Chapter 2 - Who's healing who?

She sat on her porch, watching the golden sun setting gently over the dusty horizon; like a giant lion in Sahara lying down before its slumber. It was a typical day in the Australian outback. Galahs were flocking, geckos were scurrying about, the occasional emu or kangaroo came running past the porch; at a reasonable distance naturally. It wasn't uncommon to see such an animal so far out into the Australian desert. It was more uncommon however to see another person, but that's how she liked it. Or how she had gotten used to it anyway; one gets used to solitude when they live in the middle of nowhere. After all this time, the small town a few miles from where she lived had started referring to her as the 'she-hermit of the desert'. She didn't particularly like the nickname the townspeople gave her, but it suited her none the less. She was in fact, a hermit, even she couldn't deny that.
The woman receded back inside her house, as the weather had started to grow colder. She sat herself down on her couch and felt a familiar scaly body slither up around her neck with an appreciative hiss.
It was her faithful companion; an Australian rattle snake. Very dangerous, but she found she had an affinity for pythons, they seemed to like her, and her little friend certainly never hurt her.
She was about to pick up a book from the coffee table when a letter popped into the space in front of her face. Letters were an uncommon thing for her. She didn't have a fireplace and people would never make their owls fly out all this way, so this was an unexpected letter.
'Probably of some importance' the woman pondered 'I suppose I should open it.' She grasped the letter that hung in mid-air and turned it over to look at the seal. She almost gasped when she saw that all too familiar red-waxy emblem.
In haste she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Dear Miss Evergreen,

We would like to inform you that you have been selected as the new Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I feel you are the only one for the job as you excelled in this subject when you were a student. After the war and the fall of Voldemort, we have suffered great losses and damage within the school. As I know you are someone who can be trusted, it would seem that you would be the only person for the job. You will be paid sufficiently and you will receive your own personal quarters within the grounds and you will be provided with whatever you need for lessons.
Please write back as soon as possible with a response. I am awaiting your response and I hope to see you join our faculty.

Sincerely, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall

The woman almost laughed out loud.
"McGonagall is the Headmistress! Guess I should've seen that coming." She chortled. News of Albus Dumbledore's death had reached even Australia, and the news that Hogwarts played a big role in the fall of Voldemort; and new of Harry Potter. There wasn't a witch or wizard across the globe that didn't know his name.
There was no way she was going to miss a chance to be a Professor at Hogwarts, if it were not for the war, she would be teaching there already if she had anything to say about it.
She grabbed her pen – she was quite fond of the muggle contraptions – and wrote down a quick response and that she would arrive at Hogwarts as soon as she could.
"I can't wait to go back to school!" She said gleefully, jumping up, jolting the snake around her neck, who hissed at her unappreciatively. "Oh, sorry Monty."

…..

Hermione sat on her bed in the Burrow. She was living there now as it turned out the memory charm she had used on her parents was done too strongly and could not be reversed. She was still trying to get over the ordeal; living with Ron and Ginny and the others was making it easier to bare.
She had received a letter earlier that morning that made her feel very confused. She didn't know whether to be excited, confused, flabbergasted or happy about it.
It was a letter from Viktor Krum. It informed her, since meeting her he had seen a whole new way of life, a life of education and learning. That he regretted not paying more attention in school and jumping straight into the life of a Quidditch 'pro star'. It said that since the death of Madame Hooch in the war, he had applied at Hogwarts for a job as the new flight coach and they had said yes. Effective this year, Viktor Krum was going to be the flying coach at Hogwarts. He had also said that he was looking forward to seeing her again, and becoming even greater friends.

Hermione wasn't a stupid girl. She saw the subtext hidden within the letter, and the ones previous to this. She had been exchanging letters with Viktor ever since fourth year.
As friends.
Hermione had grown close to the letters from Viktor, and always looked forward to receiving the next one; but there was no way at all she had feelings for the man.
She didn't dare tell Ron that she had kept in touch with Viktor after all of these years, let alone the fact he was going to be the new flight coach at Hogwarts. The Weasly fury was infamous, and Hermione for one, was wise enough to know not to invoke it at all costs. Ron would still act agitated and jealous if Viktor's name was even mentioned; Hermione knew that if she told him the new he would fly off the handle as he always did – a trait Hermione didn't particularly like about the young man. But she was practically bursting with this information. She had to tell someone.

Hermione's eyes flew up from the folded letter in her hands to see a red head poking through her door uncertainly.
"I'm not disturbing you am I?" Ginny said quietly.
Hermione gave a small laugh "Don't be silly Gin," She patted the space on the bed beside her "come on, sit down." Ginny quietly pulled the door closed behind her and sat next to her best friend.
"What's the matter Mione'? You've cooped yourself up in your room for days. I know….I know things must be hard for you, but you can't just stay up here. We love you Hermione. We are worried." They made eye contact "Especially Ron."
Shame-face, Hermione lowered her head. She had been restricting her activity in the Burrow. The only time she ever really left the room were to sue the amenities and to grab something to eat. She hadn't realised that it was so obvious that she was trying to keep to herself. Much less that she was making other people worried.
"Just remember I'm here for you Hermione. Even when no one else will be, I'll be here for you. You can trust me."
A light bulb flared inside Hermione's mind. She could tell Ginny. She sent a soft smile at her friend and gave her a small hug. "Thanks Gin," she said, letting go of her friend "I didn't realise I was making you all so worried. I guess I have been keeping to myself a lot. It…it just hurts. I know I shouldn't be complaining. I mean, my parents are alive. Safe. They aren't dead….like all those other people who are dying in the war; but I can't help but sometimes feel that having them alive, only to never see them again, knowing they have no memory of me….sometimes I can't help but think that's even worse." Hermione was Gin a dejected look, who replied with looked of combined understanding, sorrow and pity. Hermione sniffed and wiped her nose on the black of her red blouse. "But enough of that, I have some interesting new Gin; but you have to promise you won't tell Ron." Ginny's ears perked up; she loved a good bit of gossip. Especially if it was something Hermione didn't want Ron knowing.
'This is going to be good' she thought as she vigorously nodded her head. Hermione – after checking no one was looking in or listening from the doors – handed Ginny the letter.
Ginny gave Hermione a questioning look and she gestured at the letter, signalling for her to read it. After a quick scan of the letter, Ginny couldn't help but gasp.
"OMG! Ron is going to freak! After the Triwizard Tournament Ron goes into a flying fit at the mere mention of the guy! I can't wait to see his face when he first sees Viktor sitting at the teachers table in the Great Hall. Wait – why is Viktor Krum sending you an owl telling you about his new job?" Ginny asked suspiciously. Hermione felt a small blush rise up her neck; Ginny gasped loudly.
"OMG ARE YOU FUCKING-" Hermione slapped a hand across her friend mouth, giving her a harsh glare.
"Don't be stupid Gin. He's my friend," Hermione silenced her friends open mouth with another glare "And nothing more. I love Ron," Ginny shuddered slightly "I wouldn't do that to him. But Viktor and I have kept in touch since fifth year."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he was a good friend. I didn't see why I shouldn't keep in contact with him…even if Ron doesn't know."
Ginny looked at Hermione "So you're not….at all?" she shook her head "Wow…if it was me I'd be all over his like a Garden Gnome on a new pair of wellies. Honestly I've had a really big thing since he came to school. Hey, do you think you could introduce me? I've seen him a couple of times, when he was hanging out with you, but I've never spoken to him. I would really like to get to know him." Hermione shot Ginny a knowing look "Not just because of that." Ginny blurted out "Well…I do want to try and get together with him. Not just because he is smoking mind you. But he would know a lot about Quidditch and that's cool. I mean, I would kill just for a chance to talk to the guy, even if it was only about Quidditch." Hermione gave her friend an appraising look.
"What about Harry?"
Ginny giggled. "Oh Hermione, we both decided to totally end things between us after the war. It just wouldn't work. He can barely deal with the pressure of just being who he is, let along having a girlfriend; especially a Weasly!" she giggled again "That and I don't think I ever loved him. I do love Harry, but I love him like I love Ron and Charlie and Bill and the twins….maybe even Percy; I don't think I really ever looked at him like that." She gave Hermione a sly look and waggled her orange eyebrows "And if I was perfectly honest with you…I think he fly's for the other team." Hermione gasped "Yeah I know, I don't think he's even realised it himself, but seriously…who looks at Quidditch magazines with eyes like that, besides Dean of course." Both girls were silent for a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.
"Sure Gin, I'll introduce him to you." Hermione said through subsiding giggles. The way Ginny squealed and threw her arms around her neck, Hermione could tell the girl really had a thing for the Bulgarian man.
'Man….seventh year sure is going to be interesting…'

…..

His mother had been up there for three hours! With no word no so ever. No updates. No nothing. 'What in the name of Merlin's BALLS is going on up there?' Though Draco did not care for the boy that currently resided in his room, he could not help but wonder what was happening to him.
A silver shimmer caught Draco's eyes. He saw his mother's Barn Owl patronus – a patronus she was not particularly fond of – fly into the library to land in front of him.
"Draco…"came the distorted voice of his mother "fetch me some more dittany, I've run out. Oh, and can you bring a small vial of the Harvest moon Dittany? Hurry." The Owl evaporated from sight, leaving Draco standing in the library.
"What the hell? How can she need another vial of dittany? The vial I gave her was enough to fix that wound twice over! And Harvest Moon Dittany! That stuff is really rare! Why would she be using something like that on Potter?" Draco could help but mumble as he took the two vials up to his mother. His holidays had been less than pleasant and having 'Harry-Bloody-Potter' in his home wasn't making then any better in the least. Without bothering to knock on the door Draco burst into the room. 'It is my room.' He thought stubbornly, just before stepping through the doorway.
Draco froze. His mother was sitting on a chair next to the bed, a wet rag in hand. Draco didn't expect the wound to shock him so much; there was no blood in sight. The skin had literally fallen of Potter's bones. There was a small tub next to his mother's feet, filled with the skin that had fallen of The-Boy-Who-Lived. His back and arms were completely red and raw; patches of blistered skin littered his body where the skin had not fallen off. The sight was sickening. The lower half of him was covered by a thin silk sheet, concealing most of him. Draco could just start to see burns peeking out from under the sheet. His mother was right – the burns had reached that far. His beautiful body had been destroyed!
'Wait….beautiful body? What the hell? Ugh Draco you need to get more sleep.' He thought, shaking his head.
"Draco," Narcissa said sternly, grabbing her son's attention "I thought I taught you how to knock." It wasn't a question, it was a statement; his mother wasn't pleased at his rude actions. If his mother was anything, it was a manner Nazi.
Ignoring the grip at his manners, Draco walked over to his mother "I brought the vials, but I don't see why you need them. One vial should have been more than enough. You can seriously-" Draco stopped dead in his tracks as he saw that threatening look in his mother's blue eyes.
"Draco!" came the chastising voice of Narcissa "Hush and pay attention. I need to show you something." Draco took a step closer to the boy on his bed; he made a mental note to get the elves to change the sheet s later for him.
Narcissa took the dropper out of the vial of plain Dittany and hovered it above one of the lesser blisters resting on his arm. 'Is she crazy! One drop of Dittany would heal a wound thrice as bad as that!' Draco opened his mouth to protest as a single drop fell onto the wound.
Nothing happened.
"What the…" The Dittany had had no effect on Potter. No one was immune to the effects of Dittany! It was unheard of.
"Hand me the second vial Draco." Draco handed his mother the Harvest Moon Dittany and he watched as she placed one drop onto the same wound. It healed instantly. Narcissa turned to look at the confused expression on her sons face. He had no idea what was going on, it was not surprising; it had taken Narcissa quite a while to even come up with a theory why the Dittany had no effect on Potter. This test only proved that possibility.
"Draco, do you know what makes Harvest Moon Dittany special?" Draco, as profound in potions as he was, shook his head "Harvest Moon Dittany can obviously only be cultivated on a harvest moon…but full-blooded virgin Veela. After collecting the herb, they bless it and liquefy it. That is what makes it so special. The Veela don't have a habit of cultivating Dittany, as they possess immense healing capabilities and have no need of the substance. They only ever cultivate it when one of their own is suffering from a mortal wound that their natural abilities cannot heal. The reason they have to personally get and process is the Dittany is because normal, Dittany does not work on Veela." Narcissa looked from Potter to Draco "Do you understand what I'm saying Draco?"
Draco's eyes widened in disbelief; 'Harry-FUCKING-Potter was a bloody Veela!'
Noticing the dawning of realisation in his cold grey eyes Narcissa spoke. "He is not a full Veela, only a quarter it would seem; which is why he is not healing as fast as he should be. A normal wizard would take a day or two to fully recuperate from an injury such as this, but for Mister Potter here it should only take around twelve hours for him to full recover. A full Veela would be healed from injuries such as this in mere hours. I wasn't quite sure he was part Veela at first, the Dittany test proved it for me, but the signs were there. His metabolic rate is all wrong – a lot faster than it should be, he has undergone a significant appearance change – going by his photos in the prophet that is, his hair had that unmistakable Veela shine to it, and" she reached towards Potters head which was turned on its side; she pried one of his eyes gently open with a long finger "if you look carefully, his eyes seem to be littered with silver specks." Closing the boy's eye, she turned to Draco "The boy is undoubtedly part Veela.
"Leave now Draco. I have what I need to help along his healing process; I don't need you in the way." Slightly offended, Draco turned and walked off with a 'humph'; however before he could clear the doorway he heard his mother call out to him again.
"Oh, and Draco," He cocked his head over his shoulder to meet his mother's glaring eyes "tell no one of this discovery." Draco nodded in response and closed the door behind him grinning, heading back down the stairwell towards the library to do some research.
On Veela.

…..

Harry woke in a daze, his mind uncharacteristically fogged. In a reflex movement he reached over to grab his glasses from the bedside table, before realising he no longer needed them. When Harry found that his hand felt nothing but fine silk at the full extension of his arm, a wave of confusion rushed over him.
This wasn't his bed.
Harry quickly sat bolt-upright in the four-poster bed. He was seated in the middle of a king-size bed, donned with sheets so dark a green they were almost black, silver curtains were drawn across all sides, shielding him from whatever lay beyond them.
Summoning up his Gryffindor courage, Harry wrenched open the curtains. He didn't know what he was expecting; a torture chamber, a stalkers house, a horde of fans…anything but this. The room was large, a bit bigger than his dorm at Hogwarts. It was decorated sparingly; a moderate bookshelf sat in the corner of the room, laden with books. A small desk littered with papers and nick-nacks sat a meter away from the bed, a large, circular, white Persian rug sat in the middle of the room and a few broom models hung on the walls.
Two doors stood at the end of the room, begging to be opened. Harry slowly crawled off the bed and stepped onto the cold floor.
"Fuck its cold here." Wrapping his arms around his torso Harry finally noticed his nakedness. Snatching up a pair of black slacks that had been left on the end of the bed, Harry pulled on the clothing and slowly and cautiously padded to the doors.
The first – Harry found – was a walk in wardrobe. Harry had never known one person to own so many clothes; being so close to the Weasly's seeing a sight like this seemed almost preposterous. He could not even begin to count the number of items the wardrobe held. Everything was green, silver, black and white, no other colours in sight.
'Great, I'm in a Death Eater's closet.' Harry glowered at the surrounding garments. They obviously belonged to a Slytherin, all was high quality; even the casual robes at the front of the closet. Expensive and formal robes were held at the back; there was even a deep blue one. His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry reached towards the offending garment to get a better look at it. His hand froze mid-air as a gleam caught his silver and emerald orbs. Pushing the expensive robes aside, a small door appeared. Brows furrowed, Harry pushed the door aside to reveal a small collection of – unbelievably – muggle clothing. 'Why in Merlin's name would someone with a wardrobe like this have muggle clothing?'
The sound of rattling bottles rang loudly in Harry's ears. Closing the secret door and hiding it with robes, Harry backed out of the wardrobe; silently closing the door. Glancing at the adjacent door, he noticed it was ajar.
Peering through the crack in the door, Harry was met with a sight that made his breath catch in his breath.
Draco Malfoy.
The floodgates of Harry's mind opened and he was washed with the memories of the transgressions earlier that day. The inheritance…the Dursley's…the pot…the apparition mishap…Malfoy Manor…an outrageous Draco…and the faint memory of a soft leather couch.
"Oh hell." Harry softly whispered as he looked through the crack in the doorway.
Malfoywas standing in front of a basin and mirror lathering his hair with countless potions, in nothing but a small towel; a towel which just barely covered what it was supposed to. Harry couldn't help but let his eyes stray to the droplets of water that were still dripping softly from Malfoy's hair; trickling down his alabaster back and beneath the small white towel.
Harry could faintly see the tips of scars on his back, presumably from his 'sectumsemprea' curse in his sixth year; an act even to this day Harry still sorely regretted, even if it was Malfoy.
His hair had grown slightly longer than it has been in the war, almost reaching the ends of his ears, but not quite. Even in its wet and un-styled state, it seemed to give the young man an air of maturity about him that only a Malfoy could possess. Then again, it was hard to imagine Malfoy as un-mature any more.
Harry had come to understand his situation in the past year and he had come to pity his former nemesis; which, evidently, was why he spoke for them in their trial. He could not save Malfoy Sr. and Harry wouldn't want to even if he could; the man truly lived for the dark lord; unlike his wife and son.
Harry may not like Malfoy, but he could not deny his new found – almost – respect for the man, who had experienced horrors no one should ever should; a burden Harry himself could relate to.
Lost in his train of thought, Harry had leaned too heavily on to the door. It had surged forward and he had fallen flat on his face, right at the feet of a shocked Draco Malfoy.
"My, my, my, the infamous Harry Potter, always willing to make an entrance," the blonde sneered, and with a quirk of his perfectly angled eyebrow he said "and a closet pervert with a preference for men nonetheless." A scarlet blush quickly made its way up Harry's neck and to his cheeks.
Pushing himself off the ground, an outrage Harry stepped up to the almost naked Malfoy, so they were almost nose to nose.
"I am not 'always willing to make an entrance' you misbegotten, spoilt brat! What the hell are you doing standing around dripping wet in a rag small enough to be a bloody hand towel?"
Nose in the air Draco sniffed at the affronted boy "Says the sod wearing my pants Potter."
Harry paled considerably "Y-your pants?" 'Oh god I'm going to throw up.'
"My room Potter. My room, my bathroom, my pants."
"Your room?" he squeaked. Doing a double take of his surroundings Harry realised that this room definitely belonged to the gaudy Malfoy.
The two stood awkwardly in the large bathroom. Harry couldn't help but notice the scrutinising way Malfoy stared at him. His eyes trailed over his length, from the tips of his toes to his hair. Eventually landing on his eyes; he stood and stared intensely into those shimmering orbs. If he didn't know any better he would've though Malfoy was checking him out.
Harry started to shift awkwardly under the long and hard gaze.
"What the hell Malfoy? Can't keep your eyes off me? Bet your Death Eater friends would love to hear about you checking out The-Boy-Who-Lived." Harry saw the way Malfoy paled and the way a fear slowly etched itself into his chiselled features and he instantly regretted the insult. Harry knew better than most Malfoy had been manipulated into committing the acts of Voldemort.
He opened his mouth to spout out some apology, but Malfoy held up a hand silencing him.
"Shut it Potter. Not a word. I am no Death Eater." He spat the word "I will never be either. You know that, otherwise you would never have stepped in at mine or my mother's trials." Harry wasn't aware Malfoy knew of his intervention in their trials.
"Sorry." Harry mumbled, ashamed.
Malfoy just stared at him. 'The Golden Boy just apologised to me? What the hell?'
"You should be." He stated, getting over his initial shock "I was just getting a better look at you Potter. You definitely don't look like your old self. Being part Veela certainly has made its changes on you, you don't look half ugly anymore. You're almost passable as a decent human being now."
'More than decent Potter, you're practically shaggable!' Malfoy's train of thought halted suddenly 'Wait? WHAT did I just think? Shaggable? Merlins Balls….this is some dry season. How could Potter ever come close to being shaggable! Ugh…I think I need another shower to clear my head.'
"You know!" gasped Harry.
"Don't worry Potter, I didn't run of and tell Skeeter about your little inheritance. It happens to every witch and wizard that comes of age; yours just happened to be special. Of course the 'Savour of the Wizard world' would have to have a special inheritance!" Malfoy's words were practically dripping with spite and sarcasm.
"Hey…I didn't ask for this ya' know."
He scoffed, pushing Harry's shoulder and sending him stumbling into the doorframe. He didn't notice the wince Harry gave as his tender back slammed into the doorframe.
"Puh-lease. Like you don't want even more limelight, you practically bathe in the stuff Potter. Don't deny it, you love it." Just as Harry was about to do just that, Narcissa Malfoy walked into the room looking for Harry.
"POTTER!" shrieked a disturbed Narcissa "What in Merlin's name are you doing out of bed! AND DRACO! What are you doing to him? Slamming him into doorframes in his condition, what are you thinking?" Malfoy opened his mouth to object, but his mother silenced him with a glare that said say-another-word-and-your-grounded.
"Potter! Stop gawking and get into that bed! I need to inspect your wounds!" Harry recognised that tone, it was similar to the one Molly used to chastise the twins after a particularly messy prank; he knew it was a tone not to be messed with.
Since he knew he could trust the woman to a certain small degree, a stepped over to the woman and she motioned him to sit on the bed with his back to her. Legs crossed, Harry sat stiffly as he felt her eyes scanning his back. He hissed when her fingers ghosted over his spine.
"Oh…does it still hurt?"
"Yes…considerably over and near the spine at least. Everywhere else is just tender." 'Omg what am I doing? This is Narcissa MALFOY!'
"Well, considering your lineage your healing speed does not surprise me, though honestly I thought it would be a bit faster….obviously not; but you should feel completely fine in an hour or two. Take the numbing and pepper-up potions and then come down to the kitchens, I'll have the elves fetch something for you." She got up and turned to her son "Draco, fetch Potter something appropriate to wear, we can't be having him running around the estate dressed like…that."
Watching the woman swiftly go from the bedroom, Harry turned to the younger Malfoy; the boy just shrugged. "She's like that. You'd better do what she says, she not someone to take kindly to you ignoring her. Here," he threw an emerald sweater and black skinny jeans to the boy "They are enchanted to fit whoever wears them so they'll fit. Get dressed and come down Potter. Don't bother ever trying to give those back to me, since you're going to wear them I don't want them back."
Watching him leave, Harry picked up the clothing that had been thrown at him and walked into the bathroom, locking the door. After removing the slacks, Harry tugged on the jeans and sweater; though both were apparently enchanted to fit his body, both garments seemed to be quite snug on his body. Hugging every one of his curves quite tightly, even the ones Harry wasn't even sure should be showing. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't used to seeing himself in clothes that actually fit his body, considering for years the only clothing he had was the hand-me downs of that all too large a cousin. He had to admit he kinda liked the way he looked; he ran his hair through his through his now perfect hair, liking the way it fell about his face. Seeing a bundle of silver silk hair ties however, Harry decided to pull his hair back into a soft pony tail that would make even Lucius Malfoy green with envy.
Deciding he looked good enough he plodded barefoot out of the room and down the staircase. It wasn't until he reached the bottom that he realised that he didn't actually know where the kitchen was. Taking a random guess, he went down the hall and opened the second door to his left. It was the library evidently, filled with tomes and books uncountable in number. Seeing a table covered in scattered papers, Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to the table to investigate.
It turned out to be the plans for a foundation of some sorts…for children affected by the war. Orphans, cripples and the sort, it was designs and plans for a foundation.
'The Malfoy Foundation'
The script was obviously Draco Malfoy's; Harry had come to be able to quickly recognised the handwriting after years of having insulting notes thrown at him during class.
'Malfoy? Why would he plan something like this? Is he guilty? He's got to have an ulterior motive. But even I can tell these plans seem genuine, obviously a lot of thought and planning went into these. Could he seriously want to do this? Could he really be planning to start up some charity? Malfoy? But he wouldn't be able to! Not with where he is right now! No one would back him! But I can't deny it's a good idea, im more surprised at the fact he was the first to think about it. It's a great idea, perfect for Teddy. It's a really good idea, even if it is Malfoy's…'
Harry heard someone clear their throat, he spun around still clutching the papers to see Malfoy staring coldly at him. Blushing he dropped the papers onto the table.
"Oh go on Potter, laugh. I know you want to. Draco Malfoy, want to start up a charity for children affected by the war. Who ever heard of such a thing? Well don't worry; I doubt you'll have to put up with the idea as I doubt anyone will ever back it. I mean, it is the 'Malfoy Foundation' after all."
The scowling Malfoy went over and picked his papers up from the table, putting them into order and whisking them away to put them into a drawer.
"Come on you nosey twat, I'll show you to the blasted kitchens as it seems your too stupid to find them for yourself."
"I'll back it."
Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. 'What?'
"I'll back it…the foundation. It's a good idea… and uh, I-I'm not…I'm just surprised you were the first to think of it. It's a genuinely good idea, even if you thought of it first. I-I would back it. Children are often affected the worst by these types of events; I know that for a fact." His voice faltered slightly, so slightly that Malfoy almost didn't notice it "It-it's a great idea for kids like Teddy; my Godson – your cousin as well I think…but…uh, I just…I don't like you Malfoy, but im willing to work with you to make this foundation real. It would help." Harry lowered his eyes to the floor, not really wanting to see Malfoy's undoubtedly shocked face.
"Are you serious? Would you really back a charity….thought up by me, a foundation named thusly? After everything you're still a bloody Gryffindor aren't you? Willing to do anything for those in need, even if that means working hand in hand with a Malfoy." Harry looked up and glared at Malfoy, he seemed to think Harry was joking. He noticed the glare Harry directed his way and paused "You're actually serious aren't you? You're willing to do this aren't you Potter?" he nodded "If you're sure Potter." Harry hardened his glare and Malfoy sighed "Very well Potter," he stuck out his hand "truce?" Looking at the hand warily, Harry moved his eyes to those intense grey and steely eyes peering into his. He gulped loudly and grabbed the hand extended in front of his face. Swallowing his doubts he said bravely with a small – but genuine – smile "Truce ferret."
Malfoy pulled on Harry's hand so they were once again almost nose to nose "Back out of this scar head and you won't be around to regret it."
Nodding, Harry let go of the hand and gestured to the door "Are you going to show me where the kitchen is or what? I'm bloody starving!" Rolling his eyes, Malfoy led the boy to the kitchens, where his mother and house elves were waiting

…..

As Malfoy told his mother of their plans Harry sat next to a bench as he scoffed down a sandwich. Once the plate was clean he shoved it in the face of a house elf standing near him. "Anafer Sunwidt Prease." Harry said mouth still full.
"Merlin Potter, you eat almost as badly as the Weasel. Your manners are atrocious! What is that? Three in five minutes? Anyone would think you haven't eaten in days." He said with a disgusted tone, his mother looked at him with a similar expression. Swallowing and accepting the fourth sandwich from the elf – who said her name was Nancy – he replied "I haven't."
Both Malfoy's shared a look of confusion. "You mean to tell me you haven't eaten in…"
Harry tilted his head and look to the ceiling thinking "…in four days I think, I don't really know. The days kinda roll together when I'm with them." He couldn't help but sneer just thinking of them. Taking a bite into the ham and cheese sandwich he heard a scoff behind him and turned to face Malfoy. "You're telling me the Golden Boy," the tone in which he spoke earned him a smack at the back of his head from his mother that Harry tried not to laugh at "…that you haven't eaten in four days? Oh BULL. Like hell your Par…Aunt and Uncle don't dote on you every single second like the saviour you are." SMACK; another hand to the back of the head and a glare from his mother.
Both Malfoy's looked at Harry expectantly; he just shrugged and swallowed his sandwich. "Yeah, they love me about as much as Voldemort did." The two shuddered slightly at the name and Harry rolled his eyes. "Mrs Malfoy, do you have a pensive?"
"Narcissa please…and why do you need a pensive?"
"I figured it would just be easier to show you, you wanted to know how I got my back all marred up like that anyway. I might as well just show you. That and I figure if you just watch I can eat and not stop every five seconds to speak" A thought stuck Harry and he suddenly became fearful. "…um…where is my wand? I didn't see it when I woke up and I was…disorientated when I woke up and didn't really notice its absence, you wouldn't happen to have it would you?" Taking another bite of the sandwich he looked at the two.
Draco took it out of his pocket and handed it to him. Slightly disturbed that Malfoy had had his wand…and not instantly snapped it, Harry accepted the wand. "Thanks Draco."
Both Malfoy's froze for a fraction of a second and looked at Harry. "What? You don't expect me to keep calling you Malfoy do you? It'll get confusing with both of you around." Shrugging Harry took another bite of the sandwich, ignoring the strange looks directed his way. "You don't mind the pensive idea do you Mrs…Narcissa?"
"Not at all, I'm sure it'll clear up a lot of things. I particularly want to know how you got burned like that. Accio Pensive!" A Small silver dish came quickly floating into the room, it was small and thin, encrusted with emeralds and diamonds. 'Typical Mafloy.'
"Go ahead Potter,"
"Harry, please." He said with a smile; Draco made a choking sound.
"Harry, go ahead."
Harry figured he should probably give them a bit of back story, rather than just show them the…incident. Placing his wand to his head, Harry pulled out a few select memories; snippets of his first eleven years of life, the cupboard under the stairs, the beatings from Dudley and his gang, the tongue lashings from his aunt, the beatings from his uncle, the chores, the day he got his letter and the events leading to that, his second year rescue, his third year where he blew up his aunt and ran away, the days of starvation, the day he saved Dudley from the Dementors and how the Dursley's had 'thanked' him for it, the nights he woke screaming only to have Vernon walk in and beat him until he stopped screaming, and finally the day of his inheritance.
Thinking it was enough to give the two a full-enough story, he pulled out the memories and placed them in the Pensive. "I put in some older memories as well. I hope you don't mind, but I figured it would just make things easier. Less questions. Draco, you might as well look as well, I don't want to explain things twice." Shovelling more food into his mouth – Nancy had made him another two sandwiches –he gestured at the Malfoy's to look into the pensive and turned away to continue eating.

After a good fifteen minutes, Harry was full and satisfied, having eaten his share of sandwiches – he counted elven and fives glasses of butterbeer – he waited patiently for the Malfoy's to raise their heads out of the pensive.
After another two minutes the Malfoy's were thrown out of the pensive. Malfoy…no, no, it's Draco now. Draco.
Draco seemed stunned to say the least; he just opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. Narcissa on the other hand, seemed angry, her face was a horrible pink; her eyes were wide and she looked as if she were about to burst.
Not knowing what to say to fill the silence that was starting to turn awkward, Harry started rambling "Well…that's my story. I know a lot of people have it worse, so I don't let it get to me. But…um….yeah, that's how I got burnt anyway. Oh…I'm going to have to go back…. Ah damn…I just realised I left my trunk and Hedwig there. Merlin…I hope she's ok. Dudley and Vernon sometimes pluck her feathers when they really want to get to me. I hope she's ok. Well, you were right Narcissa. The pain is all gone, so I'd say im all healed up. Uh…thanks…for…ya'know, healing me. I should go; I think I'll bunk out at Grimmauld Place. It's probably not a good idea for me to hang around too long. Thanks." Before he could even stand up, Harry felt a pair of long, thin arms wrap around him. Both teens' eyes widened with shock, as Narcissa hugged Harry Potter.
Narcissa was not known for showing compassion, so seeing such a woman openly hugging Harry was startling to say the least.
Letting go of him Harry could properly see the anger flashing dangerously in her eyes. "Filthy muggles! That's just inhumane! Don't they have laws stopping those kinds of things?"
Harry – once again – shrugged, indifferent "Yeah, they do. But no one outside of the Dursley residence knew I actually existed until I was five or so. And when people did learn that I lived with them they thought I was some special child with a disorder and stayed home. They were none the wiser."
She shook her head "We were harsh with Draco but that's just ridiculous!"
Draco was still standing rooted to the spot. He finally managed to get out a sentence "You lived…in a cupboard…under some stairs…for eleven years?"
"Yeah. The-Boy-Who-Lived-In-A-Cupboard-Under-Some-Stairs. That's me." Getting out of his chair, Harry cast a small tempus charm.
7.30PM.
'Man I was asleep for a while!'
"Well they should all be watching the telly about now, so I think I'll silently apparate back and grab my trunk and Hedwig and go to Grimmauld Place. Thanks, for everything. I'll keep in touch Draco. I was serious about the foundation!"
As Harry walked through the door, Narcissa's commanding voice halted him in his tracks "You hold it right there Harry Potter!" Harry slowly turned around to be faced with the tall Narcissa striding over to him "You are NOT going anywhere! You need sleep and rest! I don't care if you think you're feeling better. I know you're not. You're going to stay here for the rest of the holidays if that's what it takes! Now UPSTAIRS with you! I will NOT be known as the woman who threw Harry Potter out onto the doorstep in his time of need!
"I've had the elves set up a room for you. Nancy will show you where, it's across the hall from Draco. So if you need a potion or anything during the night you can just shout." Draco scoffed; Narcissa glared at him "Draco, if Harry needs your help with anything you will help him. I will not have a patient of mine disregarded because of school-boy squabbles!"
Narcissa looked at the shell-shocked Veela in front of her – part Veela boy in front of her. "Now Harry, we have not…gotten along previously to say the least. The war is over and everything that made us… enemies – for want of a better term – is gone. I am willing to put the past behind us and act like I mature adult. I hope you will stay with us; I want to be able to watch you, be able to check your vitals. I'm sure I might be able to help you learn a bit more about your heritage as well; as I find this particularly curious. I'm sure Draco feels the same as myself of course." She sent a Draco a look
"I may not seem like it Potter, but I wouldn't mind 'putting the past behind us'. This won't mean I like you. But I'm willing to be civil, certainly if that means if you're willing to help me with my foundation."
Harry stood stunned in the doorway looking at Narcissa and Draco. She wanted him to stay here! At Malfoy Manor! Ron would surely deck him if he even caught ear of him even considering staying with the Malfoy's; certainly so if he had the option at staying at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place…which he did.
But Harry couldn't deny he wanted to help Draco build the foundation, and he also wanted to learn about his Veela quarter. Harry couldn't ignore the benefits of staying with them, but neither could he ignore the fact that he would actually have to live with the duo.
Weighing his options Harry looked at Narcissa. "I'd be honoured to stay here with you Narcissa, Draco. I am willing to put the past behind me. Anything to do with the war I'd rather forget. You seem to have changed; you could've left me on the doorstep Draco, and left me to die. But you didn't. And Narcissa, you didn't have to heal me or offer me homage and a place to stay but you did none the less. It would seem I have misjudged you. I accept your offer." Harry smiled brilliantly at the two; his Veela attributes shining, the epitome of beauty and elegance.
Draco wouldn't admit it, but seeing Potter smile so openly like that almost made his breath catch in his throat. Almost.
"Um…I still will have to get my things from the Dursley's though. I couldn't possibly leave Hedwig there, who knows what they will do to her."
Narcissa looked at the boy with a scheming and evil gleam in her eye. "Well we can't have that now, can we? It's decided, tomorrow, we go to the Dursley's."

TBC