A/N: revamped and reedited.
disclaimer: I don't own anything. period.
...---CHAPTER THREE---...
The arm to Draco's shirt was ripped away completely, and he was obviously in pain. There were bruises all along his arm, his hand was cut, temple was bruised, face pale and thin. In fact, he had become skinnier since Harry had last seen him.
"You're hurt!" Brenna exclaimed, dropping to Draco.
Nervously, Harry did the same. "Why are you here?" Harry asked.
"Easy, 'Arry," Brenna said, then she brushed Draco's hair from his face to see a bleeding temple; "You're safe 'ere, no worries…"
Draco opened his eyes, squinting as he stared at her. Then he looked at Harry; "P-Potter?" he asked; "Should have known you would be the one asking that..." he looked back at Brenna; "Ah, Brenna, right? It's been awhile."
"Yeah, so, how's your da'?" Brenna asked curtly, smirking.
Draco laughed, a harsh rasping voice from his torched throat; "Don't joke about him," he said seriously; "I barely got out."
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Death Eaters," Draco said; "Came after my mother and I. She shoved me into the fire, but…" he bit his lip; "She never followed me..."
Harry and Brenna were silent, then Brenna said; "Grandda'll be 'ere soon," she said; "'Arry, let's get 'im off the floor…"
"Just like old times," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes; "Help me up," he said brusquely to Harry.
Harry just stared at him, scowling.
"'Arry, 'elp me lift 'im," Brenna said, helping Draco sit up.
Draco hissed form pain when Harry reached around, and Harry removed his arm to see blood on Draco's back.
"Spell," Draco muttered, cringing; "It's nothing major, but it hurts..."
"Oh yeah, minor buh it's leaves ya 'alf-dead," Brenna mused as she and Harry lifted Draco onto the couch.
Draco cringed again as they laid him down, but never the less was grateful. "Thanks," Draco said to Brenna, though he was looking at Harry; "And just because I'm hurt doesn't give you a cheap shot," Draco said.
Harry held his hands up; "I'm a guest, same as you," he said; "I don't want to get kicked out."
As if on cue, Anestrothea, Dumbledore, Kingsley, Tonks, and a stout aged witch (May) came in, the doors flying open to proceed them.
"What is going on?" Anestrothea boomed, then he saw Draco; "Ach, a Malfoy!" he spat; "That can only mean one thing-!"
"No, grandda 'e's hurt!" Brenna exclaimed, waving her hands in the air; "May, 'e needs 'elp!"
May obediently nodded, and rushed over to Draco; "Hmm," she mused, checking an unusually quiet Draco's injuries; "Been Cursed many times over, you have," she said; "He needs to get to a room, sir," she said, looking to Anestrothea.
"Anestrothea," Dumbledore said; "Young Mister Malfoy is a student of mine. Perhaps, though your anger is justified and by no means gratuitous, you might make an exception."
Anestrothea was seething from the intrusion, "Has he come into contact with you?" he asked Brenna snappishly.
"Pa-pa, he's not some diseased dog!" Brenna exclaimed; "Please..."
"How serious are these 'injuries'?" Anestrothea asked, looking to May.
"Fairly serious, milord," May replied.
Anestrothea was silent as he and Draco stared at one another. Draco felt as though he were shrinking under the man's stern gaze. Anestrothea was intimidating; though age had weathered his features he was still as able as a spry thirty year old, his body not going to a fat, flabby wrinkly sight as many his age would have. Part of being elfin- you aged a lot better. So, Anestrothea still retained that powerful, strong air he had always had.
Draco had only met the wizard one time, when he was fourteen. Brenna had gone to deliver a parcel to Dumbledore with him, and while the elder two talked, Draco showed Brenna around the grounds. It wasn't so bad, until Pansy got the idea that Brenna was somehow taking her "boyfriend", though Draco despised the evil girl. In the end, Brenna was attacked and Draco was injured. Anestrothea had never forgiven him. And then there was the fact that Draco's father had been the one to kill several family members, including Brenna's uncle. Anestrothea hated the Malfoys with a passion, as well as every other Death Eater.
"Take him to the room by Mister Shaklebolt's," Anestrothea finally said, looking away and to Dumbledore; "But, if so much as one thing happens, and he is at fault..."
"I assure you, Anestrothea, on my oath as a wizard," Dumbledore said; "Draco will cause no trouble. Isn't that right, Draco?"
Draco nodded dumbly, wincing as Kingsley and Tonks lifted him room the couch; "Ach, levitate the lad!" May exclaimed, whipping out her wand and levitating Draco.
"Thank you," he groaned, shooting a dark look at Tonks, who had pinched his bruised shoulder when he glared at Kingsley.
When May and Draco, along with Dumbledore and the others, had gone, Brenna and Harry looked at one another.
"'Arry," Brenna said; "Unnerstan', I only met Draco once. I dinna know he would come."
"Sure," Harry said; "My mortal enemy is now in the same house as me!"
"Is he? Ya should get t' know 'im. He's got a lot in common wit' ya, from what Ah gathah…"
Harry was silent; "That bad, huh?" he asked.
Brenna nodded; "Ya 'ave things Draco wishes 'e 'ad. Even though 'e's got riches, fine clothes, an' a pretty noble name, 'e's desperate for family love. 'Is mother cannot come inta contact wit' 'im any more because 'is father doesn't want 'im going soft."
Harry crossed his arms and looked down guiltily; "Okay, I get it," he said, looking at her; "So what, I have to be nice to him?"
Brenna nodded; "Yeah," she said; "If ya say ya name's Harry Potter, ya will."
"Oh, you-" Harry began, but he didn't finish. He smirked, and Brenna smiled.
Draco lay propped up in the bed, in a fresh change of bed clothing and his wounds nearly healed. He stared at the bandage on his hand, then over to the bandage around the arm. He sighed, remembering how Voldemort almost put the mark on him before his mother burst in and whisked him away, only to be struck down...
Draco snapped out of his trance when he heard shouting outside his room. It was followed by a calm, cool, rational voice, then another of the same fashion. Then the shouting picked up again. Draco sighed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. Though he was looking up at cement, he saw the sky, filled with stars and beautifully dark.
The door opened, and Dumbledore poked his head in; "Ah, so you're awake," the old wizard said, walking in; "Mind if I have a word?"
"By all means," Draco said, waiting as Dumbledore sat in the bedside chair; "Not like I have a choice though, is it?"
"You should be grateful, Draco, that Anestrothea didn't act otherwise," Dumbledore said; "He was considering having you thrown out a moment ago-"
"But you stepped in and saved me, again."
Dumbledore leaned back; "What happened, Draco?" he asked.
"What do you think happened?" Draco snapped; "Sorry, it's just..." he sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"I understand, Draco," Dumbledore said; "No one should go through what you have been forced to endure. But you know, Delgrishire Estate is a wonderful place to heal. I must say you're lucky you already know Brenna. She helped woo Anestrothea into letting you stay. Now, I'm not expecting you to act invisible, but I'm warning you now. Around Anestrothea, keep that very opinionated mouth of yours closed."
Draco nodded; "Now," Dumbledore said, "Your food should be by momentarily. This is now your room, Draco, and I'm sure we'll have more of your belongings shortly."
"How will you get them?" Draco asked.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkle with mischief, "Oh, there are ways, my boy, there are ways," he rose then, "Now, I'll leave you. Get some rest, tomorrow should be a promising day for you."
Dumbledore walked to the door, and as he stepped out he heard Draco say quietly; "Thank you, Professor..."
Dumbledore smiled, nodded to the teen, then closed the door and left to the library to conduct more research.