Chapter 1 - The Inheritance

Harry paced around his dimly light room impatiently. His window was open and Hedwig hooted restlessly, begging to be released from her iron cage. Ignoring the fowl, Harry continued to pace around his room. He stole a glance at the glowing alarm clock that sat on his old beside table. 11.45PM.
'Only five more minutes until my birthday' Harry thought. As he paced Harry twirled his wand in his fingers; the minutes seemed to last for hours, and pacing only seemed to make it worse.
Harry knew what was coming, and he was not ashamed to admit it frightened him. Earlier that day he had received a letter from the Ministry – which by the way was still currently in shambles – that informed him of the events to come.
Harry plopped down onto his un-made bed and re-read the letter her had already read countless times that day; he almost had the whole letter memorised.

Dear Mr Potter

It has been noted by the Ministry that your seventeenth birthday is tomorrow – the 31st of June. We would like to inform you that tomorrow you will come into your magical inheritance. You will also gain full access to both Potter and Black vaults at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. On your birthday you will receive an owl with vault details and keys.
Given your circumstances we would like to inform you of the details including your magical inheritance. It has come to our attention that your father – James Potter – was one half Veela; and his mother was a pureblood Veela – born in France.
On the 31st of June your Veela quarter will 'awaken'. You may go through some physical changes and the 'awakening' may also have an influence on your magic.
Do not hesitate to send an owl if you have any further questions.

Sincerely – Ministry of Magic, Minister of Magic, Minister Kingsley.

Harry could feel his fists slowing crumpling the paper in his hands. He dropped the letter onto the floor and dropped back onto the bed; his shaggy hair now strewn across his pillow.
'How come I didn't know about this until now! Why didn't anyone tell me about this!' Harry tossed and turned, wide awake on his bed; waiting for the inevitable. He turned over to face the glowing green screen. He watched the green numeral click over.
11.49PM
Harry noticed the room was strangely silent. The hotting had ceased. Harry looked at the bird in her cage. She was no longer restless and loud; she sat on her perch watching Harry. The bird was completely still, her white feathers did not ruffle, and her golden beady eyes did not blink. Hedwig did not move a muscle.
Harry rose from his bed and moved over to the cage. Just as he reached his hand out to open the cage and inspect the bird, Harry heard an almost sickening 'click'.
He slowly turned his head around; his eyes widening with the sight of his green flashing clock.
12.00PM
No sooner than the clock struck twelve; Harry dropped straight down to the floor, unconscious. Hedwig – ever quite – only watched as she witnessed her master crash to the cold wooden floor and convulse on the ground.

Harry woke on the floor, his drenched clothes sticking to his skin with sweat. He groaned as he opened his eyes. To Harry, the morning sun pouring through his window felt like he was having liquid fire poured directly into his eyes. He raised a stiff arm and placed a hand on his throbbing forehead. His whole body felt stiff and sore, like he had spent the whole night fighting a horde of Hungarian Horntails.
This was worse than a hangover. Harry had been hung over before, after a memorable victory party for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had gotten completely smashed on firewhiskey, and yet his hangover hadn't even come close to feeling as bad as this.
Harry forced himself into a sitting position as slowly as he possibly could, trying to lessen the pain in his limbs. He pulled himself over to the edge of his bed and leant against the frame, letting his body completely relax. Hedwig sat in the corner of the room in her cage hooting away loudly, making the whole ordeal much more painful for Harry's throbbing head. Harry, glaring at the bird got up and edged towards her cage; it was obvious she wanted to be out.
Harry froze as he caught sight of the hand that was currently clutching the latch on the cage. His hand. At least, Harry thought it was his hand. His hands seemed to be larger and thinner than they were the previous day. His long fingers twined around the handle on the cage, perfect manicure almost glimmering in the sunlight. They almost seemed…elegant.
'What the hell?' Harry let go of the cage door – which was not appreciated by the bird in the slightest – to look at his hand closer. The callouses his hands had developed from years of Quidditch were gone, his flesh now soft and fine. He still possessed his sun-kissed tan but it now seemed brighter, more golden in colour.
A thought suddenly hit Harry; an important fact that had so carelessly slipped his mind until now.
He wasn't wearing his glasses.
"I'm not wearing my glasses…" Harry said slowly to himself "…I'm not wearing my glasses, and I can see." In fact Harry could see even better than he ever had before.
He brushed his new fingers over his eyes to feel the absence of those large frames he had grown so close to. Harry felt something strange brush against his hand has he lowered it away from his face.
"Oh SHIT." Harry bolted out of his bedroom, practically shoving Dudley out of the way to get into the bathroom. Ignoring the protests of a certain whale-like cousin, Harry slammed and locked the bathroom door.
Harry had to brace himself against the basin as he finally saw his reflection in the mirror.
The first and most noticeable change was his hair. It no longer was unruly and out of place. Even though he was just woken up, Harry's hair was perfectly in place. It now hung below his ears, just brushing his shoulders. Harry's hair was now a stunning raven black, with an almost blue hue to it; and Harry swore that whenever the sun hit it in the right way, silver shining streaks appeared.
It sat in soft and shiny waves, perfect framing his face.
"My face…" Harry softly whispered. Harry ghosted his new fingers over his define and angled face. His soft facial curves that had held onto his younger appearance were gone. Harry's features were now more angled and defined, giving him a much older and stronger look about him.
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as he traced his scar. 'Thank god it's still there.' Harry wasn't quite sure why he felt this way. That scar had caused him a whole lifetime of problems, but it was a part of him. A part he couldn't possibly bare to part with.
Another shimmer caught Harry's eyes and he leaned into closer to the mirror. His eyes were different. They were bigger, even if only by a fraction and the colour was different. Harry still possessed his trade mark emerald green eyes, but now the green seemed to be littered with silver specks. It was almost as if someone had thrown a pinch of glitter into each of his eyes. He also now had a rim of silver lining each of his irises.
"Well, this is….new." Harry sighed as he stared at his reflection. Most people would have been outraged, horrified or awe-struck at this change, but Harry had experienced so many strange happenings in his life he didn't see why he should let the physical changes bother him that much. After all, he was still Harry.
Harry thought, as long as he was in here, he might as well have a shower. Harry walked over to the shower and started to strip himself of his clothes. Or at least, he attempted to.
Harry's clothes now seemed to be at least three sizes too small. 'What the hell? Why are my clothes too small! They can't of shrunk!' Then it dawned on him. Harry had grown.
Harry had effectively stopped growing – height wise – in fifth year; much to the amusement of his dorm mates.
Harry was positively gleeful. He had grown. He certainly didn't match the height of Ron, who towered over most, but he was at least an average height for someone his age now. Harry couldn't help but grin like a wild cat at the thought. Without hesitation, Harry ripped Dudley's hand-me-downs of his toned body and stepped into the shower.
Harry had not felt so relaxed in a long time. Harry scrubbed his body clean as the steaming water poured down upon him. Harry smiled to himself as he was rinsing his hair. It was an alien feeling for Harry to be able to run his fingers through his hair without running into even a single knot.
'I could get used to this.' Harry mused.

When Harry stepped out of the shower he realised something; he had no clothes, he had ripped them off his body in order to get into the shower.
"Damn." Harry mumbled. With no other options, Harry wrapped a towel around his waist after he deemed he was dry enough and proceeded towards the door. After checking the coast was clear of all unpleasant relatives, Harry darted over and into his room, locking the door.
After scrounging around what little clothes he had, Harry managed to find one pair of pants that fit him to some extent. Of course, since they were Dudley's, the waist was still miles too big, but this pair was almost the right length. Harry smiled inwardly at the fact that now he would tower over Dudley. "Gotta love being a wizard." Harry said to himself.
Not being able to find a shirt that came anywhere near fitting his tall and muscular body, Harry gave up and left his chest bare. Harry knew he should be downstairs cooking breakfast for the Dursley's, but undoubtedly this morning's events had postponed him somewhat.
Harry quickly tied his hair back into a pony tail with a loose piece of twine he found on the ground. A few strands of hair fell about his face, making even a simple pony tail look somewhat refined.
Harry once again noticed the frustrated hooting coming from the corner of the room. Smiling, Harry walked over and opened Hedwig's cage. She flew out of her cage and landed on Harry's shoulder, giving him a glare. Cleary she had not appreciated being locked up for a good few days.
"Sorry girl," he said softly, cooing to the bird "forgive me?" Harry reached up a hand to brush the bird's feathers, earning himself a harsh peck to the finger.
Harry yelped and Hedwig flew from his shoulder and landed on his pillow, pleased with herself. Harry grasped his finger tightly in his hand, wincing at the pain. Harry had experienced a lot of pain in his life, much greater than this, but somehow Hedwig's bites always seemed to cause significant pain, no matter the size.
Harry looked at his finger, blood flowing freely. Harry walked over to his pile of clothes and picked up one of the more raggedy items. Just as Harry was about to apply pressure with the cloth he froze at the sight before him. He watched as the blood stopped flowing and as the wound slowly started to knit itself back together. Harry's eyes widened in shocked awe.
The only evidence that there had ever been a cut was the bloody smudges he had on his hand. Harry sat down unceremoniously onto the bed, still staring at his hand.
"That's new." He turned his hand over staring at it, and then turned it over once again palm up "Guess being part Veela does have its benefits."
An impatient Hedwig nudged Harry's arm, motioning towards the window. "Okay, okay, okay!" Harry opened his window – bars now removed – and Hedwig flew out the open window. "Stupid, blood bird." Harry grumbled, walking over to the door, tripping over his Hogwarts trunk in the process.
Harry always had his trunk packed. Whilst he was at the Dursley's anyway. He thought of it as somewhat of a precaution, after previous years he didn't want to be caught in another situation where he would have to pack his trunk in a hurry.
Just as he was about to go downstairs a loud and unfamiliar hoot caught his attention. He turned around to be greeted with the sight of a Ministry owl crashing smack bang into the middle of his bed, feathers flying everywhere.
Harry walked over to the bird and took the letter it had in its beak and parcel on its leg. The bird just stood and looked at the boy expectantly. Harry reached into the drawer of his bedside table and drew out a small treat for the owl – making a note to give one to Hedwig when she came back. The tawny owl gobbled down the treat appreciatively and flew out of the room with a hoot. Harry wondered if all birds took pleasure in annoying him with their shrewd call.
Harry opened the parcel first. It contained two keys; obviously the keys to the Potter and Black vaults. 'My vaults…' Harry thought, reminding himself.
The first key was golden and of similar shape to his, except with a few extra curves and forks in it. The second key was almost grimy-silver in colour. The tip of the key was circular, with a familiar crest carved into it; the Black crest.
Setting the keys beside him, Harry picked up the letter and pulled out three pieces of Parchment.

Dear Mr Potter

By now you would have come into your magical inheritance. Please do not hesitate to send an owl if you are experiencing any problems.
The following two parchments contain the details if your two new vaults. This includes a detailed report of everything contained within the vault and messages left to you via the previous holders of the vault for your convenience. We would like to remind you to keep your keys under tight security at all times. We suggest in the near future you go down to Gringotts to inspect your vaults for any discrepancies in conjunction with your vault reports.

Sincerely – Ministry of Magic, Minister of Magic, Minister Kingsley.

"Messages?" Harry wondered. Harry picked up the second piece of parchment. It was blank. Harry turned the page over; it was blank on both sides. Before Harry could growl in frustration however, a small script appeared on the paper.

Tap the parchment with your wand pup.

'Pup'…that was Sirius's nickname for him. Harry grabbed his wand from his drawer and tapped and paper gently with his wand. Harry watched as that all too familiar handwriting appeared on the parchment in thick squiggly script.

Happy Birthday Pup,

I doubt I'll be around to give you a decent present so I figured this would be close enough to a gift. I must thank you again for helping escape. Thank you so much Pup. I guess I really shouldn't be calling you Pup anymore, you're an adult now.
I promise when I get the chance, once my name is cleared, I'll come and get you. You can come to Grimmauld Place. It's not exactly Malfoy Manor, but anything has got to be better than living with the Whale and the Horse and their spawn.
Now you better put this money to good use, like getting girls.
Your favourite Marauder, Padfoot.

P.S. Oh, tap the parchment again if you want to read all those boring bank details. I wouldn't bother; we all know I'm loaded.

Harry was laughing with tears in his eye. Typical Sirius; he had signed the official Gringotts letter with a paw print. Harry felt a wave of sadness wash over him at the memory of Sirius. Picking up his wand he tapped the parchment again; Sirius was full of himself, and Harry felt the need to check the vault details anyway.
Harry tapped the parchment and felt his eyes almost bug out at the total sum at the bottom of the page. Sirius was right, he was loaded.
"Holy shit!" Harry's eyes skimmed the list of items in the Black vault "I bet I'm as rich as Malfoy, and there are books and tomes on this list I'm sure Hermione would kill for!"
Harry grabbed the next blank parchment and went to tap it with his wand before hesitating. This was a letter for the Potter vault. This would be a letter from his parents. In his moment of hesitation, a small line of script appeared on the page.

Go on Harry

Harry gathered up his courage and tapped his wand to the page. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the words appear on the parchment.

Happy Birthday Harry,

You're an adult now. Our little Harry has grown up.
Now we're sorry Harry, we really are. For you to gain full access of this vault at seventeen must mean we are gone. My son I am sorry. We never wanted to leave you alone. We love you and we always will. Remember that.
It was probably Voldemort that caused our deaths. We can only pray that menace is gone from your life, that you're living happily, unknowing of the hardships of war. The hardships your mother and I know all too well.
But – Merlin forbid – you do know of the hardships we speak of, both your mother and I hope and pray that they do not destroy you, as they did so many of our friends.
Remember Harry, you will always have friends; you will always have someone who loves you.
You will never be alone. We promise you that Harry.
We love you, always.

With love and Gryffindor spirit, your mother and Father, James and Lily Potter

Harry couldn't stop the tears that fell from his eyes and onto the parchment in his hands. Nor could he stop his small shudders as he cried.
Wiping the back of his hand over his eyes, he tapped the parchment with his wand.
Harry read over the vault statement with his glistening and watery eyes. His parents were well off to say the least. They weren't nearly as rich as Sirius, but they still had a significant amount in the vault. He let lose a small chuckle when he wondered what Ron's reaction would be to his new vaults; he made a note to secretly deposit some money into the Weasly vault.
Harry carefully put the letters back in the envelope and keys back in their parcel and he placed them safely in his trunk; away from prying eyes.

Harry again headed towards his door; his mind reeling over his knew findings.
'I'm filthy rich. What the hell am I going to do with all of this money? I don't know what to do with it all! The Weasly family would have more use for this kind of money. There is no way in hell I could possibly even make my way through half of this money in a lifetime!' The bare-chested Harry chuckled as he walked down the steps 'Though it is amusing to know I'm about as rich as Malfoy. Man…is he going to get a kick out of this when he finds out, and knowing him he will!'
Harry's thoughts were abruptly stopped when he walked into the kitchen where we was met with an unholy screech.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU BOY!" Harry looked towards the kitchen to see a furious Aunt Petunia standing next to a red-faced Dudley. "Do you think we allow you to stay in this house to hog the bathroom and sleep in? Because of you, poor Dudder's had to wait for a shower! You ungrateful boy! As if that wasn't enough, you stayed up in your room and didn't come down and make Dudder's his breakfast! My poor baby was forced to make his own meals! How dare you let your careless actions force my Dudley into doing your work!"
Harry glanced over Dudley's should to see the pot of two-minute noodles boiling over. Turned out the whale of a boy couldn't even use a stove properly.
"AND JUST WHAT IS WITH YOUR ATTIER! We gave you Dudder's clothes for a reason! Do you think you can walk around this house shirtless, like you own the place? You disrespectful ingrate!" By this point Vernon had risen from the couch to stand next to his wife. An attempt to be intimidating Harry supposed. Harry thought it curious that the Dursley's had not commented on his 'awakening', he guessed it was because they were too busy moly-coddling Dudley and ranting that they hadn't noticed.
"Merlin…I bet even Malfoy isn't moly-coddled this much." Harry mumbled. Vernon's eyes narrowed.
"What did you say boy?" Vernon asked, his voice threatening.
Harry instantly backtracked, knowing his uncle's wrath "Nothing, didn't say a thing."
"Don't lie to me boy!" Vernon snarled "I allow scum like you in my home because I have to. Don't think you can sass me and get off scot free you pathetic excuse for a boy. My life would've been a lot easier if you died in that supposed 'war' of yours. What a load of rot! I bet the whole bloody thing was just some lie you made up. You should've just scampered off to join your little Cedric friend." Harry drew in a sharp breath. The Dursley's knew of Cedric, it was hard not to know who he was when he still woke with nightmares of his death.
Harry could tolerate the Dursley's insulting him, but no one talks about Cedric like that.
Harry took a step towards the trio and snatched his wand from his pocket and pointed it at them with a snarl on his face.
"Don't be stupid boy, you can't do that outside of school."
"On the contrary Uncle. According to wizarding law I am of legal adulthood at the age of seventeen. Today I turned seventeen. So guess what you whale of a man, I-can-use-magic." Harry said with a growl. With a flick of his wand harry sent red sparks spurting out of his wand that singed the tips of Petunia's dress. The Dursley's stepped back in fear until all three were pressed up against the kitchen bench. Of course Harry knew that he really shouldn't be doing magic until he graduated, but he figured the ministry would let this slide – they owed him one.
"And you know what? You don't need to worry about me anymore, cause once this school year is over, I'm gone. You know what that means? You'll have no one to do your cooking, your cleaning and all your repairs. You'll have no one to wait on you hand and foot. Your little whale spawn is going to have to learn how to fucking cook for himself. Your horse-faced wife is going to have to learn how to mend her own disgustingly patterned fucking clothes. And you" Harry pointed his was at Vernon "you pathetic, lazy, fat, disgusting excuse of a man, you are going to have to fucking learn how to get of your fat ass and do something with your life."
Harry stared at the three faces in front of him. Dudley stood frozen to the spot, looking as if he was about to wet himself, Petunia stood next to her son, her face showing nothing but pure shock and fear. Vernon on the other hand, his face was an outrageous purple colour. Harry took great pleasure in knowing he had angered the man into a stunned silence.
Harry lowered his wand and turned around. "Now if you animals will excuse me, I'm going up to my room to get my trunk and leave. I think I'm going to spend the rest of the holidays with the Weasly's. Have fun without me losers. You're dead without me."
Walking out of the kitchen with an air of triumph about him, his hair swishing behind him, Harry savoured the flavour of the satisfaction. 'That was fun. Man, I need to do that more often. I can't even imagine the look on Malfoy's face if I rocked up at the Manor and told him what I really think of him. That would simply be-'
A loud and enraged roar cut through Harry's train of thought.
"You are going to regret that BOY!" Harry quickly spun on his heel to see he uncle running full pelt at him with the pot of boiling noodles in his chubby fist.
Harry only had time to spin back around and run up the first two steps of the staircase before he felt the hot pot, full of boiling water and burnt noodles crash onto his back. Harry could faintly hear Vernon's laughter over his blood-curdling scream as the combined heat of the pot, water and noodles sent him crashing to the ground in a blur. Harry felt the burning pot roll off of his back, spreading its contents all over his back and arms. He could feel the water start to trickle down his pant line, gaining another scream from Harry. The boiling water blistered and burned his skin and he could feel his burning flesh starting to fall off his body. The noodles would stick to him for a few seconds, and then proceeded to pull off his angry red skin as they fell from his skin.
Harry had to get out of there. His mind was in a blur and his body was writing on the ground under what felt like the pain of a thousand cruciatus curses.
Harry's only option was to apparate away. His wand still gripped tightly in his hand, he apparated away in his disoriented state, his uncle's laughter echoing in his ears.

…

Draco sat in the Malfoy Manor, as he often did these days. After all, there wasn't much an ex-Death Eater could do. He couldn't walk outside of his house without being verbally - and in worse cases physically abused. Draco spent most of his time in the Manor and on its grounds. He occasionally ventured over to Blaise's and Pansy's houses, but there he was showered with pity. Pity was the one thing Draco hated above all else. He did not want to be pitied.
'It could be worse' Draco mused 'I could be in Azkaban with my father.'
Draco and his mother had narrowly escaped a sentence in Azkaban similar to their father's. It was all thanks to one Harry Bloody Potter, The-boy-who-wouldn't-fucking-die. Thanks to Potter's intervention in their trial, they had both escaped Azkaban; after Potter explained Narcissa had saved his life and Draco was working against his will and under the duress of blackmail, most charges had been dropped. However they had not escaped their sentence unscathed. A large sum of money had been taken out of their vault as payment for their crimes. They were nowhere near as poor as the Weasly's, but they certainly weren't as well off as they used to be. All of their positions in the Ministry were stripped and they held no social standing. Narcissa had to start work at a beauty parlour to keep the money flowing, not that really needed it; but neither Draco nor Narcissa could stand keeping still and sitting at home. So when Narcissa when to work, Draco stayed at home and occupied himself. He kept up with his Quidditch skills, he read his way through a large portion of the library, he brushed up on his potions skills, but even this wasn't enough to occupy the boy.
It was this morning that the idea occurred to Draco, an idea that would put him on his way to regaining the magnificent social standing the Malfoy's once possessed.
People were still suffering after the war, and even Draco pitied them, as he himself helped in the people's destruction. Though he would never admit it allowed, he truly regretted what he had done.
So Draco had decided to start up a charity, for all those orphaned by the war. This would gain the Malfoy family the light they deserved and it would help Draco in his fight to regain his inner peace and social standing.
His only problem was he needed someone to back his plan. No one in their right mind – this soon after the war – would help a Malfoy with anything. Even if that anything was starting up a charity for orphans.
Draco stood from his chair and started pacing around the room, trying to think of possible people to back his idea; someone who was respected, who was trusted by the public, someone who could properly put this plan into motion.
As he paced Draco felt a small tugging sensation on his magic. It was the wards. After his father left, it was Draco who held control over the wards. He had taken some down, as they held dark and harmful magic. The last thing Draco needed was someone hurting themselves on his wards, getting him into more trouble.
Sighing, Draco left the library to see who was calling on the Manor at such an early hour. Draco cast a small tempus charm to check the time.
10.30AM.
"Who would bother coming here at this hour?" Draco wondered, talking to himself as he walked to the front door of the Manor.
Draco reached the large mahogany doors and wrenched them open, praying it wasn't another bout of reporters. He had put up a ward to repel reporters, but he hadn't use that particular ward before and wasn't sure if it would work.
"I will not be taking an interview; I have said all I need to say. Now if you don't mind, would you kindly – MERLIN! POTTER?" shouted an outraged Draco. Draco could not fathom any reason why the infamous Harry Potter would rock up at his door, shirtless none-the less. "What the HELL are you doing here? What? Here to gloat?" Draco scowled at the boy who stood at the steps of Malfoy Manor.
"Oh fuck, wrong house." Harry managed to gasp out, before he collapsed onto the steps.
Draco stood shocked as he watched his life-long nemesis fall to the ground. He had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping as he saw the boy's back and arms. It was utterly mutilated! Burned and torn and blistered beyond belief. 'What the hell had happened to Potter? It was obvious he hadn't done this to himself; someone had done this to him! '
Getting over his initial shock Draco quickly levitated Harry into the Manor, doors slamming behind him. Draco took Harry to the closest room that possessed a fire place.
Normally Draco would have just left someone like this on his doorstep and waited for someone to clean up the mess. But this was Harry Potter, and after the war, who knew what having Harry Potter die on his doorstep would do. He would most certainly go Azkaban; and that was one place Draco was determined not to go.
Placing Harry on a leather couch in the living room, Draco tried not to grimace as he accidentally brushed the skin on his back, causing some of his skin to fall off onto the floor.
After making sure he was stable, Draco bolted over to the fireplace and fire called his mother.
"Draco? What is it? You know I don't like being disturbed at-"
"MOTHER! It's an emergency! Just come here NOW! Quickly! I need help!"
"Draco calm down, what's wrong?" Narcissa's voice was tinged with worry.
"NO MOTHER! I will NOT calm down! I have BLOODY POTTER on our couch and his flesh is practically falling off his bones!"
A gasp came from the fireplace. "Not another word Draco. I don't want others hearing this or they will think we did this to him. I'll come. Now go grab the healing potions from your father's cabinet. I'll be there soon. Now hurry!"
Not a second after his mother's face had disappeared from the coals, Draco bolted to his father's study where he kept his potions. Grabbing all the healing potions he could carry Draco sped back to the living room just as his mother stepped through the floo.
Draco heard the strangled gasp that came from his mother's mouth and he saw what colour there was in her pale face drain out.
She faced Draco who stood in the doorway, his arms laden with potion bottles. "Tell me what happened. NOW!" There was no mistaking that tone in his mother's voice. Draco did not hesitate to answer. "I don't know. I felt a tugging coming from the wards. I was in the library. So I went to the front entrance and there was Potter. I yelled at him – don't look at me like that, I couldn't see the burns and I thought he was here to gloat. Then he said 'Oh fuck, wrong house.' and collapsed he onto the steps. Then I levitated him in here and called you! I swear I didn't do anything!"
"Did anyone see?"
"No, no. Of course not mother! No one was around."
"Good; if anyone saw Potter like this with us, we'd have been sent to Azkaban in an instant." She looked at the unconscious boy on the couch; she could've sworn his skin still seemed to be bubbling. "We need to get him to a bed." Narcissa levitated the boy to the nearest room – which happened to be Draco's – and Draco followed in suit; potions in arms.
Narcissa lay Harry on the bed and turned to Draco. "Now give me the potions and get out."
Draco just stood and started at his mother. "What?"
"Harry's burns aren't just on his arms and back, they go beyond his pants line. I need to strip him. I don't need you here for that. Now leave." Draco no less than bolted out of his room; even if he was injured, Draco did not want to see a naked Potter.
Draco proceeded to go back to the library and sit in his favourite black leather chair. He had sat in their chair so often that it was practically moulded to his body shape. It was the hight of comfort. But Draco could not get comfortable, his mind kept on drifting up towards the two people in his bedroom, wondering just what was going on up there. Draco ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair.
'At least im not going to be bored anymore.'

TBC