Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Seven

Teddy stumbles out of the Floo half an hour later, waving a jolly hello.

Draco had barely convinced Potter to stay for this, but eventually he'd managed. Potter's standing in the corner, his arms crossed, his face a map of fury and discomfort.

"Wotcher," Teddy says. "Don't you two make a lovely pair."

"Sit," Draco says. "Now."

"Er ... okay." Teddy's magical eye stares at him sideways as he takes a seat in front of Draco's desk, not hiding his concern.

"I get to look first," Potter reminds Draco.

"Fine."

For Potter, it's a game of timing. If Draco gets to Teddy before him, it's the perfect opportunity for Draco to cast another curse.

Draco only needs simple logic. Potter would not hurt his godson. If every other patient is badly affected, and Teddy isn't, that's basically proof. If Teddy's having problems too, then the outlook is far grimmer. Draco will have no way of knowing what's causing this, and no way of stopping it.

Potter tugs on the prosthesis, but it doesn't budge. He tries again, and Teddy makes a face.

"Er, Harry?" Teddy says. "All right, there?"

"I don't know yet. You can come check him now, Malfoy."

Draco approaches and tilts Teddy's face at a sharp angle. He begins prying at the edges of the metal goggle with his tools — traditionally used for taking prostheses apart when they need repairing.

Despite the unique making of Teddy's prosthetic eye, and the fact that his model is far older than Potter's, it does not separate from his head any more easily.

The band holding the prosthesis in place is still loose enough to wiggle around, but the goggle might as well be fused to the skin. Draco tries a few spells that all end in failure.

The placement doesn't look uncomfortable, fortunately, but Draco imagines it will present quite a challenge if Teddy tries to sleep on his left side.

"Have you had any symptoms recently?"

"Symptoms of what?"

"Of anything, anything that might be related to your eye."

Teddy shakes his head slowly. "I don't..." Potter's about to leap at the words when Teddy says, "Well, yeah, actually. I thought it was just from being around potion fumes for too long, but I saw some stuff on the wall of my lab earlier."

"What kind of stuff?" Potter asks.

"Markings, I guess. Little black shapes on the walls. I really thought it was nothing. Sometimes staring at flames for too long can do that to you."

Potter swears. "It's everyone, then. Dammit, Malfoy, if you did this just to cover your arse—"

"I wouldn't throw years of my life and all of my patients' well-being down the drain just to cover up having done something bad to you. I've thrown hexes at you all my life without hiding it. Why start now?"

"Hold on," Teddy says. "What's happening?"

Potter stays silent, so Draco knows it's up to him to reveal the news.

"Patients have been coming to me today with complaints. I thought it was something I could fix — or, at the very least, that I could buy some time to figure out what's causing the problems before I tell everyone. But it seems that my prostheses are currently irremovable."

Teddy frowns, tugging at his eye. Then his expression turns to dismay as he morphs the shape of his face again and again, and it still doesn't budge. "I took it off just last night!"