to turn him down.
“Alright,” he stated, his voice soft to keep his voice from breaking, feeling dangerously close to his breaking point but feeling the need to keep it together for Harry’s sake.
“Don’t reach for me, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you more than I already have.”

_________________

Harry’s jaw worked, swallowing down the objection growing on his lips, before eventually nodding.
It wasn’t enough, it was barely anything, and everything in Harry screamed to ask for more, but by the look on Draco’s face, Harry knew he was already pushing it. However hard it was for him to go without, it seemed abundantly clear that it was taking an even bigger toll on Draco to touch him.
Harry could be sick at the thought, wishing so desperately that they could have been something different.
Adjusting his grip of the ink vial, Harry shifted his fingertips to the bottom of the jar, allowing for a few inches of bare glass for Draco to take it. Harry doubted he would ever be able to verbally agree to Draco’s recommendation, too certain his voice would break, but he still hoped that this would be enough to show Draco he understood.

It seemed so woefully inadequate when Draco carefully dipped his finger in the ink, feeling like he was balancing on a knife’s edge, already knowing that he wasn’t supposed to even be this close.
Still, he leaned forward slightly, doing his best to not give into the muscle memory of having been close to Harry so many times before, and gingerly circled the area in which he had seen the magic.
It was shaky and Draco so wished that their last touch could be more than this, but he also knew that even this had been far too much.
“There ya go,” he stated and moved away, feeling the heartbreak in the distance he had to create between them.

_________________

The moment Draco stepped closer, Harry’s eyes briefly flickered between Draco’s face and his hand against Harry’s chest, unable to decide which of the two sights to commit to memory, before settling on his face, staring openly and unabashedly.
Draco was so heartbreakingly beautiful, even now when his expression was knitted shut and guarded. It took everything for Harry not to reach out for him and kiss him, willing to die for it, if it didn’t also mean Draco bearing the burden of killing him.
Feeling Draco’s departure hanging heavy in the air between them, like oncoming thunder, Harry parted his lips, having so much to say to him. For all the love Harry selfishly had for Draco now, Harry was also overcome with a feeling of being indebted to every version of Draco that came before; the fact that, in spite of everything they had once been, Draco had even given him the time of day, let alone this past year.
“Thank you,” Harry eventually managed, the words catching on his throat as if they were punched out of him. “For everything. For trying.”

The gratitude in Harry’s voice made Draco want to cry, feeling so woefully inadequate in a way that he wasn’t used to. This was supposed to be what he knew, what he could actually do, and yet he had been utterly unable to do anything of note that would help him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Draco stated, using all of his remaining strength to not just break down crying; wanting beg someone, something, to not separate them like this.
There was a million things that Draco wanted to tell Harry, but there was absolutely nothing he could say that wouldn’t feel incredibly selfish. Even telling Harry that he was going to miss him, something that barely managed to scratch the surface of what he felt for him, felt like far too much and much more than what Draco would be allowed to have.

_________________

There were so many things Harry wanted to say, but found that none of them really mattered anymore. Those words were reserved for a version of them that would keep existing the moment Draco walked through that door, but within the span of a conversation, they had ceased to be that version of themselves.
Harry felt the loss of Draco’s presence then, even though they were still in the room together. It was devastating, debilitating; it made tears swell to his eyes, though they seemed unable to fall.
Not knowing what else to do, Harry forced a smile, real only in his desperation to absolve Draco of guilt or responsibility. For what little it was worth to them now, Harry loved Draco like no other, and appreciated dearly everything he had done for him.

There was no devastation quite like the one Draco felt right in that moment, seeing Harry force a smile to send his way, even though both of them were deeply aware that there was nothing to smile about. It took everything in Draco not to just break down sobbing, knowing that Harry deserved better than that.
It took every ounce of self restraint for Draco to actually leave the room, sending Harry a look over his shoulder, intending to say something, anything, but the sight of Harry dried up anything he could think of saying. Instead, he just did the weakest wave he could muster as he left the room; noting that he was never going to see Harry again.
___________
The weeks since Harry had left had been absolutely torture for Draco.
While Paul had not been let in on the whereabouts of Harry, he had been instructed to tell Draco that he absolutely didn’t know anything about it either.
It was all the same really, Draco wasn’t sure he would have even been able to talk about it if he had wanted to, so it worked just fine for him to get to brush other people off about it.
The only downside to it had really been the deep sense of isolation he had been feeling ever since Harry let. Even knowing that it was for the better, Draco couldn’t deny that he missed Harry so much that he ached, having found himself unable to do anything but sink himself into his job and his studies again; not even Friday night pints had been enticing to him.

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Potter had been gone for nine months by the time Laura Szczepanski ventured to the Cursebreakers’ corner of the DLME, looking for Draco Malfoy.
They had last worked together when wrapping up the case about the safehouse at Towthorpe, almost half a year ago. Despite the finding of the basement and body, it had eventually been deemed a cold case. The magic there destabilised and crumbled shortly after the hatch had been discovered, taking with it much of the magical evidence and the threat the house posed on the surrounding Muggle neighbourhoods.
Regardless of how their assignments had differed, however, Laura had remained keenly aware of Malfoy’s poor mood, even at a distance. Even when the news finally came that Potter, definitively, wasn’t returning to the DMLE after several months of his absence being deemed temporary, Malfoy hadn’t seemed released by the finality of it, making Laura believe he had already known as much.
When time hadn’t seemed to lessen Malfoy’s hurt, months after, she had finally taken it upon to help soothe it herself.
Knocking on the open door of Malfoy’s office, Laura stopped in the doorway. “Do you have a moment?”

It wasn’t that Draco was somehow unaware of the fact that he had been in a foul mood ever since Harry had left.
In the beginning, he had at least tried to act like it wasn’t phasing him, however, as the news became public and more and more people had started approaching him to ask if he knew anything, Draco could feel his mood grow fouler and fouler.
By now, only Hannah and Paul dared approach him, and he knew that the only reason he still had a job was because he was still very good at it.
A soft knock on his door made Draco look up from his work, a scowl ready on his face, which softened slightly when he spotted Laura Szczepanski in the doorway to his office.
“Yeah, sure,” he stated, not really super keen on talking to anyone, but Laura had been kind to him since day one and had been one of few to tell others to leave him alone, so he was more open to a conversation with her than just about anything else.
“How can I help you Szczepanski?”

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