The water in the tub was becoming murky brown again with dirt. Draco sighed, he would have to change the water again. He put down the wash cloth that he was holding, on the edge of the white tub he was currently standing beside.
He reached over and pulled out the plug to let the still warm, water out. As Draco waited for the water to drain, he looked round the bathroom.
The bathroom was not very big, but clean and what Draco guessed to be "a cozy feeling" to it. It was decorated in white and deep blue colours, with hints of gold decorations.
He had only been in here once before, when he inspected the house before moving in. He usually had no businesses in the servants quarters. Not usually, but this was an exception. His eyes shot back to the reason why he, Draco Malfoy, was in the servants bathroom, scrubbing and bathing someone elses body.
Harry Potter, lying in the bathtub, was the one and only reason for this. Harry had not stirred from his deep sleep since Draco had carried him out of the prison cell two hours ago.
He had been so cold that Draco was convinced he had at least pneumonia. The dark haired boy had spent months down in those dreary underground prison cells, much longer then any of the other prisoners.
The rest of the prison had slowly been depopulated one cell at a time, as prisoners either died under torture, collected by loved ones or given as slaves to Death Eathers. Draco should know, he'd gotten five of them.
The same rules applied to all the prisoners except "the boy who lived". He was not to be killed or given as a slave and how ever much Draco had tried, he was not granted his lover back, until The Dark Lord had summoned him this morning.
The water in the tub was now gone and Harry could now be fully seen, slumped against the tubs side. His skin was filled with cuts and bruises. The once tanned skin that use to play over hard muscle, was now ghostly white with bones just under it. Harry's arms had at some point been broken and had healed by them self. Their slightly strange angle told Draco they would have to be re broken and re healed.
Anger was all Draco could feel when he looked at his lover. Anger at The Dark Lord for doing this, but mostly anger at himself for failing to get Harry out of that dark cell faster.
When the blond had finally gotten home with his sleeping bundle in his arms, he had decided that to clean Harry up before sending for at doctor. He could not stand the thought of this dark haired wizard, being examined, even by a doctor, in such a sad state.
He alone would clean and tend him. It was the least he could do.
Unfortunately, the only tub in the house, that Harry could sit in himself without Draco supporting him the hole time, was the servants bath tub.
Deciding that the sleeping boy could get no cleaner, Draco lifted Harry out of the tub and dried him of.
Harry's breathing was irregular and slow. Brushing some of the dark locks out of the sleeping face, the blond Death Eather sighed. He was worried, very worried. The warm water had helped get Harry's body warmer, but he was still to cold and the skin to clammy.
Dressing "the boy who lived" in one of his own silk pyjamas. Draco called a house elf to him and told it to send for his personal doctor.
It was time to find out just how much damage that had been done.