Yet Another Protector

by tir-synni

A/N: I'm not sure how IC everyone is, or even if this plot is believable, so you're going to have to forgive me. If I wrote anything really out of whack, either e-mail me or comment in the review section. I'm not sure how this is going to go, and I'm not really happy with it...review and tell me if it was any good or not. I'm probably going to rewrite this when I have the time.

" 'Do not leave the house'," Draco Malfoy mimicked. " 'You are protected here.' What do they think I am, a bloody novice? I've been practicing the Dark Arts since I was a child! I can take care of myself!"

The silver-haired boy stalked through the great, empty halls of Malfoy Manor. The house elves, long-attuned to their young master's moods, stayed clear of Draco. This only gave Draco freer reign to rant.

And rant he did.

"They treat me like a helpless child," continued Draco. His icy, gray eyes flashed. "How dare they? I'm always stuck in this bloody house. They never trust me on my own. 'You are protected here.' Bloody hell, I'm always being protected. I'm sick and bloody tired of it!"

If Dobby was here, he would have tsked disapprovingly at Draco's language, the only house elf brave enough to do so. But Dobby wasn't here, so Draco didn't have anyone following him to disapprove of his—

Didn't have anyone following him.

Other house elves in hiding.

Hey….

Draco faltered in mid-step before hurrying. His lips continued to move in a screeching rant, but he was no longer aware of the words. He was only aware that he had to keep the house elves out of his way.

I'll show them I'm not some helpless child. There is nothing out there that a wizard needs protected from.

~~~~~~

It's hot. It's really, really hot.

Draco Malfoy huffed, pulling a hand away from his broom to wipe his sweaty silver hair away from his face. For the past three hours, he had been flying randomly over the English countryside. On his broom, Draco also carried a small bag of supplies. However, even with his want, Draco couldn't cast a cooling spell. Underage wizards couldn't cast spells, and they would detect Draco using magic out of Malfoy Manor. When he had left his home, though, he had not considered that. All he had thought of was harassing food from the house elves and grabbing his invisibility cloak. All he had to do was tell the elves that he planned on spending the rest of the day in his room, and he did not wish to be disturbed. Stupid house elves. They were so easy to manipulate.

Well, I'm not going back yet, Draco thought petulantly. He raised his head and blinked at the blazing noon sun. Still, it is hot….

The silver-haired boy sighed dramatically and wiped at his sweaty face again. I need someplace to go, he decided, cruising lazily over the streets. His invisibility cloak shielded him from the Muggles below. Draco made a face at them before haughtily drawing into himself. Pathetic Muggles. But where can I go where can I go were I won't get caught? I can't go to visit Pansy, or Goyle and Crabbe. Their fathers would report me instantly. So where…?

Draco frowned. Glancing at a street sign, he felt his eyes widen. Well, what did you know? Privet Street. Potter was supposed to live on Privet Street, unless they lied on his school forms. Heh. The day was looking up.

I wonder how Potter lives during the summer? the teenager mused. Probably pampered and fussed over by his fans. Deliberately, he ignored how he spent the summer up till then. Draco perked up. Time to find out!

~~~~~

It actually didn't take much to find Potter's house. Draco was disappointed. He had been expecting more. Potter's home was supposed to be so protected. It was a good thing for Potter that he wasn't the Dark Lord, otherwise Potter would be dead now.

Draco snorted. Probably not. Potter would defeat the Dark Lord yet again and give his loyal fans another reason to gawk at him. Lucky git.

Remembering the specifics of Potter's address, Draco skimmed over the house. Pathetic. Muggle homes were so plain and boring. It was amazing Potter had lowered himself to this.

Sniffing proudly, Draco finally found Potter's house. The most Muggle of them all. Sickeningly plain, surrounded by a tall fence. It was nothing compared to—

Draco blinked. Was that Potter?

After clutching his invisibility cloak closer to him, Draco slipped towards the house. That was Potter! Im-impossible!

His jaw gaping, Draco eased into the yard. Before him, dwarfed in Muggle clothing, Harry Potter pushed some strange, noisy Muggle device over the grass. Every inch of fair skin his ghastly clothes revealed was burned a fierce red and was slathered in sweat. Draco watched in stunned amazement as Potter tediously ran the device over every inch of the yard. So far, this wasn't what Draco had been expecting.

After Potter had put the strange device away, he trudged wearily to the front door. "Aunt Petunia, may I have a glass of water?" Potter called.

A shrill voice screeched back through the door, making Draco cringe. "Not until you're done, boy! And you had better start being more careful with my roses!"

Potter scowled and wiped a shaky hand over his sweaty face. Still, his voice was steady as he replied, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Sighing, Potter turned away from the door and trudged back into the sun. Draco was beginning to understand why they had those high fences around the yard; so no one would see this.

He's the great Harry Potter, Draco thought, dazed. The Boy Who Lived. Why is he allowing himself to be treated this way?

The exhausted boy below provided no answers.

~~~~~~

Draco hovered in the cool shadows, waiting for Potter to finish. He pulled a pumpkin pastry and some icy pumpkin juice from his enchanted basket. Draco surprised himself by thinking of offering some of his pumpkin juice to Potter. He was actually considering it before he realized it wouldn't work. Potter would probably panic at the sight of a Death Eater's son and attract attention to them...or blast him into oblivion. Really bad idea. Draco stayed quiet and watched Potter sweat in the sun.

Finally, Potter finished, close to sundown, and limped inside. Draco finished his juice and cleaned up his small mess. Then, pulling down his invisibility cloak from where it had been acting like a tent, Draco lifted off the ground. Rising above the high fence, Draco circled the house. The large window had to be the master bedroom. Nothing extraordinary about that window. The third window....

Draco cringed as he drifted closer to the window. The chipped, broken window with the crooked glass had to be Potter's. Draco peeked in as he heard a door slam shut within the room. Everything in the room was either broken or on its way there. Draco guess most the of the things weren't Potter's, as the things he recognized from school was clean and tidy.

"Stupid gits," Potter's voice floated through the window. Draco glanced towards the left to see a flushed Potter glaring angrily at the closed door. "All that and I still don't get dinner. Bloody bastards."

With one last, fierce glare, Potter whirled around and walked over to the decrepit bed. Draco watched, still hidden in his cloak, as the dark-haired boy sifted under the bed. He finally emerged with a photo album, a small can, and several bags of candy. Gently, Potter set the photo album to one side. Then he tore into the bags of candy. He ate the Chocolate Frogs ravenously before moving on to the can. Potter popped it open and gulped some liquid from it. After snacking on some Bernie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Potter pushed his trash aside and reached for the photo album. He set it on his lap and slowly flipped through it. Draco recognized it as a wizard photo album. Longingly, Potter fingered the pictures, the grief on his face tearing at Draco's nonexistent heart.

Why are you doing this, Potter? Draco thought, watching as the younger boy bit his lip. I thought I knew you. It was much easier when you're Hogwart's Golden Boy. You aren't anyone's Golden Boy here, are you?

Potter smiled sadly at the pictures. Draco couldn't see who were in the pictures. Weasel? The Mudblood? Maybe that bloody giant he was so fond of.

Well, Draco thought impulsively, pushing off his cloak, only one way to find out.

Draco rapped lightly on the crooked window. He smirked as Potter jumped, the album clattering off his lap. Wide, dark-ringed emerald eyes met Draco's amused gray ones through the shoddy glass. Potter's jaw dropped momentarily.

"M-Malfoy!" he stuttered hoarsely. "What the hell are you doing here?!?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shush and let me in," he hissed. "You don't want your relatives to know I'm here, do you?"

Draco regretted that comment instantly as Potter paled. Cautiously, Potter approached the window.

"Don't wake them up," Potter warned softly, pulling the window open. Draco nodded solemnly and slipped in. Potter eyed him warily.

The first thing Draco did when he hit the floor was to pull out his enchanted basket. He handed it to Potter, who accepted it like it was hexed. Again, Draco noticed how the Muggle clothes hung off of his skinny body. He hated seeing his rival like that.

"It's magic," Draco told him quietly. "It carries a lot more than it appears. Eat."

Potter narrowed his eyes at him and shoved the basket back at Draco. "I don't need it, thanks," he said shortly. "What are you doing here?"

Draco glowered. "I'm trying to be nice for a change. I just ate out of that basket earlier, so it's not poisoned. If you're not hungry...."

Slowly, Draco reached for it, but Potter hastily snatched it back. "Wait...nevermind..." Potter bit his lip nervously. "But...what are you doing here? Why did you come to my home?"

Not answering immediately, Draco instead wandered about the room. He noticed all of Potter's things were stacked near the bed, with the exception of the owl cage. It was by the window, and it was empty.

"Do your relatives make you keep your owl in the cage?" Draco asked quietly. Potter stiffened.

"Yes. She's delivering mail right now. Now answer my question." Potter's voice was low and intense, his gaze unwavering. However, Draco noticed his convulsive grip on the basket.

Draco plopped on the bed, cringing as it creaked dangerously under him. Ugh. He missed his own bed. "I decided to take a short trip," he said with a shrug. "Since I had nowhere else to go at that particular moment, I decided to pester you. And then I saw you in the yard and...." He shrugged again, eloquently. Wow, honesty, Draco mused. That's a new one.

Potter flinched, and his hands tightened further around the magic basket. Aristocratic hands, Draco noted. Shouldn't be forced to do menial work.

"You saw me then," Potter said flatly. Anger and shame flashed across his lovely face. Wait a moment...lovely! Hey! "How long were you watching me?"

"Long enough to know you would probably love to finish the contents of that basket," Draco returned. "Now stop being stubborn and eat!"

Still, Potter refused, though Draco noticed his eyes flickering towards the basket. "You've seen me work as a house elf," he retorted coldly. "Why aren't you rubbing it in my face? The Great Boy Who Lived...a house elf. I thought you would love to see me like this."

Draco couldn't meet those intense emerald eyes. He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Even that was in pieces. "Because I realized I was wrong about you," he said eventually. "I always thought that you were raised surrounded by your fame. When did you realize your identity as the Boy Who Lived?"

He felt the bed shift beside him, and he looked to see Potter sitting. The basket was open. "Before I went to Hogwarts. Hagrid showed me the truth. Until then, I thought my parents had been killed in a car accident. I was told that's how I received my scar. I was yelled at if I asked any questions, so I learned to keep my mouth shut."

Draco closed his eyes. He remembered their first meeting. This explained Potter's hostility towards him...the things he had bragged about...then he had mocked Hagrid...Shit.

"You have the bloody basket open," Draco said instead of voicing his thoughts. "Now eat. You need to gain weight."

Potter didn't answer. Draco heard him eating, digging into the offered food readily. He ignored Potter for the moment. Instead, he listened to Potter's family downstairs. He heard a deep voice and a shrill voice talking to someone named "Dudley." Draco figured that had to be Potter's cousin.

Finally, Potter finished with his meal and rested the basket beside Draco. The silver-haired boy opened his eyes to see Potter leaning over the side of the bed. Unable to help himself, Draco checked out the displayed figure. Starved or not, Potter still had a tight ass.

Thankfully, Potter never noticed Draco's perusal of his body. He sat up with the wizard photo album in his hands. He cradled it as the giant did some of his "pets."

"Whose pictures are in there?" Draco questioned curiously before Potter could put it away.

Potter hesitated. "My parents," he said softly. He clutched it protectively to his chest. "Hagrid...Hagrid gave it to me. As a gift. Years ago. He owled all my parents' friends and asked for pictures."

Now it was Draco's turn to hesitate. It's probably not my place, but.... "Can you show me some?" he asked.

Deep emerald eyes widened in shock behind Potter's cheap glasses, and Draco instantly regretted the question. He was right, it wasn't--

"Sure," Potter agreed shyly, opening the book on his lap. "Nobody's ever wanted to look at it with me before. Even Ron and Hermione think I'm too sensitive about my parents to bring it up."

Draco grinned at him and scooted closer. Potter was actually pretty nice when he didn't have his goons with him.

~~~~~

Shocking both of them, the two chatted until close to daybreak. In the end, they reluctantly agreed that it would be best for Draco to leave before the sun rose. Potter had to get some sleep before he relatives put him back to work, and Draco had to get home before his parents returned.

"I can come back again tonight, if you want," Draco offered, no longer surprising himself. Hell, he had had fun.

Potter grinned at him. His cheap glasses slid down his nose. "Yeah, I would like that. I have no one to talk to here."

Draco nodded. "I'll bring a basket," he stated. He wasn't even going to bother asking. Potter might say no, out of pride, and he was too skinny as it was.

Potter smiled. And all these years, Draco thought, it had been just a joke that Potter's Muggle family was starving him. Evidently not.

"Till tonight then...Harry," Draco said softly.

Potter's radiant smile almost blinded him. "See you, Draco."

~~~~~

When Draco returned to Harry's house, it was close to midnight, and his magic basket was once again loaded with food from the kitchen. He patted his basket absentmindedly as he drifted closer to the window. It was wide open, and Draco frowned. What was Harry thinking? He shouldn't keep his window open. It may be summer, but it was still a chill night.

"Harry?" Draco called softly, slipping inside. "Har--" The silver-haired boy paused. There, stretched out on the bed and shirtless, Harry Potter slept. Draco had the feeling he would have enjoyed the sight if the boy's back wasn't such a vivid red.

"Ouch," Draco hissed. He dropped his cloak, broom, and basket on the floor before kneeling by the bed. The moment Draco fingered Harry's hand, the Gryffindor Seeker awoke.

"I left the window open for you," Harry murmured. He eased himself up, with Draco cringing at the movement. Harry caught sight of his expression and smiled. "Don't worry. It's really not that bad. It should be better by morning."

Draco only looked on in horror. The sun had never burned his smooth skin. It was something totally alien to him.

Harry smiled gently at him. His emerald eyes seemed to burn into Draco, and the older boy looked away from the intense gaze. When he looked back, Harry was concentrating on the magic basket.

"Don't those bastards ever feed you?" Draco snarled, passing the basket to Harry.

Harry snorted. "Does bread and water count? Usually Ron and them send me food, but..." His voice trailed off, his eyes going distant. Then he shook his head. "I still got some candy saved up. I've been mainly eating that."

Draco's pale eyes blazed, but he didn't say a word. He only watched as Harry hungrily dove in...again. Don't they ever feed him? Draco raged inwardly. No wonder he's so small and skinny. I hope I meet those people when I'm no longer underage. They'll regret ever messing with a wizard!

Draco continued to fume to himself as Harry finished eating. Harry noticed his expression and grinned at him. "Hey, cheer up! Soon I'm going to get a new supply of candy, and maybe some new supplies. Don't worry, I'll share with you."

Blinking, Draco paused and thought. "What happens soon?" he wondered.

Harry's eyes sparkled. "My birthday's coming up," he explained. "Ron usually sends me candy, and everyone sends me cake. I know you're probably used to better, but--"

"Your birthday's coming up?" Draco interrupted.

Harry blinked. "July 31st. I'll be sixteen. Anyway, Mrs. Weasley usually sends the greatest--"

"Your birthday?" Draco repeated, startled. July 31st. That's less than a week away! "What do you want me to get you?"

A slightly confused grin answered him. "Your presence?" Harry offered. "Nobody's ever been with me for my birthday before."

Draco thought of his own birthday parties. Then he mused about the situation Harry had presented. It's not fair for Harry to have such a shitty birthday. How can I fix it?

Harry's voice interrupted Draco's thoughts. Disappointment and resignation filled his eyes. "I'm sorry," Harry apologized solemnly. "I got carried away. I shouldn't have been so presumptuous. You probably have better things to do than be here." The dark-haired boy forced a bright smile. "Have you heard anything of the recent Quidditch tournament? All Ron did was curse that the Chudley Cannons didn't--"

Draco silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "Don't be such a git!" he admonished. "I'll be here. Same time as I am today. I was just trying to figure out what to get you."

The light returned to Harry's eyes. "Dinner," he replied promptly. "You've been doing great so far."

Draco stared at him disbelievingly. "For a birthday gift?"

"What am I supposed to get?"

Draco gaped at him. When he turns eighteen, I'm throwing him a party like he's never known, he decided. "Never mind. I'll find you something. Don't worry. You'll love it."

Harry stared at him blankly. "Okay. You don't have to, though." Draco's glared silenced him before he could continue that train of thought. "Yeah. Anyway. What's going on in the world of Quidditch?"

~~~~~

Over the next couple days, Draco drove himself mad trying to find the perfect gift for Harry. He spent the nights enjoying Harry's company and learning more about the remarkable young man. The days he searched endlessly for Harry's birthday gift. He searched through stores and catalogs, each hour in Harry's company only increasing Draco's obsession...and his regret. All that time...wasted....

By the time July 30th finally rolled around, Draco had found the perfect gift. He was ecstatic. Not even the horrible weather could destroy his mood, though the cold rain did mess up his hair.

That night, the box containing Harry's present securely within the magic basket, Draco secured his invisibility cloak about himself and took off into the night. The cold seeped through his cloak. Draco shivered but didn't stop. Tonight's Harry's birthday, he thought. He's waiting for me.

The air seemed to grow even colder as he approached Privet Drive. Only the knowledge of Harry's reaction to his gift kept Draco cheerful. However, even that cheer was destroyed when he reached Harry's window. For the first time since they had begun meeting, the window was shut, and the light was off.

"Harry?" Draco called, confused. "Hey, Harry?"

No answer.

Bewildered and growing worried, Draco peeked in the window. He saw Harry, tossing and turning in his bed. Draco frowned. Did he just fall asleep, and is having nightmares? Or--

A sudden breeze reminded Draco of the chill in the air. His eyes widened in horror. The Dursleys...didn't make Harry work outside today...did they?

"Harry!" Draco called frantically. He started shoving at the broken window. It creaked awkwardly to one side but didn't open. "By Merlin...Harry, wake up!"

The figure in the dark room tossed weakly on the bed.

Draco shoved the window again. With a sinking heart, he realized the window had to be pulled open. If he tried to push it, it would only go at an angle. He would never be able to slip in. He had to wake Harry up.

"Harry!" Draco snarled, pounding on the window. "Wake up, you bloody git! Get your lazy ass up!"

Harry finally stopped writhing on the bed. Even in the darkness, Draco could see him shivering. He couldn't tell for sure if Harry was awake, though.

"Come on, Harry," Draco coaxed. "Let me in. All you have to do is open the window. Come on."

Still shivering, Harry dragged himself off the bed. "Draco?" he whispered hoarsely. "Are you there? I can't see you."

For a moment, Draco feared the worse. Then he remembered his cloak. "Stupid git," he murmured, ripping the cloak off and sticking it in his magic basket. He felt his fingers brush again Harry's birthday gift, and Draco cringed inwardly. Happy birthday, Harry.

"Right here, Harry," Draco called. "Open the window. It can't be opened from the outside."

Harry obeyed, stumbling in Draco's direction. By the time he reached the window, he was shivering violently.

"Is it really that late?" Harry murmured drowsily. "That's strange. I'm not hungry...."

Draco clenched his fists tightly around his broom. "Open the window," he urged. Inspiration struck, and he added, "It's cold out here, Harry."

Nothing spurned on the noble Gryffindor as much as another's discomfort, and as a Slytherin, Draco had no problem taking advantage of it. Instantly, Harry hurried his pace. His aristocratic hands shook as he pulled the window open. The moment Draco was inside, he dropped his supplied on the floor and scooped Harry up. The body in his arms was burning hot.

Harry relaxed against him and laughed weakly. "I never knew you swung this way, Draco," he slurred.

Draco clutched him close before laying him on the bed. "Everyone swings your way, Harry," he murmured softly, kneeling by him. Including me, he admitted silently to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Harry smiled sleepily, still trembling. His beautiful face was flushed a bright crimson, and his eyes seemed dazed.

"I'm sorry that I'm such horrible company today," Harry mumbled. "I haven't felt well all day. Aunt Petunia made me cover all her lawn ornaments before they got too wet, and she wouldn't let me back inside until I dried on the porch. I haven't felt right since."

Draco ground his teeth together. Gently, he laid a hand on Harry's forehead. Definitely a high fever. If Harry didn't get help soon....

"Your family won't help you," Draco whispered. "And I can't take you anywhere. A death eater's son...seen with the famous Harry Potter. They would probably Avada Kadvara me first and ask questions later. But what can we do?"

A weak grip on Draco's right hand silenced him, and he met Harry's dark eyes. Harry smiled reassuringly. "I'll be okay," he whispered. "It's not that bad."

Draco had a sudden flashback of Harry saying practically the same thing about his burned back. For the first time, he realized that Harry had probably lied to him. He was willing to bet his whole inheritance that the Weasel and Granger was used to this song and dance. They would have kept a much closer eye on Harry than he--

Draco's face lit up. "Harry," he asked urgently, "when do you get the...Weasley's present? When does his owl come?"

Harry's eyes were drooping shut. "Right...on my birthday," he murmured sleepily.

Oh, yeah, that was clear. Draco sighed exasperatedly and ran his free hand through his hair. It flew up in damp, silver spikes. "Can you be a bit more specific?"

But Harry's heavy emerald eyes were focused on his clock. His lips quirked in a small smile. "Sixteen. I survived till sixteen. I bet I can hit seventeen, damn Voldemort and the Dursleys both."

Harry's slurred voice frightened Draco more than the uncharacteristic words did. His fever was rising.

"Harry--" Draco began, but a pale blur silenced him. Several owls flew through the window and flitter over Harry's bed. He recognized the beautiful, snowy owl as Harry's. She and Weasley's tiny owl carried gifts from the Weasley's. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Hedwig," Draco said softly. "How do you feel about delivering a message to the Weasleys for me?"

Harry's owl hooted distractedly at him, fluttering over his master. Why wasn't he answering her?

"Harry's sick, Hedwig," Draco told her urgently. "He needs help from the Weasleys. You must get my note to them."

Hedwig hooted and nipped Harry's pale ear before flying to Draco. The silver-haired boy quietly freed her from her packages. "Wait a moment." After a quick glance at the flushed boy on the bed, Draco began looking for something to write with. Paper and Harry's quill still rested on the desk from when he had been working on his potions homework. Within moments, a quick note was written and fastened on Hedwig's leg.

"Go, deliver this to the Weasleys," Draco ordered. "Quickly!"

Hedwig hooted authoritatively before flying back out the window. Draco watched her go. Then he closed his eyes and turned around. There was work to be done before help arrived.

~~~~~~

"Hedwig, go away," Ron Weasley groaned, batting the snow owl away. "Harry's message can wait until morning."

The red-haired wizard tried to go back to sleep, but Hedwig kept pecking frantically at him. Ron groaned and swatted at her, but Hedwig only hooted louder in his ear. Ron growled. "How did you get into my bedroom, anyway?"

Hedwig screeched in his ear. Exasperated, Ron finally sat up. "I get Harry a nice birthday gift, and he sics his owl on me. Is he trying to tell me he didn't like it?"

Hedwig simply screeched again, and sighing, Ron snatched the letter off her leg. As he read it, his eyes widened in horror.

Harry is violently ill. His family will not help him. You must come to his home quickly!

The note was not signed.

"Mum!" Ron shrieked, leaping off the bed. Hedwig flew over his head. "Dad! Mum! Help!"

~~~~~~

The Dursley home was still connected to the Floo Network. The household was awakened by Arthur, Fred, and George Weasley. Ignoring the Dursleys's wild shouts and for once not pausing for pranks, the trio whisked Harry and his things back through the fireplace. No one noticed the extra gift. Harry stayed with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. When asked about the mysterious note, Harry would demurely deny knowledge of the sender. When the school year started again, everything was back to normal.

Almost.

~~~~~~

"You came."

"Of course I did. You're usually the late one."

"Oh, don't start. I get enough of that from--"

"Uh-huh. No talk of the outside world in here, remember?"

A low laugh. "Yes, I remember."

A small pause. "Do you really think this could work? Can we really hope?"

"Of course. There's always hope. We'll make it work, I promise you."

"Heh. Always the optimist."

"I try."

A soft laugh, quickly muffled. An aristocratic hand arose, burying itself in pale hair. A gold and emerald ring glinted from the light tresses, casting a soft glow in the dark room. Neither occupant noticed, too deeply immersed in their kiss.

"Harry, Harry, wake up. Listen to me, because you must know this now. The Weasleys are coming. They'll help you. But they cannot know I was here. Get that look off your face. There's no choice in the matter. My father and associates can never know I'm friends with The Boy Who Lived. It would be deadly for us both. I refuse to bring any more danger to you. In public, we must remain enemies. In private...Oh, by Merlin, Harry. In private..." A parting of lips, a mere brushing of tongues. A single moment, lasting forever but still too short. "If you don't remember that when you get better, I'm going to kick your bloody arse. I must go now. I'll owl you as soon as I can. Get well soon, you hear me, you git...The gods damn you, Potter. It seems like you have yet another protector."