Disclaimer: All characters and universe belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this little hobby of mine.
Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy had been acting suspiciously since the beginning of the new school year, Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They were only four weeks into the first term and Harry had already noticed Malfoy's odd behaviour. At first he had been strutting around the castle like his normal arrogant self, but Harry thought that there was something else in his strut that hadn't been there before. He seemed nervous and edgy about something. In the last two weeks, Harry had noticed Malfoy was becoming increasingly anxious and irritable and he was taking it out on any student who crossed his path. In the last day or two Malfoy's presence had been clearing hallways, even Crabbe and Goyle were scarce lately.
Ever the opportunists, Fred and George Weasley saw this behaviour as a valuable chance to pay back the hateful Slytherin for all his dirty deeds over the last five years. The twins had taken to 'accidentally coming across', also known as purposely seeking out, Malfoy to provoke him with pranks. On more than one occasion they had paid Colin Creevey to take pictures of the event and captioned the resulting photographs with comments like 'Merlin, this pole Father stuck up my arse when I was born is really starting to chafe' to match his facial expressions. Harry would have joined in on the twins' fun had Hermione Granger not taken it upon herself to make sure Harry and his best friend, Ron Weasley, were well out of Malfoy's way; the most he'd been allowed to do was cackle at the clever captions people came up with. Hermione meant well, but sometimes she was too proper for her own good; she didn't care though, she saw her actions as a preventative measure to keep the boys out of trouble and out of detention.
It was late on Tuesday night, or early Wednesday morning might be more correct, in the fifth week of school, that Harry, who had been tossing and turning for hours, decided he would see if he was the only one wake at this hour. He pulled out the Marauder's Map, tapped his wand to it and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The ink swirled lines and delicate writing all over the previously blank parchment forming a likeness of Hogwarts and its many halls and classrooms.
As Harry unfolded the pages, the map showed that the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was awake and at his desk, which didn't surprise Harry in the least; sometimes he thought the man never slept. A few students were awake in the Ravenclaw common room, and a lone dot marked 'Draco Malfoy' was moving very slowly up the stairs towards the fourth floor. Harry watched as Malfoy's dot moved up towards the fifth floor and then down the fifth floor corridor a little way to a different set of stairs leading to the sixth floor. Now, truth be told, Malfoy's behaviour so far this year was enough for Harry to want to pull out his invisibility cloak and follow him to see what he was up to, but Malfoy seemed to making his way to the seventh floor corridor and this intrigued Harry more than anything else. Harry knew the route Malfoy was taking very well as he had taken it himself many times last year, he would have bet twenty Galleons that Malfoy was going to the Room of Requirement and Harry was desperate to know what he sought there.
Lucky for Harry, Malfoy was moving incredibly slowly and, after making far too much noise bounding up the stairs to the seventh floor, he caught up with him easily. Unfortunately, Malfoy must have heard Harry approaching because as Harry had gotten closer the suspicious Slytherin had ducked behind a statue of an old witch to conceal himself. Harry paused not daring to move, worried he had spooked Malfoy so much he would give up on his mission and head back to bed before Harry had a chance to discover what he was up to.
After a few tense minutes of Malfoy crouched behind the statue and Harry frozen still, barely even breathing, in the middle of the corridor, Malfoy continued on towards the Room of Requirement and Harry followed along quietly. Harry watched Malfoy closely, frowning at the awkward and often laboured movements the Slytherin was making. He was always so graceful in his movements like he'd been to one of those prim and proper Muggle Finishing Schools where they put a book on your head and made you walk around. Harry had never seen him move like this, so slow, like he was hurt badly. Glancing to the floor as he crept silently behind him, Harry noticed small drops of dark blood marking the stone as Malfoy walked and his heart began to race as he wondered if he might be right in his assumption that Malfoy was hurt.
Malfoy paced four times back and forth in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement before the door appeared and he slipped in. Now came the difficult part for Harry; getting in without Malfoy noticing. Even though Harry was invisible, Malfoy was sure to get suspicious about a door opening and closing by itself, but Harry didn't have much time to decide the best way to sneak in; the door was disappearing fast. Pushing his worries aside, Harry took a deep breath and walked straight up to the disappearing door hoping for the best as he slipped inside. Malfoy didn't shout, he didn't demand to know if someone was there with him, and Harry had closed the door gently and nervously turned around before he realized Malfoy hadn't noticed a thing.
Harry saw that the room was small with a stale looking hospital bed pushed into one corner and a small metal table with steel tools of some kind lined up next to each other on a tray; they looked rather like Muggle medical instruments. Harry turned to Malfoy who was awkwardly shrugging off his school robes and hissing in pain as he did. He had to swallow a gasp when he saw Malfoy's undershirt torn open in several places and stained heavily with fresh blood. Malfoy removed his shirt and sat himself tenderly on the end of the bed.
"Dobby," Malfoy whispered. Nothing happened. He took a deep breath to try and regain some energy and said again, a little louder this time, "Dobby!"
A loud crack announced the entrance of the small house elf. "Dobby doesn't serve the Malfoy's any longer Young Master Draco," Dobby stated in his squeaky little voice. The elf seemed unconcerned at the condition he found his old master in.
"I know," Malfoy whispered, "I need your help please, Elf." Malfoy's voice was strained, whether from the physical pain of his wounds or the effort and personal pain it caused Malfoy to be nice to this elf, Harry wasn't sure.
Dobby looked at Draco Malfoy's crumpled figure perched on the edge of the sterile bed and Harry could see Dobby's resolve whither away into sympathy at the sight of Malfoy's torn flesh. Harry was inwardly proud of the small creature who was able to put aside years of unpleasant servitude and move to help someone who was once, no doubt, very cruel to him. He reflected back to his own situation with Malfoy and thought perhaps that he should do the same; put aside the years of unpleasantness and help his enemy in need.
"Dobby has never seen you this badly hurt, Master Draco," Dobby whispered to Malfoy.
"I know. You can't fix this by magic, I've already tried. You'll need to use those tools on the table and do it manually."
"Oh, Master Draco, Dobby isn't sure he knows how to use those tools," Dobby looked worried and his hands trembled as he examined the shiny instruments on the table.
Malfoy seemed to be getting paler and Harry noticed a pool of Malfoy's blood gathering on the stone floor at his feet. Malfoy was in serious trouble, Harry realized, and he couldn't just watch any longer. He had often suspected that Malfoy didn't have one, but logically Harry knew that if Malfoy was allowed to bleed for much longer whatever heart Malfoy had inside of him wouldn't have anything left to pump around his body.
Harry kept to the shadows and pulled off his invisibility cloak quickly, gathering the light fabric into his hands before tossing it noiselessly into a dark corner so that Malfoy would not see his most prized possession.
"Malfoy," Harry said quietly stepping out from the dark and trying not to startle him, "looks like you--"
But Harry was cut off by Malfoy's frightened yelp. "Bloody Hell, Potter!" Malfoy yelled. The shock had increased his heart rate and he felt dizzy from his exhaustion and blood loss. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?" he asked; both were questions Harry didn't really want to answer.
Harry rushed over to steady Malfoy and tried to calm him. "It doesn't matter. You need help," Harry said, trying to sound calm and soothing; an odd tone to be using towards his hated rival. "Lucky for you I was raised by muggles, I don't exactly know what I'm doing but I'll probably do better than Dobby. No offence, Dobby." Harry gave a quick glance towards the House Elf who accepted the sentiment gratefully, as he accepted all things from Harry.
"My clothes, as you often saw fit to point out," Harry said trying to distract the Slytherin as he gathered up the tools he would need, "were all second hand from my morbidly obese cousin, and I always had to patch them up and alter them to fit me before I could wear them." Malfoy was breathing shallowly but he still managed to glare at Harry as if to tell him he didn't care about him at the best of times, let alone the worst of times. "I only mention it because I thought you might find it comforting that I have some experience sewing since it looks like I might end up sewing you back together."
Malfoy groaned, clearly unimpressed at Harry's story. "No," he breathed. "I won't have you helping me. You'll sew my lips together or something."
"That's not a bad idea actually," Harry replied, as he directed Malfoy to lie back on the bed and began to clean up the worse of the gashes on his chest. "It doesn't seem like you have much of a choice though, so unless you want to bleed to death right here in this room you might just have to chance it."
Malfoy managed to throw Harry a look of contempt as he silently complied and let Harry work on him. He realized the insufferable Gryffindor was right; he didn't have much of a choice – die, or let the Headmaster's little pet help him.
Harry continued to examine Malfoy's chest, there were three rather nasty slices that had carved up the boy's chest with several others that weren't so deep and wouldn't need stitches. Harry worked on the worst of these first, using his wand to clean up the blood before attempting to heal the wounds magically with no success. Harry wasn't surprised really, Malfoy had told Dobby that these wounds could not be fixed with magic and, while Harry thought most things out of Malfoy's mouth to be lies, he didn't think the blond would lie about that.
"Dobby, do you know if any of the Professors keep alcohol on the grounds?" Harry asked and the elf nodded enthusiastically, pleased to be able to give a positive answer.
"Yes, Sir, yes, Dobby has seen that Professor Snape has a bottle of Firewhiskey, and Professor Flitwick has some Scotch, and-"
"Thank you, Dobby, that's great, can you fetch it for me?" Harry asked. "Perhaps get the Scotch instead of the Firewhiskey." The elf nodded and disappeared.
"So Malfoy, how did you end up looking like you were used for target practice at a dagger throwing competition?" Harry asked lightly.
"Ha fucking ha, Potter," Malfoy wheezed, but he said no more.
When Dobby arrived back at Harry's side with a nearly full bottle of Scotch in his arms Harry went straight to work using the alcohol to sterilize Malfoy's open wounds. The Slytherin cried out in pain as the liquid made its way into his flesh and Harry jumped at the sound.
"Here, maybe you should have a swig of this before I do any more," Harry suggested handing Malfoy the bottle, which he gladly accepted. "Do you want something to bite down on?" Malfoy nodded and a short, thick leather strap materialized on the small table next to Harry.
Harry place the strap in Malfoy's mouth and it absorbed most of the boy's cries and groans of pain as Harry slowly and carefully stitched him back together. He wasn't conscious for long after Harry began, slipping into a light coma from the combination of blood loss, pain, and exhaustion.
Harry worked for the rest of the night, sewing together the three wounds on Malfoy's chest, two on his back and one on his upper left arm. The other cuts were shallow and superficial, but he cleaned and dressed them anyway, along with the others. Once he had finished he felt exhausted, it was almost day break and his hands ached, all he wanted was to sleep. As the thought crossed his mind the room expanded and another bed sprung into existence which he gladly crawled into and closed his eyes.
It was late on Wednesday afternoon before Harry woke again in the Room of Requirement, he wondered for a moment where he was until he saw Malfoy sleeping soundly right where he had left him. Once he was satisfied the Slytherin was still alive, he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be in class that day; he had missed them all and his friends were probably sick with worry. He'd be lucky if Hermione hadn't rounded up the National Guard to search for him.
He quickly checked Malfoy's injuries and he found them to be mending as well as could be expected – there was no redness or apparent infection, and very little bleeding. Deciding it was best not to disturb him Harry quickly slipped out of the room to find his friends and call off the hunting hounds.
He was glad to find that nobody ran up to him demanding to know where he'd been all day, so he assumed Hermione and Ron had played down his disappearance, perhaps assuming he just needed some time to himself. Or perhaps not. As he came up to the Fat Lady's portrait he found a large group of Gryffindor's gathered in the corridor – a search party no doubt. Hermione was quick to spot him approaching and squealed his name when she saw him; she ran towards him and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Where have you been? Ron said you weren't in bed when he woke up and then you didn't come to breakfast or lunch or any of your classes! I was so worried!" she babbled, holding him tighter still as she talked into his hair. He thought she sounded as though she was trying to be mad at him, but her sheer relief at his presence and obvious health was overwhelming her and she couldn't stop smiling or hugging him.
"Look, I'll tell you everything later I promise. Break up the search party and I'll meet you at Hagrid's tonight, before dinner." Harry whispered to her and Ron who was at her side so the others wouldn't hear. "I've got to think of something to tell Professor Flitwick about why I wasn't in Charms today. Got any ideas?" He looked from Hermione's disapproving frown to Ron's blank shrug, before running off down the hall to the Charms room. Flitwick was his only worry; his only other class had been Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid who was always easy to pacify.
After locating the small professor, Harry told Flitwick something about sleepwalking and waking up in a broom closet before heading off to meet Ron and Hermione at Hagrid's hut.
It was starting to get colder as it moved further into autumn and Harry shivered as he wandered down to where his giant friend lived at the edge of the forest. They would only have an hour to chat before dinner was served in the Great Hall and Harry hoped it would be enough time to explain everything and discuss what Malfoy was possibly up to. As much sympathy as he felt for his rival Harry was sure he was up to no good, but he felt a twinge of guilt as he reasoned with himself that Malfoy might be in serious trouble; no one ends up hurt like that by accident.
The four of them sat close together taking in the warmth of Hagrid's glowing fireplace as the sun sank into the horizon and Harry told them of his rather odd and exhausting night in the Room of Requirement. The hour disappeared quickly and there was little time for speculation as to how Malfoy was injured before they had to make their way to dinner.
Hagrid only suggested that Harry stay out of Malfoy's affairs, "they're a dark family, they are, those Malfoy's," he'd said. Harry vaguely assured him he would before racing back up to the castle with Hermione and Ron at his heels. The three of them ate their meal quickly as Harry was anxious to check on Malfoy and the other two were anxious to confirm Harry's story by getting a look at him all bandaged up.
They moved swiftly up to the seventh floor with parcels of food wrapped in napkins, something Hermione had kindly remembered. When they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy Harry began to pace, thinking about the room he had left Malfoy in and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared in front of him again.
When they slipped inside they found Malfoy still sleeping and Hermione carefully checked on his injuries. "You did a really good job, Harry," she told him quietly.
"Don't be too surprised," Harry teased her.
Ron looked disgruntled. "I still don't know why you even bothered to help him," he huffed, not bothering to keep his voice down.
"Me either," Malfoy whispered weakly, making Hermione jump away from him. "Now, piss off. I'm not a freak show here for you to gawk at."
"We're not here to stare, Malfoy," Hermione assured him when she managed to regain her composure. "We brought you something to eat." She handed him the chicken drumsticks and sandwiches they had brought up for him from dinner.
Malfoy looked like he didn't want to accept them, but his empty stomach forced him to. Harry moved to gently help him to sit up, ignoring Malfoy's protests that he wasn't an invalid. Harry was surprised at the warmth he felt from Malfoy's skin; he wasn't as cold and icy as everyone thought, he realized.
Malfoy ate his food quietly. Harry watched him closely and thought he looked solemn, graceful and sort of beautiful. Malfoy's movements were slow and reserved, his light hair framed his face, and somehow he managed to eat without spilling food over himself; he was certainly bred of high society.
"I have to go back to my dorm; I'm sure my father will have something to say if I'm missing much longer," Malfoy announced once he had finished his meal. "I can rest there; it's not as if anyone is going to be surprised at my injuries." He sounded bitter and spoke as though he was talking as much to himself as he was to them.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked quietly, a little shocked at what his words suggested.
"Come on, Granger, who do you think did this to me?" Malfoy rolled his eyes at her then tried to shift himself out of the bed. He hissed at the pain he felt from moving and stopped for a moment to take a few deep breaths.
"If they did this, then why are you going back?"
"So they can finish me off, of course." He gave a sort of strangled laugh, like he was joking but partly serious.
"You won't be able to make it down to the dungeons on your own," Harry pointed out.
"Then send a first year to get Crabbe and Goyle up here, they can help me to the common room," Malfoy suggested, not unwisely. It wasn't as though any of them could help him downstairs.
Ron nodded and without further suggestion he stepped out into the corridor and grabbed the first kid he saw running by to get Crabbe and Goyle while Harry helped Malfoy out of bed. Harry carefully slipped his arm around Malfoy's waist securing him while trying not to put too much pressure on any of the gashes he was now thoroughly familiar with.
Malfoy gave Harry a small nod before he pushed himself off the bed and on to his feet. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to fully support his own weight and he leaned into Harry much more than either of them expected and Harry almost dropped him. Malfoy wailed as Harry tightened his hold in an attempt to prevent him from ending up on the floor and instead popped a few of the stitched open. Fresh blood seeped out into Malfoy's bandages and Harry silently swore to himself.
"Shit," whispered Malfoy out loud. "Look, don't worry. I'm not waiting here for you to fix it. I'll do it myself later."
"You can't do it yourself, you'll only hurt yourself more if you try," Harry reasoned. "Just keep the bandages wrapped tight to put pressure on the wound and make sure you're in bed with your door open at eleven o'clock; I'll slip in and do it for you."
Malfoy looked unsure about the suggestion. He didn't want Harry being caught sneaking into Slytherin to help him, not for Harry's sake, but rather his own. Harry glanced towards the corridor where he knew Hermione and Ron were waiting, then back at Malfoy to receive an answer to his suggestion; he didn't want his friends to know about his offer, they wouldn't approve of him risking getting caught just to help Hogwart's resident bully.
"Fine," Malfoy hissed eventually. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew Harry was right.
Harry retrieved some of the surgical tools before leaving the Room of Requirement and prayed the room would let him take them; he wasn't sure if it would be allowed. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the tools still solid in his grip after he'd stepped out and the door and closed and disappeared behind them.
At Malfoy's request the three Gryffindors left him leaning precariously against a stone wall, waiting to be collected by Crabbe and Goyle in the seventh floor corridor. As they walked away Harry looked back at him barely standing there, his eyes wide and his lips pursed; he thought Malfoy looked sad, scared and lonely. He realized then, for the first time, that he didn't completely hate Draco Malfoy.
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