Chapter one. The World Doesn't Seem Real

"Get up boy! Someone is at the door!" Harry woke to his uncles booming voice and the sound of persistent knocking on the front door. "Did you hear me, boy? Answer the damn door!" Vernon shouted, presumably from his near permanent spot on the couch. The couch that could be found in front of the tv in the sitting room not 3 feet away from the front door. Harry sighed, sat up, and stretched his tired, aching limbs. He reached for his glasses, Which brought his whole room into focus and stood to walk across the tiny room and down the stairs. The banging on the front door seemed to grow more desperate by the second. Harry tried not to let his annoyance show as he walked past the sitting room where sure enough his aunt and uncle were sitting watching the same movie for probably the 13th time in the week he had been out of school.

He swung the front door open expecting to see some salesperson or a mailman with some package that needed to be signed for, but he stopped short when he found none other than Draco Malfoy leaning against his doorframe for support. The first thing Harry noticed was red. Just red everywhere, on the other boy's shirt, staining his hands, streaking his face, and matted in his hair. He noticed the beautiful contrast of it all. How truly remarkable the red looked in comparison to the white of the boy's shirt and his pale skin. Very quickly he came to the only logical conclusion that the red stains were actually blood and that the stains were growing, soaking over half of the boy's shirt. And finally, Harry Potter realized that here Draco Malfoy was at number 4 pivot drive bleeding to death on his aunt and uncles welcome mat. He didn't say anything he couldn't say anything. Of all the horrible things he had imagined would happen to him this summer this was not among that list.

The bleeding boy looked up at Harry for the first time and met his gaze. "Help me" he whispered, "Help me, Potter." the words pierced through Harry pushing him into action, just as Draco Malfoy lost consciousness. Harry caught him before he hit the ground.

"Well, who is it, boy!" His uncle called

"Nothing uncle Vernon, Just some salesperson I sent him away," Harry said quickly shutting the door. He now stood in his guardian's entry way holding Draco Malfoy, of all people, and he hadn't a bloody clue what he was supposed to do. He had no access o magic and if his aunt and uncle were to see him harboring another wizard they'd both boys out and Harry would have absolutely no hope of saving Draco Malfoy on the streets. Honestly, there wasn't really any other choice. Harry held his breath and quickly walked past the sitting room and up the stairs praying to Merlin neither of them decided to get up. Malfoy was much lighter than Harry thought he should be considering the fact that he honestly wasn't that strong of a person, to begin with, and he was currently carrying a teenage boy up the stairs with ease. Harry tried to look anywhere but at the unconscious boy in his arms, as he kicked open his bedroom door and gently set the young Malfoy down in his bed.

There was so much blood. How could there even be that much blood? Could he even be alive anymore with this much blood leaking out of him? The last thought caused a lump to rise in his throat and his veins to grow cold. First thing was first, Harry needed to stop the bleeding, but to do that he needed to get his shirt out of the way. Not having time to fool with all the buttons Harry grabbed a pair of scissors off his desk and cut the shirt away. The gash on Malfoy's side was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. It was big and ugly and bleeding. Without thinking about the consequences he would later deal with he ran out of his room and gathered up all of his aunt's fluffy white towels that he could find. He returned with arms full of towels and anything else he could find that could help in just under 3 minutes. He knelt by Malfoy and pressed the first of the towels against his wound and paled at the sight of how fast the towel became soaked with blood. He quickly discarded it and grabbed another and then another and finally, the bleeding slowed enough for Harry to tape a rather large bandage over the wound. That done he pulled a small black box out from under his bed and opened it carefully pulling out some of the potions Madam Pumphrey had sent home with him last summer. He grabbed the one to fight off infections and lifted Malfoys head up as he poured the entire contents of the bottle down his throat.

Harry backed away from his bed at that point staring at the picture before him. Piles of bloody towels and half naked Draco Malfoy still covered in his own blood though he looked better now the bleeding stopped. Just barely. What happened. Harry thought to himself sadly. He needed help. He couldn't nurse Draco fucking Malfoy back to help in this place. No someone would have to come and get him but who on earth could? Harry paced his room for awhile trying to think of who he could get here quickly, then it came to him, Dumbledore.

With trembling hands, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and jotted down a quick note just enough to get the headmasters attention. He folded the paper and shoved it in an envelope ready to send until he turned to Hedwig's cage, which was padlocked shut. Shit, Harry thought. Shit shit shit. He needed help just too bloody get help. Who could help him send a letter to the wizarding world? Who could get in touch with Dumbledore that he even had access to over the summer? Who could, ah but there was someone who could do all that wasn't there. Harry grinned and ran out of his room shoving the letter into his back pocket.

It wasn't hard to sneak out, he had done it all the time and even if his aunt had asked him where he was going they never really put up a fight when he would go out for walks, not until he came back anyway, but he could deal with that later, for now, he just needed to get this letter out there. However, as soon as the crushing heat he so did the gravity of the situation. Draco could die, in his room. His arch nemesis the person who had made his life a living hell for years the one who tortured his friends and who was almost definitely going to become a death eater was dying in his room. So why did he care so much to save the git? Harry told himself it was because he was a decent person and as terrible and Malfoy could be he was just a person just like the rest of them and that hey maybe this would get him to make the right choice if he actually did succeed in saving his life that is. But the real reasons for Harry wanting to save Malfoy's life were far too big to even begin to grasp at the moment all Harry knew is that he needed to save this boy. He crossed the street to the one person that he never suspected of anything abnormal. And as it so happens the one person who could get him out of this mess he was in, Mrs. Figg. the frail looking older woman who had been assigned by Dumbledore himself to look after him surely she could get a message through. Harry grit his teeth as he rang the doorbell. He held his letter in both of his hands and waited for the door to open, which it did quite quickly.

"Oh hello, Mister Potter." She said pleasantly, she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before holding the door open a bit wider. "Would you like to come in?" Harry shook his head, the way Mrs. Figg talked to him took him by surprise, like he was still somehow a kid to her. It reminded him of the was Mrs. Weasley sometimes spoke to him. He shook the feeling off and shoved the letter towards the woman.

"Dumbledore," he said quietly pleading with her with his eyes. She simply nodded and took the letter. Harry gave her a small smile as a way of saying thank you before sprinting across the street and straight through the front door, which he slammed, and headed up to his room.

"What were you doing across the street boy?" his uncle's voice took him by surprise as it wasn't coming from the sitting room, instead his uncle had come to stand at the bottom of the steps.

"Nothing," Harry grunted turning to walk up the stairs again but his uncle had grabbed his arm.

"I asked you a question, you ungrateful boy." and with that his uncle released his hold on his arm and grabbed the back of his shirt instead pulling him backwards with such force that he fell down the few steps he managed to climb and landed with his back against the wall at the bottom of the steps, before Harry could fully gauge what had just happened a fist landed full force on his stomach knocking the air out of his lungs causing him to gasp and cough desperate for air. So apparently his uncle was in one of his moods. The next blow landed on his nose most definitely breaking it. Harry was dazed as the pain exploded through his face. He had forgotten this, well not the pain, never the pain. No, he had forgotten how good the pain felt. A grin spread across Harry's face.

"What have you got to be happy about boy?" he uncle spat grabbing Harry by his shirt and pulling up to eye level. Vernon hit him again and again before dropping him back on the floor and walking away. Harry should have stayed quiet, he should have just gone up to his room and helped Draco but no he needed this. Harry let out a chuckle.

"That the best you can do old man?" Harry asked quietly spitting blood on the spotless carpet. His uncle turned around with a fury in his eyes that Harry hadn't seen in a long time. It only made him laugh harder, that is until a kick knocked the breath out of him, again.

Harry's uncle gave up trying to kick the smile off of his face after a good half an hour or so. He had gathered his wife and son and he left to spend their day elsewhere leaving Harry crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, bleeding and bruised and with an extra long list of chores to complete before they got home. Harry left the list on the floor and half crawled up the stairs and into his room. He pulled himself up onto the bed next to Draco not caring that there wasn't much room for the both of them. everything hurt but it was his own fault, and of course, he knew that. The world just didn't seem real anymore. Harry rolled over to face Draco. He would have looked almost peaceful if it wasn't for the dried blood still smeared all over the other boy. He needed to get up, to clean Draco up to take care of him until Dumbledore got here to just do something useful. Harry reached out his hand and took Draco's in his own. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why he was doing it all he know was that the world just didn't feel real anymore and he needed to touch him. He passed out like that, blood smeared over his face from his broken nose and busted lip, bruises growing ever darker under his shirt and around his left eye, and clutching Draco's hand for dear life in both of his.