For all the times he saved me

A/N undergoing edit, for someone has pointed something out to me which I cannot deny. I am not an editor. However, I seem to still not be able to shorten my paragraphs. My apologies for that, and also for my bad spelling once in a while. I have no high-tech anything, and my laptop is so incredibly old, it has no working version of word on it. I check everything at least three times before I post, but still I miss some words. Ignore them if you will. Thank you.
here it goes:

He had finally done it. He had told her he felt for her like a friend. She knew it had been coming, she felt the same way, but it still hurt. She wouldn’t let the tears fall. Tears he didn’t need to see, he felt bad enough about it. It wasn’t his fault. Neither was it hers, but it had been inevitable. Five years into their marriage and now it was over. The tears were not for him, she wouldn’t lose him, he was her best friend. The tears were for their children, the life they had built, and for herself. He would be alright, he had half the female populace of the UK after him. She on the other hand, she would have a much more difficult life. He had said she could stay in the house, which was his, for as long as she needed. He had said they would always be friends, and he would never leave the mother of his kids homeless. He had said he still loved her, just like she did him, as a friend, a comrade, a sister. But she didn’t want to stay there. Maybe later, but not now. She needed to get her affairs in order and sort out her thoughts and feelings about this. A new thought had struck her when she was standing there assuring him it was alright: the kids! She flood Harry. Of course the kids could stay with him, Ginny was visiting Charlie for a few weeks, and he would like the quality time with his niece and nephew. His son would love to have his cousins over. And if she needed anything, she need just call. She appreciated the gesture, but told him she just needed a few days alone. She told Ron she would get a room in the Leaky Cauldron for a few nights, and he had given her money. Also a nice gesture, he knew she never kept her money on her, using her account at Gringots as a fund for the kids. Another problem. The fund. He said not to worry, he could open a new account in their names, and they would both deposit over the years. Fine. She told him she would have the money back when she returned in a few days, and hugged him one last time before walking out the door. After about ten steps she remembered she was a witch, what a stupid thing to forget, and she apparated to London.
Still holding back the tears she knew were coming, she landed on the other side of the city. Bugger. She had been so distracted, she had missed her target by almost a mile. She was lucky she hadn’t splinched herself. There was a nagging sting on her upper arm but she barely noticed. She tried to orientate herself, not trusting her directional skills to try apparating again, and walked a few blocks until she recognized one of the streets. Through the haze of heartbreak, worry and a tiny bit of relief she didn’t have to do it herself, she walked the familiar sidewalks towards the pub. Somewhere far off, it dawned on her she was feeling cold. Maybe she should’ve taken the time to get her coat? What a weird thought. It didn’t matter right now. Also, somewhere, she noticed she was soaked. How did that happen? She stepped in a puddle and a tiny voice in the back of her mind explained what rain was. Why would it do that? She looked up, just a second. Ah, it is raining. Fine. Stupid dress. The formal dress she had still been wearing after the ministry Christmas ball made it hard for her to move. She stopped for a second, grabbed the hem of her dress and tore. The split now came to her mid-thigh, which was just fine. It made walking around angrily much easier. The pain was ebbing away now, rage and frustration taking its place. Flush 5 good years of marriage down the loo, just for the heck of it, would he? Loved her as a sister, did he? She stomped the little voice saying she felt the same way, roughly into silence until it went to cower in a corner in her now rage-infected mind. Ouch. She looked at her arm, noticing a bit of her skin was missing. Ah, she had splinched herself. No worries, it just bled a little. It was just dripping down her arm, over her hands and onto the ground from her fingertips, but it didn’t even hurt. Mostly. She started shivering as she rounded one of the last corners, she was almost there, but right now she couldn’t even remember where she had been heading. The annoying little voice had regained a little of its courage and piped up again. At least it couldn’t get any worse. And she went face first, down into the mud. Finally she let the tears out.

Lucius’s London flat was boring. It was quite roomy, but nothing compared to what they had been used to. Narcissa was still quite the vision though, and being a gracious hostess, refilling his drink before he had even noticed he had finished it. This did beat the ministry of magic annual ball of Christmisery any day. Fine, he was a decorated war hero. Fine, he was now the most skilled potions master and was working on a cure for lycanthropy. Fine, they had an incessant need to invite him to horrid, dreadfully boring parties, where he and the boy wonder would be photographed and interviewed all evening, rolling their eyes at each other and be expected to treat each other horribly. But that didn’t mean he’d come. Especially on Christmas eve. He always spent it with the Malfoys. After the war they had downscaled a bit. The big manor was now Draco’s, but in all honesty, he didn’t live in it either. Lucius and Narcissa had moved themselves into a small flat in London, or anyway, they thought it small. It was still a penthouse, four bedrooms, all with adjoining bathrooms, and a nice spacious living area and they had retained two house elves. It seemed unfair to him, what they called 'small and cozy', he believed Narcissa had called it, (Lucius though, had called it a shithole.) was a downright palace to him. But he couldn’t complain. He had the money to go and buy something bigger, he just never knew what to do with the space. He looked out the window as Narcissa started her annual speech about his non-existent love-life and cursed the rain. He couldn’t apparate to Lupin’s, he would have to walk through the blasted weather. Just great. Narcissa had finished preaching. Good. He bid the couple farewell, and transfigured a handy tissue from his coat pocket into an umbrella. Splash. Bugger. A puddle. He grumbled silently, wishing that bloody wolf could’ve taken his anti-apparition wards down for once in his damned life. Thankfully he didn’t live too far off. Rounding the corner, he spotted the house, almost ran up to it and practically banged the door down. The door opened, revealing an extremely busy wolf, and his mutt friend standing behind him looking sheepishly. Yugh, why did they have to do that every Christmas? He shoved the pouch with the potions into the sandy haired man’s chest. Oops. Maybe a little too hard, as the shirtless wolf stumbled backwards a bit. The Black idiot opened his mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, muttered “sorry, have a nice Christmas” and turned to leave. No snide comments? They didn’t even make it up the stairs this time. No. It’s Christmas, he was cold and tired and didn’t want to get into a fight with a riled up werewolf two days before the full moon. “Merry Christmas!” he heard behind him, after which the door clicked shut again. One corner, and he could apparate. Good, the wind was trying to steal his umbrella anyway. He started to get frustrated. He had liked the diner at Lucius’ but it had took too damn long. Narcissa did nothing to improve the monster headache coming on by whining about him dating. She had tried to set him up with one of her horrid friends again. Thankfully the daft bint had gotten the clues he had sent her way (i.e. ignoring her, not responding to a word she said and after a while asking Lucius whether he might be excused for a moment, because there seemed to be a persistent ringing in his ear, and he might have a potion in his bag for it. Childish? a little. Fun? Oh yes.) and she had left early. Of course it had earned him another one of the famous Narcissa lectures, usually reserved for her son. It had made him laugh. The sight of Lupin and Black half naked on a staircase was not his idea of fun either. Not a rare occurrence though, he mused, and the grumpy part of him said they might’ve gone bonkers and try to get him to join them. He snickered out loud at the ridiculous thought. He just wanted to go home and drink a glass of firewhiskey by the fire before turning in for the night. At least he was almost there, and it couldn’t get any worse tonight. He rounded the corner just in time to see a young woman go down, face first into the mud, blood streaming from one of her arms.

Hiccough. Stupid tears. Her sobs wreaked havoc on her body, she was losing air fast and the tears just didn’t seem to stop. She was sitting on the cold stone sidewalk, in her once so beautiful evening gown, the rain pouring down around and on her, and her arm hurt like hell. She knew she should get up, but she had no energy left to do it. Dry. Wait, dry? She could see the rain around her, but she didn’t feel it anymore. Look up. Fine, she looked up. Hmm, curious, an umbrella. With a hand attached to the umbrella. She didn’t care. She could feel all her energy draining into the ground under her, and she didn’t even make the effort to look up far enough to see who was attached to the hand. For all she cared, no one was. She felt fingers close around her uninjured arm, raising her from the ground and onto her ruined suede pumps. Another sob wrecked through her as she saw her expensive shoes in that state. They had cost her a fortune, a fortune she didn’t have anymore. She heard someone speak to her, but she didn’t register the words. Through the tears in her eyes she saw black shoes, perfectly muddles. Bugger, she hated this person already. The tears just kept coming as the hand dragged her a few feet into a nearby alley, and she could feel him twist away from her, but never letting go. They apparated.

Great more sobs. You’d think she could at least shut up for a few seconds to answer the questions he’d asked her. When it dawned on him, she probably didn’t even hear him anymore, and he had decided Christmas was ruined anyway, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her out of the anti-apparition wards. They were only a few steps away from it anyway. He sighed heavily, not exactly clear on why he was doing this, and apparated to his house. The moment his feet landed on the ground, he could feel hers slipping out from under her. He growled. Dropping the umbrella, he caught her before she fell and hoisted her up against his chest. Hmm, cinnamon. But how her hair smelt was not important. He carried her through his little overgrown yard, wandlessly unlocking and opening his door, and tried to place her on the sofa. Her hands, tiny hands, he mused, were clutching the front of his shirt. The girl was still sobbing, and she obviously wasn’t going to let him go soon. He sighed again, pulled her back up a bit, and settled in the corner of the couch. It was hours later when she finally fell asleep in his arms. He looked around him grumpily. How in Merlin’s name am I going to get her make up out of a silk shirt?! He thought before he let sleep take him as well.