Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Written for Amber, who helped me get past the writers block that's been plaguing me.

Word Count - 1684

Company While Convalescing

The world faded in and out, blurry shots of colour as spells flew back and forth. Kingsley couldn't push past the pain in his leg, the burning all encompassing. He knew he had to try; nobody was going to save him, he had to save himself, but as the world swam in his vision once more, he couldn't help but feel it helpless.

For the first time since the war had ended, Kingsley thought he was going to die.

…

He came too slowly, noting the soft furnishings beneath him even as he realised the pain in his leg had significantly lessened.

Blinking his eyes open, Kingsley glanced around him, eyeballing the regal decoration in the wall. There was a lot of gold and ivory, he noticed.

Before he could push himself into a sitting position, a crack sounded in the room, and a house-elf peered over him.

"Oh, youses awake! Master will be pleased!"

"Where am I?" Kingsley asked, struggling up until he was leaning against an ornate headboard. The movement had irritated his leg, and the house-elf tutted over it, ignoring his question entirely. A potion materialised from nowhere, and Kingsley took it hesitantly.

He knew by the colour that it was a pain potion, but his Auror training had kicked into high gear and he really didn't want to drink it.

"I wouldn't have saved you, only to poison you now, Shacklebolt."

Kingsley blinked, staring at the man standing in the doorway. He was probably the last person Kingsley would have expected to see there, had he been asked for a guess on who had saved him.

"Malfoy," he greeted calmly. "What am I doing here?"

"Recovering. That was quite the battle, was it not?"

Kingsley bristled. "Why would you bring me here? And why were you there at all? I was under the impression that you were a reformed character."

"Relax," Lucius replied airily. "It was happenstance that I came across you at all. I'd been having dinner at a nearby restaurant with my son when we heard the shouting. Naturally, we came to investigate. We were leaving when I saw you prone on the floor." He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Would you have preferred I leave you there?"

Kingsley's eyes narrowed slightly, but he couldn't refute Lucius' words. After all, he'd only happened upon the fighting himself. As Minister, it was highly frowned upon for him to be joining in during brawls.

No matter how much part of him missed the thrill of the fight.

"Then I owe you my gratitude," he said after a long pause. "But I really must leave. I'm quite sure that the people in my office are worried about my absence."

"Potter has informed them of your whereabouts," Lucius replied quietly. "I requested his presence as soon as my elf had you settled, and he came by to check on you. I imagine he'll be returning shortly."

"Harry was here?"

Lucius nodded. "He was. It wouldn't do for me to be accused of kidnapping the Minister for Magic, now, would it? Drink your potion, Shacklebolt, it'll help."

Kingsley watched as Lucius turned away and left the room, feeling utterly wrongfooted. He looked down at the potion still in his hand and sighed. Even if it was poison, if it knocked him out, it would be worth it.

…

"We can move you to Saint Mungo's if you're uncomfortable here," Harry offered, perched on the end of the bed. "Admittedly, I was suspicious when Mr Malfoy first called me here, but it does seem like he just wanted to help."

Kingsley regarded the younger man for a long moment. Despite his relative youth, Harry's instincts were right more often than not—that was a big part of the reason he'd been chosen to head the Aurors after all.

Eventually, he nodded. "Has Lucius asked for anything?"

Harry shook his head, lips tilting up slightly. "No. Again, I was waiting for that very same thing but," he shrugged his shoulders. "You're okay, though, right? I've checked the wound myself, and I agree that there's not much that the healers can do that Mr Malfoy hasn't already. It's just a matter of waiting a few days for it to heal enough for you to move around on it at this point."

Kingsley sighed. He still believed that the blond man had to have some sort of an angle although he wasn't too sure what that could be. Being owed a favour by the Minister would certainly come in handy though, Kingsley was sure.

Perhaps that had been enough of an opportunity for Lucius to save him.

Regardless of Lucius' reasons though, Kingsley knew that he did owe the man his gratitude at the very least.

"I've gotta go," Harry said, standing up. "We're still interviewing the idiots that were fighting, though we still haven't actually found the root of it. I'm being to think that they're all just brainless idiots with too much time on their hands, but we'll keep digging."

Kingsley nodded. "Keep me updated on your findings."

"Of course. I'll drop in on you again tomorrow. A couple of days and you should be able to get out of bed. For now… you've probably earned a rest, Kingsley. You should probably take advantage of it."

…

Kingsley had slept again, when Harry left, but when he'd woken, it was to find Lucius sitting in an armchair with a book, the crackling fire warming the room wonderfully.

Kingsley watched Lucius for a few minutes, until he glanced up to see Kingsley was awake.

"I thought you must be hungry," Lucius said, after a slightly pregnant pause. "So Missy is preparing supper for us."

"You're eating here with me?" Kingsley asked, pushing himself up against the headboard. Moving was a little easier than it had been, and the plush pillow behind him saved him from the wood digging into his back.

Lucius nodded. "I thought to. Of course if it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No, it's fine. It's good. There's only so much of my own company I appreciate."

Lucius' lips tilted slightly, but he was saved from replying when Missy the house-elf appeared holding a laden tray, which she placed carefully over Kingsley' lap, little legs growing on either side of it to hold it steady.

She disappeared and reappeared seconds later with a similar meal for Lucius, though she placed his carefully on the table beside him instead of on a tray.

For a while, there were only the quiet sounds of cutlery clinking gently together, and the fire popping and spitting merrily in the grate, but when the food was gone, Lucius actually talked to Kingsley.

It was nothing earth shattering. They spoke about the goings on in the Ministry, about the new shops and restaurants popping up in Diagon Alley, even now, so many years after the war. They spoke about Hogwarts, and Lucius told a rather entertaining story of his grandson Scorpius, and his new baby crup.

It was… nice, for want of a better word.

And then, Kingsley realised that Lucius was lonely.

He supposed it wasn't really surprising. With Narcissa gone and in France, and Draco living his own life with his wife and son, Kingsley had never really thought about how that might affect Lucius.

For so long, he'd been the bad guy, the one to watch and be suspicious of. He had, for better or worse, been a Death Eater, and even now, that held a stigma that most couldn't shake.

That he'd spent two years in Azkaban and a further two under house arrest—not to mention the heavy reparation costs—many would never forgive Lucius Malfoy.

Kingsley found he couldn't honestly blame people, but to see it from this side of the fence, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Lucius.

…

"Thank you for your hospitality," Kingsley said, leaning heavily on the walking stick Harry had brought along with him. He held out his hand to shake Lucius' and offered him a weary smile before turning away.

Harry led him out of the Manor house and down the path, to the closest apparition point, and with his hand firmly wrapped around Kingsley's arm, guided their way to Kingsley's home.

The wards wrapped around him, welcoming him home, and Kingsley felt something inside him unclench. As much as Lucius' company had been far more pleasant that he'd have ever expected, Kingsley was still glad to be home.

"So, how was it?" Harry asked, settling Kingsley on the sofa before he stepped into the kitchen.

"Fine," Kingsley called. "He was… helpful, I suppose."

"It's weird, thinking of any of the Malfoy's as 'helpful', isn't it?" Harry asked, as he returned with two mugs of coffee in his hands.

Kingsley nodded, chuckling lowly. "It is. I think… I think he's lonely."

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly. "I… guess I can see that. I never really thought about it before."

"Me either," Kingsley admitted.

"So…. are you going to see him again?" Harry asked, his eyes glinting playfully.

Kingsley, laughing, threw a pillow at his head. "You're a shit, Harry Potter."

"You didn't answer the question," Harry replied, his tone light and giddy. "Kingsley and Lucius, sitting in a tree, G…"

"Get out," Kingsley said, shaking his head. "You're barred."

…

Lucius opened the door with a confused look on his face.

"Minister."

Kingsley shook his head. "Kingsley is fine. I, uh. I wondered if I could take you for dinner?"

Lucius' expression shuttered. "There's no need. Your thanks was gratitude enough."

"It's not gratitude—although of course I am grateful. I… enjoyed your company while I was convalescing. I wouldn't be adverse to more of it."

Lucius tilted his head. "Dinner?"

Kingsley nodded.

"Very well. Allow me to change my robes then," Lucius said eventually, stepping back to allow Kingsley inside.

"You look fine," Kingsley said, frowning slightly.

Lucius scoffed. "I may be reformed, Minister, but I am still a Malfoy. I'll be back shortly."

Kingsley watched him go, wondering what on earth he'd gotten himself into.