1 – An Unexpected Visitor

Harry stared around his newly refurbished lounge-room in satisfaction. Number 12, Grimmauld Place was near unrecognisable from the miserable, cobwebby place it had been all those years ago when he'd arrived to the shrieking of Mrs Black. His eyes darted around the newly painted walls, and he stretched his (admittedly rather short) legs out, warming his feet against the fire.

In a celebratory mood, he summoned a crystal decanter of whiskey, and poured some into a matching glass. Courtesy of the noble House of Black, eh Sirius? He grinned and took a sip, relishing the slight burn as it hit the back of his throat, staring into the merrily flickering flames. A stuttering knock at the door startled him out of his reverie – there weren't many people who had access to the house as such, since the Fidelius was still in place. Puzzled, Harry took himself and his whiskey, and padded downstairs to the ground floor, opening the door.

It was only Harry's Seeker reflexes that caught the glass of liquor in time as green eyes stared into silver. What?

"Potter. I – I need your help."

And then Draco Malfoy collapsed on the doorstep of Grimmauld.

Harry paced up and down the short rug in his hallway, outside a spare bedroom, pondering whether he should have perhaps put Malfoy in the yellow room instead of the blue. Shaking his head to rid himself of the unnecessary details his mind provided him with, Harry paused at the half-open door, thinking he heard stirring from the bed Draco bloody Malfoy (of all the unexpected people!) had been placed upon by Harry. Said brunette popped his head around the door, looking at Malfoy's pale, pointed and, it had to be said, haggard features.

"Malfoy?" he murmured, uncertainly. But the blonde's eyelids flickered slightly, and Harry stepped fully into the room, striding over to the bed and kneeling before it. Malfoy forced his eyes open, groaning as he turned his head towards Harry.

"Shit… my head… Potter?"

"Yeah, it's me... care to tell me why you collapsed on my doorstep which you weren't supposed to be able to find?" Malfoy struggled to sit up, and Harry placed a palm on his (extremely thin) chest, pushing him back into the pillows. "Don't strain yourself – I hardly need you collapsing all over again. Want some water?" Malfoy nodded, looking slightly relieved. Harry conjured a glass and filled it with cool water.

"I must apologise, Potter, for turning up without notice." Malfoy took a sip of the offered water, and continued. "But… well, as I said. I need your help. I'm not sure if you heard, but…" he took a deep breath, "But my mother re-recently passed away… and since I cannot come into my inheritance, as my father is still alive, but in Azkaban, the Ministry deemed it… prudent, to seize the Manor. And most of the family vaults." At this, Malfoy's voice caught a little. "And so I found myself with no home, no clothes, and no money."

Harry nodded. He had heard all about Narcissa Malfoy's prolonged illness and death; but definitely nothing about Malfoy Manor no longer being… well, Malfoy Manor. "I see… but, Malfoy… what on earth has this got to do with me?"

Malfoy looked aggrieved. "I… as much as I hate to ask, I have been forced to swallow my pride, and come to you for help. Look. I have no living family, no house elves, no friends, and now no money or home, either. So… and it pains me to admit this… you are literally the only person I could think of that would hear me out instead of just kicking me to the curb."

Harry hesitated, taking the glass of water from Malfoy's outstretched hands. "I suppose so… well. What is it you seem to think I can help with?"

"I – I… I need a place to stay. Just for the time being, I swear! All I need to do is get a job, in the Muggle world, I suppose, and then as soon as I've earned enough money to buy a place, I'll be out of your hair, and I'll pay you back. I just… please, Potter. There's nowhere else for me to go but back to the streets. And I swear on my mother's grave, I will pay you back!"

Malfoy had begun to sound positively hysterical, and he struggled to sit up again, giving a hacking cough and looking at Harry, all semblance of pride forgotten. Merlin, what have I gotten myself into this time? He certainly knows how to appeal to my better judgement, I'll give him that.

Harry scrubbed his hand through his unruly locks, noticing absently that Hermione was right, and he really should get a haircut. "Malfoy, I… well, you know full well that I couldn't turn you out into the street. It's almost winter! You can stay, but… well. There will be ground rules, you realise. But I think that perhaps I should feed you first. And you most definitely need a shower, and some decent clothes."

Without really thinking about it, Malfoy gave a small choking sound, then flung his arms around Harry's neck, letting loose a string of rambling apologies and thankyou's into Harry's ear. Harry awkwardly patted Malfoy on the back, then gently unwound the pale, skinny arms from his shoulders.

"Alright, calm down. Like I would have said no, Malfoy, I'm not a bad person, and I don't hold grudges – well, not any more. I understand all you did in the war, and I understand how it feels to be alone and unwanted. You can stay here as long as you need. Just don't expect me to do all the cooking, yeah?"

Malfoy, still babbling his thanks, smiled and nodded vigorously. "I… you won't ever know how much this means, Potter. I swear, I will pay you back everything."

Dear Godric…

"It's okay, honestly, Malfoy. I made my peace with our schoolboy rivalry when the war ended, along with making my peace with everything else. Now, I suggest you don't exert yourself. You look completely worn out, like you haven't eaten in a month – you're all skin and bones." Holy fuck. I sound like Molly… how in the name of all things holy -?

Harry eventually helped Malfoy up, ordered him to shower, and eventually the blonde shakily made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where the fire was already lit.

"Kreacher!" Harry's wizened house elf appeared at the name, and happily prepared a hearty beef stew for the two men.

Now all I have to do is tell 'Mione… and Ron… and the Weasley's… Oh, crap.