Someone Else's Life

Three: Knocked Down

Incomplete, you’ve lost your way
Struggling with rationale
In a world so cold and bleak
How could this be a place for you?
--Hatebreed “Bound to Violence”

Molly Weasley sighed and collapsed in a chair by her faithful stove. She mopped sweat from her brow and shook her head. She’d managed to prepare dinner, all that was left to do was let the stew simmer, and wait for her boys to get home. As she sat there her thoughts began to turn to earlier that day when she’d been brought her newest charge.

A Malfoy, the boy that her youngest son despised, was obviously in a desperate way. He needed help, and she was determined to help the poor boy, despite the things she’d heard of him. He had been through a terrible ordeal; anyone with eyes could see that. She leaned her head back; eyes closed and pictured how Arthur would take the news of their new charge being none other than the son of a Death Eater.

Then her thoughts turned to the concern she’d seen in Harry’s eyes when he’d called her up as Draco had the episode. The worry that laced his voice, the gentleness he’d possessed when he’d taken the cloth from her to mop at the pale boy’s damp face. She lifted her head, opened her eyes, and drew in her bottom lip. She shook her head, a small smile twisted at her lips. Was it possible that Harry had found his match? She let out a breath and sighed again, it was a pity the boy hadn’t found what he needed in Ginny, it was so obvious to Molly that her only daughter was mad over the boy, but the boy’s heart was directing him toward a different sort, a sort with stormy grey eyes and white blond hair.

“Oh dear, what to do when those two discover each other. The poor dears, both going through so much in their young lives, and still with so much more to take on. Why must this war draw in children?” she spoke sadly.

“Mum?” she heard a soft gentle voice, and smiled, realizing it was her daughter.

“Yes, Gin?”

“Who were you talking about just now?” the girl asked.

Molly raised a reprimanding brow at her daughter. “So you’ve been listening in to your spotty ol’ Mum’s conversations with herself have you?”

The girl blushed and nodded in embarrassment. The woman ran her hand through her daughter’s rich red hair. “It’s okay dear, but I think there is something about Harry that you should know.”

“What, mum? What about him?” the girl asked.

The woman took a deep breath and looked at her daughter, her heart in her throat as she realized that this could break her little girl’s heart. “Oh, my little Ginny. Harry’s been through a lot in his young life and he is at the brink of finding his happiness. This won’t be easy for him. You have to understand that the heart chooses whom it will. If you care for him then you will let this go, and let him find his happiness. Don’t interfere, promise me that you won’t.”

The girl looked in confusion at her mother and then her eyes widened. “Are you saying that Harry is in love? But with…” she trailed as her eyes widened.

The girl shook her head. “No, mum. It can’t be. I could understand if it were Hermione, but no...”

“It’s all right, poppet,” her mother whispered as she took the teary eyed girl into her arms. “There are things in this world that we may never understand, but we must accept them. They need each other, love. They have both faced more than they ever should in their lives.”

The girl looked up, the tears trailing from her brown eyes. “Are you sure, Mum? Would Harry… Could he love a…boy?”

The woman nodded. “He may not know it yet, but there is no mistaking what I saw. Draco had an episode, an effect from prolonged exposure to the one of the unforgivables. It was more than compassion that Harry showed for him. There is something there. I feel it in my bones, and these ol’ bones have never lied to me before. I thought I would tell you so you didn’t get your hopes held high.”

The girl slowly nodded and then a look of dawning horror twisted her features, “Oh, Mum! What about when Ron finds out?”

Molly looked grim. “We shall cross that bridge when we come to it.”

----------

“So Potter, why would you think I was the heir of Slytherin?” Draco asked with a snort.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I was twelve at the time you prat, and you were such a nasty sort back then. Of course you were the prime suspect.”

Draco inclined his head, indicating that he understood the reasoning behind that assumption. “Fine, I understand that. But sleeping draughts in levitating cupcakes? Why did I ever allow myself to associate with such dunderheads who fall for something like that? And how could you stand to put your feet in Goyle’s shoes? You do know that he is not allowed to remove his shoes in my presence? His feet smell atrocious and I can only imagine how your feet would have smelled after you set one toe in those shoes.”

Harry rolled his eyes and then grumbled. “Well, I admit it wasn’t pleasant, but at the time I thought the end would justify the means. And while you were not the heir, seeing the inside of the enemy’s lair was refreshing.”

“Sophistication does not bode well with your skill in conversation, which is severely lacking. Do you not have anyone to have a proper conversation with?” the blond asked.

Harry smiled faintly, and sighed. “Hermione could talk for hours, and Ron was not so bad to talk to…”

“Was?” the blond questioned.

The dark haired boy nodded. “I can’t let them fight what they don’t understand. It isn’t right to expect them to sacrifice themselves or do something foolish on my behalf. I can’t ask that of them, and that is what friendship is, caring enough to make large sacrifices.”

“You’re just giving up on them?” Draco asked in shock.

“What do you suggest? Let me just stand about and watch as they are dealt the killing curse? I won’t have them die for me. I thought you could understand that. You’ve seen. You’ve refused to be in his service. Look at what your father did to you! You’ve left behind all that you’ve ever known!”

“Yes,” Draco snapped. “And that was my choice, and I think I chose well. But you Potter! Are you mad? You have friends, people that honestly care for you, and you would turn your back to them? How can you? I would kill for what you have, don’t you understand that?”

Harry met grey eyes head on, his green eyes flashing with rage. “How dare you! You’ve spent the past six years saying and doing horrible things to them, and now you would kill to have them as your friends?”

“Is it so hard to believe? You’ve had people who care for you, who have died for you! I wished my father was willing to die for me. As it is my father would kill me for his promotion in a madman’s ranks. I wish I had a mother who loved me enough to stand up and protect me as yours did. I wish I had friends who cared, instead of the ambitious children of Death Eaters watching my every move and telling Lucius whenever I stepped out of line! I never asked to be a Malfoy!” the blond shouted. “The only thing I ever asked for was your friendship, and you turned me away for Weasley and Granger. And now you would turn away from them. Why? What could possess you?”

“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…” Harry said, bitterness lacing the soft deep tones of his voice.

Draco looked at him in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I…” Harry paused and turned away from the stormy eyes that looked at him with a peculiar expression hidden in their depths. Long pale fingers gripped his chin, and with a strength he hadn’t expected from the blond, turned his head to face the blond once more.

“Tell me,” the blond whispered, and something in his voice caught the dark haired boy by surprise, there was concern in the aristocratic voice.

Green eyes once again locked with grey. “I will have to kill him, or die trying for it all to end. He’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and I’m just a foolish headstrong boy. How could I possibly win? It’s been luck and my mother’s sacrifice that has gotten me this far. I’ve already gotten too many people killed so far. My parents, Cedric…Sirius… Who will be the next to die because of me? I rather it be me than Ron or Hermione, or anyone else for that matter. They can’t follow me into that final battle.”

Draco shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “Bloody Gryffindors and their nobility. You know without a doubt that they wouldn’t let you face him alone. So you’re turning them away from you. Well, you will need someone Potter.”

At this Harry’s eyes widened. “And who would you suggest?”

The blond looked abashed. “Are you really that thick? I think I’ve proven my loyalty to the cause of the light. And as we have no obvious affection for each other, and I actually possess common sense, we both know that I wouldn’t be foolish enough to follow you into a suicide mission. I am the only choice. Would you turn me away a second time?”

“Promise not to sacrifice yourself for me?” Harry asked tentatively and the blond nodded in response.

Harry sighed and looked at the blond boy lounging on the bed and finally noticed his close proximity with the boy. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his body leaning closer to the blonde’s because of the shift of the mattress under the dual weight of the boys. He swallowed thickly, and his head began to swim with various thoughts. His palms grew moist at the sight of a few strands of hair carelessly draped over observant grey eyes, and his hand itched to push the hair back out of the boy’s face, and he noticed the beauty hidden beneath the bruises on the boy’s face.

No longer able to fight the urge the dark haired boy reached out and pushed the wayward strands of platinum hair out of the pale boy’s face, and tucked the hair behind the boy’s ear. The blond scooted up a bit to lean back on his elbows and tilted his head to gain a new perspective on the boy that was sitting on the bed beside him, the same boy that had wiped the sweat from his brow, had rubbed his neck and back to help his body through the aftershock of his earlier episode. He noticed the dark haired boy’s tongue dart out nervously across his lips, he withdrew his bottom lip but for a moment, and he became hypnotized by the wild beauty of the boy sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him.

Only a few centimeters separated them, and that space was charged with some sort of heated energy. The two began to move closer together, feeling something pulling them closer towards each other. Their lips brushed together awkwardly, the dark haired boy tried to pull back, his cheeks flushed, but the blond with surprising strength (considering his earlier condition) snaked his hand about the dark haired boy’s neck and held him firmly so he couldn’t escape and traced the boy’s lips with his tongue, urging the boy to allow his tongue entrance.

The dark haired boy, going on instinct, opened his mouth and the blonde’s tongue slipped between his lips, slipped through teeth to caress the boy’s tongue and trace over teeth and gums, drinking in the strange wild, cinnamon and ginger taste of the dark haired boy’s mouth. The dark haired boy went still and rigid but for a moment, and something stirred and fluttered in his stomach until his tongue met with the challenge of the other tongue vying for dominance in his mouth, and he began to play this strange new game of sorts, a battle of wills. He gently sucked on the blonde’s tongue and this resulted in a moan escaping the blonde’s throat. After another small moment of eternity the two pulled back on mutual consent, both desperate for air, hearts racing wildly.

When he caught his breath the blond spoke once more, “This changes nothing, Potter.”

The dark haired boy looked at the blond before him and shook his head with a grin on his face. “You’re wrong, Mal…Draco. Everything is different now. You asked me if I could turn away from you a second time. The answer is no. But your offer is more than friendship this time.”

Draco snorted. “The first offer was about alliances. I’ve never dealt in friends before, something that I must admit I sadly regret. I don’t know what this second offer consists of. What do you want from me, keep the list short, I don’t have much to give at this point. I was nearly killed by my own father, and I am more than certain that I have been disowned by now.”

Harry lifted his hand and gently caressed Draco’s face, careful to avoid some of the more recent bruising and peace seemed to radiate in his calm expression. “I don’t really know what I want, but if you are the offer, than I accept.”

“Done,” Draco said, “But you are a fool if you think you can take this on. I am not one to deal lightly with.”

Harry snorted. “I think I am more than aware of that. Call it Gryffindor foolishness or what you will. I hope I don’t regret this.”

“It’s your fault if you do. But all you get from this offer is me, Draco. There are no Malfoys to include in this, whatever it is.”

Harry nodded and then the two shook hands, before being drawn into another desperate merging of lips, teeth, and tongue.

----------

The pops of the twins and Arthur Weasley apparating sounded outside and Molly looked at the clock and saw that three hands had moved to the home position on the clock. She gave the stew a few turns, took a deep breath, and braced herself for telling Arthur just whom they had taken in. Just as she looked up from the stew she saw her youngest son standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She shook her head and let out a deep breath and said, “Ron, be a dear and go upstairs and tell Harry and Draco that dinner is ready.”

He snorted, but turned towards the stairs to do as she asked. He slunk up the stairs, and upon reaching the door of his bedroom, pressed his ear against the door to listen, but he heard nothing. He furrowed his brow, slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. As he peaked around the door his eyes widened and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore, in fact he was sick. He swallowed thickly, pulled back from the door way, slammed the door shut, and ran down the stairs and through the front door just as his father was walking in. He pushed past his father and took off running, to where he had no idea, and certainly didn’t care.

Molly looked up and took note of her husband’s flustered state. She furrowed her brows and gave her husband a stern look, wondering what had happened. “What is it, Arthur?”

“Ron just ran past me and out the front door. What’s going on Molly? He seemed upset and I’ve no clue where the boy has gone.”

“He just ran out? What was he thinking? We’ve got two charges who are Voldemort’s top priority and that boy has suddenly gone off in a fit? When I find him he will wish he’d never been born! How could he do this?” she began on a tangent, and her voice trailed off at the sight of two boys in the kitchen doorway one with platinum hair, grey eyes, and a tired expression, and the other with black hair, green eyes, a scar on his forehead, wearing a worried expression.

Harry looked down at the floor guiltily and then looked up to meet the worried faces of Arthur and Molly Weasley. “I know why he left,” he said.

Arthur looked at Harry and then his eyes narrowed at the pale blond boy standing next to him. “Molly! What is the meaning of this? What is a Malfoy doing in my home?” he snapped. “No wonder Ron left!”

“Arthur Weasley! The boy has been through a lot. Leave off him. This has nothing to do with him.”

Finally the blond spoke up. “Actually it does, Mrs. Weasley. You see, Harry and I… Well, at any rate he opened the door without knocking and didn’t like what he saw, so he left obviously.”

“And just what were you doing?” one of the twins spoke from behind the two boys standing in the doorway; Harry thought it was probably Fred.

“Yeah,” George added, “Must have been a sore sight to send him tearing off like that.”

“It’s not your concern!” the blond snapped, and Harry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he noticed the blond began to tremble.

“Calm down, Draco, we wouldn’t want you to have another episode,” Harry spoke gently

“Episode?” Arthur began and finally exploded. “Will someone tell me what is going on here?! I’ve come home to find the son of one of the most feared Death Eaters in my home, and one of my children has just run out of the house and is probably beyond the protective wards guarding the property! I want an explanation, NOW!”

Ginny ran into the kitchen wide eyed and the twins just stared at their father gob smacked. They had never seen their usually jovial father in such a fury. Draco took a hesitant step backward and almost stumbled, but Harry caught him and helped the boy to one of the chairs in the kitchen, and at that, all eyes turned to the boys.

Molly stepped in front of them, as if to protect them and turned to her husband and the twins. “Arthur! Ron has gone off in one of his tantrums, now go off and find him and when you get back we’ll have a long discussion after dinner, but until then I want my son brought back to me. Find him now!”

Arthur gave a terse nod, looked at the twins, and then walked out of the door in search of his youngest son, followed by the twins. Ginny retreated upstairs to her room, and that left Molly Weasley alone with Harry and Draco. She sighed and pulled out a chair next to Draco and sat down, looking at the tired boy sitting in the chair, and the dark haired boy with his hands on the blonde’s shoulders, looking every bit the fierce protector.

“So boys, while we are alone, would you care to tell me what happened?” she asked.

“Well…” Harry began.

----------

It was a week before school started and the Weasley’s were going shopping for school supplies, and Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would accompany the Weasleys. Within the time of Draco’s arrival there had been a great deal of animosity from Ron Weasley, and Arthur and Molly even had a few rows. Ginny Weasley seemed to adjust, although she was more quiet than usual and made herself scarce whenever either Harry or Draco were present. Strangest of all was the relationship that had developed between former enemies, Harry and Draco. Harry had become very protective of Draco, and while the latter despised the need to be protected, he couldn’t hold it against his former enemy, and something was drawing the pair together, something unexpected.

Molly Weasley ran through a mental list of what was needed as she called up the stairs for her children and Harry and Draco. Ginny scampered down the stairs, followed by an obviously irritated Ron, and a few moments later a worried Harry and a fiercely proud Draco joined them. Molly smiled at Ginny, Harry, and even Draco in reassurance, and sent a piercing glance at her youngest son, Ron, who was glaring openly at the Slytherin among them; Draco of course, was pointedly ignoring him.

Molly cleared her throat and they all approached the fireplace, she held out the bucket that contained the floo powder and they each took a pinch. “Now then, I will go first, and remember Harry dear. Annunciate. Can’t have you turning up in Knockturn Alley like you did that one time.”

To that Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at his self-proclaimed protector. The boy smiled inwardly, taking note of the jeans that actually fit Harry (as Draco had finally managed to convince the boy to magically adjust some of his clothes), and he was surprised that he’d actually managed to convince the Gryffindor to wear a green t-shirt; of course this was on the condition that Draco wore red. And, Draco unable to resist the temptation of Harry in green consented.

Molly was the first into the fireplace, followed quickly by Ron, Ginny, and then after a slight squeeze of the hand Harry went, and Draco followed. Draco let out a bit of a cough as he stepped out of the fireplace in The Leaky Cauldron. He gingerly brushed the soot from his hair and clothing, and scowled at the scuffy black and white tennis shoes he’d had to borrow from Fred (or was it George) Weasley.

Harry quickly sidled up with the fair skinned, blond Slytherin, much to the chagrin of Ron, and the surprise of several of The Leaky Cauldron’s patrons. The son of a suspected Death Eater was accompanying Harry Potter and the Weasleys on a shopping trip for school supplies, that would certainly be front-page news in The Daily Prophet.

Molly looked at the boys and then her own children. “All right, I think a trip to Gringotts is in order first, and then we’ll be off to Flourish and Blott’s for your books. Oh and Draco, dear, don’t you need to step in at Ollivander’s?”

The blond boy inclined his head in response and Molly left the answer at that, and felt a swell of emotion for the boy. Giving up all that he had known for the side of the light. She then looked from him to Harry and wondered just what could have changed the boy’s mind. The head and heart were funny things sometimes.

The troop headed toward the back alley where Molly tapped the bricks in a sequence that revealed Diagon Alley. The troop then headed toward the wizarding bank, Gringotts. They approached a goblin, and upon being asked for keys Molly produced the Weasley vault key, and Harry took out his own key. Draco sighed, wondering how much money was in his own mysterious vault from his godfather as he handed the creature before him the key to his vault.

Molly gathered her children and told Harry and Draco to take the next cart as there was hardly the room for all five of them in one cart alone, to which Draco raised a platinum eyebrow and Harry simply shrugged. The goblin accompanying the two boys took them to Harry’s vault first in a series of rattling and twisting turns in the cart. Upon arriving at the vault the Goblin proceeded to open it and Draco’s mouth promptly fell open at the sight of the money in the dark haired boy’s vault.

“Potter? This is your vault?” the boy asked in shock.

Harry turned and shrugged. “Yeah, why? I know it’s probably not as vast as the fortune you were used to, but this is all that I have in the world, well this and Godric’s Hollow. I’m thinking of rebuilding a home there, as my old home was destroyed. Of course that will have to come after the war.”

“Do you realize that you are the single most richest wizard in England?” Draco asked in awe, as he gazed at the piles of galleons and sickles.

The dark haired boy turned to him in surprise. “What?”

“All of Lucius’ money is tied up in the manor and the Dark Lord’s cause. He’s actually in debt by now. Especially with most of the major accounts located in England being confiscated by the ministry. That left Lucius with only the accounts in France and Switzerland, both of which are small in comparison to this, and if I’m not mistaken I heard that you inherited the Black estate as well?”

Harry only nodded at that. He took a leather bag from the goblin and filled it with galleons, to which Draco raised an eyebrow and slowly shook his head. Harry looked at him quizzically and asked, “What is it?”

“My…Lucius would never have allowed me that much money,” he answered quietly.

“Oh, is it too much?” Harry asked, obviously confused.

“Potter! You’re carrying around a small fortune in that bag!”

Harry shrugged again and patted the blond on the shoulder, and smiled slightly as the blond did not cower away from the touch. They had made progress, and Draco was looking like his old self, skin unblemished, his body no longer skin and bones. He was healthy, and Harry was proud to know that he had helped contribute to the boy’s state of health.

“Well, it’s off to your vault and then off to the bookshop where we are sure to find Hermione,” Harry said.

In a blur of twists and violent turns the cart finally stopped at an old vault. The goblin got out and unlocked the vault. The door slowly opened and for the second time that day, Draco’s mouth fell open. His eyes widened at the sight of galleons, sickles, and knuts in the vault. He turned to the Goblin and finally regained the use of his voice.

“This can’t be right. Are you certain that you used the right key?” the boy asked.

The goblin scowled darkly at the boy for suggesting that it had made a mistake. “The key you carried opened the door, didn’t it? Now collect your money and be gone.”

Harry was standing behind the blond and looking into the vault, his own eyes wide. “Wow, I thought you said your family was in debt.”

Draco shot him a look, “They are no longer my family. I was disowned as you recall, my father renounced my name and so now I have my mother’s maiden name as a surname. This is what my godfather has left to me.”

The dark haired boy nearly choked. “How did Snape come across all of this money?”

“Perhaps he speculated in the markets. I remember sometimes when he would talk about the market, and about certain cosmetic potions in the market…” Draco’s eyes widened. “Of course! He probably created most of those potions!”

At that Harry coughed and looked at the blond in shock. “You mean to tell me that Snape makes wizard’s make-up?”

Draco shrugged. “Well he does have a bit of time to kill during the summer hols.”

“Then why is his hair so greasy? Couldn’t he make a conditioner or something to fix that?”

“You’ve looked at Severus’ hair?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Well,” Harry’s face flushed slightly. “It’s kind of hard to miss. The grease makes it shiny even in the dungeon’s bad lighting.”

“Potter, you are absolutely appalling at times.”

“And still I manage to put up with you, Draco.”

The blond rolled his eyes, took the leather bag from the goblin and began to fill it up. Once the bag was considerably full they headed back toward the cart, and within a few stomach plummeting lurches and turns were brought back up to the surface where they met up with the three Weasleys, and then headed toward Flourish and Blott’s. Once inside the bookstore the boys handed the book clerk their lists, while Ron and Ginny went to look at the used book section. Draco’s gaze followed the Weasley’s and he felt pity for Ginny, although for Ron he could care less. How, after he’d been so mean to them, could they welcome him into their home.

Harry went up the stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts section and began looking through the selection of books, and Draco of course followed him. Draco thought back to his first day at the Burrow, and how he and Harry had become practically inseparable, whoever would have thought that possible after knowing of the animosity between the two boys?

Harry had pulled a rather large and ancient tome from the shelf and Draco took it upon himself to look over the dark haired boy’s shoulder and see what it was that had caught the boy’s interest. Suddenly a sliver of cold lit up the blonde’s spine, as his ears prickled and he heard the familiar simpering voice of Pansy Parkinson behind him.

Slowly he turned and his grey eyes met the dark calculating gaze of the pug-faced Slytherin girl. She looked from him to the dark haired boy with his back to her. She then sneered at the blond as she took in his appearance and shook her head.

“Then it must be true if you resort to dressing like a Weasley. And really, Draco, a red shirt? You even disgrace your house. It isn’t bad enough you ran away from Daddy? Why would you run? And in those horrible shoes no less. What has become of you?” she asked in an acidic tone.

This caught Harry’s attention. He turned to face the girl and her eyes widened and then the sneer changed into a smug smile. “And you actually consort with Gryffindors. Potter, no less. You could have had everything. You could have had me. Instead you would choose his side. You never deserved to be called a Malfoy.”

“You don’t know anything,” Draco hissed. “You’ve always been a simpering little gold digger, out for the greatest name and title that could be arranged for you. I never would have resigned myself to one as pathetic as you. Weak and parasitic. How dare you try to belittle me?”

“But I am not the one forced to take his mother’s maiden name for the shame he has brought to his father. You sicken me. Be careful Draco, you have angered many in your house. Your betrayal will not be taken lightly by anyone. Remember you have brought this upon yourself. And not even your new…alliances can save you,” she said with an attempt at a smirk.

Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and looked at the girl dead on in the eyes, his bright green eyes locking with her dark calculating ones. “Look you, Draco is not your concern. So I suggest you leave off, or preferably leave.”

Draco shrugged off Harry’s arm, turned to face the dark haired boy and snapped, “Really, Potter, not everyone needs a hero. Why don’t you just go downstairs, make the front page, and sod off!”

The blond then shoved past Pansy and took off downstairs and out of the store. He would have made it past the door had he not run into someone in his path. He fell back and landed on the floor on his backside. He looked up and inwardly cringed at the sight of his two former associates, Crabbe and Goyle, the former Malfoy muscle. He quickly rose to his feet and brushed himself off, and tried to once again go through the door, but it was too late. Goyle grabbed one of his arms and Crabbe took the other.

“Where do you think you’re off to, Malfoy?” Goyle asked.

Draco looked up and glared at the thickheaded boy. “I’m no longer tied to that name. I am a Black now, as is my mother.”

“Don’t you mean was?” came Pansy’s tittering voice from the stairs.

At this Draco’s head snapped up. “Was?”

Again a sadistic smile played across the Slytherin girl’s lips. “Oh then you haven’t heard? Shortly after you left your father discovered your mother in a most macabre position. I’m told that she used one of your father’s prized daggers to slit her wrists. Your father was quite grief stricken at having found her. The funeral was a lovely affair though. It was a pity you were unable to attend.”

Draco’s throat began to constrict as he took in the news of his mother’s death. He was knocked down yet again, cut off from the world, incomplete and lost. He struggled to catch his breath to reign in his thoughts, but nothing was working. His breathing grew ragged, his vision blurred, the voices around him not making any sense, a coldness began to settle around him, and he wondered where his place was in the world. He’d lost his mother. He’d lost everything.

Suddenly the hands that held his arms let go and he fell to his knees. He curled into himself and fought to breathe, his eyes fiercely closed, his body rocking back and forth, and suddenly the rocking stopped as a pair of warm familiar arms went around him. He finally let out a shuddering breath and leaned his face into the warm shoulder, smelling of rich earth and sandalwood, and his despair eased just a bit.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, his eyes widening as he looked into the dark, almost black, eyes of Blaise Zabini. Blaise looked down at the blond wrapped in the Gryffindor’s arms, ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, and sighed. “Are you all right?”

Both Draco and Harry stood up together, Harry putting his arm around the blonde’s shoulders, for once happy to be the hero. Draco looked at Blaise skeptically and replied, “Yes, I’m fine. Care to tell me why you seem so concerned?”

The dark haired Slytherin boy looked hurt for a moment and then smiled. “Just remembered that I was in your debt, so I thought I’d pay you back. We’re even now. I’m sure that Crabbe and Goyle will be looked after at St. Mungo’s, and I think Pansy’s new look is an improvement. They had no right to try and attack you knowing that you didn’t have a wand. I’ll see you around.”

The blond looked at the floor and noticed his former henchmen covered in boils and sprouting feathers, and then he turned to the stairwell where Pansy had previously stood and noticed an anxious barking pug in her place. He smirked and then turned to see Blaise walking away.

“Stop,” he called after the boy, and then began to walk toward him. Upon reaching him, he said, “Thanks Blaise.”

The dark haired Slytherin looked at the boy, momentarily stunned. “Any time, Draco. And my condolences on your mother. I wish I could have helped when it really counted as you helped me. I’m sorry. Oh, and this thing with Potter. I think he’s good for you.”

It was Draco’s turn to look stunned as the boy began to walk off once more. When Draco turned he was facing Harry who had two bags full of their schoolbooks. He handed Draco a bag and was then suddenly swept into a hug as a very enthusiastic Hermione Granger threw her arms around him. She suddenly stopped upon catching sight of Draco. Her eyes widened and she noticed how the blond was looking at her, almost as though he were jealous, and she also took note of Harry’s lack in responding to her hug.

“Harry,” she asked as she pulled back. “Is there anything the matter?”

He shook his head and gave a small smile. “No, why would you think that?”

“You just seem different, and what is Malfoy doing here? Did you just hand him one of your bags?” she asked and her eyes widened when she noticed the blond wince at the name.

“It’s a long story, and we simply don’t have time to get into it now. Ron is inside, I’m sure he’s dying to see you. We have to be off to Madame Maulkin’s and Ollivander’s,” Harry said and then as an afterthought said, “Draco is no longer a Malfoy. He’s reverted to the use of his mum’s maiden name.”

Hermione looked at Malfoy as though he were some new sort of magical creature and blinked a few times. “Did you just call him Draco, Harry? Are you feeling all right? I heard about him being missing, and I’m sorry about your mother, Mal…Draco,” she finished hesitantly.

The blond simply nodded in acknowledgement, Harry made a couple of excuses and promises of explanations and then the pair were off to continue their shopping. The two went to Madame Maulkin’s where both were fitted for new robes and with that out of the way, Draco picked a few casual clothes and robes for later on, as well as a new rich green velvet cloak.

Then came the shop that both boys were dreading. Both were well aware of the nuisance of purchasing a wand. Harry had nearly tore the place apart when he purchased his first wand, and Draco grimaced at the thought of having to try wand after wand until the right one presented itself.

As soon as Draco and Harry entered the wand shop Mr. Ollivander appeared behind the counter, smiling at both boys. “Ah, Harry Potter, I remember fondly, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple, and Mr. Black is it now? Yes, I remember when your mother was looking through my inventory. You were a tricky customer as well, cherry wood and dragon’s heartstring ten inches, very flexible.”

Draco nodded and then looked up at the strange man. And the man nodded, “So you are looking for a new wand is it? Oh my, the last time you were here… Well never fear, there must be one for you here somewhere.”

With that the old man headed toward the shelves and pulled out three boxes and brought them to the counter, he opened the first and presented it to Draco. “Willow, ten and three quarters inches, give it a flick then.”

Draco took the wand and gave it a swish and flick and an entire shelve of wands hit the floor. “Oh, my, that one simply won’t do,” the man muttered and then took the other two boxes and went in search of several different types of wands. He came back with three different boxes.

He took the lid off one, smiling and nodding, “Yes, perhaps this will do, mahogany thirteen inches.”

Draco took the wand, gave it a flick, and several parchments on the counter flew across the room, and Mr. Ollivander shook his head, took the wand and presented Draco with another, followed by seven others, until finally the old man looked at the boy, tapped his chin twice with his index finger and said, “I wonder,” and was then off to the very back of his shop hunting through boxes until he came across a long slender black box. He looked at the box with a dazed expression, shook his head and then smiled. “Perhaps…”

He walked back to the counter where the boys awaited. The blond raised his left eyebrow as he noticed the shopkeeper coming with only one box. The shopkeeper lifted the lid on the box and presented it to Draco with a smile, “Ebony, fourteen inches, flexible, but strong.”

Draco took the wand and warmth flooded into his hands and a breeze picked up in the room blowing his hair back as well as the hair of Harry and Mr. Ollivander. The old man had a strange smile on his face as he said, “Very curious indeed. That wand has been on the shelf for centuries. Only one other wizard ever tried out that wand, and it never claimed him.”

“Really?” Draco asked. “What is so curious about this wand?”

Again the old man smiled. “Well this is the only wand in existence with this particular core. You see this wand’s core contains the blood of a vampire, not just any vampire, but one of the last remaining ancients. I believe today she goes by the name Selene, for she who is secretive, drawn to the night, dark and mysterious in aspect, majestic, gracious, condescending, luxurious, and extravagant. It is most curious. And your wand is a rare treasure, and most powerful indeed. You promise to do wondrous things with this wand, I only hope they are great and wondrous things, my boy.”

Draco nodded at the old man and Harry patted him on his shoulder, breaking him out of his strange trance. The old man looked at the boy, cleared his throat and then said, “That will be seven galleons, Mr. Black. Ah, to have the ancient and most noble house of Black revived in such a manner, as to follow in the light. Indeed you promise great things, my boy, great things indeed.”

Draco paid for the wand, put it in his pocket, and quickly he and Harry left the shop and headed back toward The Leaky Cauldron, after having noticed the time was three-thirty, and they were to meet the Weasley’s at the pub to return to the Burrow. Draco was silent during the walk to the pub and Harry kept stealing glances at the boy, feeling protective and worried over him. He could only imagine how the boy was taking finding out his mother was dead from someone as inconsiderate as Pansy Parkinson, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how Blaise Zabini had come to be in Draco’s debt.

The dark haired Gryffindor looked at the platinum haired Slytherin and wondered what the future held for both of them. With Draco he felt human, almost as though he had someone else’s life, someone who was free from shouldering the burdens of the world. Harry looked at his strange companion, and wondered what God of fate had intervened in such a manner to make Draco, Harry’s one escape. While he could be knocked down, he now knew with a strange certainty that there was someone to pick him up, and if ever Draco was knocked down, Harry swore to himself that he would be there to pick up the pieces and help mend them…

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