The Butterfly Effect
By: Hobblefoot.11
Disclaimer: None is mine. And it never will be. Life sucks.
Plus, I know other people have done similar stories, and so I'll say I did not come up with this idea. I just wanted to write a similar one that way I wanted.
Authors Note: This takes place just before Harry's seventh years, two days after his seventh birthday. He moved out of Privite Drive and moved to a flat in London. Only Ron and Hermione know about it, but somehow Draco finds out. Harry didn't tell Dumbledore or even Remus he was moving out. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him. Also, this includes a manipulative Dumbledore. Harry/Draco FRIENDSHIP, not slash. Just so you know.
This story contains strong language and brief mentions of rape in this chapter and possibly others, if that offends you, you might want to read another story.
Chapter One: A Visitor in the Night
Harry Potter had dozed off at his kitchen table, his head on the homework he was supposed to finish before returning for his seventh year at Hogwarts. He had just turned seventeen a few days ago, and had immediately moved out of Privite Drive to his own flat in London. Only Ron and Hermione knew he was there, Dumbledore and even Remus hadn't even bothered to check on him on his birthday. Where did they expect him to go? No one had spoken to him about it, so he assumed Dumbledore had wanted him to stay with the Dursley's. Fat chance.
Ever since he had learned the old man had hidden something as important as the prophecy from him for fifteen years of his life, he had lost what little bit of respect he had left for the man. In fact, Harry found he couldn't trust many of the Order members, afraid that they would report everything to Dumbledore. He wasn't sure if he was returning for his seventh.
Harry had spent much time the past two years learning everything he could. He had decent Occlumency shields, enough to keep most of the nightmares at bay, but not the horrific ones. Last night he had watched through Voldemort's eyes as his Death Eaters raped several Muggle women and young girls. He had spent a better part of the night in the bathroom, puking his guts out.
Voldemort would never lower himself to touch Muggles, and for that Harry was extremely grateful. He wasn't sure if he could handle being in the head of the man raping them, feeling his emotions. It was bad enough watching them from a bystander's eyes. Needless to say, he doubted he had gotten more than four hours of sleep last night.
Another thing he had worked on was his potions. He had to admit, without Snape breathing down his neck all the time he was fairly good at it. He made several pain-relieving potions and dreamless sleep potions for himself, and keep several other healing potions on hand. Harry's knowledge of spells, Dark and Light, was also increasing.
Suddenly Harry was awoken by a sharp rap on his door. He blinked, confused. Who would show up at this hour? Death Eaters? It seemed the only possibly exclamation. A quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 1:40 am. He stood, grabbed his wand off the table and held it tightly in his fist, ready for an attack.
The person (or persons) at the door knocked again.
He made his way to the doorway, and grasped the handle firmly, muttering a few spells to deactivate the locking spells, and pulled the heavy door open in one quick motion.
Who couldn't make out who the person was in the dark, just that they were about his height and wearing a black hood and cloak, hunched over so his couldn't see their face.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Harry growled, his wand pointed at their chest.
"I... It's Draco Malfoy," Croaked the all too familiar voice. "I need your... help." It sounded like he was chocking on the words. How in the hell he had found Harry, he didn't know.
"Why do you need my help, Malfoy?" Harry asked, ready to curse him the second he lifted his wand.
"Can I come in?" Malfoy asked quietly.
"Yeah right," Harry laughed, completely awake now, "Sorry, but I don't house Death Eaters. 'Sides, how do I know you're Voldemort in disguise or something?"
"I'm not a Death Eater anymore, Potter." Malfoys aid, sticking his arm out and pulling back the sleeve.
"Lumos," Harry muttered, curious, peering at his arm. And there was the Dark Mark, but it had a long white slash through it and it was almost completely black, still trickling blood." "What the hell did you do, Malfoy?"
He laughed, but it came out a cough. He tried to say something, but the effort seemed too much and he dropped to all fours and started retching, coughing up blood.
Harry didn't know why he did it, but he bent down and grabbed Malfoy's arms, pulling him shakily to his feet and dragging the semi-conscious teen inside, kicking the door shut behind him and muttering a quick locking spell. He pulled Malfoy's limp body to the kitchen, and once they were in the light Harry saw that his robes were ripped and torn, and covered in an alarming amount of blood.
Harry would have thought it would have been impossible for him to get her, but he did. He gave him a quick look over, and decided he must have a lot of internal bleeding for him to cough up that much blood. Harry managed to bring him to the kitchen and put him in the closest chair where he slouched weakly. He wasn't surprised to find the ex-Death Eater passed out.
A quick spell removed Malfoy's robes, leaving him in torn shirt and slacks. He quickly pulled off his shirt, only to have him moan in pain. Harry examined him to find several whip marks on his back and definite signs of the Crutiartus Curse. The born in his right leg was defiantly shattered, and once again the Boy Who Lived was astounded the injured teen had made it to him.
Four ribs were broken and six fingers, both shoulders were dislocated and someone had carved the word TRAITOR into his chest. From the way Malfoy was struggling to breath, it was safe to assume a lung had collapsed.
Malfoy needed to get to St. Mungo's, but he couldn't. For one, he was Draco Malfoy. For another, he was Harry Potter.
Harry levitated his limp body onto the table, shoving his half-finished homework off and it fluttered to the ground. Malfoy was starting to come around. "Shit," He cursed, raising his wand and whispering, "Accio potions!"
"No... please don't... it hurts..." Malfoy whimpered, moving to his side in an attempt to curl in a ball and screaming in pain and jerking back.
Harry put his hands on his arm and stomach to keep him still. "Shh... Draco... it's okay, you're not there anymore. You'll be okay..." He didn't quite believe the words he was whispering, but he continued anyways.
He grabbed a bottle of the pain-reliever. "Malfoy... Draco... drink this. The pain will go away, but you've got to drink this. Come on!" He urged, uncorking the bottle.
"No please! It hurts!" The last word was more of a scream and he coughed up another mouthful of blood.
"This will stop the pain." Harry promised, wiping away the blood with his sleeve, having nothing else available. He poured the entire bottle down his throat. "Okay Malfoy, good. Now drink this one. It's a dreamless sleep potion." He held up the other bottle.
"Don't wanna die..." Came the defeated whisper.
Harry uncorked the bottle and held Malfoy's mouth open while he emptied that one down his throat as well. After a moment his laboured breathing quieted and the saviour of the wizarding world breathed a sigh of relief.