A Fine Line

Author's note: Many thanks to my ever-patient BETA, Oldoverholt, and to Peter and Travis, thanks for sharing your story.

Chapter One

Present Day...

"Too early," groaned Harry as he rolled over and silenced the alarm clock. Ten o'clock, time for another night shift. He stretched lazily back across the bed, then stopped, startled, when his arm did not meet anything warm, and he realized he was alone. He sat up in the four-poster and looked at the other side, where the pillows were still smooth, the coverlet tucked neatly under them. He was normally a restless sleeper, so it was a surprise that the bed was neat, but even more of a surprise that it was empty.

He swung his feet out of the bed and sat on the edge for a moment, looking at the picture on his bedside table. It had been taken at the commitment ceremony he and Draco had shared over two years ago. Draco was in black dress robes, and Harry in emerald green; they were facing the camera with Draco standing behind Harry, his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. They looked relaxed and in love...no one could know that the pose was entirely designed so that Draco could balance Harry on his 'good foot' because Harry absolutely refused for his crutches to be in the photo. The pair in the image smiled at him, and then looked sideways at each other.

He got up, smiling and rubbing his eyes, and headed to the adjoining bathroom. Toilet, wash hands, brush teeth; his routine was uncomplicated and free of wasted energy, unlike Draco's, he thought. He undressed and got into the shower, rinsing his body quickly. He wet his hair and smoothed on some of Draco's prissy conditioner to try to tame it. Getting out and wrapping himself in a towel, he looked critically at his reflection in the mirror as he pulled the comb through his hair.

"Only married wizards grow their hair, dear," the mirror trilled, as it did every morning. "You aren't married, you know..." He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at it. "Well!" it said, with a sniff.

I'm glad I let my hair grow, he thought; its shoulder length had tamed its unruliness to some degree. At least it doesn't stick up anymore... His eyes looked tired, though, with dark smudges underneath. His forehead had that worry-crease down the center. Night shift was not agreeing with him, but it was only for a few more nights. He rubbed his face tiredly, contemplated shaving, but decided to skip it and just cast a quick glamour to lighten the smudges. "I guess he had to work late again," he said to no one in particular, ignoring the mirror's hmmph sound as he applied the fine line of dark gray eyeliner along his bottom lashes. A little kohl just there, much better. There had not been a phone call; he was irritated but not surprised as he was scheduled to work a night shift and Draco would not have wanted to wake him.

He went to the wardrobe, pulled out a clean uniform and green healer's robes, and closed the door. The aluminum crutches by the wardrobe door gleamed in the lamplight. He had insisted to Draco that they stay in plain sight, to remind him of how far he had progressed, and he loved to be able to leave them there. He dressed quickly for work and headed downstairs, tying back his dark hair as he went. He gathered his keys and mobile into his jacket pockets, and left the house, setting the protective wards with a flick of his wand.

(*) (*) (*) (*) (*)

Harry Apparated directly into the staff lounge at St. Mungo's where he had worked for nearly two years as an Assistant Healer. He had sustained multiple injuries during Voldemort's defeat, and they had made it necessary for him to spend nearly two months in hospital, two weeks of which he had been unconscious. He had undergone Charmed Healing, as well as intensive (and usually painful) physical therapies on his legs, particularly his left knee, which had been shattered. Therapy had continued for nearly another year. He had decided after his recovery that he wanted to give back something positive, and this had led him to disregard N.E.W.T.'s and go for training at a Muggle college as a therapist, convincing the Healers at St. Mungo's that there were benefits to therapy, and he was proof. He usually worked the daytime rotation but another therapist was on holiday, so he had volunteered to fill in; his primary function at night was passive exercises with patients who were too ill to participate themselves. He checked his reflection in his locker mirror as he hung up his jacket, and rubbed at the worry-crease again. He clipped the name badge, "H. Potter, Physical Therapist" to his scrub top and headed for the desk.

"Hi Parvati, how's Ms. Jenkins?"

Parvati Patil looked up from her charting and gave Harry a smile. "Hi, Harry. She's doing better tonight, she has been resting quietly and her signs are all good." She handed Harry the medical chart. "How's Draco?"

"He wasn't home yet when I got up, I guess he's working late. He might call when he gets in, though. Will you find me if he does?"

"Sure," she replied, "I'll track you down." She stood up to gather her paperwork, and gave him a grin. "Going for the George Michael look again?" she teased, rubbing his shadowy cheek.

He laughed. "Yeah, but there's a fine line between enthusiasm and talent, so think carefully first if you decide to ask me to sing."

Still chuckling, he proceeded down the dimly lit hall to Ms. Jenkins' room. Janie, one of the nursing assistants, was just coming out in a swish of yellow healer's robes. "She's had a bit of a wash, and is all ready for you, Mr. Potter." She smiled shyly. He nodded his thanks and went into the room.

Lani was asleep, as usual, her reddish-brown hair feathered softly over her pillow. Janie must have brushed it, he thought. Her face showed slight pallor under her tan and there were tired looking smudges around her eyes, although her expression was serene. Harry guessed that she was about his age, twenty or so, but had never bothered to check. She had been in St. Mungo's nearly two weeks since her family had found her in their home, apparently the victim of a domestic invasion. She had been given potions for a few days to keep her in a 'protective sleep' while they healed her more significant injuries, but now, even though the potions had been stopped, she had not awakened.

He glanced at the monitor and saw that her vitals were within normal limits, and he drew the curtain around her bed. "Are you ready for your workout, Lani?" He lifted the blanket from her left leg, making sure to keep the rest of her body covered and warm. He slipped his left hand under her foot, and the right under her knee, and began the passive exercises that were designed to keep her muscles flexible and her joints moveable. Who knew, someday she might wake. Someone did this for me, he thought, always amazed. He continued with the soothing, repetitive motions, exercising her legs in turn, and then moving to her arms. As he worked, stretching her muscles, he talked to her, about anything and nothing. He wondered if she would remember his voice, if she ever woke up. He remembered vague sounds and voices from the time he had been unconscious, but had never had the same caregivers for any length of time, so no one sounded familiar to him when he finally came around. He hoped that if, no, make that when, Lani woke, she might remember his voice, find him familiar afterwards, and be comforted by that. He finished her routine and arranged the covers on her bed, looking at her face searchingly for any sign of response or change. Someday... "Good night, Lani," he said, softly, and turned off the light.

The rest of the shift was smooth, quiet, and very routine. He had five other patients to care for, and their programs were smoothly accomplished as well. He sat down at the desk to chart the care he had given, and smiled as a mug of tea appeared at his elbow, along with a vial of headache potion. Parvati's small hand touched his shoulder. "You look like hell, Harry. Why don't you just go home? It's nearly five, it's Friday night, or is that Saturday morning?" She yawned, and tugged his ponytail playfully. "Anyway, you're finished with your patients. Seamus is here, and he can help me if I need him. Drink your tea, and make your notes, and then just go, home, okay?"

He smiled at her appreciatively and took a drink of the tea. It was strong and good. He nodded. "Okay, I think I'll do that, thanks. See you Monday."

(*) (*) (*) (*) (*)

Harry drew his wand to remove the wards from the front door and stepped into the kitchen, dropping his things on the dresser, and hanging his jacket on a chair. He drew the milk out of the refrigerator without turning on a light, and drank straight from the bottle. Draco hates when I do that. He sighed tiredly as he turned around, and jumped as he caught sight of Draco, his head pillowed on his arms at the kitchen table, asleep. Nearly gave me a heart failure. Files, briefs, quills, laptop, a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and a beer were scattered on the table around him. A beer? Obviously he had a tough day, Harry thought, putting the milk away. He stepped over and placed his hands on Draco's shoulders, rubbing them softly. He leaned down and kissed the back of his neck, and whispered, "Come on, love. Let me take you upstairs."

Draco sighed, and opened his eyes. He looked up at Harry and smiled. "Hi, Harry. Mmmm...I guess I fell asleep, huh?" He gestured at the mess on the table, and shook his head. He stood and stretched, turning into Harry's arms, and hugged him. "I'm sorry I didn't call you at work. I just got in so late, and started on this crap. Lovely eyes, though," he murmured, kissing Harry tiredly. He gestured at the table, "Well you see what happened." He put a hand to his hair and pulled out the tie that held it. "I just can't seem to catch up. Sorry."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're home," Harry replied softly, "Come on up to bed. I'll take care of this later in the morning." Draco nodded, and he followed Harry up the stairs.

Harry stepped out of the shower a few minutes later and wrapped himself in his worn terry bathrobe. Draco hates this bathrobe, he thought, smiling, but it's so cozy. He walked out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair, and saw Draco, lying on top of the covers, fully dressed, fast asleep. He looks exhausted, he thought, I can't remember when he's had such dark circles under his eyes. "Draco, aren't you going to get undressed?" He did not move. Harry smiled as he slipped Draco's shoes off, then lifted a quilt from the foot of the bed and spread it over him. He slipped into the bed next to him, and smiled. He always sleeps with his mouth open, he thought. He snuggled up to Draco's side, put his arm around his waist, and sleep took him as well.

(*) (*) (*) (*) (*)

Harry awoke the next morning, alone again in the cold bed. He heard the phone ring, a few angry words in Draco's clipped voice, and then the slam of the receiver. He rubbed his forehead; the stubborn lingering headache remained. He went to the bathroom for another headache potion, then pulled his comfy bathrobe over his green loungers and padded downstairs.

"Babe?" He went over to the table, where Draco was shifting anxiously through his papers and files. "Can I help you find something?" Draco shook his head, and continued to sort the pages, his hands shaking slightly. "Let me make you some tea, or a coffee?"

"I don't need tea, I need that file!" he nearly shouted, as he threw the papers into his leather briefcase with a muttered oath. He swept his fingers through his unusually messy hair, and rubbed his nose absently. "I just can't figure out where I would have put it. It's information about one of Father's associates, and it's one of the most important cases we've got right now. He's being accused of things that he didn't have any involvement in, and I know he's innocent. I can't let him down." Draco was working in the Ministry of Magic along with Dean Thomas, as a research clerk. He hoped to go into an investigational business for himself, but that was still a very long way away. "I guess I'm just going to have to go into the Ministry today. I know the information is in my files there, and I'll have to re-create it somehow. I can't let Father down." He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. Harry noticed that his hands were shaking a bit more now, and stepped closer and touched Draco's shoulder tentatively.

"Draco, you're going to make yourself sick," he said, softly. "Please...just stay home today. You've been out late every evening this week. Surely the brief will turn up, or you can re-do it on Monday. We were going to Hermione's today for lunch, and...well...I'm worried about you, is all," he finished lamely.

Draco smiled, and reached out to touch Harry's cheek, and rubbed it softly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I'm really fine. It's just a busy time at work, and with Father being one of the clients, I don't dare screw this up. You understand, right?" Harry nodded uncertainly. "Tell Hermione I'm really sorry." He leaned in to kiss Harry, and murmured, "I love you," against his lips. He stood up and retrieved his briefcase and keys. "Don't worry, I'll be home by dinner." He stepped out the door and was gone.

(*) (*) (*) (*) (*)

Harry spent the next few hours around the house, tidying up the kitchen from Draco's work marathon the night before, and then going out in the garden to pull weeds from the flowerbed. He had kept the prior owner's vegetable patch, the edible plants intermingled with the flowers; it kept the bed from looking shaggy as the vegetables went to seed. He picked enough strawberries to fill a small basket, and took them inside to take to Hermione. He stepped out of the front door a few minutes later and headed for Hermione's house for lunch. Draco had not wanted to live in the arse-end of nowhere, but Harry had begged for the little country suburb, using their desire for quiet and privacy as the final wedge in his argument. It was close enough to Hermione's place for frequent visits, but not too close, they had not wanted to get under each other's skin. He considered apparating to Hermione's doorstep, and then the breeze teased his face, lifted his hair, and he decided to walk.

He had grown to love their little suburb, it was cozy and intimate when they wanted it to be, but afforded them more privacy in their relationship than a large city like London. The had kept only the closest of their separate circles of friends, Hermione and Seamus, for the most part, with occasional casual visits from Blaise and Pansy who had married a few months ago. They considered themselves homebodies, and stayed home or went to the homes of a few close friends rather than going out on the town. Harry had encouraged Draco to accept a position in the Ministry of Magic with Dean. Draco was always so interested in the law and could argue with anyone about almost anything, so he would surely make a great debater. He got along well with Scrimgeour now, as well, and had much to offer the Ministry in terms of knowledge and loyalty. Harry had traveled to a local Muggle college for his classes in Physical Therapy, and Draco had supported this as well. Neither of them truly needed to work for income, as Harry's inheritance plus his share in the Weasley twins' business had provided a sizeable nest egg, but they both admitted they would be bored out of their minds at home and had sought work as something productive to do.

His mind continued to wander as he walked causing him to arrive at Hermione's house sooner than he had expected. He was startled from his daydream as he walked directly into the picket fence surrounding it. He laughed at himself, then went through the gate to the porch and knocked on the door.

"Harry! I'm so glad you could come today. I've missed you this week," said Hermione, as she ushered him inside. She had obviously been painting something; she was wearing a faded men's shirt as a smock, and had a dab of blue on her nose. Her hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid. "I've been painting my downstairs spare room to be a study, but I think I should have just spelled it blue," she said, laughing.

He nodded, grinning, handing her the basket of berries. Hermione did love to try to do things the Muggle way. "You got your nose nicely though."

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Just let me wash up a bit and get rid of this smock." She went into the kitchen and slipped out of the shirt, laying it inside out on the back of a chair. "Draco not coming?" she asked, taking in the expression on his face, and Harry shook his head. She scrubbed her hands in the sink and as she wiped the paint off her nose, she looked at him, concerned. "You look tired, love, even with the glamour."

He looked at her, surprised. He had been so careful to cast it right, and thought he had done okay. "It shows?"

She nodded, and then said teasingly, "But your eyes are beautiful, as usual." Her face became somber again. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "Something is going on with Draco," he confessed. He sat down at the kitchen table, and she came over with the teapot. "He came home really late last night and didn't call me at work like he usually does. I didn't think much of it at the time, but when I got home he was asleep at the table. He had papers and stuff all over, a BEER, for heaven's sake. Draco never drinks beer. I didn't even know we had any in the house." He pushed his fingers through his untidy hair, and took the cup of tea Hermione handed him, blowing into it. He looked up at her, and she laid her hand on his hair, comfortingly. He bent his head and said softly, "He went to work today, and he never works Saturdays. I miss him so, he's been so distant...we haven't made love in weeks." He blushed slightly as he said this, and felt his eyes prickle; he rubbed at them fiercely.

Hermione frowned, and turned toward the cupboard, so as not to embarrass him. "I wonder what he has going on," she mused aloud, as she bustled about the kitchen, bringing out sandwiches and rinsing the strawberries. "He does love to spend his weekends with you, Harry. He's very jealous of that time with you." She handed him a plate with a sandwich and berries. "He doesn't often let things come up like that."

"He said it was some research at the Ministry involving one of his father's associates," replied Harry, uncertainly. "I know that would stress him, he hasn't had the best relationship with Lucius since leaving school and bunking up with me. Lucius told him he wouldn't have his son shagging The Golden Poof." He smiled ruefully at her, and took a bite of chicken salad.

"Well that's just ridiculous, The Golden Poof indeed. But that's probably the reason he's upset," replied Hermione, firmly, sitting down next to him with her plate. "He doesn't want to take a chance of messing up his father's case, especially since he is in a relationship with you, because Lucius would certainly say it was because of you." She took his hand in her small ones. "He loves you, Harry. He's stressed and he's not used to it. He's so used to being in control." She smiled at him. "Just take care of him, love him, and be supportive. This case can't last forever, and he'll be back to rights again."

"I hope so..."