Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Four

"Well, don't you?" Potter prompts.

"I... hm?"

The snort that gets him is almost charming. "Don't you enjoy it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You get this odd little smile on your face every time you've done something you like. Hermione gets the same look when she's working."

Self-consciously, Draco forces the edges of his lips down.

"Sorry," Potter says, "I shouldn't have mentioned it. I knew you'd stop once I did."

Draco frowns more severely this time, shaking out his wrist and picking up his wand again, turning away. "There's nothing wrong with liking your job."

"Of course not. I just didn't expect you to, 's all."

"Don't you like yours?"

Potter is silent for so long that Draco forgets he's even asked a question until Potter says, "Yes."

Draco does not dare to look up again.

It's another half hour of pulling threads of magic together over the prosthesis — making sure there's no visible space between the strands — before he nears the end. He's just tied off the last two lines when Potter coughs, and Draco's attention jerks upward again.

It's the strangest thing, how he almost manages to forget Potter's presence without losing awareness that he's being watched.

"Are you almost done?" Potter rubs a sheepish hand at the back of his neck. "Only, it seems like you must be, from the way you've slowed down."

"The enchantments are nearly there, but I haven't added the pupil yet."

Potter bends closer to inspect, and Draco shifts backwards.

"Why'd you wait?" Potter asks.

"The eye comes alive once you do, swinging all over the place but not connected to any brain signals. It's hard to add magic over that."

Draco pauses for a moment, then carefully removes his Reveliospecs and holds them out to Potter.

"Put them on. I don't need them right now. Watch this next part."

Potter looks confused, but he does as he's told. He lets out an arrested gasp that presses intently at Draco's mind, small and overwhelming.

Potter turns his head around the room, finally settling on Draco and the eye as he flips the golden clasp of the case of paint brushes beside him. Draco extracts one and gives the bristles a tiny flick to make sure they're ready.

He then dips the brush into a small jar of black paint, holding the eye firmly between two fingers of his other hand and swirling a circle between them.

The eye starts to jerk beneath his fingertips and Draco applies more pressure, neatening the edges of the pupil he's just made until he's satisfied, nodding as he releases it. The eye goes haywire, spinning in its frame, darting to every corner, rolling around until all he can see is whiteness, and then fixing on him again, unblinking, quivering with restless energy.

He picks it up carefully off the desk and connects the straps, gesturing for Potter to come closer. He does, removing the Reveliospecs as well as his glasses and bending over.

Draco's hands are unsteady as he presses the magical prosthesis to Potter's eye socket and secures it, fingers fumbling with the leather.

Potter pulls back, fiddling with the goggle until he seems satisfied. "S'pose there's a spell you've got to do now so I can see with it?"

"Right," Draco waves his wand, tapping at the metal rim of the prosthesis, "Adjungo."

The eye stops whizzing about and steadies on him, along with Potter's other one.

Potter blinks, wobbling, and Draco reaches out a hand to steady him.

"Easy. It's a lot to get used to. For the first couple of days, I recommend that you only put it on for fifteen minutes at a time and wait an hour between sessions. You can work your way up to wearing it longer after that."

Potter lets out a sharp puff through flared nostrils. "And what if I can't get used to it?"

"Then come back here, and I'll fix you up another, free of charge. No enchantments on that one except to make it blink with you."

Potter nods slowly. "Fine."

"Don't suppose you've thought more about the auction?"

Potter lets out an exasperated sigh. "Are you always working an angle?"

"It's what I do best."

Potter spends a long moment staring at him, so Draco sits back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other, unashamed to be looking too.

Potter's stubble has grown out. It makes him look older, but not in a bad way. From here, the brown of his magical eye is a bottomless well. Draco imagines tumbling in.

"I'm trying to help my son," Draco says. He adjusts his sleeves. "That should be abundantly clear. That's my only angle. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you'd at least consider it."

Potter studies him guardedly. "I shouldn't be considering it, for what it's worth."

"You won't hear me disagree. But you're too noble for your own good."

Potter opens the door and steps out, but he glances over his shoulder before he leaves. Both of Potter's eyes close for a moment, and tension colours his face.

"Dizzy?" Draco asks.

"It's like the world is flipping over backwards while I stand in place."

"Give it time. Take plenty of breaks, but don't stop practising. You'll manage soon enough."

Potter's eyes open again. "If you're right, I'll be at the auction."

"If I'm right? Of course I'm right."

Potter frowns. "We'll see." The door slams behind him.

Draco picks up a quill and resumes the work Potter interrupted. "So we will," he murmurs.

The empty office gives no reply.