In Love and War

Title: In Love and War
Description: My take on HP Book 7. Harry and his friends need to find the Horcruxes in order to defeat Voldemort and end the war, but they receive unexpected help along the way. Eventual HP/DM. HBP Spoilers. Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or franchise. This is just what I wanted to happen in Book 7, nothing more.

Thanks to everyone for the hits and comments. I really appreciate them!


Three: The Potion

Harry did not leave the room with Draco for a while. He did not know how long he stayed leaning against the wall of the dingy room, staring out into space and just attempting to forget everything he’d experienced that night.

Hermione and Ron had come back upstairs to tell him that they had indeed found a simple potion that would help Draco’s wounds heal more fully and prevent him from getting sick or infected. Hermione said it would take two days or so to make properly but they had all the ingredients they needed to begin that night. When the two left the room Harry stayed for a few minutes more, watching Draco and making sure his breathing was even.

As he walked out of the room, Harry knew they would need to find a change of clothes for Malfoy because they couldn’t keep the young man in his bloody and torn garments forever. He sighed loudly as he walked down the hallway, muttering “Lumos” so he could see his way down the stairs. When he walked into the entrance hall, it too was dimly lit because the snake-like chandelier had been turned on above him. All of the portraits remained silent because the curtains were pulled about them, covering them all.

Harry saw all three trunks in the hall, two out of the three opened. Hermione’s looked as if she had been rushing, as her clothes and other items were a complete mess in her trunk. Ron’s trunk was simply a mess, clothes everywhere and things all over the floor. Harry saw the door to his right was open, and he walked in it, leading him into the cavernous kitchen.

The moment he walked in Ron and Hermione’s heads snapped around. They were both bent over the ancient stove that was in the corner of the dank, chill kitchen. Harry saw Hermione’s small cauldron set up over the fire, while Ron held a potions book open. Hermione emptied a small flask of amber liquid into the already goopy grey liquid before she beckoned Harry over to them.

“How is he?” she asked, mixing the purple potion counterclockwise like the instructions in the book said.

“He’s…fine,” Harry said glumly. “His breathing is improving.”

“That’s good then,” Hermione said.

Harry noticed Ron wasn’t saying a word but instead had his gaze focused on the bubbling potion in front of them.

Harry cleared his throat before announcing, “We need to get him a change of clothes.”

Ron’s gaze came to Harry instead of the potion. He looked a bit perturbed at the statement. Hermione merely had a stance about her as if she knew this was coming.

“Why do we need to change his clothes?” Ron asked, sounding a bit disgusted at the idea of having to change another male.

“We can’t keep him in bloody clothes all the time, can we?” Harry snapped back, suddenly becoming agitated.

“I’m not going to change him,” Ron said, his lips pursing together.

“Ron stop being so immature,” Hermione said, chastising him as she continued to mix the potion.

Ron opened his mouth to retort but Harry cut him off.

“I’ll do it then,” he said darkly. “It’s not that big of a deal…I just thought we should have the decency to keep Malfoy clean if we’re going to have him here.”

“Why are you so interested in Malfoy?” Ron asked sharply, closing the potions text with a snap.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry said, suddenly becoming even more agitated then he felt previously.

“I mean…ever since last year you’ve been a bit obsessed, haven’t you? And I can understand trying to help him mate, I really can…” He paused for a moment and then concluded, “But you were crying tonight. I saw it.”

Ron looked sullen.

Harry could not help the color from rising in his cheeks.

“I have never been obsessed with Malfoy,” Harry gritted out through his clenched teeth, lying blatantly about the year before when he practically stalked Draco in their sixth year. “And…tonight—tonight was just unexpected is all…”

“Ron, Harry is allowed to cry you know,” Hermione snarled at her boyfriend’s attitude. “He doesn’t have to be macho all the time!”

“I’m not saying he has to be,” Ron spat back sounding exasperated. “It’s just…c’mon it’s Malfoy! He’s been your enemy since you first met him Harry—”

Harry turned on his heel, his back to Ron and then hissed, “Well things are changing aren’t they?”

“Obviously,” Ron snarled back.

Harry clenched his fists together. “I just came to tell you two that I wanted to keep the guy clean that’s all—”

“Don’t use any of my clothes,” Ron said angrily, cutting Harry off.

Harry did not respond as he stomped out of the kitchen leaving Hermione and Ron alone. As he walked over to the door he heard Hermione hit Ron and begin to yell at him for being so insensitive and mean. Once he was outside he slammed the kitchen door shut, causing all the portraits in the hall to begin screaming and wailing.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Harry yelled back at them through the noise but they did not stop.

He walked over to his trunk, all of them swearing madly at him as he yanked it open and pulled out a clean towel, shirt and loose trousers. He let his trunk slam shut causing the portraits to scream, if possible, even louder. Harry covered his with his hands and with the clothes he was carrying, not even bothering to attempt to bewitch the portraits to be silenced. He walked up the staircase and as the sound of screaming grew more distant, Harry took his hands off his ears.

He walked into the silent bedroom and he watched Draco as the young man’s scarred chest rose and fell steadily. Harry walked over to Draco and heaved a sigh before putting the clean clothes down on the bed and picking up the towel he had bought with him. He slowly wiped away the blood that had been left over on Draco’s forehead but he almost stopped when Draco groaned and fumbled around a bit. But the blonde did not open his eyes, so Harry went back to cleaning him up.

Eventually Harry had cleaned off blood from Draco’s neck, chest, and scarred foot, taking off the only sneaker and sock on Draco’s left foot and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Harry left cleaning off Draco’s brutally scarred left arm for last. Harry gingerly pulled off the bloody oxford from Draco’s upper body, lifting the blonde up as he did so. Draco’s head went back limply. This made Draco groan again, this time in obvious discomfort. Harry threw the bloody shirt to the floor next to the sneaker.

“Sorry,” Harry said aloud, wondering if Draco could even hear him.

Harry laid Draco back down on the bed again, the blonde mumbling something incoherent as he did this. Harry’s eyes went to his chest and he could not help but admire the scarred exposed chest in front of him. Although Draco was skinny and very pale, his skin that was not scarred was smooth and supple, his chest and arm muscles defined, and the blonde had a beautifully flat, taut stomach. Harry took his index finger and began to trace a scar softly that went from Draco’s protruding collarbone all the way down to his belly button and then down to Draco’s smooth hipbone that stuck out, as if almost in a trance. Draco mumbled incoherently again as Harry did this but did not wake up.

“What the hell are you doing?” someone asked from the doorway.

Harry snapped his hand back as if he had been stung and turned around only to find Ron looking at him, with his arms crossed and a towel in his hand.

Shit, Harry thought. What the hell was I doing?

“Nothing,” Harry replied, faltering for a moment. “I—I’m just cleaning the blood off his chest and stuff...”

“Right,” Ron said after a moment, sounding not at all convinced. “Hermione wanted me to give you this towel just in case you needed it.” Ron extended his arm out to Harry, the towel in hand.

“I already have one,” Harry replied awkwardly, holding up the completely bloody towel so Ron could see.

“Well here’s another one if you need it,” Ron said, placing the towel down on the nightstand by Draco’s bed. He peered over Harry’s shoulder and then said randomly, “He has a lot of scars.”

“Yeah…” Harry said. “He does.”

The two friends stood in silence, watching Draco’s scarred chest rising and falling.

“I wonder how he knew you were at your uncle’s house,” Ron questioned aloud suddenly. Harry sighed quietly—he was happy to get his mind off of what he had just done.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered. After a pause he said, “I’m just glad we were able to help him.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Ron said, the statement causing Harry’s eyes to tear away from the resting boy in front of him and stare Ron in the face.

“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, trying to prevent himself from sounding indignant or overly upset.

Ron shrugged quickly and recoiled, trying to look nonchalant. Harry stared at him, ticked off, for a moment more before snapping his eyes back to Draco.

“You should go back to Hermione, she probably needs you,” Harry mumbled after a long awkward pause of the two friends standing there.

“Oh…yeah,” Ron said, startled.

Harry turned and saw Ron looked sad, almost angry at himself at what he had said to Harry. Ron walked back to the door, his red hair gleaming in the dim light, his too-small clothes dirty and sweaty. But before he left he said to Harry, “Come get us if you need anything.”

“Right,” Harry quietly as the door shut behind Ron.

Harry let out a long groan of frustration when he knew Ron was gone.

He finally tore his gaze away from Draco who had moaned quite loudly in his sleep and turned over, exposing his bare, white back to Harry.

Harry gulped and decided to give Draco time to wake up and change his pants himself instead of him embarking and attempting to do it. Harry did not know what he meant by touching Draco, when before this, he surely would have vomited at the idea.

He sighed quietly, grabbing the bloody towel and Draco’s muddy, dirty clothes and scooped them up, knowing it would be much better if he left the room.

TBC.