JKR OWNS.

When You Have Wounds

Chapter One

The House Guest


Voldemort's death did not end the war. Not entirely anyway. After the battle at Hogwarts, there were still many death eaters on the loose. Many of them were trying to build up followers and replace their leader. The idea of muggle-borns being inferior was still extremely palpable. And many witches and wizards were still frightened that Voldemort may come back, seeing as he did once before after Harry defeated him. Some death eaters were in a new temporary prison, such as Lucius Malfoy although he had attempted to redeem himself. Others still roamed, fighting each other, or anyone who got in their way. Just a few days after the final battle, The Order of the Phoenix was still going strong, with Harry at the helm, and everyone else who was left. It obviously wasn't the same without Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye, and of course Fred, and not to mention Sirius and Dumbledore. But they made do and celebrated their lives.

However, now that Voldemort was dead the Order thought that it would once again be safe for the Dursley's to be out of protection; and Hermione lifted the memory charms off of her parents. But there was one slight downfall; the Order would be taking a new charge into their protection at Number 12 Grimmauld Place:

"Draco Malfoy will be needing our assistance for a while." Arthur Weasley said, sitting at the head of the table while everyone enjoyed breakfast. In attendance were Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, and Molly.

"What?"

"Dad, that's mad!"

"Mr. Weasley, I don't know if that's such a good idea…"

Arthur had been expected that sort of a response and he waited for the cries of protest to subside. "Just listen to him!"

"Thank you Molly." Arthur continued, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Now I know that none of you are shall I say…friendly with Draco - "

"Nope," said George, "Not even close, not even acquaintances, in fact, I think most of us here hate him, maybe we should just hex him until his wand gets stuck up his - "

"George!" Molly's voice sounded from the kitchen sink.

"However, we've offered our assistance-"

"We have?" Harry put in, as he dropped his fork. Ginny nudged him in the ribs.

"Yes! We have. Now can I please finish?" The room went silent and Arthur sat back in his chair. "Good. Now with Lucius in prison, Narcissa believes that - "

"You actually had a conversation with that woman?" Ginny's voice now interrupted. "I didn't know she could - " She went silent as her mother shot her a look of warning.

Arthur went on, now with a short tone in his voice. "Narcissa believes that this is the safest place for Draco at the moment, now that we've got control of it again, seeing as he is so young, and still recovering from severe injuries. Lord only knows how he got them."

"Mr. Weasley," Hermione's interjection wasn't as outspoken as her friends' but still as strong, "What kind of injuries...?"

Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead briefly. "Through the course of several curses put upon him, coupled with the battle and whatever happened before, Draco has managed to end up with several broken ribs, eight or nine at least, a concussion, I think a broken arm or leg, and heart and lung damage that may be…well, permanent."

The occupants of the table looked at one another, almost beginning to feel sorry for Malfoy; this joint feeling passed just as quickly as it came. Arthur had the full attention of the table; everyone had stopped eating and even Mrs. Weasley was standing with a pan dripping over the floor.

"But those kinds of things are easily fixed right? Just a simple healing spell would work…couldn't he stay at St. Mungo's?" Ron asked.

"Ron, you have to understand, you-know-who may be dead," Arthur still hadn't worked up the nerve to say the name, "but there is still a lot of danger. It would be better keeping him in contact with real people, not just other patients, who may be death eaters in hiding." He looked at his wife briefly. "Besides, with the kinds of curses he's had to endure, some injuries heal no faster than muggle wounds, at best. Especially with the condition his heart is in."

A long silence filled the room as Hermione put down her fork. Nobody seemed to know how to react. Laughing would be rude, and nobody seemed to actually think the situation was funny. Most looked down at their plates absent-mindedly. Draco Malfoy had never been anything but mean to any of them, especially Hermione. With the war, the Mudblood nonsense had only increased. Even though nobody saw him except for the brief stint at the Malfoy manner, he had taunted her for six years. He picked on Ron for having less money, and Harry for his fame. But Hermione didn't think that they hurt as badly as she.

Money and fame are material. Her blood is who she is.

"When does he arrive, Arthur?" Molly's placid voice penetrated Hermione's thoughts.

Arthur looked at the clock and stood up. "Any minute now, actually. Hermione, you're going to sharing with Ginny now, so Draco can have your room. Would you mind going up to move your things?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not at all." She was grateful to be out of the kitchen, as she started upstairs to the room she usually called her own while she was at Number 12. Her door creaked open just as she heard another downstairs, and the voice of Charlie Weasley entering. She looked around quickly, and began to gather her things. Then she realised what an idiot she was being. A simple charm helped her belongings zoom into her old school trunk, which she sent into Ginny's room.

The news of Malfoy coming to Headquarters startled her quite a bit. She didn't know exactly what to think. She hated him, obviously, but what now? Was she expected to be nice to him? Was Harry going to have to do things for him? She shook her head of curly hair as she took one last room at her former bedroom. She had spent a good few nights in there, and a handful of them were with Ron. It had never been more than innocent kissing…although she could remember loosing her shirt once or twice. And she remembered sneaking him out before everyone woke up after then had fallen asleep, fully clothed, in each other's arms.

"Ron, ssh! You'll wake the whole house!" Hermione giggled quietly as she pushed him toward the door.

Ron turned them around so Hermione was between him and the door. She had her hand on the knob, but didn't turn it. Ron smiled and bent his head to kiss her once as she turned the knob and backed out into the hall.

"You're killing me here, Hermione." Ron whispered.

"I think you'll survive until tomorrow," she said, smiling. He held her close with his arms around her waist, looking down at hre. She could feel his slow, even breath on her face. She lifted her face, as if to kiss him again, and then decided against it, slipping away. Ron tugged on the hem of her shirt as she pulled the door, as if to keep her from escaping. She peered out with just a sliver of her face visible to him through a crack in the door. Ron looked crestfallen as she went out of view.

"Goodnight Ronald." And she closed the door.

Hermione smiled at the memory, and brought herself back to the present. She hadn't heard much from downstairs and decided to check it out. After checking to make sure her trunk made it's way to Ginny's room she found her self at the base of the stairs.

"Lovely, Granger's here too." Said a very sarcastic, but weary voice from across the room. Draco Malfoy sat in a muggle type wheelchair with a crutch across his lap in the kitchen. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley stood with Charlie, while Ginny, Ron and Harry were still seated at the table.

"You know she's got a first name too." Ron said defensively as Hermione sat next to him, arms crossed. His arm slipped around her waist instinctively. She felt comfortable again and dropped her arms into her lap.

"Yes sorry," Malfoy went on, "Mudblood Granger. My apologies."

Harry shot him a dark look. "I would prefer you not use that word in my house."

"Your house? I thought this was a Black house, Potter."

Molly stepped in. "Harry's godfather was kind enough to leave it to Harry in his will, isn't that right?"

Malfoy glanced up at her with a look of something close to dislike, but her kind demeanour diluted the effect of the glare.

"I've got to go." Charlie said suddenly. "I need to be back at work tomorrow. I'll be in touch. Mum, Dad." He hugged his mother and shook his fathers hand along with a clap on the back, and left.

Another silence, similar to the one that had been present just a few minutes before came upon the eight people present in the kitchen. Malfoy shifted his eyes from person to person. George looked blankly straight ahead, arms crossed. Ginny sat on Harry's lap, his chin on her shoulder. Hermione looked down at her hands, and then glanced quickly up.

Malfoy was in quite a state. One arm was in a sling, bandages wrapped around his torso, and the crutch seemed to be for support when walking on his one good leg. The other was in a muggle style cast that Hermione had been familiar with, having broken her leg skiing one winter.

"I'd like to talk very seriously with you all for a moment." Arthur took the lead again and went to stand were everyone could see him. "Now, I know none of you have ever gotten along. But we've known for a few years now that we would have to work together eventually. Draco is our responsibility now. And we have to at least be civil with one another. Understand?"

Malfoy stiffened slightly at the sound of his name, but nodded, as did everyone else. He heard faint murmurs of 'fine' and 'sure'. But he didn't know where they came from.

"I want no more of this 'Mudblood' business or anyone name calling from anyone. It's childish. Now Ron, George, Harry I'd like it if you would help Draco up to his room, so he can get settled."

The three boys exchanged looks, and grudgingly got up, not wanting to cross Mr. Weasley. Harry took Malfoy's bags, while Ron and George managed to get him up the two flights of stairs.

Malfoy hadn't said much to anyone since his arrival at the house, besides his brief tête-à-tête with Granger. Potter and the two Weasleys left his bags at the side of the bed so it was easy access to unpack. He used magic, of course, not being able to fully function physically. As his items zoomed around the room he remembered the warm welcome he had received upon his arrival.

The way that Weasley was sitting on Potters lap made him want to break his own ribs again. But the fact that the other Weasley had finally noticed the Mudblood gave him a strange twinge of something that could have been accomplishment. Even though it wasn't his.

After his belongings were unpacked he carefully got himself fully on the bed and laid back, adjusting the pillows. There was a faint scent of jasmine from somewhere around him. He knew because his mother wore jasmine perfume. But here there was something else mixed…a fruit. He assumed it was whatever the bedding had been washed in.

He still couldn't believe his parents had forced him into this. Though he was a bit grateful for the protection in his current state, he couldn't say the people he was with were exactly the clan he had hoped for. There was too much tension. He didn't expect to leave the room at all while he was here, only if he absolutely had to. He wouldn't eat if that were what it took. He didn't want to get into it with the people in the house. It wasn't worth arguing. His mind was still pretty sharp, even though he did have a concussion, but he wouldn't be throwing any punches or casting any serious hexes anytime soon. It was better to just keep to himself.

reviews? would be lovely

this is going to be another long one, folks. I'm looking forward to it.