Not stopping his work, Draco watched Harry react to the fact that Draco was his healer. It was odd, and a part of Draco just wanted to forget that they even knew each other in the first place, even if Harry had made that impossible. He grabbed the glasses resting on the night stand, which they had managed to fix, and gently handed them to his patient. "I am back in London," he parroted, as he put the finishing touches on a potion, which was emitting a nice pearly smoke, and smelled sharply of spearmint. He poured the thin, turquoise liquid into a mug, and then handed the mug to Harry as well. He didn't even know what to do about this situation, because he had really managed to put his entire life in England behind him.<br/>"Put on your glasses, and drink what's in the mug. It won't taste all that pleasant, but it will help your healing, and will lessen the pain," he instructed, very clearly in his element. After he and his mum had moved to France, he had quickly learnt that he wanted to keep helping people; and he had made the decision to just throw himself into work and school, so that he could get through the healer school quickly, and go work with what he loved. He was happy with his job, and he loved what he was doing.