A/N: second time lucky trying to upload this bastarding chapter. leave us a cheeky review if you enjoy chapters filled with necessary filler! also my b guys, my b

Autumn is for dying

Chapter 10

Harry didn't open his eyes when he woke. Just laid there. He was experiencing no amnesia, no confusion, he was totally aware of how he'd come to be unconscious and the events preceding. His dreams had been just darkness, welcome oblivion. He was laid in a bed, he knew that much, soft cotton cocooning him. The room he was in was quiet, his ears picking up neither voices nor any footsteps. He was warm, but not too warm. In fact, he seemed to be the perfect temperature - a dead giveawa magically controlled environment.

But he wasn't in the mood for investigating his environment. No, he simply laid there, content for the moment to pretend that he was still asleep. He was probably in Grimmauld Place or The Burrow or some other Order safehouse. He was safe.

But was Malfoy?

It was that thought that propelled him to open his eyes and let in the world. Dim light allowed him to see his surroundings without them overwhelming and blinding his tired eyes. Yes, magical environmental control. Somebody was treating him with kid gloves. Harry sat up, feeling sharp stabs of pain running up the ligaments in his forearms. His hands were bandaged up, each finger individually wrapped like he was wearing white linen gloves.

The bed he was in was large and old, the room decorated with hangings and pictures that had not begun as his own but had come to be that way over time. He was in his own room, in Grimmauld Place.

Relief didn't course through his veins as it should have. It's path was dulled by the sick, scared feeling burrowing its way up his gullet. Was Draco alive? The last thing he remembered seeing in that cold, icy wasteland was Malfoy's still body, bloody and broken in the snow.

Harry's hands were sore but not broken, and he used them to gently push the sheets from him, freeing his legs to swing over the side of the bed. His stomach ached with hunger. He must have been out for a while. Somebody had left him a jug of water and a glass on the dark wooden cabinet beside his bed, and his wand placed delicately next to that. How thoughtful.

He poured himself a glass, manoeuvring his hands around the jug slowly and carefully. Dehydration would put him back on his arse quicker than anything else would.

It felt strange to be back in his house, back in safety. He wanted to feel happy, feel razor like exhalation at the idea, but he couldn't. Tears sprang, unbidden, to his eyes as fear made his hands shake and throat close. He was terrified at the thought that his own lack of control in dealing with Greyback had left Malfoy lying, bleeding out, dying in the snow. A simple stupefying hex would have taken care of the werewolf and Harry could have helped his fallen companion. Instead he lost himself in the fury and Draco... god Harry hoped he wasn't dead. Harry finished the glass of water and placed it back on the cabinet.

He should stand. Leave his room. Find out what had happened. But ignorance seemed easier than finding out what he was so sure would be a sickening truth. Harry sat for a while in the gloom, hands hurting and a hot tear dropping from his eye to his knees. Someone had dressed him in his own grey, flannel bottoms. He watched as the tear soaked in, becoming a tiny circle of darker grey. The sound of his own breathing, steady yet unsteady, was all he could hear.

He reached out with a shaking hand and picked his wand up, lightly playing with it between his fingers. He felt that little tingle, that hum of magic that had been missing when he held it for so long.

How fortunate it had returned just in time to defend himself from the Death Eaters. Maybe the vomiting of the previous night had helped flush the potion out - Harry made an internal note to ask Hermione later.

Hermione. God, he missed her. And Ron. It was this sudden ache of longing to see his friends that spurred Harry to movement. The cloud in his mind, the fear, was still present, but he tried to breath through it.

The door opened easily, cold brass handle turning under his bandaged hand.

Harry stepped into the corridor. It was lighter than inside his room, and colder. The walls, once lined with peeling wallpaper and rotting sideboards, had undergone a serious redesign after Harry and his friends had stayed there for a while. Hermione had helped him repaint them white, while Ron and his father had taken great joy in using muggle appliances to rip off the old wooden borders and replace them with new.

The lights had been difficult to change, previously flickering, old-fashioned magical candelabras, it had been a few weeks of careful wiring before they'd managed to switch on the cheery orange bulbs that now lined the corridor.

The house had taken surprisingly well to electricity once the deeds had switched to Harry. Magic affected it occasionally, but Hermione and Lupin had worked to protect most of it from most of the damage.

He walked slowly along the corridor, drinking in the familiarity of it all. It still smelled new. The slight chill made him wonder if he should have pulled on a shirt, but it was nothing compared to the cold of the cabin. Reaching the staircase, he began to hear muffled voices from downstairs.

His legs weren't shaky but he still didn't fully trust his body so he kept tight to a wall, a hand placed lightly on the banister as he descended.

The voices got louder and louder as he went down, two floors, to the ground floor. Not all of the rooms had been reupholstered, and Harry could still see traces of the old Black decoration as he made his way down. Old paintings that they couldn't remove, bookcases that seemed too grand to dispose of.

"- fourteen? I don't know." Harry pushed the door to the kitchen open. Faces immediately turned to him.

"Harry!" The light in this room was even brighter and warmer than the corridor. The air smelled like food; warm bread and chicken. Harry squinted slightly to see who had greeted him.

Lupin stood, a broad smile on his face, at the end of the large dining table. Around the room were Harry's friends. Ron, a mouth full of food stationary as he looked wide eyed at Harry, Hermione, rising to her feet, tears springing to her eyes. Molly Weasley, frozen in the doorway to the next room, hands clutched up to her mouth.

It was Hermione who had greeted Harry and she followed it up with a mad, chair-pushing dash over to grab him in a tight hug. He returned it, burying his face in her dark hair. She smelled of lemons and soap. He felt her shake in his arms, sobs racking her slight frame. He didn't speak, didn't need to.

"Harry?" A male voice, Ron's, reached him, and he pulled away from his crying friend to look back at the room.

Ron (having swallowed whatever it was he'd been chewing on) had risen to his feet and moved to join the pair of them. Harry shifted to make room for his best friend in the embrace.

Happiness finally overwhelmed the fear in the back on his neck. His friends. He was home. Finally.

They held each other for a long time, saying more with tight squeezes and little sniffs than they could with words.

"You gave us quite a scare, Harry." Remus admonished with a sparkle in his eyes. Harry had taken a seat at the table and Molly had instantly placed a plate of food in front of him. He hadn't needed much encouragement to dig in, the hole in his stomach bigger than ever.

"Sorry 'bout that." He replied through a mouthful of hot, buttered bread. The food was a deliciously far cry from the sparse rations he'd been living on in the corridor. He ate until he felt sick and, seeing the gusto with which he tucked in, the other inhabitants of the room had left him in silence to shovel it down.

Finally, with a rather impolite belch, Harry set his fork down and sat back, sated.

"You got my message then?" He asked, looking back up to Lupin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The werewolf was sitting, contentedly watching him eat, occasionally sipping from a wine glass. He shook his head, frowning.

"Your message?"

"Oh." Harry was disappointed. "Must not have worked then..." Remus leaned in, placing his glass down.

"How did you send it? When?"

"I used Fluxus Ignis Nunitus." Harry replied, glancing over at Hermione. She was sat next to Ron, and Harry noted with surprise, he had his hand resting over hers on the table. They didn't seem to notice his surprise at this. Or at least, they didn't move it. Huh. Maybe his kidnap had done some good at least.

"Wait a second..." Lupin stood, pushing his char back and standing. The chair's legs screeched in protest as they dragged along the tile floor.

"Remus." Molly admonised. "Lift your chair."

"Sorry, Molly." Harry wondered where the rest of the red haired clan was, but didn't worry. If Ron and his mother were sat happily here, they couldn't be far. He watched as Remus walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a pinch of floo powder from the metal jar on the mantle.

"Nunitus Arcessere." He muttered into the flames as he sprinkled the silvery-grey sand over the flames.

They blew higher, turning a dark green. For a second, Harry thought nothing would happen, but then -

"Lupin, I'm here, it's Harry! It's a cabin in Canada, it's... it's on fire... I can't get away far enough for the tracking to kick in on my wand, but - Death Eaters are here! And I've taken down a few but I can't - there'll be more soon! Find me!"

Harry shuddered to hear his desperate cry played loud, his voice cracking towards the end. Silence fell in the room as the flames died back down to a calm orange.

Lupin turned back to the room, face grey. "Shit." He said. He walked towards Harry. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't - the spell, I didn't know you knew it, I'd have been checking, I'd have never stopped checking-"

Harry stood, raising a hand to interrupt the distressed man.

"Remus, it's alright!" He said, soothingly. To his left, Hermione had her hands over her eyes, Ron sat sadly with an arm around her. "You found me anyway! I'm safe!" Lupin grabbed him around the shoulders, pulling him close for a firm hug. Harry allowed it, rubbing his face in the rough wool of his jumper. He smelled like smoke and paper.

Harry broke the hug this time, gently pushing Lupin back.

"How did you find me, then?" He asked curiously, sitting back down. Remus walked back to his seat and it was Hermione who answered.

"Your wand." Her voice was high and emotion-filled. Harry watched the solemn Ron tighten his arm around her shoulders, and her lean in in response. He was happy for this development in their relationship, whatever it was. "Bill finally got a response. He alerted Lupin and they apparated to you straight away. Me, Ron, Prosper, Tonks and Neville came as soon as we heard, but you didnt need us." She blinked and looked slightly proud. "You'd taken them all down."

"Bloody good job on Greyback." Ron said gruffly, eyebrows raised, face impressed. "Brutal."

Harry didn't want to think about the remains of Greyback's face, soft and hot against his fists.

"The wards on the cabin must have fallen." Remus explained softly. "It was collapsing when we arrived. Good idea on the fire." Harry nodded, absently. He'd hoped that would be the case, but was sure his message would have worked.

"We're all just so glad you're back, Harry." Molly added. She had reappeared back in the room, wiping her hands on a bright yellow dishrag. "You were missed."

"Knew you'd fuck them up." Ron grunted, earning himself an elbow from Hermione and a sharp look from his mother.

"How - where..." Harry trailed off. He wanted to know, had to know. The fear had been rising as time had passed, he knew the bliss of ignorance would only carry him so far. His face heated up as four faces waited for him to finish, expectantly. He coughed.

"Yes?" Molly urged, patiently. Harry took a breath.

"Malfoy." He said, looking up into Lupin's face. "Was he- is he..."

"Alive?" Remus guessed, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded gratefully.

"Yeah, you didn't quite finish him off." Ron snorted, taking his arm from Hermione and leaning on the table, brushing his hair from his eyes. "You gave it a good go though! Same curse as before, was it?"

Relief flooded Harry's veins. The knot disappeared from his throat and he felt like he could sing. Malfoy was alive. He hadn't died due to Harry's mistakes. God, he could bend and kiss the floor.

"He's downstairs." Lupin was watching Harry with dark eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Along with Jeffer Artread. They were the only ones left alive."

Even better, he was here! Harry schooled his expression to a blank curiosity.

"Why here?" He asked, picking up the glass of wine Molly had been more than happy to pour for him and taking a small sip. It was fruity and soft, a sweet treat. A large step from the last alcohol he'd had - the flame filled whiskey that had started everything. Remus settled further back into his chair, resting both arms on the wood and tilting his head. Harry felt uneasy, he knew what Remus' face looked like when he was trying to solve a puzzle. He'd been there, Harry remembered, when he was kneeling in the snow and blood and the one thing on his mind and lips had been Draco.

"There was an attack in South London a few days ago." Lupin explained. "The Ministry wasn't able to spare any aurors to come get them and take them to Azkaban. They asked if we could hold them for now."

The Ministry of Magic had been made aware of the Order's existence and tolerated them as welcome allies in the war. It had been more than any of them could have hoped, they were treated as equals. Like an unofficial department of their own.

Harry nodded slowly, drinking more wine. He had to consider his next move. To the Order, to his friends, Malfoy was the enemy. More than that, Draco was the reason Harry had been taken in the first place. It would be a tricky manoeuvre to persuade the others that not only had Malfoy defected but he needed their help to rescue his mother from the clutches of Voldemort. He had to be careful.

"Okay." An abrupt but appropriate answer, he thought, breaking eye contact with Remus and maintaining his blase attitude about the whole thing. He didn't want to hint at any potential interest he had in the blonde before he was sure nobody would immediately accuse Malfoy of influencing him one way or the other. Harry could already hear Hermione in his mind listing off the various ways Harry had been compromised, from the imperius curse to Stockholm syndrome.

"Perhaps, Harry," Molly Weasley started, folding her arms and smiling. "You might want to get some more rest? I'll ask for Prosper to swing by tomorrow to check on your hands and face?"

Prosper was one of the healers the Order had managed to recruit a few years ago. Friends with Tonks, he'd actively volunteered to join them and offer his services. Harry liked him. He was quirky like Tonks, tattooed arms and piercings abound on his body, short black hair wild and spiky.

"Good idea." Harry said and didn't have to fake the yawn. He said his goodnights and hugged everybody tightly again. He didn't miss that Hermione and Ron lingered back together, still sat close and whispering to each other.

It was only 7pm when he sat on the bed with a full stomach from the hearty meal and slightly woozy head from the wine. He was going to have to wait until much, much later if he was going to sneak down to see Malfoy. Might as well have a nap in the meantime.

But the cock crowed and dawn crested and Harry slept on, waking only when the smell of breakfast came weaving and winding up from the kitchen. Shit. He'd missed his chance.

He berated himself but realised there was no sense in remaining grumpy, he'd just have to ensure he made it downstairs that night instead.

After a quick shower, trying and failing to keep the bandages on his hands dry, Harry made his way to the kitchens.

Molly wasn't responsible for the delicious breakfast smell that morning, no, to Harry's surprise Kreacher was preparing breakfast.

"Kreacher." Harry greeted him cautiously. The house elf barely spared him a disgusted glance over his shoulder. "Good to see you too."

He seemed to be the first awake, and for a moment considered sneaking down to Draco. But the idea was scuppered when Hermione walked through the door, yawning and stretching.

"Oh!" She startled when she saw him. "Harry!"

"Good morning." Harry smiled at her, leaning against the doorway to the cooking area. She smiled at him in response. She looked pretty, her eyes bright and skin clear. Harry wondered if this was purely due to him being safely back, as he knew from past experience that when stressed she tended to break out in spots. Her hair was pulled loosely back into a ponytail, wild strands bumping and curling here there and everywhere and Harry watched as she brushed one from her eyes before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"It's still a bit strange to have you back." She admitted, leaning her face on her hand. Harry opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Kreacher barging past his legs to deposit a steaming cup of coffee on the table beside her elbow.

"Thank you, Kreacher." She said with feeling. The elf simply grumbled as it left the room.

"Since when has he been this helpful?" Harry asked, taking a seat near to her and laughing slightly.

"Since you left, actually." She admitted, wrapping her tanned hands around the mug. "Don't know what changed but suddenly he just... started doing things." She ducked her head, smiling. "To be honest we all thought that if - when you got back, he'd go back to being awful." Harry noticed the slip.

Hermione looked good, but he knew that she must have been going through hell for the half a month or so he was gone. She would have taken the lead on all investigations, insisted on joining every search party, researched far and wide, day and night for a spell, a charm, a clue anything she could use to help find Harry.

Harry reached over to touch her hand. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes meeting his green. They just looked at each other for a second; two old friends, two battle companions.

"Glad you are back though." She said. Harry sat back.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Harry decided to break the soppy atmosphere and allowed a cheeky look to grace his face.

"Kind of looked last night like you and Ron didn't miss me all that much, to be honest."

Hermione immediately blushed and squashed a palm to her face, groaning.

"You noticed then." She said, hand over her eyes. Harry laughed.

"Hard not to."

"Sorry."

"What on earth for?" Harry chuckled, stealing her mug to take a drink of the hot, black liquid. "I'm happy for you both. Just don't forget about me when you're making moon-eyes over the table, holding hands and blowing kisses and playing footsie- ow!" Hermione had kicked him.

"How's that for footsie." She laughed.

"Bloody hell, don't know how you pulled him with that kind of violent foreplay." Harry joked, rubbing his shin. Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Fuck off, Harry." She said playfully.

They sat, gently bantering about nothing until the rest of the house rose. It seemed Molly had gone back to the Burrow the night before, and the two other men were late risers. Eventually, when they were all sat around the table, Kreacher served breakfast.

"Oop," A brief violet flare of fire had Remus tilting back in his chair to toss a little powder on it and shout, "Who?"A crackly mumble responded and the werewolf nodded, "Come on then."

He let his chair fall back onto four legs as the fire raged green. "It's Prosper." He informed the table.

A figure appeared in the flames and then fell out of the fire clumsily.

"Morning, Prosper." Ron greeted the man. Prosper stood, shaking the ash from his robes and looking around the room.

"Morning, all!" He said, cheerfully. "Harry." He nodded at Harry, walking over to him. Harry rose to give him a quick embrace. He smelled of disinfectant and liquorice.

"Good to see you Prosper."

"You too, man. I was at the cabin but, ah... you didn't need the backup." He winked at Harry, who shrugged awkwardly. He hoped the healer hadn't seen the mess he'd left of Fenrir. If he had, he didn't seem fazed, reaching up and gently tipping Harry's head to the side to inspect the cuts and scratches the wood had left.

"It doesn't hurt." Harry informed him. Prosper nodded, examining it with narrowed eyes. He released Harry's face with a smile and an 'ok' sign.

"It wouldn't hurt, you tit, I put some numbing cream on when you got in."

"Oh, that was you." Harry nodded. "Yeah that makes sense. I thought it might have been Lupin."

Prosper snorted.

"You'd rely on this old fart when you got me around?" Lupin threw a bread roll at the back of the punk's head.

"Careful." He warned. Prosper threw him a grin over his shoulder.

"No offence, my man, no offence. Nah," He turned back to Harry. They were the same height, and Harry looked at his sparkling blue eyes as he talked. "I was with Neville when we got the call from Bill so I came along. Then when we got you back here, I had a quick look at you before I had to jet off." He reached down without announcing to take both of Harry's hands in his own. "Now let's look at your boxer's fists shall we, Rocky?"

Prosper had given Harry some more cream for his face and declared his hands fit for use, only rebandaging the thumb and wrist of his right hand where two of the worse fractures had been. The young healer had stayed for the end of breakfast and had a brief chat with Lupin about South London (apparently he'd volunteered to act as a medi-wizard after the attack) before bowing out, claiming a lunch date with a hot young wizard as his excuse.

"I didn't know he'd broken up with Elio." Harry commented after he flamed out.

"According to Prosper, Elio has decided to... take up residency with a, and I quote, 'dickhead Irish musician'." Hermione scoffed lightly. Ron had sat by her again after greeting Harry that morning and they'd shared a plate of toast.

"I asked what instrument this musician plays and he just said 'Elio's fucking prostate', which..." Ron swallowed his toast, grimacing, "Well, it's more than I needed to know, to be honest."

Harry and Lupin laughed, Hermione settled for looking amused at Ron's slightly green expression.

"Did anybody ever actually meet Elio?" Lupin asked through a mouthful of cereal, frowning.

"No, I don't think so." Hermione replied, looking to her friends for confirmation and receiving head shakes. She shrugged. "Prosper said he was going to bring him over for a drink but that never happened. Tonks said Elio was okay, though." Tonks' word in this clearly held a lot for Hermione.

"Tonks not coming over?" Harry directed the question at Lupin, who gestured with his hand.

"Your guess is as good as mine, she mentioned something about South London and disapparated there directly from Canada after we knew you were safe." Lupin sounded exasperated with the young witch's behaviour. The werewolf had never exactly told Harry that he and Tonks were dating, but she'd certainly spent a lot of boozy evenings celebrating in Remus' room after successful battles.

"Is anybody else coming?" Harry didn't mean to sound petty but he'd fully expected a ceiling-burning welcome home party, not because he thought his return merited one but because that was just the way the Order tended to do things.

"I don't know, Harry." Remus shrugged. "But I'd suspect not. Not yet."

"South London was pretty bad, Harry." Hermione reminded him. To be honest, Harry didn't know much of what had gone on in the capital city, but as he thought he realised he should have clicked on it was big when the Ministry couldn't even send one auror to take Malfoy and Jeffer away.

"What happened?" He asked. Ron looked down, mouth pulled tight. Hermione shifted in her seat. It was clearly a sore topic but Harry wanted to know.

"A lot of explosions." Lupin admitted. "A lot of muggle deaths and most of the Ministry flooded when an explosion compromised the space where its halls cross closely near to the Thames. It's taking quite a few people to help clean up and wipe that many memories."

Harry understood. A welcome back party might have been nice, but helping heal after a terrorist attack was nicer.

"Can we help?" He asked Ron and Hermione, both of whom immediately looked wary, Ron's eyes flickering over to Lupin. "What?"

"I know you don't like being grounded, Harry," Ron began, "but you only just got back and you're still not totally better." Whilst he was not wrong, Harry still felt annoyed at the coddling. He'd taken the environment controls down from his room as soon as he'd re-entered the night before. He hated people treating him like a child.

"I'm fine." Harry insisted. "You heard Prosper, i'm 'fit for service'."

"Yes, but that's Prosper, and he's just like Tonks. They don't know when to say no. You're more important than that Harry, we can't afford to lose you again." Harry wanted to argue back against Lupin , but couldn't form the words.

"So you just want me to sit here, on my arse?" He demanded, annoyance rising.

"Yes." Remus said bluntly. "Until you're 100% okay again. We don't want to make it any easier than it already is for them to grab you."

Harry ground his teeth, looking away.

"It won't be forever, Harry. We can spend the time doing research!"

"Oh joy." Harry tried to stop himself rolling his eyes at Hermione's predictable, wide eyed suggestion. "Okay, fine. I'll stay in until Prosper takes the bandage off my hand." Harry waved said hand at Hermione and Ron. "Good enough?"

"You don't have to stay in," Ron said, face looking as if Harry had suggested something stupid. "Just take a five from... Death Eater shit. Voldemort related activities. Action business."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Oh, Harry hoped Ron was. His red haired friend's freckly face broke into a wide grin, just as Hermione hid a smile, rolling her eyes.

"Yep. Pub."