Dragon He Saved

"What are you looking at?" Harry snapped, earning a glare from Hedwig even as
she hopped out of her cage and swooped out the window into the budding light of
dawn.

"Damn."

The last thing he wanted to do was have Hedwig mad at him...again. As if it
wasn't bad enough that he was in a house that everyone bloody well hated him and
then have to deal with a beat-up
I'm-a-Malfoy-so-bow-down-or-you'll-have-your-bollocks-ripped-off enemy. His life
was so unfair sometimes.

"Well you've done it this time, Malfoy. I don't know how you managed it but
however you did...I hope it was worth it." Harry mumbled, dropping his head into
his hands. The feeling in his scar had seemed to settle on a somewhat tolerable
level or, at least, a level that he could ignore. And for that he was grateful.

//Well don't just sit there...do something.// A little voice in his
head commanded even as his hands dropped down to his sides. //I guess I
could...clean him up a bit.//

Propelling himself off the edge of the bed, Harry scuttled around the room
trying to find what he may need along with his scattering wits. //Better chance
of finding Dobby then finding them.// A very Hermione-ish voice chided him. That
only produced a scowl.

Gathering the little bit of dignity he felt he had left, Harry grabbed a wash
towel (which was really just shreds of Dudley's old shirts) from a stack (yes,
they were yet another thing that Aunt Petunia insisted he keep in his room.
After all, she didn't want to have to do the laundry for him) and crossed
to the room to the door. Despite the fact that he had to keep everything from
toothpaste to his own 'towels' in the room, he still had go across the hall to
the small bathroom; which was, of course, right next door to Dudley's room.

And, yes, even though Dudley could sleep through a sonic blast, he still
risked the chance of waking up his Aunt or Uncle, which would only lead to a
fate worse then Voldemort. When Uncle Vernon was woken early...to early...he was
like a pit-bull with rabies. Harry winced to think about the one time three
years ago when he had gotten up for a spot of water...

//My back still gives a twinge now and then from all the yard work I had to
do.// He thought, placing a hand on the small of his back.

(Ahem I think I need to jump in here...yes, yes I know you want to get on
with the story but this needs to be told. Despite popular belief, Vernon never
beat Harry. I know some of you and probably thinking 'ri-ight' but really, I
would have never allowed Harry to stay there if I thought he was in any real
danger. You see, Vernon and Petunia thought of all wizards as impure so why
would Vernon touch dare to touch Harry?...I'm sure some of you understand better
now...Don't look at me like that...I needed to explain. I think I should be
offended by such language...but for the sake of Harry...I'm leaving now...)

With exaggerated care, Harry turned the doorknob and peeked out into the dim
hallway. No a peep. Casting one last withering glance at Draco's still form and
sending a prayer to Merlin, he stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed to the
bathroom.

//If anyone's listening - give me a break. Please.//