CHAPTER THREE

The Odd Friendship

What, did I ever do to you?

That you should treat me this way?

Is it really such a crime,

For an angel to speak his mind?

Voltaire

Draco huddled close to his broom, he had only a thin summer cloak and the night was getting cold. He reflected on the mess he had gotten himself into. He was a few thousand feet in the air, injured rather horrifically, starved, disowned from his family, with no clue where he was going, and most likely there would be Deatheaters on his tail by dawn. He had no idea as to where he would be safe from his father. And to top it all off, it looked like there was a storm moving in.

Cursing his bad luck, Draco glanced at the encroaching cloudburst, and checked his brooms compass. He was going north-west, and as far as he could remember there was no shelter in the barren lands of northern Scotland. Not that his memory was very clear at the moment, quiet understandably. The wind whipped his cloak around into his eyes, the cold gust was almost on him. He had never seen a storm with this fury, this unnatural rancor at all things.

Almost unbidden, a snippet of a song his mother used to sing to him drifted into his mind.

When hope is lost

the sky rebels

And your home is lost to you,

Just look for a place

Where there are others

That are willing to guide you.

'Where there are others, that are willing to guide you,', well that was just ever so helpful. The Malfoy family made sure never to depend on others. The rest of the Wizarding World had Harry Potter and Dumbledor, but Malfoy's never asked for help. It was Rule number 17 in The Malfoy Family Code of Conduct that he had memorized when he was 6. Then again, he wasn't a Malfoy anymore.

His Father had wanted him to join Moldy-Wart and the Death-munches, as Draco had always mockingly called Voldermort and the Death-eaters in his mind, but Draco was no ones servant. Lucius was less than pleased with his refusal. He had decided to, 'persuade' Draco of the error of his ways. And Lucius was a master of torture that it did not quiet drive the captive insane. He would still carry a great many nasty scars for the rest of his life. And he was able to recall exactly how he received each of them. Lucius had made sure he would never forget. He had been locked in manacles, that burned his skin wherever they touched, he wasn't sure if he would ever have full use of his hands again. But through long starvation Draco had been thin and light enough to slip out of the shackles and through the bars over his cell window and crawl through the narrow shaft to ground level. He had found it surprisingly easy to steal a broom and cloak from the slumbering grounds-keeper. Likely sleeping off all the drink he had consumed. He had immediately taken off in the opposite direction of Malfoy Manor, not knowing how long he would have before Lucius mounted a search, he knew to much for his father to let him get away.

One of Lucius' favored methods of breaking his victim was by leaving them completely alone for hours on end. This particular treatment had caused many strong willed people to either thinking or really going mad. In a rather desperate attempt to stay sane Draco had gone over his passed years at Hogwarts. He found many things about his years there that he was dissatisfied about, particularly his lack of relationship with The-Boy-Who-Lived. After all, he had held a grudge because Harry had refused him on the train in first year, but over time it had metamorphosed into an enmity that was totally out of proportionate with the cause. Ah well, he could think more on that later, when he wasn't caught out in the weather. Mother Nature must really have something against him.

Well, he was no longer a Malfoy, so he didn't have to follow Rule number 17 in The Malfoy family code of conduct. He didn't know if where Potter lived, so Dumbledor was his only choice. Draco Malfoy turned his broom toward Hogwarts, still racing the unnatural storm.

A few days passed, and Draco came to his senses only a few times. However, when he did finally awake fully, it was with no little surprise to find himself in the Hospital wing at Hogwarts. Vaguely he remembered reaching Hogwarts in the midst of the storm, almost falling off his broom in exhaustion and pain from half healed wounds. Then concerned faces he barely recognized passed in and out of a haze, he had the feeling he was gasping out his story to them, although it probably was anything but coherent. It appears that they got the general gist of it, and the last thing he could recall was being carried quickly by a pair of strong, black-clad arms, with whispered reassurances that he would never go back to the Manor.

He was surprised that he was in relatively little pain, considering the state he had been in when he arrived. And even more surprising, Potter was sleeping in a bed next to his. The dark haired boy looked like he had been on the receiving end of a beating worthy of Lucius. The faintest stirrings of pity, understanding and compassion awoke in Draco; he had thought the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Hell had the perfect life, with his relatives to wait upon his every wish. Draco mentally shook himself.

Woh, Draco, slow down. This is Harry bloody Potter, you hate him remember?

Oh why are you even bothering to lie to yourself Draco? Your FATHER hated him. You were just offended he refused your offer of friendship when you first met him.

Draco sighed. He hated when his conscious jumped in. He had pieced together from conversations over his head that Potter's UNCLE had done this to him. The situation reminded himself of his father.

Everyone thought that they were in everything together. But in reality, Lucious was a terror to be reckoned with, even for his son.

A bustling noise to his right caused his head to turn so fast he was afraid for a moment of whiplash. It was only the schools nurse however, no reason for paranoia. However, he should never have moved. The miniscule sound caused Madam Pomphery to whip around as fast as he had and stride over to his bedside in an instant. As she spoke she pocked and prodded him briskly with her wand, nodding in approval of the spell results that only she could interpret.

"So your finally awake. The next time you decide to go gallivanting around the country side you will bring yourself back in perfect health, clear! You are lucky to be alive, with the shape you were in. Now drink this."

The potion which she shoved down his throat was so bitter he almost spat it out, stopping only because the nurse was directing 'The Look' at him. He swallowed the vile concoction with only a grimace.

Pomphery nodded with brisk approval and toke the goblet back. She was about to hurry away to check on Potter when Draco spoke.

"Madam Pomphery, how long will I be here?"

The Nurse answered over her shoulder, without even bothering to look at him.

"At the very least, three more days, Mr. Malfoy." As he gaped like a fish, she finished with her scan of Potter, apparently satisfied.

"And you are not leaving that bed. Is that perfectly clear?" Her beady eyes seemed to pierce his thoughts, almost as if she was searching for the slightest hint he would try to leave. She was right, so he changed the subject.

"Why's Har-Potter still hurt? Can't you heal him?"

She was suspicious of the change of topic but allowed herself to be distracted.

"His magic has been trying to repair him itself. It considers any foreign agent a threat, and has neutralized any attempts I have made to help it. He will have to do it himself."

And with that the Nurse strode into her office, confidant that the boys were going nowhere.

Draco crawled out of his bed. Grabbing his wand from the bedside tale he looked about, taking stock of the situation. His face sneered with disgust as he realized what he was wearing. Cotton pajamas! Malfoy's do not wear COTTON pajamas! With a scowl he transfigured them into black robes. Then he remembered that he was no longer a Malfoy, but shrugged and left them as they were. He stalked, or tried to (he was still weak) out of the infirmary.

He would have the best chance of running into someone at either the Great Hall or the Library. The Library was closer so Draco headed that way.

As he approached the end of the corridor, Draco realized that somebody was following him. He ducked into a convenient alcove, and hid in the shadows. As the person passed by Draco had to restrain himself from asking Potter why he was following him.

Harry stopped in front of an alcove.

"Could have sworn something was here. Oh, well, it's not. Where to go, where to go." He peered owlishly down the passage that he had come from, then around the stone corner His glasses had long ago shattered "Well, Harry, you can go to the Great Hall, or the Library. Since your not hungry you probably better go to the Library. And you really better stop talking to yourself. It's the first sign of insanity you know." Gathering his courage to move once more, Harry began limping in that direction again.

It felt as if there was something between himself and the pain in his right leg, but the shield was fading fast.

As he reached the corner the pain came back fully with a vengeance. Against his better instincts he cried out as he collapsed. He tried to get up again but it was impossible. Harry lay there for a moment, panting with pain into the cool stone under his cheek.

Draco watched as Potter muttered to himself, and limped off. The lines of pain and sleeplessness around his eyes were pronounced and he was far too thin to be healthy. Draco did not want to help unless he was absolutely sure Potter couldn't manage himself, so he slipped out of the alcove and followed Harry at a discreet distance.

He had no Idea why he was concerned about Potter's well being, but Draco told himself it was just in defiance of his father's edicts.

His breath still caught as the Gryffendor fell, crying with the pain. Before Draco knew it he was sprinting to the others aid. Harry looked dazedly up at him with a look of confusion made him seem childlike and innocent. Draco found that he was not proof against that look. He watched as for a moment as Harry recalled all the fights, the verbal abuse rally's, the insults and the malicious pranks. He really hoped Harry could get by it, he wasn't going to offer his hand in peace a third time.

Harry's face cleared as he visibly set aside the grievances that had piled up over the years. Draco felt he had to speak.

"Harry, I know I've been nasty to you over the years can you please forgive me and can we make a fresh start?" Draco said this all in a rush , he was trying to get everything out before Harry could turn around and regret his decision to let the years lie. "My father is probably in Azkaban so I can finally be free and try to be your friend as a friend and not like he wanted me to, please?"

"Draco," Draco was pleased to hear Harry had retuned the favor of calling him by their first name. "I think to much has happened over the years to become immediate friends, but I am willing for a fresh start. All right? And I will be pleased to know YOU instead of a younger version of your father."

Draco nodded, very happy that Harry hadn't turned him down flat. "That makes sense." He paused for a moment to consider his words, and gave a sheepish grin. "Now, that is something I never thought I would say. And anyway, as you've seen, my life with my Father wasn't peaches and cream. I'm glad really, that I'm out of his control." Draco grinned and Harry echoed it.

"Now let get you on your feet." With Draco lending a shoulder, Harry managed to hobble upright. He then looked at Draco.

"Draco, you don't look so good yourself. So how about this, we'll support each other."

"Works for me."

And that is how the most unlikely pair in the world came to help each other down the long corridor.