Hello! I just figured out the 'cut' feature, so I'm re-posting this chapter under the cut. <3


Of Anemics and Horcruxes

At Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley and Lupin sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea. It was a stormy night, ridden with thunder and silence. The eerie silence was broken when there were three sharp raps at the door. Harry went to answer it, and nearly died of shock on what was on the other side of the threshold.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, near midnight during a thunderstorm, but he didn't expect to see Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was completely drenched, keeping his head hung low, while Snape was as confident looking as ever, holding onto the neck of Malfoy's shirt from the back, as if afraid if he let go, Malfoy would bolt.

“Take him. He'll be of use to your cause.” Snape said simply before shoving Malfoy through the doorway roughly and slamming the door. Harry didn't miss when Malfoy lost his balance, only barely catching his footing in time. Everyone by that time was coming to see what the racket was, and all stopped dead in their tracks at the disheveled appearance of Malfoy. Mrs. Weasley automatically went into overbearing-mother-mode and bustled through them with a fluffy towel.

“Oh, you poor dear. Come, come in and dry off. Have some tea.” She said while slinging the towel over Malfoy's shoulders, patting his back in a gesture to follow her. He kept his head down while she fussed over him, making comments on how 'deathly thin' he was, and how he needed some fresh clothes.

Ron glared holes in the back of Malfoy's head while Harry wasn't sure what to feel. He was expecting a scathing remark, or a look that threatened to kill him. But, he got neither. Malfoy looked.. Broken? Certainly not the Malfoy he remembered from school. His normal superior, pure-blood facade seemed to be overcome by sadness, and maybe a little fear.

Was he supposed to pity him? Hate him? Give him a hug and say soothing nothings into his ear? He shuddered and quickly rid that thought from his mind. He'd do that for Ron or Ginny, but certainly not Malfoy.

Malfoy carefully toweled his white-blonde hair dry and followed Mrs. Weasley into the boiler room. He could hear faint sounds of, “You must be freezing!” And, “I'm fine.” Though, Malfoy's voice lacked it's normal venom. He sounded tired and worn. He emerged with a clean, long sleeved blue shirt and baggy jeans. He didn't think he'd recognize Malfoy on the street if he wore that, but he didn't argue or anything.

“Good to see you, Draco.” Lupin greeted, shaking Malfoy's hand. Ron looked dumbfounded. Good to see him? Malfoy? His ears were starting to turn red. Malfoy smiled weakly and allowed himself to be ushered into a seat by Mrs. Weasley, and a cup of tea be pressed into his hand. His hands shook slightly, like he had palsy. Harry didn't say anything, though. He still wondered why he was even here. ‘Of use to their cause?’ Malfoy could help them?

“Thank you.” Malfoy muttered to Mrs. Weasley. She smiled and patted his shoulder. Thank you? Malfoy, thanking someone? Okay, who is this, and what did they do with Malfoy? Ron looked like he was about to say something, but stopped at the death glare Harry sent him. He huffed and retreated to his room, his face as red as his hair. Harry sighed, knowing he wouldn't sleep for some time now.

He took a seat across from Malfoy and nursed his own cup of tea he abandoned earlier. Malfoy seemed to be able to read his thoughts.

“Don't worry. I don't plan on inflicting you with my presence any longer than necessary.” Malfoy said, not looking up to meet Harry's gaze. Harry gave him a sympathetic look.

“Alright, off to bed, all of you. Come, dearie, I'll show you to your room.” Mrs. Weasley said to them both. Draco stood up, wavered on his feet dizzily, before following the Weasley matriarch up the stairs. Harry sighed, set his cup in the sink and retired to his own room.

~*~*~*~*

Creak, creak, creak..

Harry cracked his eyes open. What the hell? He slipped his glasses on, leaving the room he shared with Ron to see what the noise was. He brandished his wand and followed the sound after casting a quick Lumos.

He saw a familiar head of white blonde hair padding down the stairs barefooted, carrying his shoes in one hand and his wand in the other.

“Malfoy!” Harry called out in a loud whisper. Malfoy froze and turned around slowly, “What are you doing?”

“I told you I was leaving.” Malfoy replied. Harry briefly remembered him saying about not staying very long at the dining table last night, but he figured that meant for at least a few months. Snape did say he was of use to them.

“But.. Why?” Harry asked, descending the steps to hear Malfoy better. He sighed and started,

“Look, I don't want to be here, and no one wants me here. The light side wants me dead. The dark side wants me dead. I have no where to go.” Malfoy started, keeping his head down, “They'll keep searching nonstop until they find me. I, personally, do not wish to worry for the rest of my life, however short they make it, so I might as well leave and let them take me.” He finished gently.

Harry suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the blonde. If what Malfoy said was true, then Voldemort himself was probably circling their house at this moment, waiting for Malfoy to come out.

No. He didn't deserve that. Harry wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, who ironically, was in front of him.

“Malfoy, you can't-”

“Don't try and stop me. There's nothing you can say to change my mind. I'm going, and you won't have to deal with me anymore.” He said with finality, starting to turn around and walk down the last few steps. Harry panicked. He couldn't let it happen. He remembered back when Malfoy lowered his wand on Dumbledore, showing that he wasn't a bad person, and then seeing him in the boy’s bathroom, sobbing his eyes out. If he didn't act right now, Malfoy would be killed. He didn't deserve that.

Harry jumped down the steps and stepped in front of Malfoy.

“Potter, please, don't try and stop me.” Malfoy pleaded. Harry narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head.

“I'm not letting you leave, Malfoy.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I-..” Harry started, losing his words instantly. He suddenly noticed many things about the new Malfoy. Gods, was anything on this boy not pale? Pale skin, pale hair, pale gray eyes. He was like a washed out painting. His hair lacked the healthy sheen it usually had, and he looked one step away from death.

“I believe Dumbledore's offer still stands.” Harry said quietly, “Believe it or not, the light side does not want you dead. They intensely dislike you, but they don't hate you. I don't hate you.” Harry said bewilderedly, realizing that he really didn't hate Malfoy. Sure, he could be a royal prick at times, but he didn't think he hated him, “We can keep you safe here. You might not think so, but you don't have to fear for your life. Not in my house.” Harry finished, watching as pain, anger, and disbelief crossed over Malfoy's features all at once, the crossing of emotions making his face look blank.

“..But, what about Weasley? I'm pretty sure he hates me.” Malfoy replied, “I really think it would be best if I just left. I'd make everyone's life miserable if I stayed.”

“..Okay, so Ron might hate you, but I think if you tried, you could change his mind. Isn't it better to live some place where you're safe and can make amends, instead of some place where you're sure to die?” Harry asked, trying to force some reason into Malfoy's brain. Did he really think that lowly of himself? He always seemed to confident in school.

“I don't think anyone's willing to make amends with me: Draco Malfoy, son of a convicted Death Eater. They might not want me dead, but I'm pretty sure they want me sent to Azkaban!” He shout-whispered. Harry sighed. Just as he was about to retort,

“What's all the ruckus down here?” Remus asked from the stairs, holding a candle. Harry pointed at Malfoy.

“He's trying to run away.” He said simply. Malfoy scowled.

“How come?” The werewolf asked, now standing facing both of them.

“I don't belong here.” Malfoy said darkly, “I'm a tick in the arse of the light side.” He quipped, making Harry snort. Remus shook his head.

“That's not true. Believe it or not, the dark side hates us, but the feeling is not mutual.” Remus explained, taking Malfoy's hand, which was holding his wand, “There are very few people that we hate.” Malfoy snorted.

“Like my father?” He asked scornfully. Remus squeezed his hand.

“Admittedly, we do not like your father. But I know that you are not him. You're not evil, or bad, or.. Whatever. I think you're neutral.” Remus guessed, “Not good or bad, but sort of.. Float on the line. We can help you, Draco. But, only if you let us.” Remus finished in a gentle voice. Malfoy looked between Harry and Remus, searching for anything insincere or disdainful in their eyes, but found nothing.

“..Why are you being nice to me?” He asked them both.

“You've not shown any reason for us to not be kind.” Remus said, “Actually, yesterday, you were quite pleasant.” he said cheerfully, “If you keep that attitude, then I don't think there will be any room in this household's heart to hate you. But, you could perk up a bit. It makes me depressed just watching you.” Remus said playfully. Malfoy smiled. Not smirked or sneered, but actually smiled. It was small, but not lost on Harry.

“Now, get your arse up in that bed, and if I have to do this again, I'm hexing you.” Harry threatened. Malfoy's lips twitched and he huffed a weak laugh. Harry pointed to the stairs and Malfoy rolled his eyes, following orders. Harry sighed and smiled, shaking his head. What has he gotten himself into?

~*~*~*~*

Harry trudged down the stairs the next morning around 8:15 to see everyone at the kitchen table, eating another one of Mrs. Weasley's immaculate breakfasts. All except Malfoy.

Fuck.

He turned on his heel and darted back up the steps to the third landing. Oh God, he hoped Malfoy didn't try to leave again.

He flung Malfoy's bedroom door open to reveal him standing in the middle of the room, seeming to be getting dressed, if his shirtless torso was anything to go by. Malfoy turned his head, his eyes wide, and made a grab for a blanket to throw over himself.

“Ever heard of knocking, Potter?” Malfoy asked, seemingly hysteric. He lost his balance as he forcefully covered himself with the blanket, stabilizing himself on the side of the bed. He didn't want anyone seeing his too-skinny body. Malfoy was ashamed and disgusted with it, himself.

“Uh-.. O-Oh, sorry. I, uh.. Thought you tried to leave again... Sorry.” Harry said, averting his gaze politely and began to slip out.

“Do you think I'd try and escape now, Potter? Honestly, you have no faith in me.” Malfoy chided, quickly buttoning and zipping his pants before slipping a shirt on under the blanket to face Harry.

“There's breakfast downstairs when you're ready.” Harry said, flushing a little. Molly was right, he was deathly thin. He only caught a glimpse of his back, but what he saw was bony and astonishingly underfed.

Harry jogged back down the stairs, still a little flushed, but desperately trying to cool back off. He rolled his sleeves up and fanned his face briefly before joining everyone at the dining table. Malfoy came in soon after, only getting welcome smiles from Harry, Remus, and Molly. Ron glared at him. Not very settling.

He took a seat next to Harry, seeming to be neutral about his presence, and sipped a cup of tea, not meeting anyone's gaze. Molly came over and started shoveling mounds of eggs, bacon, and toast onto his plate. Malfoy only picked at his food, not really eating any of it. He pushed his plate away and politely excused himself. He, once again, staggered on his feet getting up from his chair. Harry stared after him as he jogged up the stairs and heard a door close at the end of the hall. Ron decided to speak up.

“Why does Malfoy have to stay here, anyway?” He asked nastily, “He should just go back and stay with his Death Eater parents and his precious Dark Lord-”

“Shut up, Ron!” Harry yelled, banging his fist on the table. Ron looked at him with wide eyes.

“Wha-.. What?” Ron asked, sounding hurt.

“He's staying here as my guest. And, I swear, Ron, if you give him any grief that makes him do something irrational, it'll be me you have to deal with.” With that, Harry threw his napkin onto his plate and ran up the stairs, only too aware of the group of wide eyes watching him go.

He knocked lightly on Malfoy's door before opening it. The blonde was sat on the bed, pencil in hand, seeming to be writing something. He looked up questioningly.

“I would.. just like to apologize on their behalf.” Harry said, unsure of himself. Malfoy shrugged.

“I'm use to it by now. No big deal.” He said before turning back to his parchment. Harry looked at him helplessly, thinking he shouldn't have to be 'use to it'. He narrowed his eyes in curiosity.

“What are you writing?” He asked before walking over to see over Malfoy's shoulder.

“I'm not.” He said. Malfoy angled the paper forward slightly so the light illuminated it. On the parchment was a drawing of what looked like Ron. Another person on the side suddenly came into view and pointed their wand at him, and then Ron had animal ears of some type. At the bottom, it read,

The Weasel.

Harry laughed and pointed at the other figure.

“Is that you?” He asked. Malfoy nodded, “It's good.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “I was thinking about giving it to Weasley as a birthday present.” He said smugly. Harry laughed again.

“Do you draw often?” Harry asked, trying to show interest. Malfoy shrugged and set his Muggle pencil down on the bedside table.

“Not as often as I use to.” He answered vaguely. Harry sighed, knowing he wouldn't get any more than that. He wanted to know more about this new Malfoy, who seemed like a complete switch-flip from the one he knew in school. Seeming to read his mind, Malfoy said, “Severus kicked my arse, you know.”

Harry stared at him for a moment at the blatantly of the comment, and articulately said, “Huh?”

“He was a spy the whole bloody time, too! Did you know?” Malfoy asked before shaking his head, “He gave me the tongue-lashing of my life, I think I might have cried at the end.” He said wryly. Harry snorted, but covered his mouth afterward to prevent further laughing, “If you were wondering why I'm here, he, quite literally, knocked some sense into me.”

“He hit you?” Harry asked, gob smacked. It was Malfoy's turn to chuckle.

“No, he didn't actually strike me, but he did grab my shoulders a few times and shook the crap out of my arse. I think I did that literally, too.” Harry didn't hold back this time and laughed whole-heartedly, “I'm not exactly a spy for the light like he is, but I no longer wish to follow my father.” He spat, as if spitting venom. Harry gazed at him curiously.

“Did you ever.. You know.. “ Harry insinuated, pointing to his left arm. Malfoy sighed and nodded.

“I was, to make my father proud.” More spitting, “But, a big part of Severus' rant was to tell me to, and I quote, 'Start thinking for myself, not some single-minded moldy-arse-kisser'.” Harry snickered again. He leaned his hip against the side of Malfoy's bed while he listened to his reasoning.

“The other part was to swallow my pride and get the hell over myself.” He finished, “Well, after that you can imagine I had a lot of thinking to do. I realized a few things for myself, too.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like Granger. Muggle born or not, she still kicks my arse in everything except Potions. I realized that, no longer under my father's influence, that even if she isn't a Pureblood, it's not exactly a bad thing. Its just blood, right?” Malfoy asked, unsure of himself. Harry nodded, not missing the small look of relief that crossed the blonde's face.

“There's something else, as well..” Malfoy stopped and scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I didn't really hate you.”

Harry blinked stupidly.

“I believe he told me that I was to befriend you, then he could bring you to 'his Lord'. That made me really worried. I mean, you were my childhood idol.” Harry blinked again. Idol? “I did as I was told, evidently, but you wouldn't believe how relieved I was when you refused my hand.” Harry, once again, blinked. This wasn't what he was expecting, “So, I kept badgering you and baiting you, ensuring you wouldn't ever consider me.”

Harry gaped for a minute. “So.. you berated me.. to protect me from your father?” Harry guessed. Malfoy nodded.

“I'm not sorry for the things I said. Or the things I did. I did what I had to keep you away from my father and Voldemort, at least for as long as possible. So, I'm not sorry for what happened, but I am sorry it upset you.” Malfoy explained. Harry was speechless for once, “...Potter?”

“Sorry.” He said automatically, “It's just.. A lot to take in right now.” Harry nibbled on his thumbnail thoughtfully, looking around the room. He was suddenly seeing Malfoy in a new light. A good light.

“I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just thought you should know.” He said softly, as if becoming aware of his blatant honesty and openness just now. The two boys were hadn't even been aware of Remus standing in threshold, smiling fondly.

“Morning, boys.” He said, causing Harry and Malfoy to jump. He chuckled and shook his head, “Just thought I'd let you know that Ginny's coming over around lunch, so you'd best be dressed and ready.” He said motherly before taking his leave.

~*~*~*~*

Harry and Malfoy, after a few hours, came down the stairs for lunch, laughing at something Draco said.

“Harry!” They both stopped dead in their tracks at the shrilly, girly voice that called out, “Oh, it's so good to see you!” Ginny gushed before jogging up the stairs and throwing herself at Harry, squeezing him for all he was worth.

“Good to see you, too, 'Gin.” He said, awkwardly patting her back. Malfoy snickered. He knew the look Harry was sporting, and it wasn't one of fondness. Once the Weaselette detached herself from Harry, without sparing Malfoy a glance, grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him down the stairs. Malfoy snickered again and followed.

He was stopped by Ron.

“Can I have a word, Malfoy?” He asked nervously. Malfoy regarded him for a moment. Ron held his hands up, “I'm unarmed. I just want to talk.” He said quickly. Malfoy sighed.

“Alright.” He answered before getting pulled into a corner under the stairs.

“Why's he here?” Ginny asked scornfully, taking a seat at the kitchen table next to Harry, who was tired of all the hostility. Surprisingly, it was Molly, who answered,

“Ginny, I told you he would be, and we don't know why.. exactly, but he's not caused a bit of trouble since he's arrived, so I expect you to mind your manners and be civil, or you won't have any supper.” Molly said firmly. Ginny gaped before huffing and crossing her arms over he chest defiantly.

Harry glanced behind him where he saw something he thought he'd never see in his lifetime.. Ron was shaking Draco's hand and smiling. His heart fluttered at the sight, elated that at least someone was trying to make an effort.

“Scoot over, 'Gin.” Ron said, and Ginny growled, but shifted over a seat. Ron sat in the vacated seat while Draco took the one of the other side of Harry.

“So, did you have a truce or something?” Harry asked. Ron nodded.

“Well, you can imagine the 'stern talking-to' I got from mum, and that.. Well, Malfoy's hasn't really done anything worth being shitty over since he's been here. We're not friends by any stretch of the imagination, but..”

“We decided not to snipe at each other, for one, and if one of us does, then the other one has permission to snipe back.” Malfoy finished, grinning wryly. Harry felt the weight of the world lift form his shoulders. It wasn't a friendship, but it was a start, and he was extremely surprised at Ron's acceptance of Malfoy. Perhaps his hot-tempered attitude quelled with.. No, he wouldn't think about that. Harry grinned and looked up as Molly entered, carrying loads of food.

“Now, Draco, dear, I expect you to eat, and you're not leaving this table until you finish every last thing on your plate!” Molly demanded as she was setting down a very tantalizing bowl of delicate mashed potatoes with butter.

Draco was opening his mouth to retort when Ron shot him a look, clearly saying, 'Don't even try'. He sighed and relented.

“Yes, ma'am.” He replied politely. Harry snickered from beside him, not knowing when 'Malfoy' became 'Draco', earning him a smack in the arm, which made him snicker more.

After about five minutes of trips back and fourth, all the food was finally on the table, and they were free to load their plates. Draco reluctantly allowed Molly to, once again, pile food onto his plate up to his nose, or so it seemed. He smiled, albeit fake and pasted-on, and began to nibble at the end of a piece of broccoli. Knowing he had to eat all of his food made him nauseous.

Draco winced subtly and rubbed his chest, hoping it would alleviate the pain that stabbed there.

“You okay?” Harry asked. Draco panicked at being noticed, but nodded nonetheless.

“I'm fine.” He replied, silencing himself with a pained forkful of chicken, effectively ending the conversation. Harry didn't seem convinced, but let it go anyway.

The rest of the lunch was eaten in silence, and surprisingly, Draco finished his plate, if only to placate Molly. Draco looked to Harry.

“So, where is Granger, anyway?” He asked. Since he got there he had been curious as to why the girl wasn't there. He assumed she was at home, or something. He didn't expect Harry to suddenly look tearful and turn his head away.

“She's.. She got-..” He raised his hand to his mouth as a tear cascaded down his face. Damnit! He told himself he wouldn't think about this! He pushed his chair back and abruptly ran upstairs, slamming his door. Draco sat, dumbfounded at Harry's emotional response, knowing he said the wrong thing, if the glares from Ginny and Ron were anything to go by.

“Dear, Hermione was.. captured.” Molly said forlornly. Draco gasped, “The Death Eaters have her. It happened recently, about a week ago, and we haven't been able to track them yet. It's had such a bad effect on our Harry, he's just torn over it.” She finished sadly, dabbing her own tears from her eyes with her sleeve.

“Oh..” Draco said stupidly, “I should..” He didn't even finish his sentence, suddenly wrenching himself from his seat and only made it a short distance before dizziness overcame him again, and he had to brace himself with a hand on the wall before continuing, not noticing the confused and concerned glanced the adults sent him.

Draco knocked on the door softly before pressing his ear to the door, hearing soft crying on the other end. He sighed and let himself in.

“Potter..?” He started awkwardly while he closed the door behind him, seeing that he shared the room with Ron, noticing the bed opposite Harry's with a 'Chudley Cannons' throw draped over it, “I'm really sorry-”

“It's okay.” Came the thick reply from Harry's bed, where he sat cross-legged, tear streaks down his cheeks, “You didn't know. I'm sorry for getting so bloody emotional.” He said harshly.

“You're trying to get her back, aren't you?” Draco asked. Harry nodded.

“They captured her to taunt me.” He spat, “I'm just worried we won't get to her before they-” He cut himself off with a choked ripped itself from his throat. Draco's heart ached for him, having lost his best friend, Blaise, to the Dark Lord, as well. And.. No, he wouldn't think about that. It wasn't helping things.

Draco still stood a few feet from the bed, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. Harry, after getting through his sudden bout of tears, patted the bed with his hand. Draco walked over slowly, unsure why Harry was openly giving him a second chance, and had gone to personal levels by crying in front of him.

“I won't bite.” Harry said at Draco's shyness to join him on the bed. Draco's lips quirked slightly, and he sat on the edge of the bed stiffly.

“I just.. miss her, you know?” Harry said heartbreakingly. Draco nodded.

“I understand.. I lost Blaise to Voldemort.” Draco said, trying to convey that he really did understand.

“Really? Were you two close?” Harry asked. Draco nodded again.

“He was like my brother since we were little. Believe it or not, Blaise wanted to join you on the light side, and Voldemort killed him for being 'defiant'.” Draco embellished with making quote marks with his fingers. Harry looked at him sympathetically.

“I'm sorry.” He said after a moment.

“Thanks..” Draco answered, feeling suddenly depressed, the onslaught of emotions of remembering his dead friend coming back to haunt him, “Potter, can I tell you something?” Draco asked warily.

“Of course.” Harry replied, suddenly interested.

“Voldemort and my father.. they took my-”

“Everything alright now, dears?” Molly asked from the threshold. The boys both looked to her and nodded, “Wonderful. Draco, could I speak with you, please?” She asked warmly. Draco looked from Harry to Molly before nodding and following Molly into the hall.

It was about half an hour, which Harry used to compose himself, before Draco came back in smiling widely. Harry smiled lightly back.

“What's got you so happy?” Harry asked as Draco, without being asked, sat down on the bed again.

“Molly and Remus want me to help them make potions for the Order. I haven't brewed in ages, Harry!” Draco said excitedly, the use of Harry's first name not being lost on him.

“Congratulations. I'm sure you've already gotten yourself worked up about it, but I'm afraid we haven't much of a potions lab.” Harry said. Draco flipped his hand, as if to say 'pish-posh'.

“I don't need a huge lab to brew. I can't wait to start, though. Remus is going to Diagon Alley to fetch potions supplies for me tomorrow.” He finished, coming down from his high. There was an awkward silence before Harry spoke again,

“What was it you wanted to tell me before?” He asked carefully. Draco's face fell and he sighed, “You don't have to tell me-”

“No, I need to tell you. You need to know. It's important for the reason I'm here.” He seriously. There was another pregnant silence. Harry waved his hand.

“Go on.” He urged, almost peeing himself in anticipation. Draco sighed again and looked at his hands.

“Voldemort and my father,” Draco started the same way he had last time, clenching his fists, “took my son.”