This is a Drarry fic (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter). Rated M for later chapters.

Warnings for SLASH, EWE, WiP.

Harry has fled England and has built himself a life in the south of France. Unfortunately, his peaceful life is about to be turned upside down by an unwanted delivery…

Ardchoile, thank you for the beta. You're fabulous :-)

xxx

Harry strolled down the stretched-out narrow path between the lines of vines in almost perfect contentment. The grapes were already visible, though still tiny and green. They'd been busy trimming the leaves yesterday, allowing the grapes to get plenty of the sunlight they craved. This early in the morning, the sun only just awake, the estate breathed the promise of a beautiful early summer's day.

Harry had never regretted the whim that had led him to buy this rundown vineyard in the hills of the Provence. Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry'd been sure of only one thing. He needed to get away, leave England behind. Never having been anywhere before, Harry hadn't known where to go. Unwilling to attract the attention his departure would certainly have caused, he'd decided against wizard transport and got on the Muggle Eurostar instead.

It hadn't been easy at first. For one thing, there was the language issue. Harry didn't speak a word of French, unless you counted "oui", "non" and "voulez vous couchez avec moi". Harry didn't. Parisians, although often fluent in English, tended to be reluctant to speak it. They preferred Harry to struggle with the complex French grammar and make a bloody fool of himself. In those early days he'd thank Merlin for the translating spell his Auror training had taught him, although it was tricky to use in Muggle areas.

After two months in Paris, he'd fallen in love with the French capital. He'd enrolled in a Muggle language course and surprised himself by picking up the French language rather quickly. Hermione would have definitely been proud. Deciding that there must be more to France than Paris alone, Harry said his goodbyes to the city and started his journey across the country. That journey had landed him right here, on the vineyard he'd called his home for almost six years now.

Harry loved it here. Not just the vineyard, but the whole area. He loved the softly flowing hills, the golden sunlight, the charming little towns, the scent and sight of the extensive lavender fields… But most of all he loved the life on a vineyard. It was run by a mixture of Muggles and Wizards, some of whom had become friends over the years. Their wine was quite successful, very popular with the local restaurants.

'You're up early today Monsieur Potter'

Harry turned and smiled at the young French wizard who that had walked up to him from the house unnoticed.

'Good morning Stéphane. Yes, I wanted to see the sun rise above the fields this morning' Harry answered.

Stéphane answered his smile, but something seemed to cloud his usually gentle eyes.

'What's wrong? Tell me right now' Harry demanded. His eyes had immediately sought out the long rows of vines, searching for anything on the delicate plants that could cause a problem.

Stéphane hesitated, looking awkward.

'I'm not sure Monsieur. I think it's best if you come with me'.

Wordlessly, he followed Stéphane through the fields, through the house, to the front door of the estate. Stéphane opened the double doors and stepped back.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Right in front of him, under a Muggle Repelling Glamour, it was unmistakably Draco Malfoy lying in a heap of limbs on his front step. Ten years and the miserable state of his broken body could not disguise the aristocratic Malfoy features. His naked skin bore numerous scars, bruises and scabs in various states of healing. He was covered in dirt and smears of dried blood, looking deathly pale underneath. Harry would have thought he was dead in fact, if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. On his bony shoulder, an envelope was pinned addressed to "Harry Potter". Cold dread trickled down Harry's spine. He would worry about the implications of his name on the envelope later. Right now, he had other priorities.

'Stéphane, fire call Mediwizard Chevalier at once. Then send word to all the Muggle workers that they have the day off due to a family emergency. I'm taking Monsieur Malfoy here to the guest room on the first floor. Come and join me when you're done'.

Without waiting for a reply, Harry pocketed the envelope and cast a feather-light charm on Malfoy's body. He floated the limp body up the stairs, careful to not let it bump into anything. Him, Harry corrected himself. Careful to not let anything bump into him.

Stepping into the guestroom, Harry was pleased to see it was as immaculate as always. He gently lowered Malfoy's body onto the large four poster bed, covering his naked form with a soft blanket. Harry backed away from the bed. Malfoy looked so… fragile. Not only was he covered in injuries and probably some nasty curses, his body was also no more than skin and bones. Malfoy had always been very slender, his shapes angular. But now he was so thin, you could actually count his bones, clearly visible underneath the almost translucently pale skin. Harry hesitated. Mediwizard Chevalier might be a while yet, should he try and do something for Malfoy now? No, Harry decided. Whatever he tried, it may do Malfoy more harm than good in his current state. It was clear that the blond wizard was out cold, and Harry privately thought that a blessing. At least Malfoy didn't seem to be in any discomfort right now, apparently he couldn't feel the effects of his injuries.

'Kreacher' Harry called.

The old house elf appeared with a pop. Living and working at the estate had done the house elf a world of good. He looked years younger, spotless and as always dressed in a snow white, crisply starched tea towel.

'Yes Master Harry?' the elf said eagerly.

'Kreacher, do you remember who this is?' Harry enquired, indicating the bed.

The elf's eyes popped wide in shock as he saw Malfoy's bruised face contrast sharply with the white linen pillowcase underneath.

'That is being Mister Draco Malfoy Sir' Kreacher exclaimed, wringing his little hands in dismay. 'Mister Malfoy is needing a Mediwizard Kreacher thinks'.

'Don't worry Kreacher, Stéphane is taking care of that as we speak. I expect Mediwizard Chevalier will be here any minute now' Harry confirmed. 'I need you to stay here and look after Mister Malfoy for me Kreacher, can you do that?'

'Of course Kreacher can be doing that Sir. Anything Master Harry wants Kreacher can be doing!' the house elf proclaimed, puffing out his tiny chest with pride.

'Good. Call me the minute anything changes in Mister Malfoy's condition. Also call me when Mediwizard Chevalier gets here. I'll be in my bedroom. Do you understand?' Harry asked.

'Yes Master Harry, Kreacher is understanding' Kreacher confirmed importantly.

Harry gave the house elf a satisfied nod and departed the room quickly.

xxx

Harry's body shook as he heaved above the toilet one more time. He'd emptied his stomach about a minute ago, so there was nothing left to come out. Stubbornly, his body kept trying to heave up the horrors it felt creeping up on it, but to no avail. The threat came from the outside, from Draco Malfoy to be exact… Well, Harry amended, not from Malfoy himself probably, since he didn't look like he'd be able to eat, drink or go to the bathroom unassisted, let alone challenge Harry. The threat came from whoever dumped Malfoy on his doorstep in the first place.

Waiting for the dry heaves to subside, Harry rested his head on the toilet seat. This was what he'd been trying to get away from. The darkness, the awfulness, the hopelessness… He'd been safe here and happy enough. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? The image of a broken Malfoy flashed before his eyes and Harry felt a pang of guilt. What was he complaining about anyway? Malfoy obviously hadn't come here voluntarily. In fact, given a choice, Harry was pretty sure the blonde would have preferred anywhere but here, anyone but him… Except for the people who left him here to begin with... Whatever else, Harry could at least make sure they wouldn't hurt Malfoy again. Sure, as a boy he'd been a stuck up, snooty little git, but no one, no one, deserved something like this.

Harry had no idea what had happened to Malfoy in the last couple of years. Harry had testified at both Draco's and his mother's trials reluctantly. He didn't want to get involved, but he felt he owed the two that much at least. It was up to the Wizengamot to decide on their punishment. He remembered Draco being sentenced to two years in Azkaban, his mother for six months. The news had meant nothing to him. He'd been too absorbed in his Auror training to spare much thought for the Malfoys' fates.

Harry scrambled up from the bathroom floor and headed over to the sink to wash his face and mouth. Time to pull himself together. Whether he liked it or not, it seemed trouble had managed to find him once again. He supposed he should be grateful for the almost six years of relative peace he'd been enjoying up to now. But he wasn't. No matter how irrational, he resented Malfoy just for being here. He resented the people who were responsible for Malfoy being here. Most of all, he resented them for reminding him of what he'd been hiding for in the first place.

'Monsieur Potter?'

Harry heard Stéphane's polite voice coming from outside his bathroom door.

'Yes Stéphane? Has something else happened?' he asked, as he answered the door.

'Non Monsieur. Mediwizard Chevalier will be here in five minutes. I've called all the Muggle employees and told them to stay home for the day. Luc came over just after you went upstairs. I've told him what happened. He's standing guard at the door, ready to send away anyone who might still turn up' Stéphane explained, handing Harry a cup of tea. Harry accepted the tea gratefully and took a careful sip.

'Thank you. Any idea who's behind this?' Harry inquired.

Stéphane looked puzzled.

'Non Monsieur. Was that not in the note they left?'

Note? Right… Harry had almost forgotten about the envelope. He quickly fished it out of his jeans pocket.

'Yes of course. Could you please take Luc's place and send him up here? I need to speak to him urgently'.

The young wizard nodded his consent and retreated, leaving Harry on his own. Harry drank the rest of the tea in one quick gulp and ripped open the envelope impatiently.

Dear Mister Potter,

We present you with what is left of Draco Malfoy. We fear it is not much. Our leader had planned on finishing him off, but we decided that that pleasure should go to you.

We regret that you felt it necessary to leave our native Britain behind. We do however understand that it must hold many unpleasant memories for you, a lot of them associated with Mister Malfoy here. Please feel free to do with him as you wish.

Perhaps you've heard of the efforts our little group has gone through to make Britain a safe and pleasant home for the Muggle born wizard? We'd be extremely honoured if you decided to join our ranks.

Rest assured, we will keep on fighting the good fight regardless!

Sincerely,

The Bald Eagle Society

Harry only just managed to reach the bathroom in time before emptying his stomach yet again.

xxx

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