The banging was coming closer with every second. The shouting followed swiftly. Harry stared in awe as he overcome the years he had suffered at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

The same broken boy stared at him, begging to be released.

The banging was outside the door, unlocking the three door locks. Dobby rushed forwards and clicked the shackle open. The fell to the floor with an alarmingly noisy clatter. Another click and the prisoners vanished in a pure, blinding light. The two Death Eaters unfortunate enough to have been by the door when it embraced them crumbled into ash.

Then they were gone, flying high above the world like a star. This would have been a euphoric experience, but was cut short when they landed bodily on the back garden of the Weasley House. There was a brief disturbance inside, and the back door opened, and light crept around the edges of a silhouetted Mrs. Weasley. She rejoiced openly as she could see her son and Harry through the small amount of light.

"Oh, my dears! Come in, please!" regardless of whether or not she knew who they were, she greeted all of them and gave them each a mug of hot chocolate. Harry risked a glance at Draco, across from him. He was drinking his portion down like it was unicorn blood, giving him extra life. Next to Harry, Ron was being suffocated by his mother, who was unashamed at the 8 visitors around the living room. In her stead, Mr. Weasley stood up and addressed them.

"Dobby here has informed me that you all have been rescued from Malfoy Manor, yes?" he spat out the word Malfoy, making Draco wince slightly at the dread of being recognised. "And, as it happens, we seem to have enough beds free. We invite you to sleep here tonight, and when Mr. Ollivander, Griphook and…" he regarded Draco for the first time; he was nearly unrecognisable under the cuts, scars and dirt, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Draco took a deep breath and spoke. "Draco. Draco Malfoy." He too spat the name out, his mouth, glad to be rid of something as vile as the once-proud name.

"Ah…" Mr. Weasley regarded him with distaste, then a little voice told him, 'Look at his face. Look at his ankles, his clothes! Those are the signs of imprisonment. Harry wouldn't have brought him here if he was bad, would he?' "Right…" Mr. Weasley mumbled on to that effect for a while, then the kind and slightly naïve Mrs. Weasley placed Harry and Draco on a couple of fold-out mattresses in Ron's room. Hermione was strategically placed with Ginny next door, so as to stop any possible fighting.

The silence between Harry and Ron was so thick you would require an extra-sharp knife to cut it. They were sitting in Ron's room, assaulted by the bright orange Chudley Cannons logos littered around the room. Draco was still downstairs, being fussed over by a surprisingly unbiased Mrs. Weasley, daubing the blonde boy with ointments for his bruises, cuts, scars and after all that, a thorough wash to remove the months of dirt.

"Malfoy." Ron scoffed. "Bloody Malfoy, on our side?"

"Something's different about him, Ron. I can't really explain it, but until we'd rescued him, he'd been locked in that dungeon since last July, that's 7 months being tortured. He hates him own family! He said that he would fight with us, and I believe him."

Ron had a strange look of acceptance. He had trusted Harry since their first year at Hogwarts. Why not now? If Harry thought Malfoy could be trusted, Malfoy could be trusted. Ron closed his eyes and lay back on his soft bed, wrapping himself in his duvet, sighing with comfort. Harry too closed his eyes and lay down; he put his ear to the floor and listened to the sounds of the kitchen below. Draco was talking about his confinement, as far as he could hear, he was also wincing with displeasure occasionally, like he was talking while Mrs. Weasley was rubbing the bruise lotion over his face.

Ten minutes later, Draco slipped into the bedroom, the creaky door masked by Ron's snoring, who had fallen asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow. Draco sneaked over to his bed, climbing over Harry as he did so, careful not to stand on him, and wake him, for he thought that Harry was also asleep. He sat on his bed and looked at the facial outline next to him, with only a metre of floor in between them.

Harry began to feel self-conscious under Draco's scrutiny, gave up, and fell asleep. He crept over to him and brushed an errant strand of hair from Harry's face. He smiled, and settled into his own bed.