Author's Note: Thank you all for such lovely reviews! It's always such a surprise to me that people respond so positively to this story, no matter how silly it may or may not get. Also, just to remind you all, this story completely ignores the events of OotP, HBP, and DH; point of fact, I started writing this story before OotP even came out so, yes, all of them are still alive.

Chapter 13

By the time Draco had dropped into a deep sleep, Harry had just begun to worry. He wasn't sure how long they had been in the shower and though he was confident his relatives wouldn't come barging in on them should they return home, he still had many things to do. One being top and foremost in his mind was making something light for Draco to eat. He didn't want to push the boy, that would only make him sick, but they had to get something into his stomach.

Harry fought down a few choice curse words as he tried to remember what was in the pantry downstairs. He wasn't sure what Aunt Petunia had stocked and more importantly if what she had stocked he would be able to take. Not that there was a chance that his Aunt would notice something was missing. With Dudley in the house, things tended to only last for so long. Harry had to learn that the hard way.

/There should be some tea left. Dudley hates honey tea and Aunt Petunia only brings it out when company is over./ He thought shifting Draco onto the floor regretfully.

A shower was most definitely out of the question now. Well, at least a real shower was out of the question. The best he could do for the boy was give him a make-shift sponge bath to get some of the grit off of him as well as bandage some of the worst of the wounds; which meant most of his body. Harry sighed. Once Draco had his strength back, Harry would be able to help the blonde to take a shower.

Not wanting to waste time, Harry scrambled to his feet and opened the shower door enough so he could reach in a flip the water off. It had just barely begun to warm. Turning on his heels, mindful of were Draco lay, the young wizard went to the water basin and flipped that water on. It would be better if he had a bowel of some sort, just so he could lay it beside Draco as he tended to him, but a part of the Gryffindor wouldn't allow him to leave the confines of the room long enough to find one.

/This is easier anyway./ a voice supplied. He didn't argue.

Adjusting the knobs, Harry let his finger hover under the water, waiting for the temperature to become just right. Thankfully, the water in the tap warmed faster than the shower and in no time at all, the basin was half filled with lukewarm water.

Wiping his fingers on his jeans, the dark haired boy grabbed the soap he had brought from his room, which was only a small bottle of slivery liquid Hermione had made for him before they left Hogwarts. Quickly he measured out a cap full and dumped it into the water. The liquid was a mixture of Woundwort poultice and an array of other herbs that Harry wasn't sure he could pronounce but his friend had promised worked wonders.

Swishing his fingers around in the water, the Gryffindor watched in mild fascination (though he'd seen it before) as the water turned a coppery color. He knew from his own experience that the liquid was extremely powerful. Just the small cap-full would help heal more than half of 

Draco's cuts while disinfecting the worst of them as well as ease the ache in some of the uglier bruises.

He really needed to thank Hermione sometime...

Steeling his resolve, Harry grabbed one of the many rags he had brought and dipped it into the water. Better to use his rags first. He could at least throw them away.

/Hope you're a deep sleeper, Draco./ He thought as he dipped the rag in again, rung it out and slide to his knees beside the prone boy. /Better just leave the pants on for now./

Folding the rag into a small square and placing the corner of it onto the blonde's shoulder, Harry swallowed thickly. He truly hoped that the other boy stayed asleep through out all of this. It was going to hurt like hell if not.

Casting one last glance to the Slytherin's face, Harry began to bathe away the dirt. Almost instantly, the rag was covered in caked dirt and congealed blood. Harry felt his stomach roll.

/ I'm sorry. /

Lifting the clothe away, Harry dipped it into the water basin, watching as the grim floated off the rag to be pulled to the bottom of the sink, just as he had knew it would. Squeezing the clothe out again, he leaned back down to his task.

/Slow and easy; the last thing I need is for him to wake up./ He thought, scrubbing as gently as possible at a spot near Draco's collarbone.

Several trips to the water basin and more than a few rags later, Harry had finally cleaned Draco's chest, neck and face to the full extent that he could. He was hard pressed not to caress the creamy skin now that it was clean. Never before had he realized how much it truly did make Draco look like -- Draco; like the boy he knew, or, had thought he knew.

/C'mon Harry! Get it together! He's exhausted, beaten and more than likely mentally unstable. You can't just start --petting -- him when he's like that!/ He chastised himself. But even so, Harry couldn't help but let his fingers hover over the downy flesh of Draco's bare shoulder.

/He's beautiful. Really truly beautiful./ He mused, watching in mild fascination as his tanned hand hovered so close to the boy's cream flesh he could feel the heat rising.

As strange as it was for the Gryffindor to think or even begin to think, he did think Draco was beautiful. Why he never noticed it before was beyond him. But now that he had, the fragile beauty lying before him took his breath away. Draco Malfoy was exquisite.

"So beautiful..." Harry found himself murmuring unconsciously, hand moving in the air just above the normally porcelain skin.



It didn't matter that this young wizard was one of his enemies; that he was a boy; that right now Draco was broken. Harry could fix him.

"I don't know what's going on Draco. Not with you and not with me but I swear to you -- I'll make this right." The Gryffindor murmured, moving to place a comforting hand on top of Draco's heart. But the comfort only lasted for as long as it took for Harry's skin to touch Draco's.

A firestorm was exploding through his scar.