Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!~ ::big grin::

Brenna

Ddz08

Blu Misterie

Kittylover16- Nee, I know. @_@ I gotta get me a beta reader one of these days. XD

ElfFlame

Redmeadow – Yes it was cold to leave it like that… ::insert evil laugh::

draco-n-harry4ever - Awww!! Awesome name!

Dark Peppermint – This chapter would have been up sooner if I hadn't had to write it twice because my laptop deleted it and then ff.net was down. ;_;

Now on with the ficcie:

Chapter Three- Rescue

Harry Potter awoke with a start. Instantly his hands raced to his forehead, not only because his scar was burning like mad, but also because he had also just hit his head on the top bunk of where he was sleeping.

   The Boy Who Lived had arrived at the Burrow a few days ago, much to his delight, the Weasley's delight, and not to mention the Dusley's delight. He had been welcomed with more then open arms and the news that Ron and Hermione were finally dating. Harry had been overjoyed that his best friends had realized what he had known about them for years. Though Harry did an excellent job at hiding it, he did feel like a bit of a third wheel now... The three of them were always an inseparable trio, and suddenly he felt like Ron and Hermione always had some private joke he wasn't in on...

None of this was on the young Potter's mind of course as he sat in bed, clutching his scarred forehead.

When he was younger it hadn't been considered odd at all for him to walk up, wincing at the memory of his dream and the stinging of his head, but now it was a different matter. In sixth year he had perfected the art of protecting his mind, and no dreams of the Dark Lord had interrupted his sleep since.

But this dream... It was something else. Voldemort's sheer anger had sent Harry's barriers crashing down.

His lessons had helped somewhat though... He couldn't feel remember the dream. Every time he tried to delve deeper into his memory, it would seem to slip away, like water in his hands.

It did have something to do with the Malfoys though... Harry knew that much. The Dark Lord had been infuriated with them... He had cursed Lucius Malfoy to within an inch of his life before stopping... But why had he been torturing a large member of his Inner Circle? What could Lucius have done to deserve the beating he had sustained?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted though as a freckled face came into his line of vision.

"What's the matter mate?" Ron asked groggily.

Harry looked up at where his best friend was leaning over the edge of the top bunk bed.

"Earth to Harry. Come in Potter..." Ron joked, as he swung his body to the ground.

Harry remained silent, and Ron become more serious when he saw the raven-haired boy's expression.

"What were you dreaming about anyway? You were screaming in your sleep." Ron commented.

"I was screaming?" Harry asked surprised.

"Yup. Probably woke up the whole house."

As if on que, Hermione walked in, looking slightly disheveled, but still worried.

"Harry, oh my, Harry, are you okay?" she asked, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"I'm fine Hermione. I can't even remember what the dream was about. Really. Probably just had too much dessert or something." Harry lied.

Ron and Hermione still looked unsure, but Ginny stuck her head in at that moment, stopping any further conversation they could have had.

"Mum says since we're all up, you should get ready to go to Diagon's Alley. We're going to get our school stuff today." she said.

"Sorry." Harry replied, turning slightly crimson.

The three didn't speak another word about the dream as they dressed and headed downstairs.

*~~~~~~~~~*

The sun was beginning to set as the trio turned into the Leaky Cauldron. Their shopping had been successful, though somewhat awkward. They had been by themselves all day, and had agreed to meet the Weasley's at the Leaky Cauldron that evening.

Ron scanned the crowd, and shook his head.

"I don't see them. They're probably running late. We might as well get some drinks."

"That sounds excellent. I'm parched." Hermione replied, heading over to order.

The three sat down at the bar, where Tom gave them a friendly wave.

"The usual I suspect?" he asked, placing three cups of Butterbeer in front of them.

"Thanks Tom." Harry spoke, taking a sip.

The three watched the people around them for a little bit, while Tom ran around serving various customers. Finally he came back over to talk to them, drying his hands on a towel.

"Seen Hagrid lately? He hasn't been in here in awhile." Tom questioned.

Harry gave a faint nod.

"Haven't seen him, but I've been getting owls regularly from him. He sounds okay." Harry replied.

"Tell him to stop in here next time you see him okay? Tell him I'll give him a few on the house, that should get him in here quick." Tom said, with a booming laugh.

"Hey Tom..." Hermione suddenly spoke up. "Who's that?" She gestured to a figure in the corner.

Harry and Ron both turned to look. In a table in the darkest, furthest corner, there was a lone figure wearing a dark green hooded cloak, and slightly clutched over as though in pain.

"I was hoping you would ask about him... Because honestly, I don't know. He came in yesterday night, really banged up, bad you know? And I told him to get out because I didn't want no trouble. He said he wouldn't be any trouble, so I asked him what his name was. Wouldn't give that to me, or why he was here, but he made up for in it galleons if you know what I mean. Anyway I was up in his room, W2, and he had a mess of Hogwarts things with him. I think he's planning to go straight from here to the school... He looks around your age, you know, so I figured he may be one of your friends..."

Harry half-listened to Tom's tale, and half-watched the stranger.

Suddenly they gave another jolt, as though a spasm of pain had just raced through their body. The hood of the cloak fell back, and Harry stared in disbelief.

Draco Malfoy.

"Bloody hell, what is he doing here?" Ron hissed in disgust.

Harry wasn't listening though; he had already slid off his seat and was walking towards the Malfoy.

*~~~~~~~~*

Draco hissed in pain as his side burned more. His father had given him a more extensive list of injuries then he had thought. His ankle was broken from falling down the stairs without a doubt. He could barely walk on it, and didn't want to imagine what he must look like hobbling around on the damn thing. Not to mention he was pretty sure that a few of his ribs had broken from the kick that had been delivered. A large bruise on his stomach had also been a result of that attack. There was also a large gash over his stomach from when his father had cursed him and he had hit the pointy top of the stair rail.

After his father had ordered him to leave, Draco had grabbed as much of his step as he could and fled into the night. He hadn't known where to go. He did know that his father would be looking for him in a couple of hours, and one of the first places he would look was St. Mungo's. Then he would check his friend's houses. So Draco had gone to a place where he knew if he gave enough money, questions wouldn't be asked, and where his face wouldn't be well known. And what place better then the Leaky Cauldron?

He had thought that his plan was foolproof, but his wounds were bad... Worse then he expected. He couldn't get the damn gash on his stomach to stop bleeding. It had badly stained the sheets last night, and he was pretty sure that right now it was bleeding through the bandages and shirt he was wearing. There was only a few things that could make his situation worse...

"Malfoy...?" a soft voice suddenly asked.

Draco winced and looked up.

And Harry Potter was definitely one of the things that could make his situation worse. Not far behind were his sidekicks, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

However, Hermione suddenly stopped and stared wide-eyed.

Ron turned to her, a questioning look on his face. Hermione pointed.

"Malfoy is that blo-"

'Shit.' Draco thought as he saw that the blood had even bled through his cloak.

He had to get out of here. He pulled himself the best he could to his feet.

"Fuck off Mudblood." Draco muttered.

That was not the right thing to say apparently. Ron Weasley had never been fond of that term, and was even less fond of it now that it was pertaining to his girlfriend. Not to mention he didn't really care how bad Draco Malfoy was hurt. To Ron, the worse, the better.

The Weasley launched himself at the Malfoy in a fit of anger.

"No Ron!" Hermione cried.

It was too late though. Draco gave a small cry of pain as he felt his bad ankle go under him. It just hurt too damn bad... Dark spots danced in front of his eyes for a few moments, and then he blacked out.

Ron stood back, looking perplexed.

"I didn't even get to punch him once."

Hermione knelt on the ground and looked at the spot where Draco's cloak had come open a tad. What she saw shocked her. Part of a white shirt was absolutely drenched in blood.

"Harry... Ron...He's hurt bad. Please carry him to his room."

Harry paused for a moment staring at his enemy, and saw the face that was paler then usual. Then he took a step to the side, and picked Draco up under the arms.

"What? I'm not helping that git 'Mione. 'Specially not after what he called you." Ron replied, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Ron, please. He's hurt really, really bad." Hermione gave him a pleading look.

Begrudgingly, Ron grabbed Draco's feet, but not before noticing the twisted, swollen ankle. He swallowed hard and then helped Harry carry Draco up to his room.

Hermione led the way down the hall, until she found the room that Tom had said was Draco's. She paused, and reached out to the doorknob. To her utter amazement, the door was open. Tentatively, she took a step in. The room was a small. It had a single sheet less bed in it, a mirror, a sink, a desk, and a trunk.

Harry and Ron followed her in, and gently set Draco on the bed, who didn't stir at all. The child prodigy proceeded over to the bed, and carefully set aside the bloody cloak. Underneath was a white button up silk shirt that was ruined, as it was totally stained in blood. Hermione began to take off the shirt, which earned her a noise of disapproval from her boyfriend. This noise was almost instantly quieted though when the shirt was off.

Ron was met with an urgent need to gag at seeing the gash and bruises. Hermione winced as she inspected further.

"Some of his ribs are broken.. And this looks like it's been bleeding for a while. A day, possibly two..."

Harry felt sick. First he had the dream about Lucius Malfoy being tortured, and then they found Draco Malfoy in the Leaky Cauldron beaten half to death? It was too much of a coincidence...

"Look at his ankle 'Mione." Ron spoke softly.

Hermione's eyes trailed down to the bottom of the bed.

"Oh my... It's a wonder he can even walk on this..."

A voice suddenly interrupted the three however.

"There you guys are! Tom said you were visiting a friend. I've been looking all over for you three! Fred! George! Get out of that room, now! I've found them!"

They turned to see Mr. Weasley standing in the doorway. He obviously hadn't seen the wounded Malfoy yet, but the instant the twins walked in their eyes grew wide.

"Bloody hell!" George exclaimed.

"What did you do to Malfoy?" Fred goggled.

"We didn't do it!" Ron replied huffily. "We found him like this... Someone beat the snot out of him, and he probably deserved it."

Mr. Weasley had gone pale at seeing the young Malfoy sprawled out on the bed.

"Oh...my..." was all he said.

"Mr. Weasley," Hermione spoke, stepping forward. "He's hurt really badly. He needs to go to St. Mungo's or something. His ankle is broken, probably so are a few of his ribs, he has an awful cut and bruise on his stomach, which probably resulted in quite a bit of semi-serious blood loss, not to mention he's running a fever. Please, please, we have to get him to St. Mungo's. He needs help."

Draco felt hellish, and his mind was sluggish. He desperately tried to open his eyes, but everything was a blur. Something did catch his attention though. The phrase 'get him to St. Mungo's'.

'No!' Draco thought desperately. That would be the first place his father would look for him.

He reached out and caught Hermione's hand, who jumped a bit.

"Not.... Mungo's...." he groaned.

Draco knew all too well that they were all staring at him, battered and broken. But there was nothing he could about it. He was in their care now, no matter how much that thought irked him... At least he knew they wouldn't hand him over to the Death Eaters...

"We'll take him to Dumbledore." Mr. Weasley said finally. "He'll know what to do."

Author's Note: Please, please, please with chocolate covered Dracos, review or email at vegetaztwin@hotmail.com