Harry Potter's Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...and the occasional Muggle who's in the know!

-oOo-

Author's Note. I have absolutely no business starting yet another fic when I have soooo many "in progress" fics (under the name Sheri Contrary), but...well...this one has been banging around in my brain for a bit, so I'm going to try to get it out there. I hope you can forgive me (in advance) for my crazy ideas.

Synopsis. It's simple really. Harry Potter has opened his doors to any and all who need a place to stay and, down on his luck, Draco Malfoy appears.

Warning. Rated M for mature themes and language. Talk of prostitution and violence (rape), but not actually "seen." Snarking and snapping by our two lovely boys...with an eventual love match. Or so I hope. We'll see what happens, yeah?

Grimmauld Place. I've sort of taken what we've seen in the movies and intermingled it with what's described in the books (which I found in a more condensed, easier to understand, document...The Harry Potter Lexicon (online) and Harry Potter Wiki (online). I'm a HUGE user of these two sites to garner facts from the books without actually having to go searching the books. So, while I don't think Grimmauld Place is as large as I've made it, that's just too damned bad. Further, I've draw out the entire floor plan, as it appears in my story, and would be happy to send it to anyone who's interested. How, IDK, since I'm not sure we can trade email addies. *sigh*

-oOo-

Chapter One

-oOo-

Things had been quite shitty for Draco Malfoy since the war. He and his father were immediately arrested and his mother was ordered to go home and remain there until further notice. Draco was lucky though; he only spent three months locked up, but Lucius Malfoy would not see the light of day for quite some time.

For Narcissa Malfoy, further notice turned out to be thirty days, by which time she was ordered to vacate Malfoy Manor, as it—and most everything in it—was due to be sold, the proceeds going to various charities after the Ministry confiscated a chunk of it to pay for Lucius Malfoy's incarceration. Narcissa was, however, allowed to remove certain items to keep for herself and her son. All things she'd brought into her marriage—including her own account at Gringotts—as well as gifts she had received over the years, were hers to take. She was also given permission to take everything that was in her son's suite of rooms, as none of it—mostly clothing and childhood keepsakes—seemed to be of interest to the Ministry. Draco's things, she placed in her vault at Gringotts, then she took her own belongings and left the country, not even to return when her son was released.

After Draco's release, he visited his mother's vault to see what was there, but quickly realized she'd not left him much. Apparently she hadn't been allowed. This was explained in a short letter; she'd been forbidden from giving him any money as long as he stayed in the country. She also let him know where she'd gone—to France to stay with a cousin, Maximilian Le Noire, whom she'd never once mentioned in Draco's eighteen years. She'd invited her son to join her there, but he'd never liked France much, so decided instead to stay in England.

But staying wasn't as easy as one might think. Without the Galleons he was accustomed to living on, he didn't know what to do with himself. For a short time he was able to live off selling the things his mother had saved for him, but quickly those things were gone and he was looking at homelessness.

And so he turned to the Greengrasses. Draco'd known from an early age that he was betrothed to the younger Greengrass daughter, but hadn't wanted to marry her—and that was because he'd also known from an early age that he was gay. But now was no time to be picky; he was in need and they were loaded.

But things didn't work out there either. His owl was returned with a curt response: I will not have my daughter marry the likes of you, Malfoy!

And then Draco ran into an old friend; Pansy Parkinson.

But Pansy wasn't in very good shape either. Her parents hadn't been involved in the war, but they'd somehow managed to lose everything (in Briton) as well and she'd had to resort to staying with friends—until her welcome had worn off. And when that happened, she'd turned to scavenging—as well as other things—to live, because no one seemed willing to help her.

"I don't want you doing that, Pansy," Draco said, objecting to what the woman was talking about doing—yet again.

"We need to eat, Draco," she said simply, sighing. "It's not the first time, you know, and...if you recall, I'm good at enticing." She winked at him and jiggled her...assets.

But Draco only frowned. "Let me do it then," he offered. He too was good at this. Usually.

She smiled sadly. "You need to rest, Draco. That cold you have is nasty."

As if her words reminded him, Draco wheezed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as a racking cough tore through him. When he could speak again, he said, "I'm coming with you then. For protection."

Pansy shook her head. "Last time no one would take me with you there. Plus, you look dreadful; it's a turn off, darling."

Draco frowned. The last time she'd gone alone, she'd come back with bruises. "I don't like this."

Pansy shrugged. "Neither do I, but...I'll be fine, love," she said, trying to reassure him. "Then we can get a room somewhere. And a meal."

"We need to find jobs...real ones."

She nodded. "Yes, but no one will hire us...especially with us looking like street urchins."

At her words, Draco's eyes filled with tears; he'd never, in his wildest nightmares, thought he'd end up like this. "What are we going to do, Pansy?" he rasped with obvious desperation.

"Don't know," the dark-haired woman said with a shrug as she tried to straighten herself up. Then she knelt down and pulled the tattered old blanket up to Draco's chin. "Right now, I can only think about...right now."

Draco sighed—then ducked his mouth beneath the blanket and coughed again.

"Just rest, Draco," she said, stroking his sweaty brow. "I'll be back in a couple hours, then we'll have some money."

Pursing his lips, the blond nodded—but once she was gone he began to sob.

-oOo-

Harry Potter wasn't completely sure how it all got started, all he knew was that Grimmauld Place was no longer cold, empty, and lonely. Instead, it was a house full of activity, nearly bursting at the seams, and...oddly enough, he liked it that way.

After the war he took in a few friends, then a few more—then strangers started showing up on his doorstep, having heard he'd open his doors to those in need and needing a place to stay. On some nights, it very much seemed like the Knight Bus made regular stops there, but it was great!

And so he'd done some remodeling. Well, more like became a master at creating wizard space—but he also worked at cleaning things up. All the strange creatures living in the house had been eradicated, making each room livable for humans. Then the walls were painted and/or repapered and the floors were either resurfaced or new carpets were installed. It was quite lovely now.

And so Grimmauld Place became Harry Potter's Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard—and the occasional Muggle who's in the know! That last part was added when first, a wizard, his Muggle wife, and their two young children turned up on Harry's doorstep, claiming they'd lost everything and needed a place to stay and, second, with the arrival Petunia and Dudley Dursley.

Well, Harry's aunt and cousin hadn't turned up on his doorstep. The truth was that Harry'd received an owl from the Ministry, notifying him that his relatives were in need and, being the person that he was, he couldn't leave them stranded—despite the hell they'd put him through while he was growing up. Apparently his aunt's husband—Harry refused to call the bastard his uncle—had abandoned his wife and son when they expressed the desire to look for Harry and make sure he was okay. Good fucking riddance, Vernon Dursley!

And so Harry'd gone to the crap place his aunt and cousin had been staying in and rescued them, bringing them to his now quite crowded abode and giving them a room on the first floor—the room across from the drawing room and down the hall from the two rooms that housed the wizard and his wife and children.

Beneath the first floor was the ground floor, where the main entrance to Grimmauld Place could be found. Upon entering the house, one could hang up his/her outer clothing in the cloak room, then enter the various rooms on that floor. On the right was a good-sized parlor, where some of the ladies liked to gather for tea, and then a smaller room that had once been a sitting room, but now housed a billiard table. On the left was the tapestry room, with a fully-restored Noble and Most Ancient House of Black tapestry. And at the back, the main dining room. There were also a few sets of stairs; two leading up and into the rest of the house and one leading down to the basement.

The basement had several rooms as well, most notably a massive eat-in kitchen. But there was also a wine cellar, a large laundry area, two half bathrooms, a fully-stocked potions lab, and extensive storage areas. And, of course, Kreacher's den.

Moving up to the second floor, at one end of the house, Dennis Creevey and Nigel Wolpert shared a room, while Luna Lovegood roomed with a Hufflepuff girl—a girl whose name Harry always had trouble remembering. And at the other end there was the library and an empty bedroom with two single beds.

The third floor of Grimmauld Place had mostly become Andromeda's space. There the woman lived with her grandson, Teddy. It was also there that the woman stayed much of the time. Oh, and Harry's personal office/study and a small library.

The fourth floor was Harry's. He stayed in Sirius' old room and kept Regulus' room open to friends who wanted to visit, but not live in the house. Most of the time it was Ron and Hermione who used that room, but occasionally others.

It was the fifth floor that saw more changes than the rest of the house though. It had once been the attic, but Harry'd gutted it and turned it into more bedrooms—six of them. These were five single-bedded rooms, now belonging to Theo Nott, Katie Bell, George Weasley, Flora Carrow, and Alannis Sheppley, and a double room that was currently empty.

It was pretty much a full house! And everyone was currently in the dining room having their evening meal.

And so, when there was loud CLANG at the front door, announcing to the entire household that someone was there, it was anyone's guess who might be the one to open the door.

"Teddy! Come back," Andromeda called out—to no avail.

-oOo-

Hefting Pansy up again and repositioning her—because she was quite a bit heavier than she appeared—Draco reached out and grabbed onto the silver, serpent-shaped knocker and banged it hard three times.

"Hold on, Pans," he whispered, frowning down at his unconscious friend. She'd gone out, hoping to make a little money, only to not return. After a couple hours without hearing from her, Draco had dragged his sick arse up to go looking for his friend. He'd found her lying in an alley, bruised and bloody.

"Oh, come on, Potter!" he growled in frustration—just as the door swung open to reveal a blue-haired boy.

"Hiya!" the boy said excitedly—a huge grin on his face—before being scooped up and tossed over someone's shoulder, the someone scolding him.

"Teddy, you know better than to open the door without permission," the man said, giving the boy's rear end a playful swat—which elicited a giggled "Put me down, Harry"—before he looked up. "Er...Malfoy?"

"Potter. Sorry to interrupt, but...I have an emergency here," Draco said, nodding at what he was holding. "Can you help me?"

Frowning, Harry stared for a moment, then gave a stiff nod, then took a step backward and gestured for the blond to enter. Putting the boy down—Teddy, apparently—Potter knelt and took hold of the child's upper arms. "Go get Beth...and Aunt Petunia. Got that?" he asked before releasing the boy.

The boy's head bobbed, then he turned and ran down the hall and through a doorway.

"What's going on, Malfoy?" Potter asked, turning back to him once the boy was gone. "How'd you know where I live?"

Draco once again shifted—to get a better grip on Pansy—then sighed. "Could we talk about that later? I'm sort of busy here."

Frowning, the dark-haired man nodded. "Right. Who do you have there and what happened?"

"It's Pansy. She's been beaten up and..." his voice hitched, "I don't know what else."

"Harry? What's going on?" came the voice of a small woman with short-ish dark hair. Behind her was another woman, taller and blonde, and looking frightened by his appearance. And behind the blonde woman was yet another woman; she was holding the blue-haired boy and...looked very much like his insane aunt—Bellatrix Lestrange, who was supposed to be dead.

"Um. This is...someone I went to Hogwarts with, Beth," answered Potter. "Both of them are. Mal...er...Draco says Pansy is hurt."

"Oh. The room on the second floor?" the woman—Beth—suggested.

Potter nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. The only other available room isn't very big and...it's too far up."

Beth nodded. "Petunia and I will go down to the kitchen to get what we need," she said, then turned to the third woman standing there listening. "And, would you mind calling Saint Mungos...let Benji know I may need some help here?" That woman—the one who looked like Bellatrix Lestrange—nodded, then walked away. "Why don't you take them up, Harry. We'll be up as soon as possible."

Frowning, Potter sighed, then started up the stairs. "This way, Malfoy. Come on," he said as he went, saying nothing the rest of the way up. On the first floor landing, they crossed a hall and started up another staircase—not the same one—then, stopping on the second floor, Potter opened a door and motioned for Draco to enter. Draco immediately went to the closest bed and lowered Pansy to it, then went about loosening his coat and removing it before dropping it, and then himself, into the chair that sat beside the bed—then proceeded to cough. After which he lowered his head to his hands.

"You okay, Malfoy?" Potter asked him.

Without looking up, Draco snorted. "Do I look all right, Potter?"

Potter harrumphed, but moved on.

"Sorry about the single beds," the dark-haired man said, still standing in the doorway. "I suppose we could transfigure them into a double if you'd prefer."

Draco frowned with confusion, then looked up. "Pansy and I aren't...a couple."

"Oh. Sorry. I just...assumed."

Draco scoffed, fully intending a cutting retort about idiotic people and assumptions, then he halted himself and dropped his head back into it hands.

And then in walked the two women who'd been downstairs in the foyer. Quickly, they removed Pansy's coat, then started taking off the rest of her clothing, so that they could examine her. And bathe her, Draco hoped.

"Um. I'll just...step outside," Potter mumbled, then disappeared.

There was blood everywhere, which was being gently wiped away by the one Potter had called Petunia while the other—apparently Beth—did the examining.

"We'll have to replace these," the blonde woman said, eyeing Pansy's horribly filthy clothing, obviously repulsed.

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "No, I'm sure someone can get the blood out," she said as she continued to examine Pansy's prone figure.

The blonde woman's face pinched with disgust, but she piled Pansy's bloody clothing on a towel, then wrapped them up. Petunia, Draco reminded himself.

"It appears she's been violated," the woman called Beth said, her voice hushed, causing Draco to let out a hiss of anger; just because they'd been...prostituting themselves out to make money, it didn't give someone the right to force himself upon her.

"Why aren't you healing her?" he asked, frustrated.

"Because we're not witches, dear," Beth said. "But don't you worry, her wounds appear to be superficial. Physically, she'll recover."

Draco frowned. Muggles? What the fuck is going on here?! Nodding, Draco turned and walked out into the hallway.

"Potter!" he hissed, closing the door, then swinging around to face his school rival—but then he halted; his aunt Bella look-a-like was coming up the stairs, nearly making him panic.

"Everything all right, Harry?" the woman asked, her eyes going between the two men.

"Um. I was just going to ask Malfoy," said Potter, causing the woman's eyes to turn on him.

Frowning, Draco looked at her in horror.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I sometimes forget how much I look like her," she said. "I'm not Bellatrix, Draco. I'm your other aunt. Andromeda. I suppose your mother didn't mention me all that often."

Draco shook his head. "Ahh. No. Not so much," he said, trying hard to not show his discomfiture.

His Aunt Andromeda laughed. It was a nice sound, quite unlike his aunt Bella's crazed cackle had been.

"It's nice to meet you, Draco," she said, holding out a delicate hand to him.

Nodding, he took her hand. "Likewise."

"I'm just sorry it's under such poor circumstances," his aunt said. "How's your girlfriend?"

"Friend. Pansy's just a friend," he corrected. "And...I don't know." Then turning, he glared at Harry Potter. "Can you tell me why there are Muggles in that room tending to Pansy?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "You haven't changed a bit, have you, Malfoy?!" the dark-haired man snapped. "I'll have you know that Elizabeth Ellsworth is a fine nurse. Parkinson couldn't be in better hands."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, well, I think maybe she could be. We could, you know, call a witch or wizard with some, you know, healing abilities, and not have some random Muggle in there with Pansy!"

"First, I think you would have called a 'witch or wizard' instead of coming here if that were an option for you and...second, Beth's not some random Muggle," growled Potter. "She's—"

"And why exactly do you have Muggles in your house anyway?" Draco interrupted. "They clearly know about magic. Does the Ministry know you've broken the secrecy statute?"

"Yes, actually, the Ministry does know. And...we haven't...not really. Beth is married to a wizard and Petunia is...my aunt, so...maybe you could just stop running your mouth!"

Opening his mouth to retort, Draco was halted by a not-so-subtle clearing of a throat.

"All right, boys. I can see there's a little tension between the two of you. I've heard about this...this thing you two do, but I didn't realize it was so...brutal. Anyway, this isn't the time," Andromeda said, waving her hands as if physically trying to stop their bickering. "Harry, darling, I'll handle this if you'd like to return to the dinner table. Maybe you could bring the others up to speed on our new houseguests?"

Still frowning, Potter nodded, flashed him another glare, then turned and started down the stairs.

"And Draco," the woman continued, "you're going to have to get over your aversion to Muggles if you're going to stay here. No!" she said when he opened his mouth to argue. "There'll be no protests about it. This is Harry's house and he's been willing to help anyone who happens by. And I mean anyone. You're lucky, you know...I've heard about the strife between you two. Not exaggerated at all, is it?"

Draco frowned, then shook his head. "No. We pretty much hated each other in school."

"Hmm. Well, let me just tell you this. Harry doesn't hate anyone, so you need to let go of the past, young man. Can you do that?"

Swallowing, Draco nodded. He would certainly have to try. "Yes, ma'am."

With a smile, Andromeda reached out and pulled Draco into her arms, but quickly released him. "I'm so glad, dear, but...there'll be no calling me ma'am," she said. "I'm your aunt and I'd like that title to be used."

"I can definitely do that, Aunt 'dromeda," Draco readily agreed—and it felt nice...knowing he had a loving relative.

"Ahh. That sounds nice," she said, as if reading his mind. "It is, after all, the first time ever that anyone's called me aunt."

Draco smiled.

"Now, your friend Pansy is in good hands, so please relax," Andromeda said. "And, you look like you could use a shower and a meal."

Draco nodded. "You have no idea."

"So, why don't you go in and shower, then come down to the dining room. It's on the ground floor at the opposite end of the hall to the front door."

"Oh. I don't have a change of clothes," Draco protested, rubbing his face exhaustedly—then he made an embarrassing admission. "And I...I don't have my wand, so I can't Scourgify what I'm wearing."

Andromeda pursed her lips. "Not to worry, dear," she said, patting his chest. "Just go in and shower and I'll make sure you have something clean to put on when you're finished."

Draco nodded. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. That's what family is for. Now, go on."