"Hand me that towel, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasely beckoned, tending to Malfoy's injuries. A trail of blood was spouting from a large gash on his forehead, and he had bloody cuts everywhere on his body. "Harry, could you pass the gauze?" Mrs. Weasely asked politely.
"Oh, of course." Harry did so, still staring at Draco's wounds. Who could've done such a thing? Harry wished he could say Voldemort, though he was in hiding at the moment. But that didn't mean he could strike... What about his father? Would Mr. Malfoy do such a thing to his only son just because he fell for a Gryffindor? Well, perhaps Harry's case was special. His family did seem to have something against him, and the Weasely's. Though Mr. Malfoy was stuck in his prejudice ways with Mr. Weasely's job occupation, loathing him for it. Maybe Mr. Malfoy couldn't stand the thought of his son mingling with the boy who took down his 'Lord' time and time again.
But that wasn't the matter at hand right now. Draco was bleeding fairly badly, which only worried Harry more.
"Harry," Harry looked up, into the comforting eyes of Mrs. Weasely. "He will be fine, just give him a little rest. It won't take long for me to finish wrapping him up. His wounds may look severe, but it's nothing to concern yourself over. Go, I'm sure Ron and Hermione need to chat with you. It's all right." She reassured him. Harry nodded, and with a final glance at Malfoy, he got up and left.
"Bloody hell he looked really ravaged..." Ron muttered.
"I can't help but feel bad for the guy... Oh, poor Harry. This must be an awful time for something like this to happen." Hermione shook her head sadly.
"Mrs. Weasely said he would be all right. He's all patched up and just needs rest." Harry interrupted the scene. Ron and Hermione both sat on a worn couch just outside the room where Malfoy lay. They had been deep in conversation when Harry arrived, but didn't look startled or vexed when he suddenly popped in.
"Really? That's a relief. Who do you think could have done such a thing?" Hermione smiled thankfully.
"I'd already started thinking the same thing myself. Voldemort is a possibility-"
"Didn't he just come out of a nasty duel with Dumbledore and you?" Ron interjected hastily. Harry gave him a look and continued. "Yes, but he could have easily sent someone to do his dirty work. This is Voldemort we're talking about. The other theory I thought of, and it pains me to think this, but what if Draco's father had something to do with this? No, he could have been the sole brains for this. If Draco let it slip that he's with the guy who warded off Voldemort for the past 5 years running, I think he might've lost it on him." Harry gulped, letting the notion sink inside them like fresh ink on paper.
"Would Lucius Malfoy really go that far?" Hermione questioned.
"I wouldn't put it past him. Look at what he did to Dobby."
"House elves are different, in their own sense." Ron frowned.
"This is why I started SPEW..." Hermione casually mentioned.
"Not the time, Hermione. But, those were the only things I could think of. Do you guys have any thoughts?" Harry left the floor to Ron and Hermione. A long silence ensued, in which both of his friends opened their mouths several times as to say something, but thought better of it.
"D'ya think he just got jumped?" Ron suggested. Harry shook his head. "That could be, but with his family all up with Voldemort I don't think anyone would dare touch him if they wanted to live. Death Eaters are out of the question, unless..." An idea struck Harry hard in the gut.
"Harry, you look pale. Are you all right?" Hermione knitted her eyebrows together in concern.
"Unless it was one of us."
"Do you really think either me or Ron would do that to Draco?"
"You punched him in the face in our third year." Harry pointed out. Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was different. He was still a daft bump on a log then. But now he means something to you, so... he's our friend too, whether we like it or not." Harry smiled. "Thanks, that means a lot. But it could have been anyone, really."
"Maybe we should actually ask him when he wakes up." Ron shrugged.
"Good place to start." Harry agreed, nodding. All they could really do was wait until Draco woke up.
A loud yell provoked the silence that had ensued, the voice causing Harry to perk up. That didn't take very long, he thought. Harry scurried to the room where Draco lay. Only, this time he wasn't anywhere near laying down. Instead he was swinging his arms around at Mrs. Weasely, who was trying to calm him down.
"Stop fretting! You'll reopen your wounds!" She sternly raised her voice.
"Get away from me! I don't even know who you are, or where I-" He looked to the side, finally noticing Harry. A wave of relief washed over him, it was evident on his face as his arms slowed, and he got up, walking towards Harry. And then he threw his arms around him. "Thank God..." He whispered.
"Good to see you too." Harry hugged him lightly. Upon letting go, Draco winced slightly. "Guess I should relax." He said. Harry laughed. "No kidding."
After the huge commotion, Draco had calmed down enough to sit in the living room on the couch opposite Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Mrs. Weasely had also quickly gotten over Draco's sudden reaction to her and treated him just as she did her own children.
"Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?" She offered.
"Um... hot chocolate would be splendid, thank you." He thanked her gratefully. No sooner had he answered that Mrs. Weasely dashed off towards the kitchen, humming a sweet tune as she worked. Draco looked from Ron, to Harry, to Hermione, and back to Harry. He bit his lip awkwardly, not sure what to say.
"So, uh, your mother is really nice." He started off, twiddling his thumbs.
"Yeah, I suppose so." Ron mumbled. Mrs. Weasely stuck her head back in the living room. "Ronald! Be nice. Thank you, by the way, Draco." And then she was gone, the sound of a kettle being put onto the stove the only sign she was there.
"Draco," Harry began. He locked eyes with him. "I was wondering if you were able to remember anything from before. How did you become this badly wounded and, if your memory provides, who did it?" He smiled. "Guess you're the paparazzi now?" He continued on after no response. "I can't tell you who did it, they were wearing a mask, but I can tell you that they must have misplaced their wand. Took me by surprise with only a kitchen knife. Needless to say I freaked out, and started firing spell after spell at the bloke. They Apparated before any of them could have hit. I was bleeding pretty badly, as I'm sure you noticed, and I started to wander around. I was dazed, had no idea where I was going. But then I saw a light. Many lights, actually. I followed them, and it turned out that they were attached to this house. I needed help, from anyone. So I sucked up the guts and knocked on the door. Mrs. Weasely opened the door, and I asked if Harry Potter was there. I'd seen her around Diagon Alley sometimes, and thought maybe you might be staying with them. Luck shined on me, and then I passed out. Woke up in an unfamiliar room with a blurry person beside me. Sorry for lashing out earlier, by the way." He addressed Mrs. Weasely, who was holding four cups of hot chocolate in her hands.
"Not a problem! Here's the cocoa, everyone. Thought I'd make some more for the rest of you. I'll be upstairs delivering some refreshments to Ginny. Call if you need anything, okay?" She handed everyone a steaming cup filled to the brim of chocolate, topped up with whipping cream.
"You're the best, Mrs. Weasely." Harry thanked her as she handed him a mug. She blushed faintly. "I'll be off then." And with a smile, she was. Everyone sat there, just sipping their cocoa for a few minutes. Then Draco asked why Harry was even at the Burrow in the first place. Harry went into the explanation about how he had been at the Dursely's, and how Dumbledore took him over to see Horace Slughorn and how he would be teaching at Hogwarts that year. Draco nodded every so often, listening intently.
"I can't believe Apparating hurts that much." He shook his head in wonderment.
"I know," Harry sighed. "I prefer riding a broom, to be honest." Draco stuck his tongue out. "No, no, definitely not. I'll get used to being unnaturally squeezed through small things in no time." A low chuckle circled the group.
"Going back a few minutes earlier," Hermione said. "When you said that the culprit of this was wearing a mask, it wasn't a Death Eater's mask, was it?"
"No," Draco shook his head. "It wasn't. Just a simple, black masquerade mask. Whoever it was only wanted their identity sealed, I've never seen anyone else wear that kind of mask around town 'just because.'"
"Hmm..." Hermione trailed off in her own thoughts. "Well, it was good talking with you anyway. Then again, we'll have a bit of time more to talk yet, I'd imagine." She grinned behind her now half-empty mug.
"You don't want me to leave?" He asked, surprised.
"Not if you don't want to." Harry pitched in. "I thought you would've realized that you're welcome here."
"I guess he could stay, if he wants." Ron said. A warm smile spread itself across Draco's face, the kind of smile that radiated the gratitude and happiness he felt inside. "Thank you," He breathed. "You won't regret this."
