Dragon He Saved

A groan escaped the blonde’s cracked lips causing Harry to open his eyes once
again. No amount of denial would make this go away for him. It was really
happening and he had to deal with it.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Harry let his eyes room over Draco's form.
Besides the obvious signs of the boy's many problems, there were other things
that, even though simplistic, made Harry's stomach roll. Dirt was clinging to
the boys hands, embedded under his usually immaculate nails, as they twitched
periodically as if someone was sending little electro-shocks through his hands.
Little cuts and scraps ran along the length of his arms and feet; some of them
obviously days old and others looking as if they happened just a few hours
before.

But that wasn't what made Harry as horrified as he was...Draco was skin and
bones. Literally. All that lean muscle that had, over the years, been toned and
sculpted was now gone to leave a hollow shell. The thin tee shirt that clung to
his form showed easily the indents of his ribs and the hollows of his
collarbone...

Harry swallowed thickly. My god how many weeks of starvation did Draco have
to endure to get this way?

//Who would do this to him? Surely his father wouldn't...// But Harry cut off
that thought. He wasn't sure what Draco's father would and wouldn't do. Lucius
Malfoy was in no way a kind man. That had been proven during Harry's third year
at Hogwarts with the way he treated Dobby and even, to an extent, Draco. And it
hadn't escaped Harry's attention that all through their fifth year at Hogwarts,
Draco seemed to have drawn into himself with every letter he received from home.
Even the biting remarks he threw at Harry on a regular basis weren't as snappish
as they used to be.

//How long have I been noticing what Dr--Malfoy does?// Harry asked himself
irritably. He wasn't sure of the answer. Or perhaps, more likely, he didn't want
to think about the answer. If he did then he'd have to admit a few things that
were better left unsaid...

"Well you're a right mess..." He mumbled, more for the sake of saying
something then really having anything to say. "...what am I gonna do with you?"

When only another groan escaped the boy's lips, Harry sighed. There was only
one thing for him to do and he really didn't want to do it...With a deep breath,
he shifted down till he was able to wiggle his arms beneath the blonde's knees
and back. Steadying himself, Harry slowly stood, bringing Draco's body close
against his chest.

//He barely weighs a thing.// He thought worriedly. Draco wasn't even as
heavy as some of the stacks of school books Harry had to lug around from class
to class. Clutching his bundle close, Harry turned and trudged back across the
short distance.

Using his foot, he forced the front door open, kicking the block-stopper to
the side and carefully maneuvered them both inside; that done, he once again
used his foot to gently swing the door shut. A shiver ran through him again as
the tingling in his scar, which until now he had successfully ignored, flared
almost painfully so. Instinctively Harry clutched Draco closer. What the hell
was going on?

//Don't just stand there! Get him up to your room before either a.) He wakes
up and starts hexing you or b.) Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wake up and start
hitting you.//

Without hesitation Harry began climbing the stairs (minding the squeaking
step, of course) and tried not to think to closely about his motivation for
doing so. Why should he care if anyone else sees Draco besides him? It wasn't as
if the humiliation wouldn't do Draco some good...

//Oh bloody buggery you're pathetic!// Harry thought when he realized that he
had, by now, gotten to his room without any fuss and was now tucking Draco into
his bed gently. //Get a grip Potter! //

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Harry looked down spitefully at
his enemy (who just happened to be snuggled quite nicely in his bed). "This is
your fault, you know? This...whatever it is." Harry growled, rubbing his fingers
over his scar to try to get the feeling to dull. The flare from before had faded
but only by a fraction or so since he had settled Draco onto the bed.

"I hate my life." Harry said glumly, slumping down on the edge of the bed.
Glancing over to Hedwig's cage he noticed with mild surprise that his owl was
still there, looking at them both with something akin to affection. Affection?