Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Six

At a quarter to nine, Draco's office door rattles in its frame as Potter bursts through. "You prat!"

"Can I help you?" Draco asks, utterly nonplussed.

"I don't know, you miserable sod, can you?"

That's when Theia arrives in the doorway, panting. She looks from Potter to Draco with wide blue eyes, waiting for some kind of instruction.

When Draco hired her, he'd made sure she wouldn't be afraid to block indignant wizards from storming into his office to have a go at him. But it is one thing to be capable of handling oneself in a fight and another for that fight to be against the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

"You can go, Theia. He's not here to kill me."

"You can stay, actually, because I'm not making any promises." Potter turns his glare on Draco. "Fix it."

Draco stares blankly at him. "Sorry?"

"Fix it, Malfoy."

"You're really going to have to be more specific than that."

Theia is still looking between them with her mouth parted in concern.

"My eye, would you fix my bloody eye? It was working perfectly and then I get into one argument with you and I start seeing things. I was actually starting to think you'd grown up, you tosser."

Draco stands immediately, moving to Potter's side to examine the eye at closer range. It swivels towards him.

"What are you doing?" Potter asks.

"I didn't curse you."

Everything looks normal, but when he tries to remove the eye to get a better look, the metal base is stuck on Potter's face. "Why isn't it coming off?"

"You tell me."

He jerks at it harder, and Potter grimaces. "Would you fuck off, already?"

"Potter, I promise you this, I'm just as concerned as you are."

"It's my bloody eye."

"It's my bloody spellwork. What are you seeing?"

Potter grits his teeth in silence for a moment. Draco can see the tense working of his jaw back and forth. Then he says, "Words. At least, I think they're words. I can't read them, but they're everywhere. Signs aren't right anymore. My walls are covered. Everything."

Draco looks at Theia again, and her eyebrows are drawn up in concern.

"Close the clinic for the day," he says. "I need to have a look at Mr Potter's eye."

Theia grimaces. "You know what'll happen. I do that, yer other patients will be furious with me."

"Ask them kindly to reschedule, please. I'll work overtime for the next month to fit them in if I have to."

She seems to understand the gravity now, because she nods sharply and walks away, leaving Draco alone with Potter, who still looks like he's pondering violence.

Draco pulls him into the office and shuts the door behind them, pressing Potter's shoulders until he takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

He looks haggard today, nothing like he had at the charity auction. His hair's even more of a mess than usual, and his clothes look slept in.

"When did you say the problem started?"

"I didn't. Yesterday afternoon."

"Not immediately after the gala, then."